A Moment With Andy Rooney

"We use them day after day, and no I don’t mean expired prophylactics. That’s another story for another day. I’m talking about slang words used for love acts. Everybody has different ways of getting busy, and their own names for what they do in their own privacy. These terms are changing every day and I don’t care much for the new age terms that are being used. They confuse me. Back in my day our slang was simple, and made sense. We necked in our car, maybe played some back seat bingo at the local drive in. And if we were lucky, a fast girl would let us make whoopee.

I didn’t have to look up a definition when I heard something that sounded like fun back then, I just knew what people were talking about. But I see and hear these strange terms all the time now. I think I know what they are alluding to, and for some reason I’m not quite sure I want to know exactly what they are taking about. I hear them on the subway, see these names on the back of softball team t-shirts, some even in our office Fantasy Football League. Not too many Church Choirs or Volunteer organizations though. These names confuse me almost as much as the names I heard for snowboard tricks during the Olympics. A Dirty Sanchez. A Chili Dog. Glass Bottom Boat. Cincinnati Bow Tie. I don’t understand much about them, but if there is one thing about a Hot Carl I do know is why in the world anyone would want to get something named that in the first place? I’m sure there are people out there that want them, someone must like them or else there wouldn’t be a name for it, but I’m not one of them. I’d rather be an insurance salesman and I don’t want to be one of those either. I'll take a Hot Tamale at a movie instead and be just fine.

I heard some kids talk about a meat wallet the other day. So I asked them, what is a meat wallet anyways? And they just laughed, and said I probably liked Rusty Trombones instead. I have a wallet. And it’s made out of leather. Leather comes from a cow which is made of meat. Is that a meat wallet? Opposed to one made out of nylon or cloth? For some reason, I just don’t think that is the meat they were talking about. And I don’t own a trombone either. I own a trumpet and it’s not dirty at all. I’m pretty certain if I owned a trombone instead of my trumpet that wouldn’t be dirty either. Let alone rusty. How does a trombone get rusty anyways, and why in the world would I like one? Sometimes I wonder if I used a term like that back in my day if people would think I was crazy. Probably. And now I look like the crazy one for not knowing about these new wallets these kids have.

I like Tea and Punch and Pancakes, but you wouldn’t catch me ordering a TeaBag, a Donkey Punch or a Boston Pancake. I don't know what they are, but I just don't think I would enjoy them as much. I have nothing against the state of Alabama, but I know I want to go nowhere near an Alabama Hot Pocket.

There was a story in the paper the other day about a singer who gave a golden shower to a fan of his. If you ask me, that seems like a pretty nice gift to a pretty special fan. I always thought gold was one of the nicest gifts you can get. Golden earrings. Golden necklaces. Maybe a gold pen. And now even golden teeth. A golden shower must be a very expensive shower. My shower is made out of tile. A golden one would be a very nice upgrade from tile. I bet it would have a lot less mildew in it. Yet the young man is going to court for giving his golden shower.

Last time I checked, space docking was only done by astronauts, angry pirates were only in the movies, and something less ambiguous than OffConstantly won our fantasy football league last year. I think it was The Cheetahs. Maybe next year I’ll find out why it was so funny when I said I beat OffConstantly in week 2. Someone may explain it to me, but again, I’m not too sure I want to know. "

RedBox Loves Me

I just want to thank RedBox for sending another terrific movie recommendation to my email. This one titled "P.S. Redbox Loves You". At least they are starting to be more honest with their advertisment.

Caipirinha...More Like Diaperinha!

Two weekends ago I decided to try something new. If you couldn’t tell already, I’m a pretty hip person. I consider myself a somewhat of a progressive, avant-garde, cultural chap. I know what the kids think is cool these days, those roller shoes for example. I keep on top of the current trends in fashion. Polo button ups, khakis, Doc Martins, leather braded belts and such. Well I decided to try my hand at a new cultural drink. I stand here today, disappointed and mildly bitter about my attempt at further refinement.
For the past couple months I’ve been thinking and working on a significant goal for myself this summer - to patent a drink for myself. I want to have a go-to beverage that’s mine, that tastes great in the summer, all summer, that others think is great and, of course, gets you crunked. So far, and with the gift of a Mojito kit for Christmas, I have perfected Monty’s 30 Minute Mojito, with crushed strawberries and pineapple juice. Which I must say is outstanding, and can hide booze better than a freshman in the dorms, but it seriously takes me around a half hour to make a batch. Plus, Mojito’s are so 2006. Very Napoleon Dynamite. Still good, but it’s now on TBS. (Precisely why my Target Mojito kit was being shuffled out of the store around Christmas). I needed something fresh. I then watched an episode of one of my favorite shows. Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations. If you aren’t TiVo-ing this show you’re missing out. Well Tony went to Sao Paulo one episode, and the entire episode he was hanging out with two hot Brazilian chicks, and got totally sauced on the native drink of Brazil, The Caipirinha. He was raving about it. Drinking different kinds, not just the standard lime, but passion fruit, mango, pomegranate .. and on and on. I was entranced. He and these two beautiful girls were swapping Caipirinhas at dinner, getting all these different courses of food, gorgeous food and cocktails and hoo hoos all right there and it all looked fantastic and probably the most glorious meal ever. The Caipirinha. This could be my drink. In fact, this will be my summer drink. Tony has never led me astray before. I could see it already... “What are you drinking?” “It’s called a Caipirinha. The native drink of Brazil.” “Really?” says the attractive girl with generous cleavage. "Yeah. I've been drinking them for a while. It’s a pretty hot drink right now in New York, LA as well as other influential areas. You should probably know about it. It's pretty cool I guess. Here have one.” “Wow that is soo interesting. And it is soo delicious.” “I know” “And you are so progressive and hip and trendy and I should probably show you my rack right now” and so on. A terrific summer it will be.

So a day or two later I went on the Internet and further researched the Caipirinha. It is made most traditionally using only muddled limes, sugar and the traditional liquor of Brazil, Cachaça. Cachaça is the distillate of fresh sugar cane which undergoes a meticulous fermentation and triple-filtered processes. Some of the nicer brands, post fermentation, are then shipped to the south of France where they rest, for up to three months in vintage French oak casks used for storing cognac. Interesting. I kept reading and apparently not only is it authentic, and supposedly delicious, it is quite the trend right now too and is shaping up to be the most sought after drink of 2007. Its the most popular cocktail in Europe, and has since taken hold in bars in New York, Miami and Los Angeles. I was sold. I decided right there that Friday was my Caipirinha initiation day. I did some more digging. To make them properly, authentic and delicious, I found that one of the better bottles of Cachaça you can buy around here is called Leblon. About $30. Apparently it is “the Champagne of Cachaça. It has a lively fruity nose, and a natural smooth, rounded, silky taste, and makes a wonderful Caipirinha”

So I got my Leblon, it was even 30% off, this was meant to be, I got my limes and went back to my house proudly to make Caipirinhas for myself and our guests that were over. I cracked open the bottle and took a whiff.. In one smell my entire dream for the summer deflated, for it smelt like the dense, musty, pungent smell of napalm. Not exactly the “fruity nose” I had expected. Worried, but invested, I remained positive. Maybe it was an acquired smell. The taste will prevail. So I mixed up a cocktail, proper amounts of everything, and took a hefty sip. And almost spit the shit across the room. Fucking sick. I'm vocal - Aaawwwwww!! My stomach is spasming. This was the most disgusting shit I have ever tasted. It tasted like rotten pig stomach with a hint of lime. I tried some straight, no better, straight up embalming fluid. Like a mouse had crawled in a bottle, died, rotted in the sun, and then Brazilians filled it with liquor. I was swallowing mouth fulls of saliva that were gushing in my mouth to prevent me from vomiting. Others tried it, and almost gagged as well, except for my roommate, who actually liked it?!? This experiment is not tantamount to declaring tequila undrinkable after one shot of Cuervo, because yes, Cuervo is bad first blush, but it doesn’t taste like the fermented remains of Heath Ledger. So I declare here - New York you can have it. LA, along with your flavored oxygen canisters, it’s yours. Tony Bourdain, you have led me astray and failed me. I placed so much faith in you. Of all the bathtub gin, homemade Singaporian countryside gasoline I see you drink in your journeys around the world, I expected this, your highest of praise to be at least edible! With that I’ve come to the conclusion that if being trendy means having to develop an acquired taste for foul, rotted, shit - well consider me Barney Fife. My tastes will stay in Mayburry. One of the greatest parts of this adventure was I told a friend the next day about my attempt at making Caipirinhas and how absolutely decrepitly sick they were. She of course said I made them wrong, because when made properly they are supposed to taste like toothpaste. F-ing toothpaste? First off - no way. Secondly, is that any better? I don't know about you but I spit my toothpaste out after brushing because it tastes like shit. What - do you gut it? You just slap the shit on a spoon and eat it like peanutbutter? The quest for my official 2008 summer cocktail continues. I will definitely let you all know of any developments - and if all else fails everyone is invited over for Monty's 30 Minute Mojitos this summer.

A Bad Day In My Life, Vol. I

Situation: Ripped My Pants

Date: March 8, 2008

The Story: My roommate, a friend and myself decide to check out a local deli that is known to have the best Ruben in town a few blocks from my house. We park in the parking lot which is adjacent to the deli. The parking lot is entirely fenced in and there are two ways to get out of it. The correct way is the long way, walk back out the entrance of the parking lot, following the outside of the fence around the corner of the street and then down half a block to the front door of the deli. The second is walk directly from your car to a two and a half foot brick wall which is right next to the front door and shimmy over. No problem, I've done this before. My buddy and my roommate hurdle with ease. My turn, I swing my first leg over and I immediately hear a massive, RRRRIIIIPPPPPPPp.. My jeans, which I just got done playing hockey at the park in and were not some Skinny Cowboy Girbaud's, tore in a U from under the crotch down close to my knee.. "Are you kidding me!!" I yelled. You could hear the tear like Willis McGahee's knee. The other two were in hysterics. Funny. Muck it up. My Charlie Brown Christmas boxers exposed. It was bad. So Thunder Thighs here had to take my jacket off and casually cover up my crotch as we walked into the restaurant and were seated. I chose a seat facing a wall not to flash other eaters and placed my jacket over my lap while we ate. Needless to say it was a bit breezy and I ordered a salad. Luckily I was not too far from my house to change afterwords.

Chili's Haikus

Smitten by Chili’s

I’d Propose to My Wife There

While She's On Duty

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Just Like Applebees?

Fools! A Homeless Mans Chili’s

The Layout is Worse

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Free Chips and Salsa

Two for Ones With Frosted Mugs

God? Is This Heaven?

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Seated In The Bar

Staring At the Greeters Ass

The Table Wobbles

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First Round is Empty

Hasn’t Placed Our Order Yet

I Think She is Late

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A New Crowd Walks In

Shit - A Former CoWorker

Keep Watching the Game

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The Menu By Heart

Looking a Formality

Chicken Tacos Please

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Fourth Two for One Round

One More El Presidente

A Concerned Server

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Our Server is Done

My Walk to the Can is Blurred

Please Transfer Our Tab

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Can You Split Our Tab?

Who’s Paying for The Queso?

One More Round On Mine.