Well, it's been a while, but with Joe Pendleton Sr. still banged up, blogging not a real big priority right now.
As for Mr. Pendleton, his surgery on Saturday was a success, but he's still in the hospital. Due to the major stomach surgery he underwent, eating is still out. The cat is dying for a big Denny's breakfast, but that could be a while.
While I'm so happy the surgery went well and we believe all of the cancer is gone, it's still hard to see someone you love with tubes coming out of everywhere and pretty much confined to a hospital bed. Still, it beats the alternative.
The one good thing about Pop having surgery this week was my bro from California came to NJ for the weekend. I hadn't seen the dude since Turkey Day, so it was good to see him. We went to see Nacho Libre together Sunday night. It was a tremendous trip. It was my first movie in about a 8 months that didn't feature computer generated characters or a cartoon. It was a great flick. If you're into Jack Black, check it out. Part of the weekend also featured my first trip to White Castle since the big diet began in January. If you really want to enjoy a White Castle, go 6 months without one and then bang down a few. Man, those things are friggin good.
The weekend also concluded with the Whale capturing the Stanley Cup. It was pumped for the Canes win until Gary Bettman got on his knees and sucked off Canes owner Peter Karmanos for believing hockey could work in Raleigh. Honestly, is Afghanistan had offered that dude some cash to build an arena, he would've moved there.
I think the thing I will miss most about hockey being over is Doc Emerick, who, in the last 2 months re-established himself as the best play-by-play man in any sport. The dude could make taking a shit exciting. Wait a minute, taking a shit is exciting.
Speaking of taking a shit, the Pendleton household finally has its new bathroom. Since the week before Memorial Day, we had been w/0 a shower and upstairs bathroom since it was being completely redone. I was taking showers at Mrs. Pendleton Srs house, and, when I couldn't get over there, was washing my hair in the kitchen sink. I wrote a few months ago how underrated a foot is. Let me tell you, a bathroom is even more underrated.
As for the Mets. It's clear they will win the NL East, but I gotta tell you, every Met fan will be holding their breath in October when Billy Wagner comes charging in. The dude has been shaky all season, and will be a huge question mark come October.
That's all for now.
Sorry about the limited schtick. I'm sitting here at 3:15 a.m. typing this in while drinking a Coors Light. How fucking depressing is my life?
Friday, June 23, 2006
Thursday, June 15, 2006
HAIR AND NOW
With my hair starting to get out of control, I popped out of bed early today and headed for the local barber shop. When I say early, I mean 9:30, which is early for me.
Anyway, while sitting in the barber shop half asleep, my mind starting to wander as some short Italian dude got dangerously close to my ears with a pair of scissors.
Anyway, here's a peek into the brain of a tired man.
-- Billy Joel sucks. As I was getting the haircut, the radio played a live version of "My Life." I know everyone loves him, but let's face it, he sucks. Every one of his songs either A: Is pop bullshit; B: Is a cheesy love song, C: Is a tired singalong song. A few examples of each.
A: My Life - very gay, very shitty. We Didn't Start the Fire: Huge piece of shit. Uptown Girl: PURE STENCH.
B: Just the Way You Are: Sure, Christie Brinkley doesn';t need to change, but if you dame is fat and smelly, she could certainly go changing. New York State of Mind: YAWWWWWWWWWN.
C: And this is where I get really wound up. On a much earlier post, I stated there's nothing I hate more than drunk chicks in a bar singing real loud. Well, Piano Man might be the biggest catalyst to this kind of behavior. Only The Good Die Young also promotes this crap. Therefore, I hate both and the man who penned these songs.
Plus, if you look at Mr. Joel's work. He never sets a trend, he just goes with whatever is hot at the time and cashes in. Anyway, the dude sucks.
--- OK, this one will get me ripped, but here goes. Jessica Simpson is not hot. She's not. Sure, great tits, great arse, nice looking mug, but to me, her whole persona ruins it. She's a friggin nitwit - and believe me, while there's nothing wrong with dumb hot chicks - there's something about her nitwittiness that turns me off. Now if the dame arrived on my doorstep looking for some action and Mrs. Pendleton gave me the green light, I'd have to take care of her. But when she's on TV or on the internet or in the series of WHORE mags like STUFF and FHM, I'm not reaching for tissues and flashlight. I'll take Alba any day of the week. She's no Swank, either.
-- Being a barber has to be a shitty job. At least if you're a hair stylist - and not gay - you get the occassional hot dame. But a barber just has to deal with either smelly dudes or insane kids all day. At this moment, it's a smelly dude he's dealing with. I can certainly think of worse jobs, but cutting hair all day has to suck, especially in these PC times where you can't smoke, drink or curse in these barber shops.
-- I really hate that Ann Coulter dame. Ironically, I get what she is saying about the 911 wdows, which is, why should they have such a powerful voice because their hubbies died on 911. But this cunt - my favorite new word - has to rip these broads. Anyway, it's obvious this whore is stirring up just to stir it up and sell some books. The effect she's had on me is I feel no matter who runs on the Democratic ticket in 2008, that person - even if it's Mrs. Slick Willy - has to win. The ultra-conservatism of this country is driving me nuts. It won't be long before the FCC is charging me $350,000 for typing in cunt.
Well, that's it for now. Next haircut in about 8 weeks.
PS. Is anyone else having problems putting pictures on this thing? If you have any tips let me know.
Friday, June 09, 2006
ROLLERCOASTER OF LOVE
Well, what a week it's been.
Most of you already know, but if you don't, my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer on Monday. It was quite a blow for the Pendleton family and needless to say Monday was one of the all-time shitty days.
However, on Tuesday, we got word the cancer has not spread and it is likely it can be removed by surgery, with some follow up chemo. What kills me is the dude has never smoked, is not a big drinker and takes very good care of himself. It just goes to show you never fucking know. Live it up while you can kids.
I've already learned in the last week or so not to get too high or too low and try to stay on an even keel. I'm well experienced in this emotional rollercoaster, being a long time follower of the New York Metropolitans.
Speaking of the Mets and cancer, I asked a young dude I work with the other day how the hell he could still be smoking after watching those anti-smoking ads they run on SNY. The one with the dude with the hole in his neck and cancer kazoo is the most disturbing and most powerful. I swear, if they ever started running ads on TV that beer drinking would do that to you, I would go cold turkey. I swear I would.
Anyway, some other notes:
-- I drove by a big, new Indian food market the other day and a sign out front advertised CUD at 2.99 for 11 pounds. Anything with that name and that price has to take like shit.
-- My all-time favorite movie "Rollercoaster" came on last night on something called the Retrochannel. I only watched the first hour since it was 4 a.m., but man the first 15 minutes of that movie, especially the part where an entire rollercoaster car of people land on their heads is pretty hard core.
-- Speaking of living it up, The Allen Oldies Band (see link on my link chart) will be staging its second annaul East Coast Invasion this weekend. Tonight, they are at Maxwell's in Hoboken. How hard core are these cats? They played 5.5 hours last year - without taking a break. And it's a high-octane, full energy oldies show. Their version of Snoopy vs. the Red Barron might be the greatest live performance I've ever seen.
-- For all you Springsteeners out there, a co-worker of mine told me a friend of his went to see The Boss at Conseco Fieldhut last week and only 4,000 folks showed up. That's nutty. My only indication of the Boss' popularity outside of NJ came in the early 90s, when I went to see him at the Richfield Coliseum outside of Cleveland for the Human Touch/Lucky Town tour. While the crowd was lively, there were plenty of empty seats in the hut. Of course, you can't blame anyone for not wanting to shell out $50 to see Shayne Fontaine.
-- Now to hockey. All I can say is if the Canes win that Cup, one of those dude - maybe Glen Wesley - should parade that bad boy through the streets of Hartford. And then Pete Laviolette should take it and shove it up Mike Modano's arse. Remember, Modano ripped Laviolette after the Olympics.
-- Now for my Yankee venting. I will agree that the catch by Melka Cabrerba was a great catch in a semi-big spot. Remember, it's only June 5. But for a-hole John Sterling to call it the best catch we've ever seen just shows you what a huge schill that dude it. I can name 10 Met catches off the top of my head that were better than that catch. And here they are in no particular order.
-- Tommie Agee's two amazing catches in the 69 Series.
-- Ron Swaboda's amazing catch in the 69 Series.
-- Jay Payton's running, jumping catch in San Fran a few years ago where he literallly took back a ball that was about 5 rows deep.
-- David Wright's barehanded catch.
-- Patrick Howell's (remember him) running catch into the right field wall. I'll say sometime around 1995.
-- David Wright's catch in Seattle last year where he went into the stands to catch a ball. Unlike Derek Jeter, he didn't catch the ball on the field and take 10 steps before diving into the crowd, he actually caught the ball while diving into the crowd.
-- Carlos Beltran's catch the other night at Dodger Stadium.
-- Mike Cameron's catch vs. Astros last year where he fell down, and while laying on his arse caught the ball.
-- Rey Ordonez's diving, over the shoulder catch while heading toward the outfield circa 1999.
-- Cleon Jones' catch to end the 69 World Series.
Anyway, the real problem here is over-the-top hype these Yankee-Red Sox games get. I mean they play 19 times a year. Give it a rest. As for John Sterling, great column in today's NY Daily News by Bob Raissman on Sterling.
That's all for now. Your thoughts and prayers where Mr. Pendleton are concerned a greatly appreciated.
Most of you already know, but if you don't, my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer on Monday. It was quite a blow for the Pendleton family and needless to say Monday was one of the all-time shitty days.
However, on Tuesday, we got word the cancer has not spread and it is likely it can be removed by surgery, with some follow up chemo. What kills me is the dude has never smoked, is not a big drinker and takes very good care of himself. It just goes to show you never fucking know. Live it up while you can kids.
I've already learned in the last week or so not to get too high or too low and try to stay on an even keel. I'm well experienced in this emotional rollercoaster, being a long time follower of the New York Metropolitans.
Speaking of the Mets and cancer, I asked a young dude I work with the other day how the hell he could still be smoking after watching those anti-smoking ads they run on SNY. The one with the dude with the hole in his neck and cancer kazoo is the most disturbing and most powerful. I swear, if they ever started running ads on TV that beer drinking would do that to you, I would go cold turkey. I swear I would.
Anyway, some other notes:
-- I drove by a big, new Indian food market the other day and a sign out front advertised CUD at 2.99 for 11 pounds. Anything with that name and that price has to take like shit.
-- My all-time favorite movie "Rollercoaster" came on last night on something called the Retrochannel. I only watched the first hour since it was 4 a.m., but man the first 15 minutes of that movie, especially the part where an entire rollercoaster car of people land on their heads is pretty hard core.
-- Speaking of living it up, The Allen Oldies Band (see link on my link chart) will be staging its second annaul East Coast Invasion this weekend. Tonight, they are at Maxwell's in Hoboken. How hard core are these cats? They played 5.5 hours last year - without taking a break. And it's a high-octane, full energy oldies show. Their version of Snoopy vs. the Red Barron might be the greatest live performance I've ever seen.
-- For all you Springsteeners out there, a co-worker of mine told me a friend of his went to see The Boss at Conseco Fieldhut last week and only 4,000 folks showed up. That's nutty. My only indication of the Boss' popularity outside of NJ came in the early 90s, when I went to see him at the Richfield Coliseum outside of Cleveland for the Human Touch/Lucky Town tour. While the crowd was lively, there were plenty of empty seats in the hut. Of course, you can't blame anyone for not wanting to shell out $50 to see Shayne Fontaine.
-- Now to hockey. All I can say is if the Canes win that Cup, one of those dude - maybe Glen Wesley - should parade that bad boy through the streets of Hartford. And then Pete Laviolette should take it and shove it up Mike Modano's arse. Remember, Modano ripped Laviolette after the Olympics.
-- Now for my Yankee venting. I will agree that the catch by Melka Cabrerba was a great catch in a semi-big spot. Remember, it's only June 5. But for a-hole John Sterling to call it the best catch we've ever seen just shows you what a huge schill that dude it. I can name 10 Met catches off the top of my head that were better than that catch. And here they are in no particular order.
-- Tommie Agee's two amazing catches in the 69 Series.
-- Ron Swaboda's amazing catch in the 69 Series.
-- Jay Payton's running, jumping catch in San Fran a few years ago where he literallly took back a ball that was about 5 rows deep.
-- David Wright's barehanded catch.
-- Patrick Howell's (remember him) running catch into the right field wall. I'll say sometime around 1995.
-- David Wright's catch in Seattle last year where he went into the stands to catch a ball. Unlike Derek Jeter, he didn't catch the ball on the field and take 10 steps before diving into the crowd, he actually caught the ball while diving into the crowd.
-- Carlos Beltran's catch the other night at Dodger Stadium.
-- Mike Cameron's catch vs. Astros last year where he fell down, and while laying on his arse caught the ball.
-- Rey Ordonez's diving, over the shoulder catch while heading toward the outfield circa 1999.
-- Cleon Jones' catch to end the 69 World Series.
Anyway, the real problem here is over-the-top hype these Yankee-Red Sox games get. I mean they play 19 times a year. Give it a rest. As for John Sterling, great column in today's NY Daily News by Bob Raissman on Sterling.
That's all for now. Your thoughts and prayers where Mr. Pendleton are concerned a greatly appreciated.
Friday, June 02, 2006
THE OLD MAN AND THE C-WORD
Well, it's been more than a week since the much-anticipated trip to Fenway for Yanks-Sox. Here are some of the highlights.
-- Not to sound gay, but I do find taking long road trips with a couple of cats pretty fun. I mean, it's great. You get to do a lot of cursing and farting and other shit you would never get away with at home.
Speaking of cursing, halfway to Boston we got into a discussion what an underrated four-letter word the C-word is. I mean think about it, if you are having a bad day at work you - in this day & age, could get away with yelling fuck or shit and nobody would really give you a hard time. But yell something like "Cuntsucker" real loud and people will act as if you shot someone. That's what makes the C-word great, it's may be the only 4-letter word that really still offends people. I'm gonna try to work it more and more into my daily vocabulary.
Speaking of C's (see, I won't even type it in), those Red Sox fans in Boston are exactly that. Need some proof.
-- In the sixth inning of the game, I had to take a mean piss, so I headed for the men's room. Upon seeing the line into the "IN" door was quite long, I did want any self-respecting man would do, I headed right for the "OUT" door. About 10 feet from a nice-open urinal, some a-hole literally hips checks me and pins me up against a wall. So I say, "what's your problem", he says "go in the IN door like everyone else." I say "What, are you the fucking bathroom police?" and he says something like "It's not fair to everyone else." Now me, being the friendly drunk I am, so "you know what, you're right, I'll go to the IN door," and I proceed to follow this dude out of the bathroom. However, the second the dude is about 10 feet in front of me, I do a 360, go back through the OUT door, take a quick piss and head back to my seat.
Two lessons here: First of all, as much as I hate Yankee fans, they would never give me shit for going through the out door. Second of all, I used to wonder why people would ever start fights at a baseball game, but now I know. There are people out there who are just huge cunts.
As for the rest of the game, most of the people at Fenway didn't really give a shit about the game. I think the Sox title in 2004 took all the venom out of the diehards, and, at the same time, prompted all the bandwagoners to scoop up the tix. The most upset I saw the sox fans get was when one of the guys I was with, at about 10:10, annouced to the crowd that Taylor Hicks had won American Idol. You gotta figure most of the a-holes in the crowd were Tivoing the show at home. It was great to ruin their little reality show night.
And then, after the game, some dame (I don't want to overuse the C-word), was busting my balls because I was from New Jersey. She then told me she was from New Hampshire, and I nearly went ballistic, saying how could you rip NJ when you a from a state that's only famous for some bogus primary ever 4 years. What a C%%#.
Now to hockey. Let me say this, the Whale is alive and well in New England. I wore my Whale
jersey to the Sox game, and got literally dozens of comments. And then, when Manny Ramirez took Scott Proctor over the Monsta, they played Brass Bonanza at Fenway. I thought I was in heaven.
Great win for the Whale last night. I'm gonna say Whale in 6, but could be 7. This Rod Brind'amour could become the ugliest man ever to win the Stanley Cup.
As for the beer count, it skyrocketed since the start of the Fenway trip last week.My estimates are about 18 beers in Boston last Wednesday. Nothing Thursday. On Friday, I'll say about 10. About 5 on Saturday at home. About 8 on Sunday at Monmouth Park, and about 10 on Monday at my buddy's hut.
So that's 51 for the weekend. I think the count coming in was about 120, so let's call the beer count 171 right now.
-- Not to sound gay, but I do find taking long road trips with a couple of cats pretty fun. I mean, it's great. You get to do a lot of cursing and farting and other shit you would never get away with at home.
Speaking of cursing, halfway to Boston we got into a discussion what an underrated four-letter word the C-word is. I mean think about it, if you are having a bad day at work you - in this day & age, could get away with yelling fuck or shit and nobody would really give you a hard time. But yell something like "Cuntsucker" real loud and people will act as if you shot someone. That's what makes the C-word great, it's may be the only 4-letter word that really still offends people. I'm gonna try to work it more and more into my daily vocabulary.
Speaking of C's (see, I won't even type it in), those Red Sox fans in Boston are exactly that. Need some proof.
-- In the sixth inning of the game, I had to take a mean piss, so I headed for the men's room. Upon seeing the line into the "IN" door was quite long, I did want any self-respecting man would do, I headed right for the "OUT" door. About 10 feet from a nice-open urinal, some a-hole literally hips checks me and pins me up against a wall. So I say, "what's your problem", he says "go in the IN door like everyone else." I say "What, are you the fucking bathroom police?" and he says something like "It's not fair to everyone else." Now me, being the friendly drunk I am, so "you know what, you're right, I'll go to the IN door," and I proceed to follow this dude out of the bathroom. However, the second the dude is about 10 feet in front of me, I do a 360, go back through the OUT door, take a quick piss and head back to my seat.
Two lessons here: First of all, as much as I hate Yankee fans, they would never give me shit for going through the out door. Second of all, I used to wonder why people would ever start fights at a baseball game, but now I know. There are people out there who are just huge cunts.
As for the rest of the game, most of the people at Fenway didn't really give a shit about the game. I think the Sox title in 2004 took all the venom out of the diehards, and, at the same time, prompted all the bandwagoners to scoop up the tix. The most upset I saw the sox fans get was when one of the guys I was with, at about 10:10, annouced to the crowd that Taylor Hicks had won American Idol. You gotta figure most of the a-holes in the crowd were Tivoing the show at home. It was great to ruin their little reality show night.
And then, after the game, some dame (I don't want to overuse the C-word), was busting my balls because I was from New Jersey. She then told me she was from New Hampshire, and I nearly went ballistic, saying how could you rip NJ when you a from a state that's only famous for some bogus primary ever 4 years. What a C%%#.
Now to hockey. Let me say this, the Whale is alive and well in New England. I wore my Whale
jersey to the Sox game, and got literally dozens of comments. And then, when Manny Ramirez took Scott Proctor over the Monsta, they played Brass Bonanza at Fenway. I thought I was in heaven.
Great win for the Whale last night. I'm gonna say Whale in 6, but could be 7. This Rod Brind'amour could become the ugliest man ever to win the Stanley Cup.
As for the beer count, it skyrocketed since the start of the Fenway trip last week.My estimates are about 18 beers in Boston last Wednesday. Nothing Thursday. On Friday, I'll say about 10. About 5 on Saturday at home. About 8 on Sunday at Monmouth Park, and about 10 on Monday at my buddy's hut.
So that's 51 for the weekend. I think the count coming in was about 120, so let's call the beer count 171 right now.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
Dear fans of fishingnotcathcing. Thanks for your patience. I'm just recovering from last week's trip to Fenway and the ensuing Memorial Day weekend hijinks.
I have plenty to report, but right now must focus on tonight's Canes-Sabres Game 7. Once that is out of the way, expext a full Memorial Day weekend post, with topics ranging from the C-word to my new hatred for the Boston Red Sox and their fans.
Look for new info early Friday.
I have plenty to report, but right now must focus on tonight's Canes-Sabres Game 7. Once that is out of the way, expext a full Memorial Day weekend post, with topics ranging from the C-word to my new hatred for the Boston Red Sox and their fans.
Look for new info early Friday.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
SWANK AND A MISS
It's late Sunday night and I'm emotionally and physically exhausted from this weekend.
Believe it or not, I'm drinking just my third beer since last Friday's shenanigans, but am gearing up for a taste-filled trip Wednesday to Fenway.
Anyway, this weekend I did schtick with a two-time Academy Award winner, was shown on Ch. 7 News and even played the role of a bartender. Here's a breakdown of the weekend.
Head to Shea Stadium Friday for a wild Mets-Yankees game. On the 7 train platform in Times Square, who do I spot but none other than the million dollar baby herself, Hillary Swank. Now, Mrs. Pendleton gets mad because I have a habit of saying someone is a celebrity, but it's really just someone who looks like that celebrity, but I knew immediately it was her.
I sat next to the dude she was with on the Subway, and after arriving at Shea and seeing that she busted out a Mets hat, I figured it was time to do some schtick. Here's how the conversation went:
JP: "I'm a big fan of yours, and I don't want you to think I'm stalking you."
HS: (Uncomfortable smile)
JP: "It's nice to see you are a Mets fan
HS: (A little more comfortable smile)
JP: "I mean, most people from Hollywood are fake Yankee fans."
HS: "WHAT?"
JP: "Seriously, they say they are Yankee fans because it's the cool thing to do."
HS: "Well, how do you know I'm not a fake Mets fan."
JP: "Good point. Well, they need all they help they can get, so it doesn't matter."
HS: Laughs.
JP: "Well, enjoy the game.
HS: "You too."
If it wasn't 7:05 at this point and I couldn't see the Mets taking the field while I was still on the subway platform, I would've done a little more schtick, but it was game time.
Once inside Shea, I have to say it was one of the wildest games I ever saw. And it's not everyday you see a Randy Johnson meltdown, an A-Rod error and Mariano blow it in the same game. It was sweet. Also, the dude I was with has a friend who is a ch. 11 cameraman, so the two of us were shown a few times during the game and they even showed us going crazy after the MEts won - a shot that was repeated on ch. 7 news.
Of course, the euphporia of Friday night was immediately wiped out by the crap that went down Saturday afternoon, but Sunday's Met win made it a nice weekend.
As for the bartender gig, as part of a charity event, I worked in a concession stand Saturday night at the Somerset Patriots (unaffiliated Atlantic League bs baseball) game. I was the beer dude/cashier. Let me tell you, that is friggin hard work. I now know why the normal people take their sweet time. It's because A: They don't give a shit and B: The slower they go, the better the odds of people leaving their line and going somewhere else. It really is hard work. It was fun do to it one night, but if I had to make a living doing it, I would shoot myself.
The highlight of the game is the team the Patriots were playing had a dude named Gary Johnson on the team. Of course, that's the name of the main character in Team America World Police, and everytime that dude was introduced I started laughing my ass off.
One last thing, I was watching Fargo on BRAVO Saturday night and those bastards actually cut a lot of the scene between Marge and Mike Yamagida. They cut his whole "I'm so lonely" shctick. I was pissed.
Anyway, that's old Joe's weekend. I'm now going to pop in Season 5 of 90210 - when Swank played the married mom dating Steve Sanders - and pleasure myself.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
THEY SAID YOU WAS HUNG; THEY WAS RIGHT
The beer count made a huge jump Friday night, I'm not exactly sure how many, but it usually takes about 15 to induce vomiting, so let's call it 15.Yes, Friday night was the first time I heaved due to drinking in quite a long time. Got to say it would be a brutal experience if I wasn't loaded at the time.
Anyway, Saturday morning gave me a good refresher courses in the many different stages of hangover I experience a day after drinking like that. I'm sure everyone's hangover experience is different, but here what usually happens to me.
STAGE ONE: Waking up. The first 10 minutes of the day I'm in pure amazment that I actually feel great and ready to tackle the day. The thought of going for a bike ride or run actually crosses my mind. I just can't believe how great I feel. I can't wait to drink some more tonight.
STAGE TWO (10 minutes later): While I don't have a huge headache, I realize how tired I am. I think I'll just stay in bed.
STAGE 3 (5 minutes later). I think I'm gonna puke again. Man I feel like shit. I'll never drink again.
STATGE 4 (1-2 hours later). After falling back asleeep and waking up, the day actually begins. I'm exhausted, don't feel like eating, and now I'm filled with deep thoughts about how lucky I am to have two great kids, a great wife and live in a nice hut. Then I start thinking about how stupid it is to get drunk and miss out on some moments with the wife and kids.
STAGE 5 (30 minutes later). Paranoia sets in. If I've been out drinking I wonder just how much money I spent, did I go to the MAC machine, if so, how much did I take out. What stupid things did I say, do, try to do. Is my wife pissed at me? Do my neighbors hate me? I can't remember anything.
STAGE 6 (1 HOUR LATER). I have to do something to prove to the wife I can handle this. I get my arse outside, cut the grass or do some sort of chore to show I'm not totally in the tank (which I am).
STAGE 7 (1 HOUR LATER). Extreme tiredness sets in. I want to lay on the couch and watch the Mets. It's a great feeling. I could do this all day, but here comes stage 8
STAGE 8 (1-2 HOURS LATER). EXTREME HORNINESS SETS IN. Not sure what brings it on, but it happens. I get off the couch and find the wife, but she (and I can't blame her) doesn't feel like dropping whatever she's doing to screw a tired, hungover dude who still smells like a brewery. She hints at some nocturnal activity later, and I'm sent back to the couch. Where stage 9 set in.
STAGE 9 (30 minutes later). I fall asleep while watching the Mets or some other sporting event. Problem is, it's like sleeping on plane where you keep waking up and you're not sure exactly how much sleep you are actually getting.
STAGE 10 (1 hour later). Normalcy is returning as is my appetitte. A McDonald's quarter pounder with cheese would be the best meal in this spot, but due to diet and lack of a McDonald's in my back yard, I settle for peanut butter and jelly and some chocolate milk.
STAGE 11 (1 hour later). I'm completely back to my old self. I'm not tired anymore, no paranoia - I'm able to laugh off the entire night before. How do I celebrate? Crack open a cold one.
There you have it.
Some other notes:
-- Speaking of celebrating, good riddance to Marty Brodeur and the douchebag Devils. You know it's the mark of a team on the decline when a division championship team that was talking about the Stanley Cup just a week ago can take it's only solace in the fact that it swept an injury-riddled team in the first round.
-- When the Canes win the Cup, I want two things. I want them to take that damn cup and parade it through the streets of Hartford for the loyal Whale fans. Then, I want Peter Laviolette to take it to Mike Modano's house and knock him over the head with it.
-- Mark you calendar. Friday, June 9: The great Allen Oldies Band will be playing Maxwell's in Hoboken. In a May show there last year, they played from 10 p.m.-3:30 a.m. WITHOUT TAKING A BREAK. If you are free that night, you must go.
That's all for now.
Friday, May 12, 2006
ROWDY RODDY
Well, it seems the geniuses in Hollywood have done it again - they've remade another one of my favorite movies starring Roddy McDowall.First, they tried with Planet of the Apes and the result may have been the biggest piece of shiite ever to hit the big screen.
And now, they are trying it again with Poseidon.
In case you haven't seen the orginal Poseidon Adventure (what the hell is wrong with you if you haven't), the great McDowall plays Acres, a ship steward, who comes up with the great idea of helping Gene Hackman out by telling him to climb the upside down X-Mas tree. Of course, poor Acres buys it about 20 minutes later when he falls "down" the big steam pipe on the ship, but his performance is one you will never forget.
Anyway, these clowns in Hollywood have to leave the work of the late great McDowall alone.
I swear if a new Batman movie comes out with someone playing the Bookworm, I may lose my friggin mind.
What's next, a remake of That Darn Cat?
One more Hollywood note: How great is it that Tom Cruise's latest movie is becoming a box office flop. It just goes to show you how much influence religion has in this country. Think about it, the religious right got Bush re-elected and now it is helping ruin the career of a dude who took a nice Catholic girl, knocked her up and turned her into an alien-fearing lunatic.
You stay classy, America.
Som other notes:
Nice work from D.J. Star in threatening the 4-year-old daughter of a DJ at another station on the air. Class move, pal. While it's clear the dude should've been fired and jailed, the real story is the feeding frenzy for Howard Stern's listeners who haven't gotten Sirius yet. I mean, Free FM (lamest name ever for a radio statio) has brought on O & A-hole to Stern's spot. Well you know what boys in terrestial radio, it's not going to work. If people (like me) miss Stern that much, they will get Sirius. If they aren't ready to shell out $13 a month for it, they will likely just put on their I-pods and listen to music instead of some cheap Stern ripoff.
I have to say, if you are a Stern fan and haven't gotten Sirius, you are missing out. He goes about 50 minutes without a commerical, and when he breaks, it's about 2-3 minutes tops. It's friggin hilarious, his best work since Butt Bongo Fiesta.
One last note: If you haven't seen the Aaron Rowand catch from last night, make sure you do. That dude could play for my squad any day.
That's it for now.
PS: Mark your calendars for June 9. That's when the Allen Oldies Band will play Maxwell's in Hoboken. The link to their site is on the left.
PPS: This post is more of a public service to Jersey Girl, who wanted to Star Jones picture removed. This is the best I can do.
Monday, May 08, 2006
DOES THIS MAKE YOU HORNY?
A few notes from over the weekend.First, as you'll all notice, I've dumped the black backround. I hope all you whiny bitches out there are happy about this.
Second: The beer count hit triple digits on Saturday (105). As predicted, I banged down many a free taste at the First Communion party on Saturday. I then returned home and had several more freebies on my next door neighbor. I closed out the night with some chinese food. Needless to say, Sunday morning I was the perfect picture of stench.
As for Sunday morning, I played softball for the second straight Sunday. Problem is I didn't properly stretch before hand and therefor my thighs now feel as I just had a 45-minute lap dance from Star Jones. Talk about Stench.
One last thing for all you hockey fans out there. CHeck out this link. http://www.2khockey.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=7762&st=0/
It's an audio file of every NHL goal horn.
Needless to say after Saturday's festivities, the Pendleton children are quite sick of the Hurricanes horn, since it felt as if it were on a continuous loop. I warned them, there is more to come.
I had the Springsteen CD in my hand last Tuesday at Best Buy (I was there to pick up Pearl Jam's latest album - which I must say is pretty damn good), but put it back. I'm going to by my second CD in a week (and the last 10 years) this Tuesday, when the Flea and Boys' latest realease - Stadium Arcadium - hits the shelves. I must say I was really set to buy the Bruce CD this week, but I saw in the Best Buy circular there is a now 2-DVD Poseidon Adventure set out. I already own the original, but if this one has even 10 seconds of Roddy McDowell comentary, consider it bought.
As for Bruce, shame on him for charging $92 face value for tix at the PNC Bank Arts Center. At least the seats where you could sit in the rain and watch the show on a video screen are only $50. Not suprisinly, all the lemmings the Garden State have already scooped up the tickets. I'm telling ya, as a goof, the dude should do a show where he just sits on a couch and watches TV for two hours and see how many people pay out their ass to see that.
Last thing, another great website to check out is www.jerseycitysnakes.com
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
BACK IN BLACK
To celebrate the 10-year anniversary of fishingnotcatching.blogspot.com, we've changed the look a little bit. I hope you like it.
A few things:
I just stopped at my local Quick Chek to pick up some milk. On my way out, these two skanky broads were arguing about something or other. As one of the dames walked away, the other dame - with me standing about 3 feet from her - yells at the top of her lungs "I'M THE ONLY PERSON IN THIS TOWN WHO DIDN'T GET LAID TONIGHT AND I'M FUCKING HORNY."
After hearing this, I quickly realized I had three options.
1. Make some sort of wisecrack about how it's quite understandable no dude would ever consider slipping her the bone.
2. Offer her a spot in my backseat to make sure everyone in town has gotten some.
3. Get in my car, lock the doors and get the fuck out of there.
Of course, I chose 2 (just kidding). I really wanted to go with No. 1, never considered No. 2, but chose door No. 3 and got the fuck out of there.
As I sit here typing this, I realize that I've been wrong all my life.
You see, I've always lived with the belief that any dame (hot or ugly, fat or smelly) could have sex whenever she wanted. For every ugly dame out there, there is an even hornier, more shamless dude. But seeing that this dame, who clearly had no reservations proclaiming not only her horniness, but her absolute desire to act on it, couldn't get any standing in front of a convenience store at 3 a.m., I realized that premise was incorrect.
You learn something new everyday.
Onto the next subject: Thinking about my beer count this week and targeting specific high-volume dates, I realized May could drive the count well over 150 (it's about 98 right now).
Here are the dates:
Today, May 3: I'm off from work and am planning a nice night in front of the TV watching Mets-Pirates and then Flames-Ducks. Predicited amount: 6 tastes.
Saturday, May 6: Going to a first communion party during the day, hockey playoffs at night. Predicted amount: 10 tastes.
Skip ahead to Weds, May 25: Me and three friends are heading to Fenway for Yankees-red Sox. We plan on arriving in Beantown around 1:30 p.m. for the 7 p.m. start and head back to Jersey on Thursday morning. 1 t hing to remember, our hotel is within walking distance of the Fens. (Predicited amount: 25 tastes: Figure about 10-12 before the game, 2-3 during the game, 8 postgame).
Friday, May 27: The National Holiday known as Saw Mill Day. Back in the day, me and two friends would head down the Saw Mill on the wonderful Seaside Heights boardwalk and drink Mickey Big Mouths all day to kick off Memorial Day Weekend. Now, it's a few friends in my backyard playing Wiffle ball for a few hours and drinking (Predicted amount: 10 beers).
Sunday, May 29: My wife's brother's brother in law rents one of those picnic boxes at Monmouth Park and provides us with free food and tastes all day (Predicted amount: 10 beers)
Monday, May 30: Memorial Day. My kids enjoy heading to lovely Somerville New Jersey for a bike racing event called the Tour of Somerville. I believe you can drink in public this day, but I will keep the count down since I have to return to work on Tuesday (Predicted amount: 4 beers).
So that's about 65 and that's not including random tastes with the neighbors on the weekends. I'll keep everyone posted.
again, I hope you like the new look and go Whalers.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
AN OPEN LETTER TO BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN
Beer count: 90
Dear Boss:
You know I'm one of your biggest fans. I have most of your CDS - even the Ghost of Tom Joad. I plunked down $40 this year for a digitally remastered copy of Born to Run (don't tell anyone, but I sounds exactly the same) and I've seen in you in concert several times, dating back to my first show in June of 1984.
I'm proud to call myself a New Jerseyan mostly because of you (and Rutgers University) and even own High Fidelity on DVD just because of your 45-second cameo in that fine film.
Yes, I've supported you your entire career. That is, until now.
After taking a quick listen on the web to your latest project (We Shall Overcome: The Pete Seeger Sessions), I have one question? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?
First of all, what is this "We" shit. What exactly do you have to overcome? Is is the guilt of charging your fans $100 to see you practice this crap live, or is it just the realization that since Tunnel of Love, you've pretty much been a non-factor when it comes to popular music?
Second of all, if I want to hear some dude singing Cumbaya with a jug band behind him, I'll go to the backwoods of Kentucky and do it, or go see The Country Bear Jamboree at Disneyworld, not buy one of your albums.
Listen, I understand your need to let the rest of the E Street Band know who's Boss every once in a while by freezing them out, but this is enough. You made your point with that Lucky Town/Human Touch crap and reinforced it with Tom Joad. They get the point. They need you, you don't need them. But you know what, your fans need them.
Now I'm not talking about your disciples. You know the ones who will see you in concert every night of their lives and would buy a 25-disc set of you taking a shit.
No, I'm talking about the fans who will go see you once or twice during a tour and purchase most of your albums. It's almost as if you are testing their faith and loyalty with crap like this.
Or is it something else? Is is because you know even your E Street Band stuff isn't up to par with the music from the good old days, so you put out these crap albums, leave your fans starved for good some old rock and roll, and when you finally release it, they love it?
I mean let's face it, one it's own "The Rising" is a cliched bore, but when you put it up with the albums that preceeded it, it's a rock classic.
Now I do appreciate you trying to spread the good works of Pete Seeger to the masses, but just promise me this is it. Promise me next summer, you'll release another E Street Band album and play 8 nights at Giants Stadium. You see, I don't get many excuses to get loaded in a huge parking lot anymore, so please do me this one favor.
I hope you don't take offense to this letter, rather I hope you read it and do the right thing and give me more songs about cars and chicks and living at the beach. It's what your fans want, it's what the E Street Band wants, and deep down, it's what you want. Bruce, maybe We Shall Overcome.
Love,
Joe Pendleton
Dear Boss:
You know I'm one of your biggest fans. I have most of your CDS - even the Ghost of Tom Joad. I plunked down $40 this year for a digitally remastered copy of Born to Run (don't tell anyone, but I sounds exactly the same) and I've seen in you in concert several times, dating back to my first show in June of 1984.
I'm proud to call myself a New Jerseyan mostly because of you (and Rutgers University) and even own High Fidelity on DVD just because of your 45-second cameo in that fine film.
Yes, I've supported you your entire career. That is, until now.
After taking a quick listen on the web to your latest project (We Shall Overcome: The Pete Seeger Sessions), I have one question? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?
First of all, what is this "We" shit. What exactly do you have to overcome? Is is the guilt of charging your fans $100 to see you practice this crap live, or is it just the realization that since Tunnel of Love, you've pretty much been a non-factor when it comes to popular music?
Second of all, if I want to hear some dude singing Cumbaya with a jug band behind him, I'll go to the backwoods of Kentucky and do it, or go see The Country Bear Jamboree at Disneyworld, not buy one of your albums.
Listen, I understand your need to let the rest of the E Street Band know who's Boss every once in a while by freezing them out, but this is enough. You made your point with that Lucky Town/Human Touch crap and reinforced it with Tom Joad. They get the point. They need you, you don't need them. But you know what, your fans need them.
Now I'm not talking about your disciples. You know the ones who will see you in concert every night of their lives and would buy a 25-disc set of you taking a shit.
No, I'm talking about the fans who will go see you once or twice during a tour and purchase most of your albums. It's almost as if you are testing their faith and loyalty with crap like this.
Or is it something else? Is is because you know even your E Street Band stuff isn't up to par with the music from the good old days, so you put out these crap albums, leave your fans starved for good some old rock and roll, and when you finally release it, they love it?
I mean let's face it, one it's own "The Rising" is a cliched bore, but when you put it up with the albums that preceeded it, it's a rock classic.
Now I do appreciate you trying to spread the good works of Pete Seeger to the masses, but just promise me this is it. Promise me next summer, you'll release another E Street Band album and play 8 nights at Giants Stadium. You see, I don't get many excuses to get loaded in a huge parking lot anymore, so please do me this one favor.
I hope you don't take offense to this letter, rather I hope you read it and do the right thing and give me more songs about cars and chicks and living at the beach. It's what your fans want, it's what the E Street Band wants, and deep down, it's what you want. Bruce, maybe We Shall Overcome.
Love,
Joe Pendleton
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
THE PLAYOFF BEARD
Beer count around 80ish.
In honor of two historic occassions: The birth of Suri Cruise and the Rangers making the playoffs, I have decided to grow the playoff beard.
In case you don't know what that means, basically, many hockey players believe it is back luck to shave during the playoffs, so therefore most of them shave the morning of Game 1 and don't pick up a razor again until they are eliminated or win the Stanley Cup. I therefore, will shave Saturday morning and won't do it again until the Rangers are bounced, so there is a chance I'll only have about 6-days growth before I have to shave again.
As for the Cruise angle. It's obvious, Katie Holmes is the biggest beard going, so she works into this too.
As for my Devils-Rangers breakdown - in a total grasping at straws move - I believe the Devils HAVE to cool down a bit and the Rangers have to get hot. We'll see. Maybe Marty Brodeur's sister-in-law will wear him down. Hey, anything's possible.
Anyway, no matter what the Rangers or Devils do, I predict a Carolina-Calgary Stanley Cup Final, with the stinky Whale winning the whole thing.
In honor of two historic occassions: The birth of Suri Cruise and the Rangers making the playoffs, I have decided to grow the playoff beard.
In case you don't know what that means, basically, many hockey players believe it is back luck to shave during the playoffs, so therefore most of them shave the morning of Game 1 and don't pick up a razor again until they are eliminated or win the Stanley Cup. I therefore, will shave Saturday morning and won't do it again until the Rangers are bounced, so there is a chance I'll only have about 6-days growth before I have to shave again.
As for the Cruise angle. It's obvious, Katie Holmes is the biggest beard going, so she works into this too.
As for my Devils-Rangers breakdown - in a total grasping at straws move - I believe the Devils HAVE to cool down a bit and the Rangers have to get hot. We'll see. Maybe Marty Brodeur's sister-in-law will wear him down. Hey, anything's possible.
Anyway, no matter what the Rangers or Devils do, I predict a Carolina-Calgary Stanley Cup Final, with the stinky Whale winning the whole thing.
Monday, April 17, 2006
THE CHRONICLES OF PENDLETON: THE JAGR, THE STRIPPER AND THE JACKET
It finally dawned on me why the New York Rangers haven't won the Stanley Cup since 1994.
No, it has nothing to do with Garden mismanagement, Bryan Trottier and Glen Sather, rather it has everything to with a satin jacket, a once-exhuberant 29-year-old man and an anonymous stripper from Sayreville.
Intrigued? Good.
Here's the story: Way back in December of 1994, Joe Pendleton (the 29-year-old at the time still basking in the Stanley Cup win 6 months earlier) and cronies from a now-defunct NJ newspaper went to Bourbon Street in Sayreville for a little celebration. Pendleton, who was just turning 29 and was full of Ranger pride, wore his Starter blue satin Ranger jacket to the fine establishment.
After a few tastes and a few dollar bills were "dipped" a certain "very vocal" friend of Mr. Pendleton got the idea that the ideal birthday present would be the "entertainer" at the establishment wearing the Ranger jacket on stage. It sounded good to old Joe.
So the friend called the girl over, "whispered" in her ear and before Joe knew it, the jacket was off his back and flying toward the stage. Now, back in the old days at the girls liked to bend the "non-topless rules" a bit. This one, however, decided every dress code rule would be broken this evening.
Seconds after the jacket hit the stage, the dancer was wearing it - and nothing else. Needless to say, even Devil fans in the place celebrated this move. Dollar bills flew like tickertape in the canyon of heroes.
Soon after the jacket was returned and Pendleton headed to his Franklin Twp. apartment. However, as he got closer to home, Mr. Pendleton realized that his jacket had the distict powdery smell every classy dancer in NJ seems to possess. So Pendleton, fearing the wrath of Mrs. Pendleton, secretly put the jacket in the back of his closet and never brought it out again.
A few years later, the Pendletons would move, and the jacket made the move, too, but - amazingly - still featuring a hint of the smell, the jacket was once again relegated to the back of the closet. Coincidentally or not, since the Jacket has been hidden away, the Rangers have gone completely cupless.
Fast forward to today (April 17, 2006). Joe Pendleton, while doing some spring cleaning in his closet, finds the jacket, and, in an attempt to change the struggling Blueshirts' fortunes, moves it to a more prominent spot in the closet. He's ever considering wearing the throwback jacket Friday night, when the Atlantic-Division champion Rangers take on the Flyers or Devils. Needless to say, with the jacket back in circulation, the Cup will once again be delivered to Madison Square Garden.
Now, if he can only get the BO stains that were put on his Met jacket in Nov. of 1986 by some smelly whore in Newark, maybe Shea Stadium will rock again.
LET'S GO RANGERS
No, it has nothing to do with Garden mismanagement, Bryan Trottier and Glen Sather, rather it has everything to with a satin jacket, a once-exhuberant 29-year-old man and an anonymous stripper from Sayreville.
Intrigued? Good.
Here's the story: Way back in December of 1994, Joe Pendleton (the 29-year-old at the time still basking in the Stanley Cup win 6 months earlier) and cronies from a now-defunct NJ newspaper went to Bourbon Street in Sayreville for a little celebration. Pendleton, who was just turning 29 and was full of Ranger pride, wore his Starter blue satin Ranger jacket to the fine establishment.
After a few tastes and a few dollar bills were "dipped" a certain "very vocal" friend of Mr. Pendleton got the idea that the ideal birthday present would be the "entertainer" at the establishment wearing the Ranger jacket on stage. It sounded good to old Joe.
So the friend called the girl over, "whispered" in her ear and before Joe knew it, the jacket was off his back and flying toward the stage. Now, back in the old days at the girls liked to bend the "non-topless rules" a bit. This one, however, decided every dress code rule would be broken this evening.
Seconds after the jacket hit the stage, the dancer was wearing it - and nothing else. Needless to say, even Devil fans in the place celebrated this move. Dollar bills flew like tickertape in the canyon of heroes.
Soon after the jacket was returned and Pendleton headed to his Franklin Twp. apartment. However, as he got closer to home, Mr. Pendleton realized that his jacket had the distict powdery smell every classy dancer in NJ seems to possess. So Pendleton, fearing the wrath of Mrs. Pendleton, secretly put the jacket in the back of his closet and never brought it out again.
A few years later, the Pendletons would move, and the jacket made the move, too, but - amazingly - still featuring a hint of the smell, the jacket was once again relegated to the back of the closet. Coincidentally or not, since the Jacket has been hidden away, the Rangers have gone completely cupless.
Fast forward to today (April 17, 2006). Joe Pendleton, while doing some spring cleaning in his closet, finds the jacket, and, in an attempt to change the struggling Blueshirts' fortunes, moves it to a more prominent spot in the closet. He's ever considering wearing the throwback jacket Friday night, when the Atlantic-Division champion Rangers take on the Flyers or Devils. Needless to say, with the jacket back in circulation, the Cup will once again be delivered to Madison Square Garden.
Now, if he can only get the BO stains that were put on his Met jacket in Nov. of 1986 by some smelly whore in Newark, maybe Shea Stadium will rock again.
LET'S GO RANGERS
Friday, April 14, 2006
RANT MUSIC
Ok, it's been a while. The beer count is around 75. Something about the warm weather makes we want to bang down tastes. Anyway, t0 get a better idea of what goes on between my ears, here are a few random thoughts from the mind of Joe Pendleton.
1. I used to think the easiest job in America was hosting America's Funniest Videos. Seriously, all you have to do is do schtick at about 10 seconds at a time in between clips of dudes getting hit in the balls. Now, my kids watch this show on syndication - it's constantly on WGN - and they love the current dude Tom Bergeron. Again, I used to think it was a cake job, but recently WGN has been showing the season with Daisy Fuentes and John Fugelsang and let me tell you, those two fucking suck huge ass. Daisy Fuentes - who, back in the day, was grossly overrated looks wise, but was a pioneer in the Latin whore phenomenon, could be the worst "talent" ever on TV. If you get a chance watch the show, it's on WGN at 7 p.m. every night just to see how God awful she is. It's painful.
See, I told you a trip into my lid may not be pretty.
2. I went to a Little League game the other day to catch the neighbor's kid in action, and I have to say I came away disgusted and vocally wondering what's happened to this country. First of all, there is no smoking allowed anywhere on the complex. I mean, tobacco and baseball go together like football and beer. What the fuck? Since, I don't smoke, I really don't care, but then the game starts, the first kid comes to bat and there's complete silence. No 'Hey, batter, batter, swiiiiiiiiing batter chants." No 'WE want a pithcer, not a belly itcher" chant from the batting team's dugout. I mean, is this world so fucking politically correct that the other team can't try to induce the other kid to swing at shitty pitches - which, by the way, is all they see? These kids are gonna watch Ferris Bueller a few years from now and not know what the hell he's saying during that scene in Wrigley. And then they have a rule that a team can only score 3 runs in an inning. ONce they get to 3 runs, the inning is over. The KC Royals should implement that rule. Of course, no tastes anywhere. Somewhere, Morris Buttermaker is spinning in his grave.
3. Since I mentioned smoking, two things. This commercial they run duing the Mets games about a dude with cancer telling people to quit smoking is the most powerful ad I've ever scene. If I did smoke, I'd stop or go broke. And finally, a big shout out to Dick Cody for getting the NJ smoking ban passed, a ban that goes into effect on April 14. For all of you who smoke out there, I'm know it's an inconvenience to go outside and smoke, but it's a bigger inconvenience for non-smokers to smell like shit for three days after going to a bar. With clear skies in local bowling alleys, I can see scores going up all over the state.
4. He's only been a Yankee for about a week, Johnny Damon has moved ahead of Derek Jeter and A-Rod on my most-hated list. For a man who a year ago said he would never play with the Yanks, you get the impression now that he goes home every night and tosses off on his pinstripes. He almost makes A-Rod seem sincere. Since we are talking baseball right now, a quesiton for you Yankee fans: If Omar calls Brian Cashman tomorrow and offers D. Wright for A-rod, striaght up, do you do it? From a Met standpoint, I say no fucking way.
For all of you people out there trying to figure out a way to entertain young children, Ice Age 2 the Meltdown was quite entertaining. Of course, I saw it at the theatre in Dunellen, NJ in which they bring pizza and beer to your seats, so that didn't hurt either.
Happy Easter and Happy (is that the right word?) Passover to everyone out there.
1. I used to think the easiest job in America was hosting America's Funniest Videos. Seriously, all you have to do is do schtick at about 10 seconds at a time in between clips of dudes getting hit in the balls. Now, my kids watch this show on syndication - it's constantly on WGN - and they love the current dude Tom Bergeron. Again, I used to think it was a cake job, but recently WGN has been showing the season with Daisy Fuentes and John Fugelsang and let me tell you, those two fucking suck huge ass. Daisy Fuentes - who, back in the day, was grossly overrated looks wise, but was a pioneer in the Latin whore phenomenon, could be the worst "talent" ever on TV. If you get a chance watch the show, it's on WGN at 7 p.m. every night just to see how God awful she is. It's painful.
See, I told you a trip into my lid may not be pretty.
2. I went to a Little League game the other day to catch the neighbor's kid in action, and I have to say I came away disgusted and vocally wondering what's happened to this country. First of all, there is no smoking allowed anywhere on the complex. I mean, tobacco and baseball go together like football and beer. What the fuck? Since, I don't smoke, I really don't care, but then the game starts, the first kid comes to bat and there's complete silence. No 'Hey, batter, batter, swiiiiiiiiing batter chants." No 'WE want a pithcer, not a belly itcher" chant from the batting team's dugout. I mean, is this world so fucking politically correct that the other team can't try to induce the other kid to swing at shitty pitches - which, by the way, is all they see? These kids are gonna watch Ferris Bueller a few years from now and not know what the hell he's saying during that scene in Wrigley. And then they have a rule that a team can only score 3 runs in an inning. ONce they get to 3 runs, the inning is over. The KC Royals should implement that rule. Of course, no tastes anywhere. Somewhere, Morris Buttermaker is spinning in his grave.
3. Since I mentioned smoking, two things. This commercial they run duing the Mets games about a dude with cancer telling people to quit smoking is the most powerful ad I've ever scene. If I did smoke, I'd stop or go broke. And finally, a big shout out to Dick Cody for getting the NJ smoking ban passed, a ban that goes into effect on April 14. For all of you who smoke out there, I'm know it's an inconvenience to go outside and smoke, but it's a bigger inconvenience for non-smokers to smell like shit for three days after going to a bar. With clear skies in local bowling alleys, I can see scores going up all over the state.
4. He's only been a Yankee for about a week, Johnny Damon has moved ahead of Derek Jeter and A-Rod on my most-hated list. For a man who a year ago said he would never play with the Yanks, you get the impression now that he goes home every night and tosses off on his pinstripes. He almost makes A-Rod seem sincere. Since we are talking baseball right now, a quesiton for you Yankee fans: If Omar calls Brian Cashman tomorrow and offers D. Wright for A-rod, striaght up, do you do it? From a Met standpoint, I say no fucking way.
For all of you people out there trying to figure out a way to entertain young children, Ice Age 2 the Meltdown was quite entertaining. Of course, I saw it at the theatre in Dunellen, NJ in which they bring pizza and beer to your seats, so that didn't hurt either.
Happy Easter and Happy (is that the right word?) Passover to everyone out there.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
RADIO DAZE
Since everyone is fired up over my post over the Wagner/Mo controversy created by two certain clowns in NY, my thought was we come up with a new entrance song for them.
So here are a few of my suggestions and then you guys can add your own. These are in no particular order:
1. He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother - The Hollies.
2. American Idiot - Green Day
3. Eat It - Weird Al Yankovick
4. Out of Touch - Hall and Oates
5. Bitch - The Rolling Stones
6. Girls Talk - Dave Edmunds
7. Wedding Bell Blues (Which features the lyrics "I wanna marry you Bill") referring to a certain Dallas Cowboy Coach.
8. Guerrilla Radio - Rage Against The Machine
9. I hate the Mets - Some Dopey Yankee fan
10. The Sounds of Silence - Simon and Garfunkle
So here are a few of my suggestions and then you guys can add your own. These are in no particular order:
1. He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother - The Hollies.
2. American Idiot - Green Day
3. Eat It - Weird Al Yankovick
4. Out of Touch - Hall and Oates
5. Bitch - The Rolling Stones
6. Girls Talk - Dave Edmunds
7. Wedding Bell Blues (Which features the lyrics "I wanna marry you Bill") referring to a certain Dallas Cowboy Coach.
8. Guerrilla Radio - Rage Against The Machine
9. I hate the Mets - Some Dopey Yankee fan
10. The Sounds of Silence - Simon and Garfunkle
Monday, April 03, 2006
ENTER FATMAN
Baseball season is here and New York already has its first baseball controversy.
In case you don't live in New York or just have the common sense not to spend your day listening to the two arrogant a-holes on New York's sports leader, you may have missed the two of them ripping new Met closer Billy Wagner for having "Enter Sandman" played when he came into the game in the ninth inning today. Their reasoning is, the song belongs to Mariano Rivera and therefore Wagner - despite the fact that it has been his theme song for several years - should literally change his tune. Of course, the two radio hosts - both Met haters and Met fan agitators - are completely wrong again, and here's why.
1. I guarantee, GUARANTEE, that Billy Wagner actually picked the song for himself, while Mo didn't. Think about it, Wagner is a white dude from West Virginia, and Mariano is from Panama. Who do you think actually likes Metallica? Honestly, what are the chances some dude working the Yankee Stadium PA system picked that out for Rivera and what are the chances that Wagner actually heard the song on the radio and said "that sounds like a good song for me."
2. Wagner has been a closer since 1996. Rivera started in 1997. The song came out in 1996. Therefore, chances are they both have been using the song the same amount of time or Wagner actually adopted it first.
3. Last time i checked the Metallica black album, there are no writing or publishing credits for a M. Rivera on the album. He has no more friggin rights the song than Wagner does. F him.
4. Yankee fans honestly believe they not only invented baseball, but they, because they root for a team who's payroll is twice of it's nearest competitior, think they carry more clout in the sport. Well, f them, too. I think the fact that Wagner plays the song infuriates them is the No. 1 reason to keep playing it. Hell, the Mets should crank it when Anderson Hernandez comes to bat.
5. What are the Mets supposed to do? Tell their $13 million closer that "We really like you, but we don't want to offend the greatest franchise in sports, so you have to change your song." And what is Wagner supposed to do? Change his song because it may offend some dopey guido in the Bronx who couldn't spell Metallica if his sorry life depended on it.
In closing, F the Yankees, F Mike and the Mad Dog and F Metallica (the song is overrated anyway). Rock on William Wagner.
In case you don't live in New York or just have the common sense not to spend your day listening to the two arrogant a-holes on New York's sports leader, you may have missed the two of them ripping new Met closer Billy Wagner for having "Enter Sandman" played when he came into the game in the ninth inning today. Their reasoning is, the song belongs to Mariano Rivera and therefore Wagner - despite the fact that it has been his theme song for several years - should literally change his tune. Of course, the two radio hosts - both Met haters and Met fan agitators - are completely wrong again, and here's why.
1. I guarantee, GUARANTEE, that Billy Wagner actually picked the song for himself, while Mo didn't. Think about it, Wagner is a white dude from West Virginia, and Mariano is from Panama. Who do you think actually likes Metallica? Honestly, what are the chances some dude working the Yankee Stadium PA system picked that out for Rivera and what are the chances that Wagner actually heard the song on the radio and said "that sounds like a good song for me."
2. Wagner has been a closer since 1996. Rivera started in 1997. The song came out in 1996. Therefore, chances are they both have been using the song the same amount of time or Wagner actually adopted it first.
3. Last time i checked the Metallica black album, there are no writing or publishing credits for a M. Rivera on the album. He has no more friggin rights the song than Wagner does. F him.
4. Yankee fans honestly believe they not only invented baseball, but they, because they root for a team who's payroll is twice of it's nearest competitior, think they carry more clout in the sport. Well, f them, too. I think the fact that Wagner plays the song infuriates them is the No. 1 reason to keep playing it. Hell, the Mets should crank it when Anderson Hernandez comes to bat.
5. What are the Mets supposed to do? Tell their $13 million closer that "We really like you, but we don't want to offend the greatest franchise in sports, so you have to change your song." And what is Wagner supposed to do? Change his song because it may offend some dopey guido in the Bronx who couldn't spell Metallica if his sorry life depended on it.
In closing, F the Yankees, F Mike and the Mad Dog and F Metallica (the song is overrated anyway). Rock on William Wagner.
Monday, March 27, 2006
NEIGHBOR-HOODS
Beer count: I'm gonna say it's up to about 48. I had 4 the other night in the city while attneding a fund-raiser (they got no funds out of me, though) and had about 8-9 at the Big St. Paddy's Day party on Saturday.
Either I'm getting older, or I'm just a drunk or I have no life (or all of the above), but that damn party is one of my favorite days of the year. The dude who runs it has a great party house if you have kids. He has this downstairs room where they pretty much entertain themselves for hours while the parents stay upstairs, drinking, eating, golfing and watching hoops.
Now, I did get ripped by a guest at the party and the dude was absolutely right. I arrived wearing my Guiness pants and a Guiness hooded sweatshirt. However, I wasn't in the mood to drink the stuff, so I was pretty much drinking Miller Lite all night. Some dude called me on it, pretty much saying how could a walking Guinness ad drink Miller Lite. I realized he was right, so I had 1 Guinness and then stopped drinking. Awful job by me.
SPeaking of hooded sweatshirts, I have a piece of advice for anyone out there. If you spend a lot of time at work on the phone, don't wear a hooded sweatshirt. It becomes a real pain in the ass, especially if you have one of those neck things on your phone that prevents Frezzaitis. Of course, on Sundays, I usually bust out the hoody and get easily frustrated.
Now, picking up my homeowners rant from the last post, I just spent $150 today on lawn care stuff and can estimate at least another $150 to go before I can spend 8 hours Saturday and 8 hours Sunday trying to make my grass look good. Of course, no matter how hard I work and how much I spend, it will look good until about mid-July, when New Jersey becomes a dry, barren wasteland and all grass turns to hay. I'm thinking of having the cement dude just pave over the whole yard and can build a hoop court in the backyard.
Anyway, Opening Day just 7 days away, but as long as the Rangers are in the hunt for the Cup, I'm not too fired up for baseball, yet.
Either I'm getting older, or I'm just a drunk or I have no life (or all of the above), but that damn party is one of my favorite days of the year. The dude who runs it has a great party house if you have kids. He has this downstairs room where they pretty much entertain themselves for hours while the parents stay upstairs, drinking, eating, golfing and watching hoops.
Now, I did get ripped by a guest at the party and the dude was absolutely right. I arrived wearing my Guiness pants and a Guiness hooded sweatshirt. However, I wasn't in the mood to drink the stuff, so I was pretty much drinking Miller Lite all night. Some dude called me on it, pretty much saying how could a walking Guinness ad drink Miller Lite. I realized he was right, so I had 1 Guinness and then stopped drinking. Awful job by me.
SPeaking of hooded sweatshirts, I have a piece of advice for anyone out there. If you spend a lot of time at work on the phone, don't wear a hooded sweatshirt. It becomes a real pain in the ass, especially if you have one of those neck things on your phone that prevents Frezzaitis. Of course, on Sundays, I usually bust out the hoody and get easily frustrated.
Now, picking up my homeowners rant from the last post, I just spent $150 today on lawn care stuff and can estimate at least another $150 to go before I can spend 8 hours Saturday and 8 hours Sunday trying to make my grass look good. Of course, no matter how hard I work and how much I spend, it will look good until about mid-July, when New Jersey becomes a dry, barren wasteland and all grass turns to hay. I'm thinking of having the cement dude just pave over the whole yard and can build a hoop court in the backyard.
Anyway, Opening Day just 7 days away, but as long as the Rangers are in the hunt for the Cup, I'm not too fired up for baseball, yet.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
PRESSING YOUR LUCK
From the huge-story-of-the-week-that-completely-slipped-under-the-radar file, did anyone see last week that former "Press Your Luck" host Peter Tamarkan was killed in a small plane crash last week. It happens. However, Tamarkan and his wife - who was also killed - were on their way to pick up a cancer patient and fly him to a special clinic as part of a charity deal.
Can you fucking believe that? Not only does that suck for Tamarkan and his dame, imagine how the cancer dude feels? Talk about being jinxed. I guess all three of them got the ultimate whammy.
A few other thoughts:
If you don't own a house, don't start now. I just wrote a check for 2Gs for a new sidewalk. A sidwalk. It's not something me and family can enjoy on a hot summer afternoon or I can show off to friends and family.
I had to get it done because my old sidewalk was cracked and at parts, uneven. Basically it was a risk in case some kid wiped out on his scooter and his money-grubbing parents decided to cash in. Don't laugh. A few years ago in my neighborhood, some kid got hit in the mouth with a Wiffle ball bat (that's right a Wiffle ball bat), in the backyard of a friend. Now get this, it wasn't even the yard of the kid who swung the bat, so the parents of the kid who got hit with the bat sued the homeowner's insurance company of the people who's yard it happened in and that of the people who's kid did the swinging. I assume they won since the dude hardly works yet owns a brand-new SUV and just installed a huge above-ground pool in his yard. What a great country we live in.
Speaking of our great county, nothing makes me more irate than when the AP moves a Top 5 list of the top songs, TV shows and DVD rentals in this fine land. First, the TV. Every week, American Idol is No. 1 and No. 2. HOw can this be? Are Americans that dumb that they have to watch some English dude rip wannabe stars two nights a week. Doesn't anyone read anymore?
Then, there the song lists. I don't recognize any of the songs and/or artists and it's not because I'm old, it's because I don't listen to Hot97. Honestly, I know 80's pop music - for the most part - is pure shit, but damn, it's better than this crap being put out these days. I mean, I'll take Karma Chameleon any day of the week over this crap.
As for movies/DVDs. It's scary how many kids movies and DVDs rule the roost. It's pretty much because parents would rather have Spongebob and Barbie babysit their kids (I'd love to have Barbie babysit my kids, by the way, HEY NOW) instead of watching them themselves. By the way, as I type this, my kid is on Hour 3 of Dora the Explorer.
Anyway, a few rants after giving a big check to dude for putting concrete all over my front yard.
Happy Spring to all.
Can you fucking believe that? Not only does that suck for Tamarkan and his dame, imagine how the cancer dude feels? Talk about being jinxed. I guess all three of them got the ultimate whammy.
A few other thoughts:
If you don't own a house, don't start now. I just wrote a check for 2Gs for a new sidewalk. A sidwalk. It's not something me and family can enjoy on a hot summer afternoon or I can show off to friends and family.
I had to get it done because my old sidewalk was cracked and at parts, uneven. Basically it was a risk in case some kid wiped out on his scooter and his money-grubbing parents decided to cash in. Don't laugh. A few years ago in my neighborhood, some kid got hit in the mouth with a Wiffle ball bat (that's right a Wiffle ball bat), in the backyard of a friend. Now get this, it wasn't even the yard of the kid who swung the bat, so the parents of the kid who got hit with the bat sued the homeowner's insurance company of the people who's yard it happened in and that of the people who's kid did the swinging. I assume they won since the dude hardly works yet owns a brand-new SUV and just installed a huge above-ground pool in his yard. What a great country we live in.
Speaking of our great county, nothing makes me more irate than when the AP moves a Top 5 list of the top songs, TV shows and DVD rentals in this fine land. First, the TV. Every week, American Idol is No. 1 and No. 2. HOw can this be? Are Americans that dumb that they have to watch some English dude rip wannabe stars two nights a week. Doesn't anyone read anymore?
Then, there the song lists. I don't recognize any of the songs and/or artists and it's not because I'm old, it's because I don't listen to Hot97. Honestly, I know 80's pop music - for the most part - is pure shit, but damn, it's better than this crap being put out these days. I mean, I'll take Karma Chameleon any day of the week over this crap.
As for movies/DVDs. It's scary how many kids movies and DVDs rule the roost. It's pretty much because parents would rather have Spongebob and Barbie babysit their kids (I'd love to have Barbie babysit my kids, by the way, HEY NOW) instead of watching them themselves. By the way, as I type this, my kid is on Hour 3 of Dora the Explorer.
Anyway, a few rants after giving a big check to dude for putting concrete all over my front yard.
Happy Spring to all.
Monday, March 20, 2006
WHO DOES NO. 2 WORK FOR?
Beer Count: I'm estimating it's about 30-35 right now after a wild St. Paddy's day.
It started out kinda slow, first taste around 2:30 on Friday. About 11 hours later, I was cooked. So cooked, that when I woke up Saturday morning, I immediately remembered why I quit drinking in the first place.
First of all, I felt like complete crap. Speaking of crap, let's just say the Guinness that exited my arse Saturday morning looked exactly like the Guinness I was pouring down my throat Friday night. Same color, consistency, stench.
And then, about 2 hours later, I was trying to cut down a big bush in my first yard and I swear I almost passed out.
As for Friday night, my buddy Gerry and I hit the local Irish bar in town. Things were going pretty well, when - on about my 9th Smithwicks, I started yapping with some tired broad and she brought up how much she loved the Yankees. Now, I can spot a fake yankee fan a mile away, and she was one. Of course, in my drunken state, I had to make her prove what a great Yankee fan she was, and therefore put her to the test.
Question 1: What is Derek Jeter's number?
Her answer: Complete silence.
Now, had I been completely sober, I would've ripped her a new one. So, needless to say, I friggin hammered her. About 45 minutes later, she was telling me to f--c off and so on and so forth. I was quite proud of myself.
On the way home from the bar, another friend informed me that not only was the dame a psychopath, but she is the person who is in charge of hot lunches at my daughter's school, and I should be prepared to make a lot of PB&Js the rest of her grammar school career.
So with that guilt on my aching head Saturday morning, I swore I was giving up drinking for a long time. The problem is, I have a big St. Paddy's Day party to attend this Saturday. It will be a real test. My goal is to not have a drink until Memorial Day weekend, but that could all go to hell around 3:30 p.m. this Saturday.
Stay tuned for more details.
Monday, March 06, 2006
IMITATION OSCAR
Beer count: 14
After watching last night's Oscars, I realized two things.
1. I'm so glad I don't go to the movies that much anymore, because if Crash is the best movie of last year, I'm not missing anything.
2. The best actor/actress category has to be refined.
This second one comes from my friend Joe, who brought up a great point last night. He says people who portray famous people in a movie shouldn't be eligible for an Oscar. And you know what, he's right. I mean, Reese Witherspoon and Phil Hoffman did a nice job, but really all they are doing is imitating someone famous. All they had to prepare for their role was watch film of the person and do whatever they did. Piece of cake. I mean, Jim Carrey had to come up with character of Lloyd Christmas all by himself. All HOffman did was imitate Capote. I'm sure somewhere Rich Little is kicking himself somewhere, realizing he could've won about 100 Oscars in his prime.
Plus, if you play someone famous, and do it well, most movie-goers are blown away by your performance because they have a point of reference to judge your performance against.
Now, back to Crash. If you haven't seen it - DON'T. Ir you really want to, don't read on. If you have seen it, my biggest complaint is the movie is too far-fetched. I mean, of the thousands of cops running around L.A., how it is that Matt Dillon pulls over a dame one night and the next day, he's the first cop on call when she's involved in an accident. And for Ryan Witherspoon, the same thing happens to him. I mean, that wouldn't happen in a town of 15,000 people, let alone L.A. It was too forced, too coincidental. I think Oscar voters would rather come off as homophobic than racist and that's why this flick won instead of Brokeback.
To me, the best movie of last year was "Batman Begins" but that's just me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
