Blog Friday

Hey there, ‘Redheads… I’ve got no good excuse for not updating this thing for five months. So, in order to reward you for your zen-like patience and to put an end to my zen-like neglect, here’s a meager entry to hopefully get me back in your good to mediocre graces and back into some kind of blogroove for the homestretch of 2011.

I hope everyone had a Thanksgiving that left you plump and docile, unable to defend yourself in case of a ravenous zombie or alien attack. Ever vigilant, people. After getting home from the live human taxidermy demonstration of a meal we had at my parents’ house, I thought my night of consumption was done. Then my girlfriend dragged me out of my tryptophan haze to go spectate the running of the bullshit. People waiting in line to crash through the doors of Best Buy or Target or Eddie’s Bail Bonds for all of the great Black Friday deals. She loves the pageantry. So, I was forced to put on pants and go root for a trampling.

I’d like to interrupt this blog for visual proof of how awesome my girlfriend is…As I’m sitting here, typing words for your (mostly my) amusement, my awesome girlfriend brought me this masterpiece. A leftover turkey and egg sandwich with hot sauce on Darth Vader toast cut into the shape of the Millennium Falcon. Yes, I’m five. Ok, back to the blog already in progress…

The sight was pretty insane as we approached Best Buy with t-minus 5 minutes left before someone answered the Geek Squad’s riddle and the gates magically opened. The line stretched for as far as the sleepy eye could see. We stood across the parking lot from the entrance with other eager gawkers, who were not from here apparently. They sang soccer cheers as they waited. I could just imagine what they must’ve been thinking as they looked at these people ready to run over their fellow man for every American’s God-given right, a bigger TV. It was probably, “Remember when we used to stand in lines like this for food? Or to be killed? Good times.” Or maybe it was, “In our country, door busts you!” Anyone remember when a doorbuster deal was just called looting?

As the midnight hour drew closer, and I was looking at these idiots who look like they arrived too late to be in Jerry Springer’s studio audience, I was struck by the words of Obi Wan Kenobi, “Who’s the more foolish, the fool or the fool who follows him?” America’s renewable energy = stupid. When the doors finally opened, we were crestfallen with how orderly everything went. Not even a simple shove. These were obviously not deals worth dying for. I wanted my money back, which I could’ve gotten with the coupon in the circular.

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Last Minute

Hey there ‘Redheads… I managed to will myself out of my Thanksgiving food coma to shoehorn one last blog into these waning minutes of November. I hope everyone had a gullet-stuffing Turkey Day. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone…

I was a little disappointed in my overall Thanksgiving consumption. I didn’t pace myself and I filled up too quick. Maybe I overdid it on spinach & artichoke dip while taking in the slate of football. Hindsight is 20/20, even though my field of vision started narrowing as the meal went on. When it was time to head home, I had to punch an extra notch in my seat belt. The only door buster deals for me were the ones I tried to wedge myself through. If I hadn’t pushed away from the table, and maybe gone after another helping of pie, the medics would’ve needed to knock out a wall to get me. Meals like that are the reason I don’t own a scale…or a Wii Fit. Wii Fit is an amazing little device, though. I hopped on one at a friend’s house, and it was able to analyze my level of physical fitness, then it went online and called the paramedics. It also makes recommendations about different foods to eat. I think it told me not to buy any green bananas.

I’ve also been gorging myself on an unhealthy amount of cinematic mayhem as well. Over the weekend, I caught 2012 and Ninja Assassin. My expectations were low to middling for both, thus allowing me to be pleasantly surprised. When I first saw the ads for 2012, I figured it was going to just be an fragile candy shell of CGI destruction with no real velvety nougat to hold things together. The scenes of global annihilation are very well done. I’m pretty sure this was given away in the previews, but a tsunami dumps an aircraft carrier onto the White House. You also get to see California slide into the Pacific and Woody Harrelson get carbonized by a volcano erupting out of Yellowstone National Park. All of this on it’s own would be pretty ho-hum, but leave it to the unassuming John Cusack and his plucky family unit to find a compelling way to survive. It was also nice to see that Oliver Platt found work. I’m pretty sure the Mayans predicted that, too.

Now, if you like your mass killing a little more up close and personal, then might I recommend Ninja Assassin. This movie isn’t just a bloodbath, it’s a blood jacuzzi. It’s a classic tale of bloody betrayal, bloody revenge, and the resulting bloody stumps. This is the latest offering from the Wachowski brothers, who produced the flick. It does have some cool Martixy imprints on it. Their patented bullet-time effect is translated to ninja shurikens that rain death from the shadows, turning their targets to quivering piles of slurry. My only complaint, was that since ninjas operate mostly in the dark, some of the action was tough to keep track of. But there’s so damn much action going on that you’ll find a blood geyser no matter where you look. It’s got everything you want from this kind of flick: ninjas and a renegade bad ass former ninja that kills the previously mentioned ninjas with various pointy objects.

The one movie that looks like it’s going to be a giant load of crap, is Avatar. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some James Cameron. Aliens and Termintaor 2 are two of the greatest pieces of sci-fi action ever made. This just looks like it’s going to be an over-bloated, over-preachy piece of 3-D garbage. Don’t think that putting Sigourney Weaver and cheap imitation space marines in there will fool anybody, Mr. Cameron. Don’t be like Lucas and cheapen the dork memories we cherish with weak story-telling propped up by not-so-special effects. Stan Winston would not be pleased.

Ok, enough with the geek rant. Sorry about that.

That’s all for now. The balcony is closed.

Home Stretch

Hey hey, ‘Redheads… Long time, no type…what else is new? Actually, I only recently awakened from my Thanksgiving food coma. I hope everyone had a trytophantastic Turkey Day. We had turducken at our feast. For those unfamiliar, that’s a turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a chicken. If you ever get the chance to eat an animal with two other animals stuffed into it, treat yourself. It’s as delicious as a triple murder gets. But, hardly an excuse to keep you guys waiting two weeks for another helping of this corn and tripe casserole.

Big news for all of you who’ve been clamoring to see me live on a local stage. I got word today that I’ve been asked back to open for Good For The Jews at The Birchmere. The show is Sunday, the 21st, the first night of Hanukkah. Click the links to get an idea of what you’re in for. Let’s light this menorah…

Once again, I’ve started the cycle of frittering away five bucks worth of false hope on the ever growing lottery jackpot. In these tough times, it’s just about as reliable as the stock market. I think it’s somewhere in the neighborhood of 200 million smackers. I’ve gone with my usual fortune cookie numbers. And they hit. Five dollars worth of tickets won me seven bucks. I’m in the black and I’m letting it ride. Here’s hoping I’ll be having my manservant, Punjab, type the next installment while I dictate to him from atop a pile of money and hookers.

I took in some college b-ball last week at the BB&T Classic and watched the Terps knock George Washington’s wooden teeth down their throat in a 30 point blowout. One of the sponsors of the night’s game was the U.S. Navy, who’s logo flashed up on the jumbotron with the slogan: Defending freedom for 200 years. Does the Navy need a slogan? It’s not like they’re selling something…if we don’t like what they’re selling, we’re not going to take our business elsewhere. Here are some other completely unnecessary slogans…

Food: What’s in your mouth?
Oxygen: It’s in every breath you take.
Gravity: Keeping you grounded.

I had a pretty funny conversation with one of my co-workers the other day. He wanted to know what I thought of some of the new movies that had come out on DVD. The talk turned to the recent Indiana Jones opus. Some of you readers may remember I had some pretty strong opinions about that flick. You can click on the link for the long version (scroll down), but I told him that I thought it was a badly told story with a bunch of rehashed chase scenes. I qualified it with, “but this is coming from a guy who considers the first three classics.” To which he replied, “Well, you’re talking to a guy who saw White Chicks twice…” Touche.

Speaking of classic videos, here’s a musical gem that’ll stick with you…

Kinda reminds me of the dream I had after eating that turducken.

See ya soon…

Gravy

Hey there ‘Redheads… I wanted to shoehorn one more installment into Yesvember, before the last couple days were lost to food coma. So consider this a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade of gaudy, over-inflated, and poorly expressed ideas to help distract you from candied yams, Detroit Lions football, and the awkward interaction with the sap of your family tree. A big fat thank you for tolerating me thus far. And away we go…

I just got back from the bris for my buddy Seth’s new little munchkin, Ethan Perry…who will eventually be a member of the cast of the 2028 (when our already insipid retro ironic self-referential pop culture is hip again, ripping a hole in time…get all that?) revival of 90210, with a name like that. This was the second winky snipping that I’ve witnessed. Only slightly less cringe-inducing than the last one. The kid put up a bit of a fight, when he peed on the mohel right before the circumsnippage (look it up) occurred. For some reason, the mohel had a bluetooth in his ear the whole time, I guess in case of a last minute pardon from the governor.

On Saturday, I took a trip down to the newly re-opened American History Museum. The cosmetic overhaul was well done, but I found the content of the place to be a bit lacking, particularly the pop culture representation. Sure, the regular history stuff is cool, but I was looking forward to seeing Fonzie’s jacket, Archie Bunker’s chair, or Herve Villechaize (coulda sworn he was there). Well, none of that is there anymore. Here’s a sampling of what was on display…you tell me if I’m being unfair. One case was devoted to women’s basketball…you heard me. The next case over was hip-hop themed, with Grandmaster Flash’s turntable and Fab Five Freddie’s boom box. Across from that was a case with boxing gloves from Muhammad Ali, Jack Dempsey, and, of course, Rocky. Then there was a case that had Apolo Anton Ohno’s speedskates…c’mon, this is the American History Museum, not a silent auction for the ice capades. Next to that, was something that actually belonged there, Kermit the Frog. The next case contained another muppet, Oscar the Grouch, the puffy shirt from Seinfeld, and the ventriloquist dummy from the 70’s tv show, Soap. Then there was the centerpiece of the exhibit, the ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz. It was a pretty paltry hodgepodge. No mention of pop culture heavyweights Superman, Elvis, The Beatles, or Mickey Mouse. Luckily, the museum didn’t completely slight Star Wars. They had C3-P0 by the main entrance of the museum among a general sampling of historical trinkets. There was also an appearance by R2-D2, who rolled and beeped through the halls of the museum under remote control, courtesy of the DC chapter of the R2-D2 Builders Club. According to their brochure, they’re an internet based fan club (shocker) with over 5000 members…cluttering parents’ basements worldwide. The droids they had on display were pretty impressive…give ’em a click and check it out. While we’re on the subject, please enjoy this chunk of dork meat…

And while we’re at it, here’s a second helping…

Ok, enough of that. Here are some random processed joke-like product that’s been kicking around in my head the last couple days…

The inventor of the slinky died. He fell down the stairs…slowly. Actually, he got stuck with three steps left to go and someone had to push him the rest of the way down…

I have a Siamese twin-size bed. It’s two beds, connected at the headboard.

I’m bothered by the phrase “take a nap”. Like it’s not yours. Where are people taking these naps from?
“Jeez, Bill, you look like crap. You get enough sleep?”
“No, somebody took my nap.”

Thanks.

Viva, Part I

Hey there ‘Redheads… I hope everyone had a cram-it-down-your-gullet Turkey Day. I made sure to designate someone I know and trust to maintain my haircut during my food coma…Bush is still president, right? The last 10 days have been pretty eventful for me, so grab the orange extender belt, and buckle in for a blog that’ll more than fill your daily recommended allowance of Jared-centric shite. There will be videos. There will be pictures. There will be time that you’ll never get back…ever.

We’ll start with my least fuzzy memories, which takes us to Saturday night. Big thanks to the DC Improv and Comcast for putting on a great showcase and allowing me to take part. It was a hum-dinger of a line-up, including Toyota pitch-man, Justin Schlegel, Ziddio Lucky 21 finalist, Chris White (we’ll get to that later), and Forehead Magazine’s Man of the Century (his joke, not mine), Sean Gabbert. We were told to arrive early to tape interviews with the Comcast people that they’ll be showing along with our 5 or so minute sets. I’m hoping they use exactly none of my interview. I’m never sure how to handle those interviews…treat every answer as a joke or try to be a smidge sincere? I waffled between the two and I don’t think the result was anything that could be described as remotely interesting. But my set went well. And I knew it would. How, you ask? Because on my walk back to the club from by pre-show burger at Fuddrucker’s, an omen fell from the sky and splatted on my jacket. A bird put the “turd” in my Saturday and shat on me (it was later postulated by Jimmy Merrit that it could’ve been a homeless guy doing his impression of Miggs from Silence of the Lambs from the grassy knoll, but I prefer the lone shitter theory). I figured that would be the worst thing to happen to me, and my set would compare favorably to getting a boutonniere of bird crap pinned on my lapel. I’ll be sure to keep you posted on when you’ll be able to find me On Demand.

Friday night, I got a chance to see a great concert at the 9:30 Club given by one of my favorite groups from my high school days, They Might Be Giants. I’m not very familiar with their recent stuff, but after this show, I’m gonna check it out. Keep an ear peeled for “The Alphabet of Nations”, a bombastic bit of silliness that was a highlight of the show. They also peppered in a few of the better known classics like “Birdhouse in Your Soul” and “Particle Man”, both of which I badly sang along with. I was worried I might’ve strained a uvula, belting out the whoa’s on “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)”. Part of their second encore was the theme to Malcolm in the Middle. Another bit of TMBG trivia that I wasn’t aware of: they also do the opening music for The Daily Show. Long story short: awesome show…big fan.

I won’t waste too much space detailing the sundry items that conspired to make my pants tighter on Thanksgiving. I was proud that I limited myself to one helping. However, that one helping included a Devil’s Mountain-sized portion of mashed potatoes (it meant something) and enough biscuits to build a small fort. Starch-tastic. Moving on.

With this past week out of the way, we get to the meat of this installment. Vegas. Let’s spin back the clock to a week prior to Turkey Day. It was downright dismal here in DC. Rainy, windy, dark…the weather was right out of a Tim Burton rough draft. If going to Vegas wasn’t reason enough to hop on a plane, this dreck was.

Editor’s Note: I’m more than a little distracted by the Patriots/Eagles game and I feel myself losing steam here, so I’m going to chop this installment off here and devote the next one to Vegas. I’d rather not half-ass the recounting of such a cool trip.

Before I go, here’s a little something to brighten your day. It’s a short video of my impossibly cute nephew discovering upright mobility…

All together now… Awwwwwwwwwww.

Part two coming soon.

To be continued…