SWEET HOME CHICAGO

My name is Joe Pendleton, and I'm an awful flyer. That's right, an awful flyer. Any hint of turbulence has me in a cold sweat, has me grabbing the hand of the person next to me, has me thinking I'll never see my wife Brenda and my kids Kurt and Georgia ever again.

I'm pretty much a pussy when it comes to air travel. That being said, I find it virtually impossible to sleep on a plane and have plenty of time to think about lots of shit. Well, flying home from Chicago Sunday night on United Flight 330, I had plenty to think about. You see, the previous 52 hours were a whirlwind in the Windy City. From seeing the Cubs clinch the NL Central in public, to seeing Brian Griese throw a football 67 times in person to seeing a midget dance on a bar while pouring shots into Bachelorettes' mouths, I had plenty to reflect on.

So, despite sleeping approximately 9 of the 52 hours, I just put the I-pod at full blast, ignored the cries of release from the chili-cheese fries sitting in my gut and let my mind wonder about what I just been through. Here's a glimps into my brain - which was operating at half capicity on the flight.

-- Minneapolis might be an awful city: On our trip, about 90% of the people we met on the trip were down from the Twin Cities (including a dame who spent $240 on a pair of jeans). Down, meaning they drove 7 hours or trained it about 12 hours to get there. Seems like nobody flies there. So I start thinking why would you make that trip just for Chicago? Then it dawns on me, when you think of Minneapolis, you think of two things: A big mall and a huge bridge collapse. Ok, maybe the Vikings, maybe the movie Fargo, but that's about it. For those folks, 7 hours is nothing. We met one cat at Soldier Field so bored in Minnesota, that he paid $110 for a football ticket and didn't know the difference between a football and a plate of nachos. When I told him - in the 20 seconds he wasn't talking - I was from New Jersey, he asked if I was a Patriots fan? When he spotted on the out of town scoreboard that the Giants were down 10-6 in the first quarter, he said, "looks like your Giants are gonna go down today." Nice guy, but just wouldn't clam up. The seven hours in the car back to Minny with that cat must be unbearable.

-- People in the Midwest are nice - Too nice. Like our clueless NFL friend, everyone from Chicago to Minnesota is very friendly, and very chatty. Perfect example came when Slim Steve went to get a pretzel at Wrigley Field, only to find the stand he went to were out of them. The woman behind the counter explained that someone had gone to get more, and then she went on a 15-minute diatribe on how they had run out of pretzels in the first place. About 40 seconds into the diatribe, Steve said the pretzel wasn't that important to him and walked away.

-- Chicago is the Bachelorette Party Capital of the World: I challenge you to walk through the streets of Chicago on any Saturday night and not find some dame having her last fling before getting hitched. You could go into a White Castle and there will be about 10 dames in there, one of them wearing a veil and other embarrassing shit. It's unreal. And these parties are dumb. They turn into mini-scavenger hunts. Yes, the bride to be has to collect stuff on her trip. Want to know how wild one party was that we ran into? The dame had to get from a strange man - a sock. Yes, a sock. Boy, those friends of her thought of everything. I mean this dame's fiance probably has about 10 strippers sitting on his grill and she's out collecting socks. WHOA BOY. It's a huge thing in Chicago, though. One place we were at, we must've seen about 4-5 bachelorette parties going on, with most of the attendees wearing their "I need a man" dress. A few bachelorettes did get wild, jumping on a bar to dance while the house midget (that's him in the green shirt) poured shots of something down their throats. Speaking of shots, to get into the spirit of things, yours truly did something called a Jagrbomb with a few brides-to-be.

-- There aren't many ugly dames in Chicago. Either that or the ugly ones stay home: It's pretty nutty, actually. The ratio of hot chicks to ugly ones is wider than the girl-to-guy ratio at James Madison U. Of course, me and the other cats were there to watch baseball and football, not midwest dames in high heels and tight dresses walking around.

-- There's a dog in Chicago that is livng my dream life. We ran into a pooch that lives with an attractive single woman who takes the dog to bars in a gym bag. Think about it. The dog lives with a hot dame, is carried to and from bars in a bag, and has the ability to lick his own nuts. Some guys have all the luck.

-- Cubs fans hate White Sox fans: To me, the relationship between Yankee fans and Mets fans is a practical lovefest compared to the animosity in Chicago. I saw more anti-Sox shirts outside Wrigley than I saw pro-Cubs shirts. It's unreal. If the White Sox ever beat the Cubs in the World Series, I predict there will be a few murders that night. I'm not kidding. It's vicious. Speaking of the Cubs, seeing them clinch in person was quite cool, and a part of me would really love to see them go all the way. However, with the Mets possibly facing them in the first round, I want to see them fail. But if you hang around Cubs fans for a while, you really start to feel sorry for them. Even during the clinching celebration, I got the feeling that some of them already knew that the season, like it always does, will end badly. Speaking of Wrigley, all of you who remember my favorite 7-11 list, well, let's just say I walked into Wrigley with a Double Gulp of Diet Pepsi.

-- I'm a loser: Yes, that's right, a loser. Of the 42 hours I was awake, the fate of the Mets was somewhere in my brain about 40 of them. Even while watching a great Bears-Bucs game in person, I couldn't stop thinking about what was going on in Atlanta, what the Brewers were doing and how the Mets are gonna blow it again. On Friday night in a bar loaded with Chicago women, I spent more time watching the ESPN crawl for a Mets score. Two of the dudes in our group labeled me as gay for this behavior. Maybe they are right, but I think loser is more appropriate.

-- I'm old. Want to be depressed? Go into a bar filled with cats/dames in their 20s and watch them dance to songs from the mid-80s. At first, the concept is pretty cool, but then you realize these kids think of these songs as oldies. At about 4 a.m. on Saturday, Glory Days started blasting over the speakers at my favorite place in Chicago, and all these kids were into it, but I realized most of them weren't even born when Born in the USA came out. I like to think I'm young at heart - my screaming Highway to Hell at 4:30 a.m. that same morning is proof of that - but let's face it, I'm an old fuck, at least in the eyes of the yuppie 2o-somethings at this place. I thought knowing all the words to Rick Astley's never gonna give you up was cool, others didn't. Speaking of this bar, the DJ proved to me something I've know for years. Billy Joel is a ripoff artist. At one point of the night, the DJ played R.E.M.'s "It's the End of the World as We Know It," and then followed it right up with "We Didn't Start the Fire," which I've been saying for years is a ripoff of REM. Of course, about 15 beers in I wasn't praising the DJ for this back-to-back play, I was ripping him for playing the Joel song in the first place. If it wasn't for the 20-year-dames getting into the song, I would've left.

I can't believe it, we've already landed. What a smooth flight, I guess I have nothing else to think

about until . . . I get into the car and listen to the end of the Yankee game on the radio. A few quick thoughts. Quick, I promise.

-- John Steling is a bafoon. He seemed more interested in the line score than the goings on at the Stadium after the final out.

-- Derek Jeter's speech was a joke. Could the cat look any more uncomfortable and scripted making that speech? Real original DJ, praise the fans. It's funny, he kept saying how great Yankee fans were, yet didn't mention that the organization will be squeezing every penny out of those people when the new stadium opens next year. I mean, $850 for a baseball ticket isn't that out of line. Good Riddance Yankee Stadium. Good Riddance Yankees for that matter.

-- Mets are in big trouble. What kills me about the Mets, is if they don't make it this year, people will talk about how they collapsed again. Of course, no one will mention they were 7.5 out when Willie got the ax in June. No one will mention they made a nice run with the shittiest bullpen in baseball (thanks Omar), no one will mention how the Braves laid down to the Phillies yet played the Mets tough this week. Last year was a collapse. Epic. The worst in baseball history. This year, they will be falling short. It's just as painful, but let's not compare it to last year. That being said, with six games left and a 1-game lead, I think they'll make it. Johan will start two of the six games, so if they can win both of them, they just have to split the other four games to go 4-2 over the last six, meaning the Brewers would have to go 5-1 to tie them and 6-0 to beat them out. That being said, if they lose tonight with Johan on the hill, they might be done. Speaking of Willie, he sure seems to be embracing his past life as a Yankee. As someone said today, if he had shown the same fire he did sliding into second base Sunday night when he was leading the Mets, he might still be the manager.

That's enough venting for now. I'll check back whenever the Mets are eliminated/clinch for my thoughts on the Mets.

SUMMERTIME BLUES

Well, after taking the summer off, I'm back and have to say, quite fired up. Little Kurt (kindegarten) and Georgia (3rd grade) are back in school, and I actually have some time to blog again.

I was gonna rant about how awful the Rams are, or gloat in how awful the Yankees are, but, believe it or not, a few lists have my blood boiling, which, I know, is what the lists are supposed to do.

Actually, two lists - which both deal with my favorite decade (the 80s) have my ire at an all-time high. The first was produced by Entertainment Weekly a few weeks ago. It listed the top 25 comedies from the last 25 years. Here's the link:

A few thoughts:

-- How the fuck is Naked Gun No. 24. NO 24????? Are you shitting me. It should at least be in the top 10, and, should be in the top 5. Just seeing OJ get his ass kicked the entire film make it a top 5er.

-- How is Clueless even on the list? Clueless? Gag me with a spoon.

-- Tropic Thunder No. 17 - Enuff said.

-- Beverly Hills Cop is No. 3, National Lampoon's Vacation is No. 2, Ghostbusters is No. 1.
Let's review: Trading Places - which is ten times funnier than Bev. Cop is No. 15. Vacation, which I admit belongs on the list (but not at No. 2), is funny, but Fletch could be Chevy's funnies film from that era.

Ghostbusters is the funniest movie from the last 25 years? Are you fucking kidding me? Funny? Yes. No. 1? no way.

Before it get to the most glaring omission, I present some films that should also be on the list.

One Crazy Summer: John Cusack, Bobcat, Demi Moore, and Neidermayer all in the same film. Classic.

Better Off Dead: Another Cusack classic.

Revenge of the Nerds: Are you telling me Napoleon Dynamite is funnier that this?

Team America: World Police: It's exclusion is what nearly caused me to have a stroke. It is unquestionably the funniest movie over the last 25 years, and possibly ever made. Watch it and try not to piss your pants. I dare you.
Marianettes shitting on each other during sex isn't funny?
Puppets vomiting after getting loaded?
That's not funny?
Maybe the impending death of Kim Jong Ill will raise awareness of this classic. Until then, I will no longer recognize EW as a publication.

The other list was on VH-1, which ranked the top 100 songs of the 1980s.

Here are the top 3
3. Hungry Like the Wolf - Duran, Duran
2. Pour Some Sugar on Me - Def Leppard
1. Livin' on a Prayer - Barack Jovi

I must say, if I was making this list, only No. 3 would make the list and would probably be somewhere in the 20s.

No. 2 is, in my opinion, a piece of shit. First of all, it's Def Leppard - which actually produced some decent rock in the early 80s - selling out with a total pop piece of shit. Second of all, they ripped off the title from the Archie's Sugar, Sugar, which by the way, is 10 times better. The list and song reminded me off a joke Mrs. Lad once told me. "What has 9 arms and sucks." Answer: Def Leppard.

As for No. 1: I must say I like this tune, but because it reminds me of a time at TSC when the Meister Brau flowed and the women were looser than Paris Hilton on crack.

My problems with the song are this: It's a poor man's (I know, he's not poor, just ask Obama) attempt at a Springsteen ripoff. You know, cat down on his luck, union on strike, but he loves his women and his guitar. Classic Bruce. The former Sayreville Bomber/St. Joe's Falcon tried again a few years later with "Born to Be My Baby." It's the same song.

Second, it's not even the best song on the album Slippery When Wet. That, or course, is Social Disease. Anyway, good song, but top song of the 80s, no way.

Here's my top 3:
3. Come on Eileen -Dexy's Midnight Runners
2. Der Kommisar - After the Fire
1. She's a Beauty - The Tubes

Speaking of lists, with Labor Day over, I will present in about a week my list of the 5 best and worst days of the summer of 2008. This list is the brainchild of Mrs. Slim Steve, who was there for one of the worst days, when we had to pack up the beach house and come back to reality.

Other big news: In the next month or so, I will be launching a new web site. I bought one of those web site for dummies book and am fired up to do it. only problem is, I'm not sure what the content will be.

Right now, the candidates are:
Guys Named Keith - will list and explore famous and not so famous dudes named keith
The Beer Count - Will chronicle all of my drinking events
The Worst Mets - Will explore every awful player in Met history (there's a bunch)
Halt Fraser - Will explore why Brendan Fraser is actually a celebrity and examine ways to make it stop.
THE TSC - I will possibly chronicle my college years in a book form. Maybe a new chapter or so every month. Could be the groundwork for a major hollywood film.

If you have any thoughts or views on this, feel free to weigh in.

Well, that's all for now. Big Chicago trip coming up next week.

Get ready for the summer list and expect weekly blog entries starting in late Sept.

Well, it's official, we are now the laziest country on the planet, and we have our friends at Verizon to thank for it.

Yesterday, I took the two Pendleton kids to see Wall-E, and of course, before the film started, we were bombarded with commercial after commercial.

Most were of the annoying Coke and Pepsi variety, but then one popped on for a new gagdet from Verizon that basciallly can identify any song playing and immediately download it for you. For example, you're walking down the street and some dude in a car is playing a song you like, but have never heard before. All you need to do is stick out the little device, which will tell you the name of the song, and then will download it from Verizon.com ASAP. I agree it's pretty cool, but I mean how fucking lazy are we getting? Usually in that situation you may actually have a conversation with another human and find out the title of the song, or may have to go home and try to find it online. You know, actually make some sort of effort. Pretty soon, we will just have to think about taking a crap and it will done for us. (Now, that would be cool).

What's ironic - and usually this word is used incorrectly, but in this case I think it's actually irony - is that Wall-E is (spoiler alert) all about the human race becoming so lazy and so computer-reliant everyone becomes extremely fat and lazy to the point that they can no longer walk. Hmmmm.

Since I've used the "spoiler alert" phrase up there, I'm actually disgusted in myself that I did. It's one of many new catch phrases that make me sick. The others: Walk-off home run; "no worries," are just a few more.

Speaking of vomit-inducing thoughts, how about those Mets? They really, really, really blow. Joe Reyes' head is up his arse, D. Wright hasn't had a big hit all season and Johan Santana, well, let's just say if he could pitch as well as he sells out his teammates, he'd be in line for 20 wins. Last night's 7-1 loss to the Cards was the last time (I know I've said this before, but I really mean it this time) that I will go out of my way to watch them when I don't have to (ie. work). If they don't give a shit, why should I?

Not much else to report right now. Possible Six Flags trip with the kids next week, and hopefully my first ride on Kinga Ka. Of course, if I lose my hat on the ride, I'll let it go, instead of losing my lid.

One final thing, here are two great, yet different Web-sites to check out.

straightcashhomey.net/

fatalfarm.com

The first one is self-explanatory, the second one is pretty whacky, but check out the TV themes, especially the Happy Days one and the Ducktales one.

Happy July 4th. Celebrate your freedom by eating and drinking to the point of puking.

GONNA CRY NOW

Well, I'll admit it's been way too long since my last post. A lot has happened that I should be weighing in on.

The deaths of Harvey Korman, Charlie Jones and of course, the biggest TV star in all of the land, Tim Russert, and Willie Randolph's career.

We'll get to that later.

The inspiration for this entry was a trip to Philly on Monday night with three former employees of the Macromedia empire. We went to see the fightin' Phils and the Red Sox battle it out. The game was OK.

Ryan Howard hit two pop flys that landed about 30 rows back. Bartolo Colon - who makes me look as skinny as a heroin addict - hurt himself swinging a bat, and J.D. Drew - a man who one of my pals described as "not giving a shit about anything," was booed everytime up.

However, the highlight of the game was sitting next to and doing schtick with former Celtic great Chris Ford. Cool guy. Wouldn't let me buy him a beer and was up for plenty of schtick. Not many people know this, but I was a huge Celtics fan in high school. Of course, once I got a bit smarter, I realized the NBA was a complete bore and was tuned out. We did make one mistake when we sat down, as we first thought Ford was Red Sox great Jerry Remy (r.), but he quickly corrected us.

As for postgame schtick, we had a couple of tastes in the parking lot (about 30 less than I had the last time I was in the Comcast/FU Center parking lot) and then we headed into South Philly for the Pat's/Geno's cheesesteak run. Unable to decide which one I wanted, I had one from each place. I didn't want to offend my Philly friend on the way home, but I started thinking about how overrated the whole Philly cheesesteak thing is. I mean, it's cheese and steak. How hard is that? I banged out a Steakum sandwhich in my kitchen a few weeks ago that was just as good. I mean, I guess besides a broken bell, they have nothing else to hang their hat on, so we'll give it to them.

Anyway, with my arteries at Russert levels, we headed to the Philly museum of art and ran up the stairs that Sly Stallone did 32 years ago. This time, I did say that getting up those steps was overrated, as I was able to make it with about 7 beers and two cheesesteaks in my belly, but my friend reminded me that in the movie Rocky had already run about 20 miles before getting up there. I don't think I've run 20 miles in my life.

Of course, the capper of the night was listening the last win of Willie Randolph's Met career. I went home, went to sleep, got up around noon and found out the cat was history. I won't get into my full feelings on the Mets right now, but for all you Met fans out there, know this. For as long as you live, Jeff Wilpon will be running the Mets. Good luck.

A few other notes:

Russert coverage way overblown. I'm sure he was a good guy, and like he was supposed to do, asked the tough questions on Meet the Press. But honestly, who watches Meet the Press? I think the NHL got better ratings on NBC. I mean, if Mike Emerick checks out, will there be front page tributes and columns and hour-long TV features on him? While there should be, there won't be. And I'm sure more people watched Charlie Jones on NBC over the years than Russert, too. What's gonna happen when Wally Cronkite signs off for the last time?

As for Harvey Korman, I was pissed that nobody pointed out he was the voice of the great gazoo on the Flintstones. Dum Dums.

There's plenty of more to report, but I gotta go. School's out in a few days and all free time is out with it. Of course, that means more time for me and my kids, which I have to admit, is not a bad deal.

BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS

Before I get started, not sure if any of you saw this, but this dude basically got a custom coffin made for himself which looks like a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. How hard core is that.

Here is the link to the story?

On to less important things:

Well, I've often wondered why most people in this country are overweight/out of shape/at risk for serious heart disease/fat as shit. Well, the answer is Dunkin' Donuts.

Last Saturday, in conjunction with a local charity, I stood in front of one of Pendletonville's 2 DDs collecting money for mentally handicapped kids.

Over the course of 4 hours, I collected tons of cash, and that's because the joint was extremely busy. As a matter of fact, between 10:40 a.m. and 11:40 a.m. I counted (I was bored) 105 people going in and coming out with some sort of product. 105 people in 1 hour. And it wasn't just coffee, it was donuts, muffins, drinks with about of pound of whip cream on it. Pretty much anything with oodles and oodles of sugar were being purchased.

One dude, who I must say is double my weight - and that's a lot - came out with 3 of those "Boxes of Joe" and 8 - that's right I said 8 - dozen donuts.

The highlight/lowlight was a woman who came out with two little kids (I would say about ages 8 and 5 and each on their way to about 120 pounds) and while she banged down a huge coffee, each kid scarfed down about 6-7 Munchins each. I nearly said something, but I kept my mouth shut, took the cash.

The highlight of the morning, however, was seeing the meal put together by some dude who obviously had consumed several tastes the night before. I mean , I've done the morning snickers bar with a Dr. Pepper to cure the hangover, but this took the cake.

While I stood outside the DD, this cat, looking like shit, wandered over and sat on a wooden flower bed in the parking lot and proceeded to pull out of a bag a sleeve of Saltines and the canned cheeze. Not cheez whiz, the other stuff in which you tilt the nozzle like a can of whip cream. Well, he pretty much bangs down the whole sleeve of crackers and cheese in no time. Next up, a Giant Hershey bar, which was gone in seconds. Then, of course, it was time for a large coffee and a smoke. Suddenly, the huge bowl of Cap'N Crunch I had that morning was looking healthy.

I told myself I should either become a cardiologist and open my own DD.

On other notes:

- The Ranger season came to a painful end (what else is new) today, so now I can focus 100% on the Mets, which, I'm sure will be another lesson in frustration, heartbreak and anger.

-- Hey Joker, I enjoyed your stadium photos. Nice job. Nice trip. I nearly got mugged outside Tiger Stadium back in the day by some hut-less character outside the local White Castle. Good times, good times. I was surprised, however, to see that a certain scribe still has the guts to show his face on a certain Big 10 campus.

I have plenty of other schtick to do - including a trip to the Jersey shore with the Pendleton kids last week - but can't concentrate right now because this Stars-Sharks game is still going. Right now, they just finished the third OT. Anyone who says hockey is boring, by the way, is an arse hole.

I promise I'll be back at the end of the week with more hijinks.

DORM DAZE 2

Well, I've done it fans of FNC. I've found a way to show all of you my drunken pictures from college. Please, whatever you do, don't post them anywhere else, as they are quite embarrassing, but I figure my loyal fans deserve to see them. Check them out here. They are awesome.

After looking at the photos, keep reading below for my comments on each shot.












Congrats, you've just been Rickrolled. Yes, it's the new Internet phenomenom where people are tricking other people, into watching Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up Video." It's pretty sick, but apparently, that's what young kids these days are up to. Another part of Rickrolling is gathering a bunch of people in a public place and playing the song as loud as possible. There's also a Met connection, since some Rickrollers duped the Mets into having the song as one of their nominees for their 8th inning song.

The video, by the way, is tremendous. Astley's dancing is lame, his lip-synching is awesome, and the bartender dude is likely on crack, especially when he jumps into the chain-link fence.

DORM DAZE

I have an ethics question for fans of FNC.

Is it ethical to post incriminating photos taken long before the Internet age on the Internet?

Interesting question, huh.

The reason I ask is because it recently came to my attention that the college alma mater of myself has an alumni page where members can post photos. The idea is for alum to post current photos of themselves and their kids and stuff like that. Well, one of my classmates has posted photos from back in the day. Several feature a drunken Joe Pendleton doing the following

1. licking his girlfriend's face while holding a can of Old Mildew.

2. Smooching some other dame on the cheek

3. Arm around some other dame while obviously not sober

4. Doing a drunken version of the Unicorn song (there are two of those).

Now, had these pix been taken within the last few years, I would have no problem with them hitting the world wide web, since I would've been well aware of the fact that these photos could hit a large audience in a short time. But at the time they were taken I figured only a few friends would see them. I've lodged a complaint with the poster, but he tells me those shots are innocent compared to the other ones he has of me, so I will just pipe down. Now before all you fans go scrambling to the web site, you need to be a graduate to get on there. So if you want to see them, stop by FNC World Headquarters some day and I will show you.

Speaking of college, on my last post JG said how much she loved the Hooters' Nervous Night album. It got me thinking about other albums that influenced my four years in college. So, without further ado, here's the list of my top 10 albums that got me through college. Please remember it was 1994-1988, and, as the photos will attest, I was young, drunk and stupid.

Now, these are not my favorite albums from the years 1984-1988, just the most influential from that time. Actually, my favorite album from that era - The Cult's Electric, did not come to my attention until 1989.

Without further ado, Here we go.

10. Genesis, Genesis OK, let's start with this statement. I hate Phil Collins. Hate Genesis. Did I mention I hate Genesis. However, there was something about this album I liked, and it's probably because one night me and some co-ed got very friendly in my dorm room while this album played quite loudly. My roomie had a nice stereo system and this CD. Everytime I hear any tunes from this album, it brings me back to that evening. Nothing like getting busy to "Illegal Alien." I got my first hickey that night, and of course, didn't realize it until the next day, when, while sitting in class, some dude behind me kept starting at me. When I took a stop in the can after class I spotted - for the first time - the golf-ball shaped red thing on my neck. Note: This photo not on web site - yet.

9. License to Ill, Beastie Boys: This album was the shit in the mid-80s, and my junior year, it was pretty much played once a day in my dorm room. "Girls" is one of my favorite tunes at the time. I didn't get any broads to this one, maybe the offensive lyrics had something to do with it.

8. Centerfield, John Fogerty: I got this free from the radio station - since they didn't play mainstream stuff, and it's actually a collector's item, since one of the songs - Vanz Cant Dance - had the name changed after the album's initial release. I still have a vinyl copy with the original, and not the changed tune. Of course the title track could get any baseball fan fired up.

7. 5150, Van Halen: My roomate, who's nickmane is Jimmy Jam, was a HUGE, HUGE Van Halen fan. I liked them, but not like he did. Anyway, he played this album every second he could. Perhaps my biggest memory of this album is in the summer of 1986 me and James Jam cut our own version of "Why Can't This Be Love," in one of those Boardwalk recording studios in Wildwood. I still have the tape. That will never see the alumni Web site.

6. Eat 'Em and Smith, David Lee Roth: Jim Jam's and his other partner in VH crime, Johnny Ace, were also DLRoth fans. So much that Mr. Ace spent 6 hours on Halloween 1986 making up his face to look just like the cover. That same October, on the same day Lenny Dykstra homered in Game 3 of the NLCS, me, Ace, Jam and others trekked to the Spectrum in Philly to see Diamond Dave in concert. Cinderella as the opening act. Great job.

5. Vital Signs, Survivor: Let's just say Old Joe was a pretty sentimental - and desperate cat - back in the day, pretty much falling in love with any dame that showed any interest in him. If I had a dollar for everytime I - in an inebriated state - sang "The Search is Over" to a dame, I'd have about 10 more bucks to my name. Of course, "High on You" and "Can't Hold Back" were party staples back in the day.

4. Raisin' Hell, Run DMC: If Jim Jam's stereo wasn't blasting the Beasties, it was kicking out this one. "You Be Illin" and "Walk This Way," must've been played about 300 times in the fall of 1986. Let the record state, however, that I never wore laceless adidas or a Kango hat.

3. Born in the USA, Bruce Springsteen: Every person in every dorm in every college in America had this casette in the fall of 1984 and with the Boss churing out single after single until about 1985, this one never got old. My fondest college memory of this album is getting loaded and lip-synching the end of "I'm Goin Down," where Bruce does all this "hey, a baba hey mow mow," shctick. I knew every word to every song of this album.

2. Nervous Night, Hooters: Since this band was from Philly, they were huge in South Jersey. My biggest regret is about a week before this album came out, they played the college rec center, but I blew it off. When I bought the cassette the next week, I was ticked that I missed it. I did see them with Squeeze at the Garden State Arts Center the summer of 1985, but was drunk and on the lawn, so I don't recall much except yelling, "They Were the Isrealites" at the top of my lungs. It was also on a constant loop in my brother's blue 1972 Nova, which made trips to the Jersey shore almost every weeekend. Love this album. And no, No. 1 .....

1. Slippery When Wet, Bon Jovi: While the boys from Sayreville are not my favorite cup of tea, I do owe them plenty. You see, college dames loved, LOVED, this album and they loved JBJ. So this scenario played out often: Dame is partying, dame gets fired up over "You Give Love a Bad Name," and "Livin on a Prayer," dame is longing for Bon Jovi, dame realized Bon Jovi not stopping by party, dame realizes J. Pendleton and others at party are her best shot for a good time. You throw in the Jersey factor and this album was worth its weight in gold. Ironically, Social Disease is my favorite tune off this album.

Well, there you have it.

One final note on college, the web site photos has got me thinking about writing my college memoirs. I may start and run the forward on this site to see if I should continue.

A few other notes:

This is gonna be a long year for the Mets unless they get a lights out pitcher in the pen.

Rangers-Devs will go 7. Still have no clue who will win.

I'm getting very soft. On Friday and Saturday, I had a few tastes, and about an hour after the drinking stopped, I was ready for bed. Very soft.

That's it for now. Let's Go Rangers

IT'S IN THE A-HOLE

Well, I'm back from the weekend of golf. It was great. Thanks to mother nature, we only got in 34 holes. Due to cold temps, our first tee time was pushed back about two hours. And then our second tee time was pushed back 2 hours as well, so we played 16 in the morning and 18 in the afternoon. Believe me, it was enough. High winds, cool temps and shitty golf are not a good mix for wanting to keep playing. The weekend also included me nearly getting in my first bar fight - twice, but good timing and me actually thinking straight avoided that happening.

Anyway, instead of rehashing every bad shot, and every awful decision by me - both on and off the course - we are going to play a little game from the weekend, called, name the A-hole.

Yes, I will give you a few candidates from the people we ran into this weekend, and you, the readers of FNC will get to voice your opinion on who was the biggest A-hole we ran into.


THE STARTER: This is the dude who sort of runs the on-course stuff at the first course. Well, me and my brother Torry aren't at the course for 3 minutes and he quickly confiscates our beverage bag, telling us they are not allowed on the course. OK, if it's July 15, and there are 100s of people on the course, you don't want everyone bringing their own stuff out there. But we were literally the only two dudes on the course. Anyway, let's just say the only tip the dude got was to go home and have intercourse with himself. It gets worse. On about the 8th hole, I get a call from our third dude who's coming up and I warn him about bringing a bag near the starter. He's OK with that, but he gets snagged when the starter catches him loading beers into his golf bag in the parking lot and confiscates his bag. It gets even more worse. As we are back in the parking lot getting ready to head to our second T-time, we ask the dude if he can call the second place (which is all run by the same chain, so he works for them, too) and tell them we are a few minutes late, but are on our way. He says he can't. He then comes down to the parking lot and catches us putting tastes and ice into our golf bags. He gives us a dirty look and leaves. Of course, when we get to the second course, they say they didn't get a call about being on time for our tee-time, but did get a call about us being trouble makers and they will be keeping an eye on us. So therefore, tastes on the second course had to be had very secretly. Thanks starter dude, your a-hole candidate No. 1



2. THE WAITRESS: After our second round on Saturday, we were very tired, cold and hungry, so headed to a local restaurant, which, I believe is named after that Philly band that did "All You Zombies" and "And We Danced." Anyway, as we are walking into the joint we see one pretty hot waitress smack another hot waitress right in the arse. NICE. It then turns out she's our waitress, and when she comes to get our drink order, she pretty much says, "did you see me do that? She's my girlfriend." Ok, so in seconds she's established she's very dirty and likes to brag about her dirtiness. After taking our drink order, she walks to the bar and then slaps a male employee of the joint on his backside. Now we are confused, but encouraged. So then she comes back to take our food order and now she is really selling the name of the establishment, if you know what I mean. I believe Austin Powers called them "maching gun jumblees." Anyway, after practically falling all over us while taking our orders, one of the members of our group says to her, "hey, you smacked that girl's butt, you smacked that guy's butt, can you now smack his (pointing to me) butt." She, in a complete 180-degree turn attitude-wise, says "because I don't know him." And from that point on, she is a total beeyatch. Never really acknowledges us, never chats with us. Just sort of leaves us alone until it's settling up time. Basically, we called her bluff, and she folded like cheap house of cards, cheap being the most applicable term. That's candidate No. 2



NO. 3: THE BRIDESMAID: So Saturday night we are in the bar at our hotel hanging out, revitalized from our trip to the hottub and the outdoor heated pool. There's nobody there except for these four dames - mids 20's - sitting there having a drink. As it turns out, one dame is getting married in a few weeks, so this is her bachlorette party. Looking to start some schtick, I wander over to their group and say "so who's getting married?" And they point to the dame who is. Without anything original to say, I give her the "big mistake," line. In seconds, they are all over me, ripping me for saying something so insensitive, and questioning if I'm married and how could i say that and blah, blah, blah. After trying to explain it was just a joke, I ask the one dame who is really hammering me if she's married and she's say no. So I then start ripping her for ripping me, since she has no experience on whether or not marriage is a mistake or not. I wander out of the joint, saying "doesn't anyone have a sense of humor around here."\



NO. 4: JOE PENDLETON: Yes, I'm nominating myself for the hell I put my brothers through Friday night. It seems when I have a few cocktails, I start acting like an a-hole. Not on purpose, rather just out of stupidy. So anyway, we get to our hotel room and I get under the covers and put my I-Pod in. You see, my brother snores quite loudly, so I figured the I-pod would help that. Of course, I'm now loaded and want to carry on a drunken rehash of the evening. So I remove the earpiece from the I-pod, ask my brother a question, and then before he can answer, I put the earpiece back in. So he's answering, but not getting a response from me, since I can't hear him. So then, I take the earpiece out, say, what did you say, and put the earpiece back in. Again, I wasn't trying to be an asre, I was just loaded. As for my other brother, let's just say I made insentive comments about his lady friend in front of him - and her. Before you vote, just know this went on for about 2o minutes. I final piece of evidence, on my way to my brother's joint, I spilled a XL iced coffee all over my car and still haven't cleaned it up.



OK, there you have it. I know all of you will vote from me, just to bust my onions, but please, be fair. The four potential a-holes on the list deserve that.



A few other notes: I started growing a goatee this week. not sure why. Mrs. Pendleton is gonna give it a few day's growth before making her decision on whether I should keep it or not. I don't feel strongly either way.

Back to candidate No. 2. I have to apologize to Slim Steve and Bill K. A few years ago, while on a trip to Penn State, we argued about the quality of the food at that establishment. I said it was good, they said it was awful. Well, it turns out, they are right, sort of. You see, my experience in eating Hooters food came from my many trips to the Hooters in FLorida and the one in the Inner Harbor in Baltimore at a time when there were not many around. But since that chain has expanded to the middle of nowhere in Pa. and NJ, it's clear the quality of food has sunk, too.

Well, it didn't take too long for the Met season to hit the crapper, now did it. That's OK, right now the only team I'm focused on is the good team that plays at MSG. Speaking of the Mets, how fat and old did Keith Hernandez get over the winter?

Today marks the 1-month anniversary of my father's passing. I can't believe it's only been a month. It seems like he has been gone years, and let me tell you, it's not getting any easier.

Well, that's it for now. THanks for reading and voting. By the way, once the voting is completed, I will reveal my pick.



Dictionary word of the week



ASS: (n) 1. a horselike beast of burden; a donkey; 2. a stupid person, a fool

54 HOLES AND NOTHING'S ON

Yes, believe it or not, a second post within a week's time. Hard to believe. Well, I'm wound up over a few things, and with Mrs. Pendleton hogging the TV to watch Top Chef, I have some time. So here goes.

I think I'd be pretty pissed off right now if I was former Conn. Governor John Rowand. Think about it, he had to resign his gig because he had some state workers put in a hot tub. A hot tub. Sure, it's a resignable offense, but when you consider what's going on in two nearby states, it's nothing.

First you have Jim McGreevey, who not only gave his gay lover a state job, he made him the head of homeland security for the state. Hot tub, smot tub. And then it comes out this week, that old Jimmy M was having threesomes with his wife and another dude, but it never crossed his wife's mind that he was gay. So here he is, pretty much getting it on with another guy in front of her and she think he's doing her a favor.

Then you have Mr. Spitzer. This cat is "hooking" up with high-end prostitutes while at the same time putting prostitution rings out of business. What a card. And he knows how to pick him, judging from "Kristen's" girls gone wild performance.

And then there's this david Patterson guy. He not only cheats on his cheating wife several times, he has the balls to tell the whole world about it so he doesn't get the boot. So let's review.

One guy quits because he's gay and his gay lover is in charge of protecting everyone in the state.

Another quits because he's sleeping with hot and wild 22 year olds

another cheats on his wife "several times" and keeps his job

Rowland has to resign over a hot tub. Doesn't seem fair.

A few other things:

Can people stop watching American Idol? PLEASE. I don't care if it's on TV, I'm just getting tired of reading about it in newspapers, hearing about it on the radio. Reading about it on the web. I can't take it anymore. Plus, with the record industry in the shitter, is a record contract really a big deal anymore? Sure, Underwood is doing well, but that's because she banging, not because she can sing. Anyone here from Taylor Hicks lately?

I loved Jersey Girl's rundown of her workout playlist. Well, I might have you topped, JG, while working out today (yes, I said working out), the Royal Guardsmen's Snoopy and the Red Baron came through the tiny headphones of my I-Pod. I was so fired up, I nearly fell off the eliptical machine.

Congrats to the staff of the AA News for their series on academics and athletics at Michigan. What the whole series has proven to me is the UM is just like any other football factory in the country, and not some esteemed institution that has a great balance of fine athletics and academics. I now realize why a second nickname for the team is Big Blue: Most of the students and players can't spell Wolverines.

A new feature to FNC. In each new post, I will take a word out of the dictionary along with its definition. I do this for two reasons: There's a dictionary gathering dust on my desk and figure it would be good for a few laughs.

Today's word is SCANSION (n.) analysis of metrical verse.


Not really sure what the meaning means.

Finally, if you are wondering what the title of my post means, well, it's a reference to what I'm going to attempt next weekend. My brother, Roman, lives near a resort which features five golf courses and a new hotel, which is running a deal the next few weekends. For $100, you get a night's stay in the hotel and unlimited golf (including cart) for a day. Therefore, next Saturday, Roman and I have a tee-time for 7 a.m. at one course, 12 noon at a second course and 5 p.m. at a third course. The goal is 54 holes in one day, but fatigue and lack of daylight could cost us. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Top Chef over, now I can watch TV again.

HELLO, GOODBYE

Friends, romans, countrymen, schills: I'm back from hiatus and well . . . I'll start where I should start.

A huge thank you to all fans of FNC and friends of Joe Pendleton for their overwhelming support last week following the death of my father. As I type it in, I still can't believe it happened, and while I won't say I'm in a state of denial, I can clearly say it hasn't sunk in yet.

He was a great dad, a great man, and hopefully I can live up to his reputation. Words cannot express the love, support, and compassion I felt from each and every one of you and it's something I will never forget. They say at times like these, you find out who your real friends are, and I certainly found that out in the last few weeks. Thanks again.

A few weird - beyond the obvious - things from last week. The day my dad's obit ran in the Ledger, the voice of NJ ran a huge story dealing with the lack of funding going to pancreatic cancer research. And then, the night before the funeral, I see on the news that Patrick Swayze has pancreatic cancer. Unreal.

This form of cancer is a real bastard and must be stopped. I know the Joker has done a fine job of raising awareness and money for the PANCAN network, and I will be doing the same. A charity golf outing is in the very, very early planning stages. Stayed tuned.

Now to some other stuff:

-- I took the Pendleton kids to see Horton Hears a Who today, and was in shock, when 85 minutes into the film, I hadn't heard one shitty 80s' tune sung by the computer generated characters. Of course, that all changed when the final sequence of the film featured the whole cast singing REO Speedwagon's "I can't fight this feeling anymore." While I'm a fan of the song and used to sing it about some dame in college I was in love with, but she thought I was "just a friend," it had nothing to do with the plot of film, leaving me quite irritated afterward.

-- Speaking of being irritated, the news of Ike Bruce's departure from the Rams and quick arrival on the 49er roster also has me quite pissed. Follow that up with hiring of a former Rutgers coach as quarterback's coach and I nearly, nearly thought about changing NFL allegiances. As quickly as the Rams went from NFL non-entity to league powerhouse, they have gone back to non-entity status. Maybe a family member of this new coach can become an "Embraceable Ewe," to lift the spirits in St. Louis.

-- The hightlight of the Oscars was when a certainy "actor" was introduced only as Dwayne Johnson. Give me a fucking break.

-- I'm very worried about the Mets. I think Mr. Delgado needs to start hanging around with a certain trainer/congressional witness or we are in big trouble. It's very possible The Sandman could be playing first base in Queens before the end of the year.

-- Not sure what has pissed me off more the last few weeks - this bullshit about Billy Joel playing the last concert at Shea or this Billy Crystal Yankee farce. Speaking of Crystal, I love all these a-holes saying his playing in an exhibition game has ruined the Yankee mystique. I guess numerous admitted HGH/steroid users from their championship teams, a manager who doesn't think guys should play hard in the spring, and ownership giving A-Rod everything he wanted despite his opt-out bullshit didn't hurt the mystique, but Crystal did. Give me a break.

-- Hard to believe that a dame from Belmar is a whore. Shocking.

-- I have no interest in the NCAA Tourney. This could, could be the year I don't fill out a bracket and then sit back and see if I have any interest in the Big Dance at all. The problem is, there are no bad guys. At least with Florida, you had somebody to root against. This year, nothing. Maybe the NCAA should put Bobby Gonzalez in to raise the hatred factor.

Well, that's it for now. The 2007 year in review is still being worked on. The beer count, which was at 0 before Big Blue won the Super Bowl and at 10 after it, has skyrocketed with the events of the last two weeks.

Happy St. Patrick's Day and Easter to all.

Thanks again.

I promise I'll blog before Memorial Day.