Mike's Christmas 2011: "Score!"

Remember Christmas morning back in the day?  How it was always a competition with your brothers and sisters to see who had the biggest pile of gifts under the tree each year?  That was awesome.  Since I was the last of 5 kids, my pile was always the biggest...it's much easier to please a young child with a half-dozen smaller gifts than it is to please a snotty adolescent girl named Diana who always got whatever she damn well wanted from Mom.

Wait.  I digress.

Yes, back when I was wee, I was super easy to shop for.  I was usually happy if any of the following was printed on the gift I happened to be gleefully ripping open at the time:

"Playmobile"
"Nintendo"
"He-Man"
"Pillsbury"  
"Transformers"

I was a simple boy with simple needs.

Now that I'm all grown up, not a lot has changed.  I'm still a simple (semi) adult with (extremely) simple needs.  Even today, if I unwrap a gift that says "Nintendo", I'm going to be overjoyed.  Also, if you can incorporate fried cheese into a gift, I'm going to enjoy that too. 

The advent of the 2000's brought us Amazon.com which destroyed any and all mystery on what I wanted for Christmas.  If, for example, you're attempting to purchase a Christmas gift for me and you're trying to decide between a new sweater or theatre tickets, you can check my Amazon.com wishlist and find that the actual answer is "The John Rambo Complete Collectors Set".

"Buy me for Mike or the Oriental gets it."

The glory that is the Amazon.com wishlist is how I ended up with the worlds single greatest Christmas gift this year:  The 7 Color Fading Magic Showerhead.

Oh, HELL yeah. 

You see, I'm sure lots of people use their wishlists for things they need:  stuff for the baby, household items that don't quite fit the budget, etc.  Last I checked, I don't have a baby.  I do, however, want lots of stupid shit that I could not remotely justify spending money on.  I feel much better knowing that you are spending your hard earned money on my stupid shit. 

Back to the shower head.  Those of you that even remotely know me--or that attended the House of Klaaslich's super-awesome "Things that Light Up" birthday party--know that inanimate objects that sparkle, glow or blink are very important to me.  I'm a 12 year-old girl like that.  Now, each and every morning, I can wake up and take the warmest, greatest disco shower ever.

Once my wife gets out her tools and installs the damn thing, of course.

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!

Krishni Returns Today

And let my liver be the 1st to say, "Thank you!"

Nah, just kidding.  While I did get a bit messed up on one or two nights, it was actually a pretty relaxing 10 days for me.  There were several nights where I was tucked neatly into bed before 10pm.  I really only pushed myself to the limit the day of my court hearing and even then, I was passed out by such a reasonable hour that I woke up fresh as a drunken daisy the next morning. 

As you may or may not recall, I had a few goals for my bachelorhood week.  Let's see how I did:

Walking a mile.  Total.
I may have walked more than a mile.  There is no way of knowing but I will say that I probably dropped more on cabs than I'm used to spending.  I'll count this as a win for me and a loss for exercise. 
Pizza.  Lots of it.
You know, Brad and I got a pizza the 2nd night Krishni was gone and I never ordered it again.  Granted, it was a mondo Art of Pizza pizza* and I ate off of it for the next few days but still.  Dominos surprisingly didn't get a dime of my money and I am pretty sure I can throw an empty beer can from my couch and hit the store. 
Movies.  Bad ones.
My short list:  Jennifer's Body (loved it), Predators (probably not good if you're sober), Cool Runnings (ditto), Futurama's Bender's Big Score and Bender's Game, Grown Ups (laughed harder than I ever thought I would at this movie.  I still think Kevin James sucks, though), The Hot Chick (yeah.  This one was not good) and Waterworld.  Because it never gets old. 
Drinking.  Heavily.
Had a fantastic boys night out on Friday night and the last drink I ordered was a "bourbon and orange juice".  Let's just say the conversation and camaraderie was better than that last drink. 
Porn.  Lots of it.
This was my next day.  All day.   
Sportscenter.  On a constant loop.
I was tremendously annoyed that PTI wasn't on all week.  Damn it. 
Baseball.  Picture-in-picture with Sportscenter. 
The friggin' Sox.  Just when I left them for dead they run off a 6 game win streak just to get my slim hopes pumped up before they punch my optimistic ass right in the head.  College football, why won't you get here faster?!
Tacos.  Lots of them. 
I ate the hell out of some tacos when Mel came over to watch the season finale of Supernatural (you know, the one that aired, like, 4 months ago?  Thank you DVR).  And my wife will be happy to know, all tacos came with actual vegetables in addition to copious amounts of fat, sodium and cholesterol. 
Mario.  In all incarnations.
I did, in fact, beat Mario Wii again while she was gone.  I guess what I'm saying is I did accomplish something. 
Pants.  Not gonna wear 'em.
Wait!  Clearly I accomplished two things!

So, it was a pretty good week but I'm glad that it ends tonight upon my gorgeous wife's triumphant return.  Fortunately, my bachelorhood isn't totally dead...she's returning just in time for football season!  Notre Dame kicks off on Saturday!  Woot woot!  Get your green on, babe!

I am truly living the dream**.

*if you are not familiar with the Art of Pizza, it is this FANTASTIC stuffed-pizza joint on Ashland Ave here in the city.  Folks, I've eaten a lot of pizza in my day.  Far more than you.  And I have never in my life eaten better pizza than the Art of Pizza.  Trust me.  Order today. 

**I am allowed to watch the game on Saturday, right Krishni?  Right?  Krishni?  I love you!

The Novelty is Gone!

My wife flew out of town for 10 days on Monday.  That evening, I drank entirely too much whiskey and ate dinner from an On-core! Veal Parmagiana.

I'll be the 1st to admit it.  Ew. 

Tuesday night, I shared an early dinner with Brad then kicked back, had a little bit of wine and watched a couple of movies.  It was fun.

Wednesday night?  Well, I got home from work and just kind of stood in the front room of my condo.  I looked around, mulled my options as far as Nintendo goes, and realized I was already bored to tears.

Who knew?  I missed my wife!

Obviously, I'm kidding about my surprise.  But I honestly thought the novelty of being a bachelor again would last longer.  Apparently, the extent that I like to be a nouveau bachelor is exactly 48 hours.  Also apparently, I'm pretty boring and kinda needy. 

Who knew?  Probably all of you.

My super-awesome, intelligent and sexy wife is out of town...

...Here is what I plan on doing for the next 10 days:

Walking a mile.  Total.
Pizza.  Lots of it.
Movies.  Bad ones.
Drinking.  Heavily.
Porn.  Lots of it.
Sportscenter.  On a constant loop.
Baseball.  Picture-in-picture with Sportscenter. 
Tacos.  Lots of them. 
Mario.  In all incarnations.
Pants.  Not gonna wear 'em.

Boom! Sizzle! Boom!

Ahhh, that takes me back.

It occurred to me while watching that clip that I must have seen well over 100,000 explosions between the day I opened up my 1st Nintendo Entertainment System and today.  Could there be something to the Mom concern that kids could be ultimately desensitized to death and violence?  I mean, I have this game now for my PS3 called "The Godfather: Dons Edition" that is Awesome...yeah, that's with a capital "A".

First of all, any game based around the Godfather should be excellent.  Violently excellent but excellent nonetheless.  Especially now that the games and systems have gotten so big and powerful that the story and game can be epic.  In this particular game, your mission is to help Michael and Sonny run the family until the Don croaks in a tomato garden at which point Michael retires to Disneyland with Diane Keaton or something and you become Don.  As usual, my character Bonzer Terriffic wins in the end.  Although I see now I should have given him a more Italian name.  "Wop Terriffic", perhaps.

Throughout the game, you get points for all the different ways you kill someone: smashing bottles over heads, slitting throats, throwing a dirty cop into an open sewer, pushing a baker who won't pay the family into his own oven, etc.

All of these kill styles culminate in you strapping a car bomb to your Studebaker, parking in front of a church as Don Tessio's funeral is letting out and walking away whistling a happy little tune (Camptown Races?) until his grandchildren are incinerated and forever fused to the very flowers they were carrying by a flammable Sicilian kiss sent with regards from Don Vito Corleone. 

Huh.  Just looking at that last sentence.  Maybe there is something to this desensitization after all.

If that was a little dark, here is a better image of people that are probably whistling "Camptown Races" at this very moment: