Schadenfreude

Yesterday afternoon, I called my amazing wife on my cellphone telephone and asked if I could have my best man, Brad, over to watch a plethora of baseball games on her almost-as-equally amazing HD TV.  For those not with their ear to the ground on the world of sports, there were four Major League baseball games on last night--all at the same time--that directly impacted the playoffs.  This was extra-cool because it was the last day of the regular season.  Just like my fantasy baseball season the week before, it all came down to the 162nd game.  The Boston Red Sox were tied with the Tampa Bay Rays for the American League Wild Card spot.  Tampa was hosting the Yankees and a bunch of ass-bag Boston fans had invaded Camden Yards in Baltimore.

Also, the St. Louis Cardinals and the Atlanta Braves were in an identical situation over in the National League; they were tied with each other after 161 games and playing in separate cities.  This was going to be epic.

I ordered cheap pizzas and Brad and I settled in to watch what turned out to be 5 full hours of baseball.  It was awesome.

Anyone who knows me, knows how I feel about the good people of Boston.  Wait, did I say "good"?  I meant "racist" and "arrogant" and "dickish".  I don't even care if that's not a word.  People from Boston are dicks. This clearly makes them dickish.

Last night turned out to be the single most exciting, enthralling and shocking night of baseball I have ever had the pleasure to witness in my life.  I needed that.  My beloved White Sox were, in a word, "shitty" this season.  If I couldn't take joy in my White Sox, I needed some MLB excitement somewhere, right?

As an added bonus, I really, really hate the Red Sox.  It is funny, however, that back in 2004 I was absolutely pulling for them against the Yankees.  Historically, the Red Sox have been like the Cubs: always the bridesmaid.  Before 2004, they hadn't won a World Series in 86 years.  Two generations of "Sawx" fans had grown up never knowing the rush of a World Series title.  At the time, the White Sox hadn't won themselves in 87 years so I could absolutely identify with these fellow Irish Cat'lics from the East coast.  When they took down the Yanks that year, I celebrated with them.  That beleaguered city deserved that title.

But then a funny thing happened: their other teams also started getting good.  Pretty boy Tom Brady and the New England Patriots already had a couple of rings on their fingers by that point but then they won it all again in 2004.  Then the Celtics won a title.  Then the Red Sox won again.  Then the Bruins won a title, if we're to count hockey as a sport. 

Suddenly, this depressed fan base started getting cocky.  Fans started invading other teams ball parks with their obnoxious accents and self-entitled attitude.  They started to expect to win and when their teams didn't, it was always because of a ref, or a bad bounce, or because of an injury.

Or this

When the Red Sox signed the best outfielder on the market this past off season, Carl Crawford, for $135 million dollars AND traded for the best first baseman on the market, Adrian Gonzalez (who subsequently signed a $148 million dollar contract himself), Sawx fans were already reserving spots on some piss-covered Boston street for the World Series Championship parade.  These entitled bastards were already talking shit...not about if they were going to win the World Series but about how many wins they would collect along the way.  It was maddening.

Fortunately, sports has a funny way of making the world a better place.  The Red Sox started the season 2-12 and ended the season with a 7-20 record in September.  Sure, in between, they were the best team in baseball but at the start of game 162, they were merely tied for the Wild Card lead. 

Last night, the Red Sox lost on a walk-off hit in Baltimore.  Four minutes later--before many of the Red Sox players even had the chance to retreat to the visitor's clubhouse in defeat--Evan Longoria of the Tampa Bay Rays hit a walk-off home run of his own to lift the Rays to victory.  The Rays were going to Texas for the playoffs.  The Red Sox?  Let's not feel too bad for them; they likely went home to groupies and millions of dollars and (I'm assuming) drug problems.  But they weren't going to the Playoffs. 

Loveable Lisa Simpson once defined the concept of "Schadenfreude" as "shameful joy". While that may not be the literal translation according to many German people with anger problems, it would certainly fit how I feel about last night's Red Sox loss.  That is to say, if I were to feel any amount of shame at all in my joy.

Seriously.  Screw those guys.  I guess a $160 million payroll just doesn't buy what it used to. 

All it really bought was karma. 

Bwaaaaaaaaahahahahaha!

The Only 2011 Travelogue You will Require

People often ask me what it's like to work at the Rabbit.  The question most often asked is can I get the questioner free porn.  The answer is, of course, yes.  All you have to do is ask.  The second question I most often hear:  "Are there, like, naked ladies just running around your office?"  That answer is, "Not most of the time."  While there are occasionally scantily clad women in the office--for photo shoots and seasonal parties--I have to crush the fantasies of dudes everywhere when I tell them that this really is just an office.  My cube looks a whole lot like yours.  Only the top of my monitor is graced by one of my all time favorite Onion headlines:

It is my understanding that this is not allowed in many offices. 

Without further ado, welcome to my desk at work:

They say that a person's work space tells an awful lot about said person...by looking at my work area, you'd think I'm a sophomoric sports fan.  Can you even imagine?

From left to right as we travel across my desk:

Are you in one of these photos?  If so, drink!

No work space is complete without a series of photos of the ones you love.  Or the ones you love to drink with, as this case may be.  We have Mel and Panhandle up there sporting some nice bling after winning the Steppenwolf Gala King and Queen.  We have Brad and Nathan drinking beers at a brewery in stinkin' Boston.  We have Hank sporting a theoretical wooded spoon.  We have the last picture of my Godmother I own where she had any real dignity.  The 'Wolf softball team is present along with an underage drinking party on my Parent's back patio back in 1997.  Speaking of underage drinking...there is my sister Peggy contributing to the delinquency of a minor!  Thanks, Peg!   She's a doctor now!

I think it's important to have icons of your own personal heroes:

In that respect, I have a Geoffrey Rush action figure from the Pirates of the Caribbean, complete with sword, pistol and a juicy green apple.  He had a very nice hat a long time ago.  He (I) sadly lost it in the move from one office to the next. 

Speaking of figurines, I also have these happy little fellows that I purchased for $1 from a Michael's after Halloween two years ago:

I guess my shit job could be worse. 

You will also find a little shrine to Matt Groening:

Present and accounted for are all of my favorite Simpson's characters (Sadly, Milhouse had a full glass of ice water spilled on him.  Sniff, sniff) as well as the cast of Futurama.  Only the best show ever for nerds.

Below my cartoon friends, I have a list of dates that the Free Disney Meal plan is available at Walt Disney World.  Sigh.

I'll get back there someday...

Swinging over to the lower right hand corner of my desk, you will find a rather creepy selection of items:

That doll will murder you in your sleep.   It's why the Stormtrooper stoically stands ever vigilant. That, and he's sitting on top of a naked lady. 

I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes: those are, in fact, wind-up hopping lederhosen standing atop my novelty Benet Academy football.  Sharp eyed folks from Steppenwolf Theatre Company will also be able to spot one of those godawful oranges from that one Gala where we were apparently trying to blind our patrons. 

"But Mike," I hear you asking, "What about your gorgeous, super-smart and sexy wife?"  No worries!  She's here too.  With a pirate:

Arrrrrrrrr!

Bonus terrible fact:  the island where this photo was taken was the site of a horrific plane crash that changed the way pilots communicate to each other in cockpits across the world.  In a heavy fog, one pilot said "To hell with that tower!  I'm taking off!" and promptly flew into a taxing jet killing everyone aboard his plane and most folks aboard the other plane.

Whoopsie.

See!  Bonzer T's Home Skillet isn't just about moderately funny observances...it's also about history!

There are two diplomas I'm proud of earning over the course of my young life.  One is for graduating from Benet Academy, my scholastic home away from home.  The other is from the Taco Fu Master Program.  I graduated with honors:

Yeah, University of Tulsa.  You can go to hell.  

To achieve--according to my diploma--"Success in defending all that is taconess", you need to play this absurd game at the Taco Bell website wherein you must defend your plate of nachos supreme from a series of ginormous lucha libre wrestlers.  Seriously.  Try it out right now and print up your certificate so you can be as awesome as me (incidentally, when you go to the Taco Bell website now, there is a link that states "Made with Real Beef lawsuit dropped".  So we have that going for us.)

Posted all over my monitor, you will find a few Onion horoscopes that still make me laugh to this day.  Allow me to reprint them here because, come on, we all need a good laugh:

"While the directors of the Palomar Observatory admit the nebula had an unusual shape, they do not believe you caught God masturbating."

"When times are tough and the world around you seems grim, don't be afraid to turn to religion for a good, hearty laugh."

"Death by firing squad has a certain desolate nobility, but it will be ruined when the inept, drunken Australians fail to hit you above the waist with the first nine volleys."

"Your love of all living creatures will be on display this week when you open the world's first Animal Rescue Steakhouse."

And a new one that came off the calender today!

"Turns out your nightmarish descent into alcoholism and drug abuse will be a lot more fun than expected."

Finally, I wouldn't be a White Sox fan without some sort of way to taunt Cubs fans in the office:

Yeah, that's my 2005 World Series Champion Rally Sock.  Maybe if I started wearing those, Adam Dunn could get a damn hit. 

So that's that.  I realize that technically none of you asked to see what my desk looked like at work.  But that has never really stopped me before when it came to stupid shit like this.  Plus, I'm going to make an effort to blog a bit more seeing how my life has slowed down a bit after a frantic July. 

And not every post can be a winner. 

I always knew Sam Adams was the right beer for me...

My wife is wildly entertained by the random grudges I hold.  Sometimes--even with the tiniest of slights--I have trouble letting go of the grudge I manage to create.  I am also willing to admit that sometimes I hold onto the silly grudges just because they are fun.

For instance, I haven't eaten at a Jimmy Johns since a stoner "sandwich artist" yelled "WE DON'T HAVE MEATBALLS AT JIMMY JOHNS!" at me a little too loudly for my liking.  Granted, this occurred sometime after 2 am after the bars had closed in Milwaukee, we were drunk as sin and--in retrospect--he may not have yelled at all.  He may have just loudly exclaimed his anti-meatball manifesto when I slurred a request for a meatball sandwich after closing out a bar with 2 of my buddies.

Whatever.  Jimmy Johns will never get my business again.

Another example:  to this day I hate a former White Sox player named Jermaine Dye.  Why?  Because he once dropped a fly ball in Oakland during the eighth inning of this game that contributed to an early season loss.  Seriously.  Never mind that the loss only "dropped" the Sox to a 16-5 record during a season where they didn't play a single game out of 1st place and eventually won the World Series.  My hatred also ignores the fact that Jermaine Dye was named MVP of that very same World Series, driving in the only run of the deciding game 4. 

None of this matters.  Jermaine Dye sucks.

Which brings me to Boston.  These friggin' guys...

Where do I begin?  Do I hate Boston because of the Red Sox?  Because of Kevin Garnett?  Because of Rajon Rondo?  Mitt Romney?  Because Fenway Park is over-priced, has terrible sightlines and was 1st runner up in the category of "Most Urine Smelling Stadium", 2nd only to Wrigley?  Is it because of a palpable  east coast arrogance that I hate?  Because I think clam chowder is gross?  Is it because ESPN sucks at the teat of the Red Sox and Yankees?  Is it because Boston College has caused my Fightin' Irish so much pain over the years?  Could it be Bill Belicheck?  Tom Brady?

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Can't it be all of the above?

Whatever the reason, hating on Boston is super-fun.  I feel that everyone needs a villain and sometimes it's important to have a better villain than Jimmy Johns.