OH MY GOD THAT HAMSTER IS FREAKING ME OUT

There is one thing and one thing only that you need to know about me:  I think it's fantastic when cats lose their dignity.  The cat is such a regal, dignified animal, revered in Egypt and worshiped in Google searches.  There is a reason that the lion is the king of the jungle despite, you know, no lions in the world actually living in a jungle.  The internet is flooded with cute cat photos and videos but my particular interest is in cats falling off things, cats ending up in a precarious situations, cats being baffled by laser pointers, etc.  That shit just kills me. 

And yes, sometimes that comedy can turn a little dark:

For best results, maximize the video

On a far lighter note, the Emerald Nuts "Keyboard Cat" commercial?  Just wonderful:

Not convinced?  Cats losing their dignity is what made Toonces the Driving cat so hilarious back before the YouTube was a twinkle in Al Gore's crotch:

*************

Now, right now you may be saying, "Mike, I LOVE cats too!  But probably not in the same way you do.  Tell me: how crazy is too crazy when it comes to loving my cats?"

I'm glad you asked.  There is nothing wrong with having several cats in your apartment, even if you're a single lady or--god forbid--a dude.  However, when you start dressing up your pets, that's when it's time to reassess your life goals.  Sure, dressing up your cat can seem like a good way to spend your time...

Case in point

...but cats are dignified animals.  Why would you want to piss off your cat purely for my enjoyment?  The internet is filled with images of people who spent time--time they could have been spending with their kids, volunteering at shelters, stumping for gay marriage, etc--dressing up their cats, even if the cats are clearly terrified:

or downright pissed:

or just have just plain given up over what their owners have done to them:

 *************

You really, really have to figure that cats don't enjoy being manipulated to fill a void in their owners lives.  Sometimes, however, you find a cat being manipulated in the name of Jesus Christ and if you're anything like me, it will both creep you out and make you squeal in delight.   The following was shot before quality sound, special effects, decent music, a respectable singing voice, the American Humane Association, a captivated audience or an even average looking person was required to make a video.  Someone magical dug it up and placed it on one of my favorite websites, Christian Nightmares.  As stated in the title, that hamster is freaking me out.  Seriously, this video will haunt your dreams:

Sleep well!

Peace out, 2011!

Happy Holidays!  (shhhhhh!  Don't tell Fox News that I'm continuing my assault on Christmas!)

It's been an interesting year, kids.  I celebrated my one year wedding anniversary with my gorgeous wife--who can totally do better, by the way--and last week we finally sent out our thank you cards from our wedding 19 months ago.  Look for yours in the mail today!

Sadly, my Mom died, which sucked immensely.  She continues to be missed.

Speaking of suck, I went to the Bears came last week and took my Brother-in-Law, Jamie.  Born and raised in the heart of Georgia, he is a true good ol' boy.  To properly prep him for his first heinous winter, I took him to his first Bears game last week, against the Seattle Seahawks.  Too bad the Bears forgot to show up.  I think the final score was 188-7 although I might be wrong about that...we couldn't have possibly scored a touchdown, right? 

We had the worlds worst seats--the only seats in the stadium, it seemed, where the sun didn't shine--up beneath the spaceship, 3 rows from the top, where ice from the exterior of the building kept falling on us.  It was damn cold.  However, we had been drinking since 10am and were quite insulated from the elements.  Our brave southerner?  Don't worry about that...the cold didn't seem to bother him:

"Fuck YOU, Seattle!!!"  --Jamie

Anyhow, I wanted to say goodbye to not only 2011, but to my fearless readership of 9.  I'm not permanently going away, of course.  But I'm taking tomorrow off, then it's Christmas, then I have a week off and won't return to work until January 2nd.  Why is this important?  Well, I pretty much only blog at work these days.

You see, the neighbor from whom we were stealing wireless internet had the audacity to move away at the end of October so we now find ourselves without the interwebs.   Combine that with the fact that Krishni's family is coming in town for the next 9 days and I fear I will not find the time to slip away and pound out a decent entry on my iPhone.  Perhaps, if we're all lucky, I'll get liquored up on Christmas day and blog something like "Blargh shompum WINE!  Bby Jesuss?  Snata!  WINE!".

However, if I do not get that opportunity, I just wanted to thank you for reading my other drunken comments this year.  It's been fun and when I finish my "Evil Jesus" screenplay, you all will be the first to know.  After Krishni, of course.  And my Dad.  And probably whomever Krishni tells.  So, you'll be, like, the 16th through 24th people to know.

May Santa leave you coal in your stocking.  Because, you know, we'll need that to keep warm once the economy collapses.  It never hurts to plan ahead.

Merry Christmas, all!  With or without the "Christ".

Happy Pearl Harbor Day! I've been laid off!

On Sunday morning, December 7th, 1941, the Japanese Navy launched an air assault on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor, thrusting the United States headlong into a world war since made famous through the tireless efforts of Ben Affleck and Josh Hartnett. 

Veterans will say that the real heroes are the 405,399 Americans that died over the course of the war but we all know it was these dreamy fellows.

"Only" 2,402 Americans died in the attack that day but the damage had been done: for the next four and a half years, the United States would find itself in the lowest of lows before eventually climbing back up and achieving a bittersweet, ass kicking victory.  And it all started 70 years ago today. 

If you know a WWII vet, give him a hug.

In other news, I was given my 60 day notice last week, although--we've been informed--it might not take nearly that long for me to find my fat ass sitting on the couch every day.  We're really "working" day to day at this point.

A few years back, I found myself in an unadvance-able job at Steppenwolf Theatre Company.  I loved that job but they couldn't promote me any higher and I eventually grew frustrated and quit.  Now, lots of people have quit their jobs over the years but I was in the odd position of not having any real prospects when I did so.  I did not have a job lined up nor was I thinking of going back to school.  I just up and quit.

I wasn't at all nervous when I did so.  I gleefully drank my way through 3 awesome months of unemployment and then depressingly drank my way through 3 terrifying months of unemployment before landing my current position electronically jerking-off old dudes.  Being forced into unemployment during the worst recession since, what, the outbreak of World War II while I have a mortgage and a wife who can already do better than me?  Again, terrifying.  

When I left the 'Wolf, I considered just applying for a job at Borders for a while to take advantage of their discount or at Taco Bell for a few weeks since I thought that would be hilarious.  Borders is out now (damn you Amazon!) but I suppose Taco Bell is still on the table.  Although that won't really jive with how much weight I've gained.  What should I do in 2012?  Let's bring it to a vote:

What should Mike do in 2012 before the Mayans destroy the world?

1)  Get a job, deadbeat!
2)  Write a screenplay called "Evil Jesus" that has a tagline of "He'll convert you...straight to HELL!" (and a poster of Jesus, in sunglasses, aiming a .44 at the reader with a caption of "Nail this")
3)  Sit around and make Newt Gingrich jokes
4)  Develop a meth problem
5)  Develop a math skill
6)  Declare for the NBA Draft
7)  Launch my porn-star career under the name "Johnny Thursday"
8)  Gain 60 pounds
9)  Lose 20
10)  Work at Taco Bell.  Is it your destiny

Take the poll in the upper-right hand corner of the blog and let me know what you think.  I've even made it so you can select multiple answers.  Enjoy!

(seriously!  Go hug your WWII veteran!  You don't have much time left...)

Things I don't hate

I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time bitching about the things I hate.  Like mayonnaise and Julia Roberts.  It's sort of who I am.  But today on the bus--where I overheard two dudes loudly going on and on and on about how much they hate Justin Bieber--I realized that that can be exhausting.  Who can hate Justin Bieber so much that they must angrily bitch and moan at 7:13 AM on a Friday when everyone else is patiently counting down the minutes until 5pm? 

As such, in celebration of it being Friday, I thought I would make a list of things that my stunningly sexy readership of 9 may think that I hate, but in actuality, don't bother me in the least:

1)  Bieber

Might as well start here.  I can't name or hum a single song by this kid.  I have no idea if he sucks musically or not.  All I'm going on here is what I hear people complaining about the guy.  Ok, so he has kind of douchey hair.  I'll give you that.  And he has more money than god.  But hell, he's just a kid that was thrust into a spectacularly successfully money making machine.

Can we blame him for that?  He's sort of like the next generation's version of Macaulay Culkin.  Sure, we may all remember Mac fondly now, but that's revisionist history.  There was a swift and brutal backlash against Macaulay Culkin back in the day that abruptly pushed him into an early retirement.  It's very easy to forget how much people hated that kid for a while.  So, Mac relaxed for a couple years, divorced his parents, slept with Michael Jackson, got married, got divorced, laid low and then eventually came back as an indie-movie darling and I think we can all agree, he's sort of awesome now:

God, I hope that picture isn't photoshopped

Point is, yes, Bieber is over-exposed and has that hair but it wouldn't surprise me if he either went the Mac route or the Timberlake route and remade his career on down the road.  I hated Justin Timberlake for a while...c'mon, the dude was in 'NSYNCH (did I get that right? I refuse to google it) but through a series of SNL appearances, that fun Pepsi commercial where he was killed by a big screen TV, "Tit-Gate" at the Superbowl, and some pretty good roles in the occasional movie, he's made my short list of dudes I'd probably have to set aside my heterosexuality and bang given the opportunity.  I can "not hate" Bieber and at the same time hope to god he never makes that list too, right?  I better move on.

2)  Rebecca Black

This is one that I don't get at all.  Sure, her song "Friday" was not very good.  Let's get that out of the way right now.  But is it the worst song every released?  Hell no.  I mean, the Black Eyed Peas shit out a worse song 8 or 9 times on their average album.  Bob Dylan recorded entire albums on auto-pilot that were worse than "Friday".  I can even think of a few Beatles songs that are worse: "Birthday", "The Long and Winding Road", "Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da" and "Michelle", just to name a few.  

I really don't understand what the spite and fury is all about.  What we have here is a 14 year old girl whose parents paid for a music video to be made of a song the girl didn't even write.  The lyrics speak about the average, every-day "problems" of a teenage girl, not about Nancy Pelosi and John Boehner having a dirty three-way with the Declaration of Independence.  Where is the controversy?  "Friday" is the definition of innocuous. 

And yet, because of this song, the girl--a freaking teenage girl--received death threats.  What?  Why?  I don't get it.  I hope she makes a shitload of money, does Bieber and writes a hilarious book someday.  The ridicule she received was not at all equal to the annoying qualities of the song. 


3)  Mondays

For just about forever, Sunday has been my favorite day of the week.  See, on Friday and Saturday, we're supposed to act and behave as functional human beings.  We go out, have drinks, mix in a dinner, run errands, visit people and generally better ourselves.  Sunday?  I consider it a loss if I change my underwear.  Sundays are all about sitting on the couch, watching football and movies, playing Nintendo and not showering.  Sunday is the perfect bridge to Monday.

If you can't deal with a Monday, then you didn't do Sunday right.  

While I don't hate Mondays, I do think that these days they are rather sad and bittersweet.  One one hand, I have to drag my fat ass out of bed, take the bus-to-the-train-to-the-bus in 40 degree weather all to help grown men masturbate.  On the other hand, I won't have to worry about that commute much longer.

Sigh.

4)  Jesus Christ

Despite what you may believe after a few of my posts these last few days, I gots nothing against the King of Kings.  Honestly?  Jesus seemed like a cool dude.  While I may not believe that he was the son of God, I do think he was a prophet of sorts and pushed a message of love that people these days really, really seem to ignore.  It's hardly his fault that millions of people have been killed in his name.  And if he's watching us today, he's probably cursing Republicans right now, saying things like "WTF?  I never said word-fucking-one about gays." or "Help the poor!  Help them!  Remember?  Love!?  I healed lepers!  You can't help a cancer-ridden single mother of 3 with her hospital bills!  Christ!"

What did Gandhi say?  "I like your Christ.  I do not like your Christians."  That seems about right.

************

Thus concludes the only blog you will likely ever read where JC, Beiber and Rebecca Black have something in common.  Happy Friday!

I just hope he didn't call during dinner

Jesus Starfish

Warning: You will never, ever be able to un-see the following image

I've never been one for scatological humor.  It's just not to my, uh, tastes.  For me, fart jokes stopped being funny in about the 8th grade.  I find that because of this, I am unlike most dudes.  To the average guy, farting is one of the joys of being a man.  Entire symphonies have been tooted in rooms full of dudes on New Years Day after several bowls of chili during the Rose Bowl. 

Bathroom humor just isn't my thing anymore.  It's part of the reason why I stopped watching Family Guy.

Pictured:  Humor

However, sometimes something so spectacular within this genre comes along--something so wonderful, sent down as a gift from God--that we just have to share it with the world.  Something like, oh, I don't know...Jesus appearing on a dog's butthole:

Praise the lord!

I know, I know.  Gross, right?  But isn't that an amazing likeness?  I have to admit, it kills me when people see Jesus or Mary or God in or on an inanimate object.  Remember that guy that found a Cheeto that vaguely resembled Jesus on the cross?:

Or the dude that found the Cheeto of Jesus praying?:

 

Or the woman who found the Cheeto of baby Jesus?:

Or the person who thankfully didn't eat the Cheeto of Mary holding baby Jesus aloft?:

Clearly, any bag of Cheetos could be blessed with a divine, delicious image.  However, Jesus and Mary don't exclusively appear in Cheetos brand snax.  My fellow Chicagoans might remember when the Virgin Mary allegedly appeared on the Kennedy Expressway's overpass at Fullerton Ave.  Dubbed--hilariously, so--"Our Lady of Fullerton", people came from all over the country to pray beneath the blessed image; probably just before donating a dollar to the unwashed homeless guy playing the bucket on the other side of the street.

 

Now, I'm not here to make fun of someones faith.  Just because I don't necessarily share the same beliefs, I would never, ever question your belief in God.  I do think that all bets are off, however, when you willingly worship a water stain that honestly looks more like a Gelgamek vagina than anything else.  

What is amazing about the Canine Jesus Starfish is that, to my knowledge, this is Jesus' first appearance on a totally animate object...on a living, breathing organism.

Though if I was a Christian, I'd feel awfully conflicted about taking that dog for a walk.

Today in Sheer Internet Joy

As you might imagine, I participated in many drinking games in college.  We played all the traditional ones:  Asshole, Oblivious Pursuit, 99 Bust-a-Rhyme (known at other Universities as "Kings Cup"), Beer Pong, the Star Wars drinking game, Quarters, Circle of Death, etc.  When we didn't have any other options, sometimes we created the games; left with only a nickle, an empty cup and all the beer we can drink, Marc, Shannon and I created a game called "Pump Factory" that got us obscenely drunk one night at The Hut, the fast food joint at the student union run by an awesome chick named Carmen that really liked us...we purchased beer for 20 cents on the dollar for all 5.1 years I was in school. 

One night, about 5 of us had a ton of beer but nothing to do and we had a conversation about who--currently, historically or in fiction--we thought it would be awesome to have a beer with.  What started as a simple, philosophical discussion became a full, knock-down drag-out argument that had us rushing around our house looking for people to break ties on who you'd rather have a beer with: Bill Clinton or Freddy Krueger.  Since it was March when we were having this argument and college hoops had been on our TV for the last 72 hours, we set up a full, 64 person bracket, expanded our voting pool to about a dozen people and whittled it down for a final four.  The final four of the "People we'd most want to have many beers with" was:  William Wallace (we were obsessed with Braveheart at the time), Han Solo, Jesus Christ and Indiana Jones.  If memory serves--it at really doesn't--Han Solo won in a close final over Jesus Christ. 

I miss college.

Considering we had a fraternity house full of engineering students who could create a bong out of just about anything, I'm shocked and disappointed that none of us ever came up with this AMAZING idea:

"You sunk my battleship and I seem to have pissed my pants."

Blog headers...harder than it looks

Like any sane person whose adolescence occurred in the '90s, I watched an awful lot of The Simpsons growing up.  Because of this, I am not-so-uniquely qualified to definitively say that the "Clown College" episode was their finest moment. 

Also known as "The University of Michigan"

Of course, even the casual fan can pick out the two running jokes during the intro: Bart forever writing on the blackboard:

And the "Couch Gag":

I've seen most of these gags--at least from the first 8 or so seasons--thanks to the magic of the VHS tape that allowed a poor college kid to record the 14 daily showing of the Simpsons on Fox to be rewatched later, over many, many beers.

In the 2000's, Fox and Matt Groening--the creator of the Simpson clan--upped the ante by annually releasing The Simpson's DVDs.  I only bought the 1st season before realizing that I could never afford each season as it came out so I just borrowed each season as it was released from my buddy Brad.  It is because of these DVDs that I was introduced to the magic of the "director's commentary".  I LOVE the directors commentary (DC).  For those not in the know, the DC is an alternate audio track that plays along with the movie that features--duh--the director as well as the producer, some of the principle actors, maybe the cinematographer or the writer and they all sort of talk over the movie with interesting trivia facts and such.   I've watched most of my favorite movies with the DC turned on (Braveheart was weird because instead of the commentary being provided by any of the folks above, it was provided by Mel Gibson and Mel Gibson alone.  177 minutes of Mel Gibson rambling on and on by himself in what I imagine to be a candle-lit room full of Nazi propaganda posters.  Probably naked.) as well as the entirety of the 1st 8 seasons of The Simpsons.

Remember, I was unemployed for 6 months in 2006.

Of course, each Simpsons episode kicks off with the above two jokes.  The goal was to have two unique jokes for each episode and, for the most part, that has been the case.  You do tend to see repeats of the couch gags more often than repeats of Bart at the blackboard but they do happen.  What Groening discovered, according to the commentary, is that it is damn hard to write these two jokes week after week and keep them fresh and funny.  Even with a team of writers.  In fact, he joked--I think he was joking--that he often pushed the blackboard gag off on The Simpsons unpaid interns.

For the 5 of you that have followed my blog from the beginning, you may recall that I used to have a little witticism that appeared beneath the title of my blog that changed all the time.  The line was--for the most part--about Bonzer T and it at first changed daily, then every couple of days, then weekly, then my Mom died, then, after the last one sat there for a couple of weeks, I just pulled the joke altogether.  That's not to say that the gag will not come back...it's just really, really hard to do.

At first I thought "How difficult can it be?  Just pick a historical figure, make the person say something that he or she would never say and always make it about how awesome/offensive/manly you are.  You're super awesome and offensive and manly!  Piece of cake!"

Let me tell you, that shit is hard.  What I've found is that some days I'm not at all creative, or pissed at a masturbator that just called into work, or super hungry, or sometimes I'm sad, or disproportionally horny, or just plain tired.  Those are the days that you have to force yourself to stay clever.  It's one thing to be paid to do so and it's another thing to keep clever on a totally rad PG-13 blog in my spare time.

That said, what follows are each and every blog header that I kept for the 1st couple of months of the Home Skillet.  I think we can all agree, the work suffered as time went on:

“A safe place to bash Julia Roberts”  --Winston Churchill

“The window dressing of the Gods.”  --Jesus Christ

"Super cute!" --Madeleine Albright

"Thrusting towards mediocrity." --Millard Fillmore

“Jettisoning the philanthropic and crusty.”  --Brian of Nazareth

"Seriously, Julia Roberts sucks." --Marie Curie

"Sucking the shrimp out of life, one tail at a time." --Col. Sanders

"Eternally rolling with the homies."  --Peter Tork

“Arrrg!  ‘Tis only one rum better than mine!”  --Captain Morgan

“How'd the play end?” --Abraham Lincoln

“DAMN!  You lookin' gooooooood, sugar!”  --Bill Donohue

“On the 3rd day, Bonzer did rise again”  --God

“Oh shit”  Osama Bin Laden

“Dead on balls accurate” --LL Cool J

“Christ, this guy rambles”  --Jesus Christ

“Well, he's no Shatner”  --Bender Rodriguez

“Sniff, sniff”  --Barrack Obama

“Tougher than a pommel horse on fire.”  --Curt Thomas

“Sad Panda.” --Norman Schwarzkopf

“I dunno, dude. You're the shit.” --Yahweh

Honestly, I don't know how that "Red Meat" guy does it.  

"Bow down before my mighty rapture! Bwa-ha-ha-ah!" --God

For those that haven't yet heard, according to an organization called "Family Radio International", it looks like today is going to be another day of rapture.  If you recall, this past Spring, FRI spent millions and millions of it's followers dollars to spread the word that the day of rapture was finally arriving on May 21st, 2011.  Most of us woke up the next day, shrugged our shoulders and went about out usual business of sinning and sodomy.  Of course, that didn't help hundreds of FRI followers who sold their homes and spent their life savings to warn others of the impending rapture, who then found themselves up shit creek, alive and well, with no money to speak of.  All thanks to this guy:

"My bad."

The confused gentleman above is named Harold Camping and while he is not quite on the douche bag level of that closeted piece of shit who runs the Hillsboro Baptist "Church", he does seem to do more harm than good while being a mouthpiece for god.  He actually seemed to be looking forward to the rapture which--I guess as a 90 year old holy man--really must be better than death.  Also, he was 100% positive that May 21st was the day the rest of us heathens were to be left behind.

That is pretty funny considering he was also 100% positive that the rapture was coming way back in 1994, as well. 

So, apparently, today is the day.  Camping chalks up the May date as--seriously--a "mix-up in Biblical math".  I'm not exactly a student of the bible but it is my understanding that those of us not chosen to take the express elevator to heaven will be destroyed, leaving behind, I dunno, WALL-E to clean up or something.  Let's see what Harold Camping as to say about it:

"Thus we can be sure that the whole world, with the exception of those who are presently saved (the elect), are under the judgment of God, and will be annihilated together with the whole physical world on Oct. 21"

Well, shit.

Fortunately, I'll be in the right place for the rapture this evening.  Seeing how it's my birthday in two days, I'm heading out tonight for a night of drinking at Big Joe's 2 & 6 Pub.  I will surround myself with my wife, my friends and some turtles, drink cheap beer and await the four horsemen, or whatever god sends down to smite me.  Of course, as my friend Marc put it:

"I'll take my chances with the horses.  I bet the guy who wrote the bible wished he knew about tanks."

Christ-fil-A

My morning commute lasts about 50 minutes, give or take.  I usually take the 84 bus to the 147 bus and then walk the 3 blocks from Michigan Avenue to my work at 680 N Lake Shore Drive.  Sometimes, unfortunately, the bus gods don't play nice and I'm forced to take the Red Line downtown.  I don't have anything against the train...it's just louder, more herky-jerky, and is super-crowded by the time I reach my destination.  Today was one of those train days.

One bonus of taking the train to work is that the exit of the Chicago red-line stop spills out at the front door of Chicago's newest fast-food joint, Chick-fil-A.  Those of you from south of the Mason-Dixon line are well versed in the deliciousness of Chick-fil-A.  Those from up north likely only recognize the establishment for those amazing cows that urge folks to avoid eating beef:

Seriously.  These cows SLAY me.

This morning, my second bus was running late so I reluctantly took the red line to work.  However, such a travel annoyance comes with the promise of a delicious chikin biscuit at the other end of my commute.  I ordered my biscuit, waited, like, 30 seconds and a nice lady delivered it to me.  I said "Thanks!", turned around and started to walk away when I'm 90% sure she replied with "God bless you!"  As I said, since I was running late, I had already turned to walk away but I'm pretty damn sure those were her words.

Now, Chick-fil-A's politics are well known.  The company was started by a deeply religious man down in Georgia and their mission statement is almost as funny as those cows:  "To glorify God by being a faithful steward of all that is entrusted to us. To have a positive influence on all who come in contact with Chick-fil-A.   And serving deep-fried chicken sandwiches to everyone but fags." 

Full disclosure:  I may have added that last part. 

However, they have donated a ton of money in the equally-hilarious (and terrifying) "National Organization for Marriage" and have been involved in a number of discrimination lawsuits.  Because, you know, its ok to hate on queers and Muslims because, like, God and stuff.

So by all means I should avoid this place like the plague.  Like Target, they have an abhorrent political stance and I should not support either organization but damned if I don't like the joint.  The chicken sandwiches are really good.  Plus, they serve waffle fries and their single serving ketchup doesn't come in annoying packets, it comes in an awesomely convenient cup that you can squeeze in the traditional fashion or peel back the top and dip stuff into it:

How cool is that?  And why has no one thought of this before?

Returning to my experience this morning, it was odd to be preached-to at a fast food restaurant.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not gonna go all Jimmy Johns and boycott the place.  It's just weird.  Growing up Catholic, I'm used to being surrounded by god-stuff: crucifixes, flying through our prayer before dinner ("blessusohlordandthesethygiftswhichweareabouttoreceivefromthybountythroughchristourlordamen"), morning prayers on the intercom at school, spending my Saturday mornings at stupid CCD class...I get it.  God is all around us if you want to believe that sort of thing.  I don't think, however, that if I was hit by a bus on Michigan Avenue later this morning, I would be granted the keys to the gates of heaven just because I ate a delicious $2 chicken sandwich and was blessed by the cashier before I did so. 

I dunno.  Maybe I'm wrong and the girl with the colorful beads in her hair that blessed me today is right.  And maybe I'm screwed anyway because despite my Chikin baptismal, I feel a dude should be able to marry another dude and "Christians" should just back the fuck off. 

And maybe--just maybe--nothing that occurred this morning matters at all in the cosmic scheme of things and all I really did was make a bunch of cows ludicrously happy because they won't face the slaughterhouse for another day. 

I'm sure we'll meet again soon at White Castle, cow.

Tupid

I wouldn't call myself a stupid man.  Sure, I like to pretend I'm ignorant of the world swirling around me but the reality is, I know some stuff.  My knowledge is based on books, the interwebs and good old fashion thinking and common sense.  It also helps to have graduated from two accredited scholastic institutions, even if one of them was in Oklahoma.  Finally--and I cannot recommend this enough--I also married the smartest person I know. 

Add all of the above together and you don't get a guy that any reasonable person would refer to as "flighty".  Why do I bring this up, you may ask? 

Well, as many of you know, I am a tremendous fan of Fightin' Irish football. 

Pictured here, fumbling as usual.

Many of you would see this alone as a reason to question my intelligence.  But love 'em I do.  I'm always on the lookout for new folks to add to my ticketing harem...that is to say, new people with connections to Notre Dame tickets.  Until this past year, it had somehow escaped my attention that my good friend Mary Kate had a father who is a season ticket holder.  Touch down Jesus Hopping Christ!  How on earth did I not know this? 

Lucky for me, I was able to get my hands on 4 tickets for the upcoming Michigan State vs. Notre Dame game.  Score!  All I had to do was send her Father a check for $320 for the face value of the tickets.  This is simple transaction that has been done thousands upon thousands of times featuring passage of Irish tickets between interested parties.  How could I mess this up?

Well, her Dad's name is "Michael".  And when I wrote the check, apparently I was on autopilot because in the "Pay to the order of" slot, I successfully wrote "Michael" but for whatever reason continued on with "Jacklich".  I then wrote a humorous thank you note on a post-it, sealed the envelope and mailed it to the correct Michael in Hinsdale, IL.

To recap:  I wrote a check to myself for Notre Dame tickets and sent it to the ticket seller.

Now, Mary Kate's Father isn't the biggest fan of Mike Jacklich to begin with.  One of his daughters once threw up on my shoes on the mean streets of Chicago while she was very underage.  And please understand, this was not by a long shot the worst transgression that involved me and one of his daughters.  I was, after all, partially responsible for Mary Kate's arrest at Goonfest.

This also might have not been the worst transgression involving one of his daughters.

Apparently, he didn't notice the mistake until he had taken time from his day to go to the bank and attempt to deposit the check.  Sigh. 

As my Godmother would say, "Tupid, Tupid, Tupid!"

With the possible exception of her racist, soul-crushing harpy of an older sister, Mary Kate's family is super nice, full of Irish levity and warmth.  I don't want these people to think I'm stupid.  They already look at me with an arched-eyebrow due to my younger transgressions. 

So I did the best I could, under the circumstances, and sent her parents a note along with a new, correctly written check:

Mr. and Mrs. Collins,

Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Mike Jacklich.  Friend of Mary Kate, proud graduate of Benet Academy, eternally suffering Notre Dame fan and a dumbass. 

I have no earthly idea why I would write a check to myself for the Notre Dame tickets and send it to you.  Confusion?  Excitement?  A gushing head wound?  I’ve got nothing.

Please accept my apologies for the confusion and subsequent hilarity that must have ensued around your dinner table upon your return from the bank.  Perhaps I should have taken my Mother’s advice and continued my higher education at the Taco Bell University of Book Learnin’ from which I received my bachelor’s degree.

Sincerely,

Michael Jacklich

Today in Sheer Internet Joy

"After a long, hard day of being crucified, I love to kick back and 

unwind in my Holy La-Z-Boy with a cold, refreshing Budweiser."

--Jesus "H" Christ

Jesus Hopping Christ

When doing interwebs research for yesterdays blog post, I did a quick Google Images search for the term "Jesus Hopping Christ".  I did not find any pictures of Jesus actually hopping, but I did find this image which didn't exactly fit the tone of the post but is nonetheless fantastic:

"It's MY god damned birthday, Santa"

Odd and Ends from my Mind Grapes

1)  The poll has been reposted and so far and, with just one vote, I'm winning.  I'm glad I voted with me.

2)  I wore my 'God is Awesome' t-shirt to work today.  I get some pretty funny looks when I'm out and about in Chicago wearing this shirt; people can never quite get a bead on what I'm thinking.  It's no different at the Rabbit.  While most folks get it, some people really don't know how to talk to me.  He works at a place where there are naked ladies.  But he's wearing that shirt!  I don't know what to say to him.  Crap!  He's coming over here!  Um, ummmmm..."You know what else is awesome?  Tits." 

3)  That said, I really need to stop wearing this shirt out in the suburbs.  Last time I wore it out there, I got stopped twice at Home Depot, the last guy grabbing my shoulder and saying "I'm happy a young fella like yourself is so proud to wear that shirt and believes in the lord Jesus Christ!"  Uh, hallelujah? 

4)  I got some pretty amazing news yesterday.  My sister and brother-in-law--Diana and Rick--recently moved their family from Evanston, IL to Denver, CO.  While this did technically rip our new godson away from Krishni and me:

Pictured:  Luca the Destroyer

This did bring some fantastic information to light.  Has anyone ever seen that episode of South Park called "Casa Bonita"?:

Apparently, it's a real damn place:

Words cannot express how excited I am about this development.  They really do have cliff divers (sullen cliff divers, as my brother-in-law explains), strolling mariachi players, fire jugglers, Black Bart's Cave and "world famous" sopaipillas.  With honey. 

I immediately texted Rick about his blog post and demanded--in no uncertain terms--that he take us to Casa Bonita when we arrive for a visit in Denver. Like, "take-us-there-the-second-our-wheels-touch-down-at-the-airport" take us there. 

5)  Speaking of "Mexican" food, Kalena and I hit Taco Bell for the new item yesterday:  The Beefy Melt Burrito:

It was pretty good, especially for 99 cents.  But it really was the Beefy Crunch Burrito from a few weeks ago, minus the Fritos.  And the Fritos were the best part.  We do believe, however, that this will tide us over until the gleefully anticipated arrival of the Doritos Locos Taco. 

6)  Finally, a public service announcement:  For any of my peers that is a new parent or is thinking about becoming a new parent (Don't!  There's still time to do all that stuff you wanted to do!  Start a band!  Write a book!  Live you life!), Rick's blog is a must read.  You can find it at http://hamanneggs.blogspot.com/.  It's fabulously entertaining and contains some pretty fantastic information with which we can later blackmail my nephews.  Plus, the kids are super cute: