During the height of my binge drinking days I could drain things down my gullet that would curl the stomach of a goat; straight whiskey, Irish Car Bombs, Natty Light and tequilas that do not even deserved to be named. I was blessed/cursed with an abnormally high metabolism and a steel stomach that allowed me to absorb alcohol faster than your average frat boy. Enter this past Saturday. The wife and I watched some Roller Derby with Jake and crew downing numerous tall boys of PBR in the process. I came home to spend a good clip on the toilet cursing the PBR and saddened that my once iron constitution is now broken.
These past few weeks the wife and I have been up to our tits in U-Hauls, moving boxes, giant Tupperware containers and throngs of able-bodied help throwing our furniture around for the promise of free food and liquor (including one tattooed freakshow who has visited the new crib twice since moving day but has yet to bring over any housewarming scotch). Amidst the chaos we only lost one small mirror that the wife purchased on clearance at Marshalls. While the wife was conveniently out of town I spent the past few days unpacking, trimming juniper bushes, raking leaves, committing genocide on the ant colony in the mud room, configuring the entertainment center and setting up my office. My Dad gave me a bevy of tools; rakes, shovels, hedge clippers, an extension cord, a pruner, a hatchet, a lawnmower and a gas trimmer that came with the spoken caveat, “Don’t tell your mother I gave it to you. I just bought it last summer.” A housewarming party will be imminent. Bring scotch.
- Mr. Belding (Dennis Haskins) and Tony Romo singing a cover of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin'” with Metal Skool. Good times. I think I will email Metal Skool and offer to redesign their site. Yeesh. What they got there now looks like an aborted fetus.
- Behold the model index of the 2007 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. Enjoy wasting the rest of your day, boys. (Except for you, Gay Joe. Go find a homosexual site where dudes are dressed in SS uniforms and whipping each other or something).
- Jake’s half sister is a transient pervert that likes to tie people up and drink their blood.
Last night I watched the Avs home opener from a luxury suite at the Pepsi Center (the boys lost to the Stars 2-3 in OT). The old man, Jake, Nels and Aaron were also in attendance. My pops was responsible for the hook up as he procured the tickets through assorted work connections. The suite came equipped with a private bathroom, assorted domestic beers, food platters, period-by-period stat sheets and a computer with internet connection. Our luxurious time was surrounded by famous radio personalities with fake cans (Clear Channel suite next door), one drunk fan trying to start an “AVS RULE!” cheer (seats below us) and silver bucket of ice, Coors products and sunshine. The life of an unemployed artist is glamorous and fulfilling.
Me: Then there are these fucking guys.
Jake: I like how you lead into that.
Jake: Dude thought the obituary picture was cute? Never mind that she died in a motorcycle crash.
Me: Yeah. She’s dead, fellas. How about you try to tap the living, first?
Jake: Well, I would rather they try this than rape Tommy’s little sister.
Me: I would rather them not rape anybody, dead or alive. I do like how they bought condoms. That was thoughtful.
Jake: Yes. You don’t want to catch maggots.
Me: Or get the corpse pregnant. What were the other dudes going to do while their boy got his Ted Bundy on?
Jake: See if he liked it and then take a poke if it was any good?
Me: Yeesh. There are sloppy seconds and than there are sloppy seconds with a dead body. That is the lowest rung on the sexual deviance ladder. While we’re on the topic, I’m thinking they should have bought some lube with those condoms, too.
Me: You know, a guy I play hockey with kind of looks like one of those dudes. His name is Dave. He probably has sex with the dead, too.
The 15th Great Easter Bunny Hunt will commence this weekend in New Zealand. Teams of shooters will converge on the country’s rabbit population and an Easter bloodbath will ensue. Nothing says “Christ Has Risen” like animal extermination. I would love to participate in this event because I am fucked in the head. I know Jake is down.
- The rise and fall of an Indian reservation drug dealer. Jake digs the bear claw tattoos prominently displayed on homegirl’s sweater puppies. He would.
- A dissertation on the NBA logo. The article argues whether the logo should be redesigned to reflect the current culture of the league or remain the way it is. I say redesign the logo to something that is indicative of the modern NBA; a tattooed kid with cornrows that cannot play defense and has no outside shot but can dunk like a hungry police officer at a coffee shop.
- Tanith Belbin has made me a fan of Olympic ice dancing. There. I said it.
After my discussion with Jake and much deliberation, I decided this would be the mixed tape I would create for the Son of God:
- “Jesus Built My Hotrod” by Ministry
- “So Fresh, So Clean” by Outkast
- “Down On My Knees” by The Crucifucks
- “The Man Comes Around” by Johnny Cash
- “Kill The Poor” by Dead Kennedys
- “Holy Diver” by Dio
- “When I Get To Heaven” by Ice Cube
- “Killing In The Name Of” by Rage Against the Machine
- “Sister Christian” by Night Ranger
- “Sympathy For The Devil” by Rolling Stones
- “If You Love Someone Set Them On Fire” by Dead Milkmen
- “Epiphany” by Bad Religion
- “Something To Believe In” by Poison
I know Jesus was a subversive Hippy and would probably enjoy some Grateful Dead, Phish, Widespread Panic and Cat Stevens, but that’s not the point. The purpose of the mixed tape is not just to throw on a bunch of music that the recipient likes and is familiar with. Making a mixed tape for someone is the ultimate truth; it strips down the walls society builds around human relationships and then rebuilds them through the majesty of song. That, and if you give a mixed tape to girl hopefully it will get you laid.
In a few short hours, I will be on a plane headed for Chicago and the 2005 HOW Design Conference. Once the conference concludes, the future wife and I will be hanging around the Windy City for a few days. We will be back in Denver next Thursday only to leave for Oregon the following Saturday to visit with our in-laws for the week. Posting will be minimal to none on the MB during this time. If you start going through withdrawals consider Jake, Boing Boing or Fleshbot your methadone. Especially Fleshbot. They have dirty pictures and stuff.