So 10 years ago.  Roughly the year 2000.  Ruled.  And I will tell you why musically using a 4-5 year room for error.

I spent the last 5 or so days around college students (well, I spend everyday this way, but work with me). And I came to the realization that our music was just SO much better.  Let me use Spring Break as a barometer for you guys.  In talking with some of these people, I got a decent grasp on what music was all over the beaches, and it disappointed me.  Back in my day, we did Cancun for Spring Break.  Other than the random techno spots, the music was f’n choice, man.  So allow me to give you a current song that you’ll hear any random 20-year old humming, and it’s far better decade-old equivalent.

Current song – Bad Romance – Lady Gaga

The ONLY thing good about this song is when Howard Stern goes off and sings the “RA RA RA-RA-RA-RA” part.  Yes this song is catchy.  Yes I guess that if I were back in college I would have white-guy danced to it in a club.  But that does not make it OK.  I’ve given my stance on Lady Gaga before in this blog, so I won’t go over it again.  However – she sucks.  The only thing she has going for her is that she’s weird as shit and her songs are catchy.  But she’s a hack.  But you know what else is weird and catchy?  Genital warts.  She is the clap of pop music.

Decade old substitute – Outkast – B.O.B.

Here it is. It’s catchy. It’s weird. Eat it, Gaga. (Sidenote – Outkast needs to do something else soon.)

Current song – Anything by the Black Eyed Peas

So, the Black Eyed Peas used to be a pretty legit group, as far back as 10 years ago.  And I’ll give ‘em this – they can write a catchy dance tune.  But if Fergie tells me she’s gonna do something or that tonight’s going to be a good night – I might just jump off my roof.  And my roof ain’t that high up, so I won’t die.  I’ll hurt myself and suffer.  How’s that for a good night, Will I effin’ Am?  Where’s the Will.i.am that rapped on the Long Beach Dub All-Stars’ song “Sunny Hours?”  I want that one.  Not the one who tells me to get retarded.  Their songs are all over the clubs.  I do not like.

Decade old substitution – Big Tymers – Get Your Roll On

This was all over the place in Cancun.  It has a great beat and you can chant along.  Fergie wishes she could get her chicka-chicka roll on.

Last awful song – Kesha (I will NOT put the $ in there) – Tik Tok

Words cannot describe how bad this is.  She’s like a fake Lady Gaga, and that’s saying something.  I can’t imagine enjoying myself with a bevy of coeds to this song.  I just cannot.  Maybe I’m old, but annoying sounds and subpar singing just does not do it for me.

What tomorrow’s future should be listening to – Nelly – Ride Wit Me

First off – this was in 2000?  Damn.  Anyway, this is such a good song.  I don’t know of any good rap songs out there these days with the same feel.  Put auto-tune in this song and it would suck balls.  Just like most everything out there now (except for B.O.B – he’s legit).

Bonus track 1 – Slimm Cutta Calhoun ft. Andre 3000 – It’s OK

I remember listening to this on the plane over to Cancun.  And then many times after.  SLIMM CUTTA CALHOUN!  What do you know about that, kids?   NOTHING.  That’s right.  I also can rap the entire Andre 3000 part.  Dare me.  I can do it.

Bonus track 2 – Jagged Edge – Where The Party At

I get that pop music has a different sound these days – but where’s THIS at now? I feel like for this to be popular now it would have to be run through 24 different computer programs and have some techno bullshit added. Shame.

I guess you always think YOUR era is the best, but let’s be real. You have the songs/artists mentioned, and then also shit like Miley Cyrus and Justin freakin’ Bieber ruling the charts. Scares me, man. And don’t get me started on the current state of popular rock music. It’s like you’re either Nickelback or you’re super indie and weird. But that’s another conversation for another day.

I’ll leave you with this. I’m only 29 years old and I’m bitching about the state of popular music. All the current artists I dig were around 10 years ago, more or less (and their music was better then – I’m looking at you, Ludacris). I apologize for sounding like the Grumpy Old Man character from SNL years ago (Kesha wouldn’t get this reference, and I hate her for it). But in my day, music was better and we liked it that way!

So yes. This is what I spent my newest, rare blog post on. I hope that, if anything, I cleared up to myself that I’m far cooler than most people are. In the immortal words of Slimm Cutta Calhoun, “It’s OK.”

P.S. – Colby Rasmus just hit his second HR of the night. And he probably HATES Lady Gaga.

I’m starting my three-part series on the best and worst music of 2009.  Today you will get my 5 most disappointing albums of the year.  Parts two and three will cover the 50 best albums of this final year of the decade.  I refuse to call it the “aughts” or the “naughties.”

Now, this list is not the WORST albums of 2009.  Well, not all of them, anyway.  They either really suck, or are OK but I expected much more.

These are in no particular order, except the last one sucks something hard.

Worst Comeback Album with a Fake Lead Singer

Alice in Chains – Black Gives Way To Blue

This album wouldn’t have even been good back when grunge was popular.  I’m a huge Alice in Chains fan, but with a fake Layne singing, it just doesn’t work for me.  When I heard this album was coming out, I didn’t expect much, but I expected more than what I got.  One thing that made AIC different was their ability to merge tragic melodies with the heaviness of their music.  With this one, all I hear is heavy and dated.  Somewhere Layne Staley’s trackmarked arm just flinched.

Sophomore Album That Sounds Lazier Than Blog Lists

Paolo Nutini – Sunny Side Up

I really dig his first album.  REALLY dig it.  It has a groovy, laid back vibe that’s at times fun, serious, or both.  But this thing he put out this year… I don’t hate it, but man, there’s zero effort there.  It sounds like he took his first album, took everything out of it that made it good, ran it though some editing, recorded himself thinking aloud, and put it out.  I hope he’s heavy on drugs or something, because that’s the only real excuse for the decline.

Proof That You CAN Catch Lightning In A Bottle, But You Can’t Let It Out At Will

Jet – Shaka Rock

Jet’s first album, Get Born?  Classic.  They brought back a vintage rock sound that was refreshing at the time.  Their follow up, Shine On?  Lagged a bit, but overall a good sophomore effort.  Shaka Rock?  Well, do I have to say anything?  Can’t you just read the fucking title and figure it out?  It’s boring, silly, and overall not good.  Just no good at all.  If I were to put together a Jet Greatest Hits album, it would be 75% Get Born, 20% Shine On, and 5% me shitting on Shaka Rock.

Worst Album From A Band I Really, Really Try to Still Like

Weezer – Raditude

I read a really good Rolling Stone article about Rivers Cuomo and the creation of this album and thought, hey, this could be neat!  Weezer gets a bad wrap sometimes because their first two albums are so damn solid, nothing can match up.  But even the mediocre Red Album from last year has more than a single on it.  It’s actually got some ambition to it, misguided as it can be sometimes.  But Raditude?  The only thing I like is the name.  The single, “I Want You To” is decent.  After that, I think Weezer fell asleep in the studio.  The name of the album promotes fun.  There’s even a song with Lil’ Wayne!  Guess what?  It sucks.  Out loud.  Louder than anything on this album.  Weezer sounds bored.

Worst Solo Album By Someone Who Should ALWAYS Front A Band

Chris Cornell – Scream

Chris Cornell was flat out awesome in Soundgarden.  He did a great job with Temple of the Dog.  Loved him in Audioslave.  I also enjoy his other solo efforts.  He’s proven he’s a musician that has a voice that lends itself to many different genres.  Well, dancy-electro-rock is not one of them.  Timbaland ruins this album.  Well, that and the fact that it was ever made.  Hey Chris, stick to what you know.  This album is just awful.  No more words.

There are things I see everyday that make me question humanity.  These things, of course, live in the realm of pop culture.  Today, I’ll go through the five most overrated, beloved things popular so far here in 2009.  Seriously, some of this shit floors me.  If you like anything on this list, don’t be ashamed.  I’ll still judge you, but hey, it’s your life.  Not everyone can be as cool as the sweatervest.

5.  Twilight

This could be number one, were it not for the complete suckage that we, as a people, consume.   Let me preface this by saying I’ve never seen the movie.  But I did stomach down the book, and was not moved.  Not at all.  What’s the appeal here?  To me, it was just Buffy the Vampire Slayer, only far wussier and without anything of interest.  I’ve never felt less compassion for any character in a book than I did for the collective lot in this one.  I know some people absolutely love it, and not all of them are still in junior high.  But I want my vampires to not be wussy, dreamy, sexy, caring, or vegetarians.  So, I guess Twilight isn’t for me.  This weekend the wife and I went to see the latest Harry Potter movie (now THAT’S a good phenomena), and there was the trailer for New Moon.  I thought the idea of a trailer was to showcase the best parts, or at least parts that make you want to see the movie?  Because this trailer had the worst acting I’ve seen since Clerks.  At least Clerks was a good movie with bad actors.  New Moon looked like a student film with a big budget.  I mean, some dude was about to turn into a fuckin’ wolf, and he was all wussy about it.  Note to the people in this music – if you have the mystical powers to turn into a wolf or SMOKE, which is awesome, don’t ever look like you’re going to cry before transforming.  I wish I could turn to smoke.  Lucky jerks.  Also, don’t let Teen Wolf or Jim Carrey from that movie “Once Bitten” look scarier than you.  Jackasses.

4. The Snuggie

I’ll say it right now:  If you own a Snuggie, we can never truely be friends.  You know what a Snuggie is?  It’s a robe, people.  They’ve been around for years.  Jesus wore a robe.  So because they flip it backwards and give it a stupid name, you’re going to buy it?  Also, I think it’s a bad idea.  I like the “tucked-in” feeling of a blanket.  The Snuggie does not give me that option.  And I don’t know about you, but I have a heater in my home.  Sure, I snuggle up with a blanket when chillin’ on the couch, but it’s not so cold that I can’t remove my arms from my blanket for fear of frostbite.  I have a theory that you’ll actually be colder in the ol’ reverse robe, because air flow in the arms.  Don’t doubt me on this.  They also make pet Snuggies.  That’s taking it too far, idiots.

3. The Jonas Brothers

I have a subscription to Rolling Stone.  Some of it is good, some of it sucks.  But it’s good to flip through.  That is, until they say that the Jonas Brothers are musically talented.  Ok, so maybe they can play instruments.  But their music, to be blunt, fucking sucks.  Hanson was WAY better than these kids.  And they were talking about how Elvis Costello was an influence, and suddenly that gives them cred?  Well, if I said I liked Donald Trump, would you give me a million dollars?  Because obviously, that means I’m also rich, right?  I like great music, doesn’t mean I can play for shit.  The Jonas Brothers are two steps away from the Kidz Bop singers.

I heard the blonde kid with the guitar and creepy smile was influenced by Bob Dylan.  So his falsetto take of Duffy’s “Mercy” has to be chart gold, right?

2. The “New” Crop of Reality Shows

I was just going to focus on that hose beast Kate from Jon and Kate Plus 8, but she’s such an easy target.  And she’s not the only problem.  However, I will start with her (because I hear if she isnt’ the center of attention, she gets pissy and hits one of her kids.  True story).  I hate her (and Jon, frankly) the most because of the kids.  How many of those kids are going to grow up normal?  I’ll give you a hint.  None.  What’s sad is that the show made this mess.  Sure, Kate has always been a psycho demanding bitch, but without the cameras, she was basically a normal wife (zing!).  Now she’s turned into hairstyle trendsetter:

Or – that ugly hairstyle has been around since I had a sidespike, and she’s just a giant attention whore.  I dont’ feel bad about namecalling, because she’s a terrible mom who is using her vagina’s giant capacity to pass things to make her money.  At least porn stars are truthful about what they’re doing.  I also hear that Octomom is getting a reality show.  Awesome.  So what’s the moral, kids?  Right – have children outside your means, be insane, and you’ll get a TV deal and all the help you need.  Way to go, America!

1. Lada Gaga

Now, I’ve been a tad rude in the last list item, and let me tell you that is NOT going to change here.  Does this bitch have talent?  What separates her from other female singers?  Better voice?  No.  Fun personality?  Hell no.  Image?  I guess.  But this is hardly an image that puts you over the top:

WTF is that?  Newsflash – wearing strange shit does not make you popular, artistic, or a trendsetter.  If that were the case, then Bjork would be far more popular than she is, and she can actually sing!  Poker Face is the worst song I’ve ever heard. What makes it so great?  Sounds like any dance track out in the past 10 years.  Who made crazy-funky-I-wear-gyros-on-my-head lady the second coming?  Oooh, Marilyn Manson said she is “real” and “what an artist should look like.”  This coming from someone who not only is god-ugly and freaky, but hasn’t put out a good album in 10 years (Antichrist Superstar was good).  She is not refreshing.  She is not talented.  She is not artistic.  She’s retarded.  As soon as we get this in our heads, the better we will all be.  Her music is a dime a dozen.  Her name also sucks.

So, hopefully you haven’t fallen into any of those traps.  They are quite engaging, but if you can avoid the screeching, vomit-inducing siren songs of these phenomena, your life will be far more meaningful.

Thanks for reading.  Hopefully I’m back doing this for a while now.  Have a great weekend, and remember, only enjoy the awesome of life.  This is my favorite song right now.  How cute is the singer?

Yes, orange and purple.  Often I’d wear them with a greenish Hypercolor shirt, or this sweet white and yellow Hattrix soccer shirt.  I was a beacon of fashion, and a color disaster.  I looked like the mop-up rag after an Rainbow Brite orgy.  If Gumby ate Fruit Stripe gum, got it stuck in his throat, tried to wash it down with a sno-cone and grape Kool-Aid, and then threw up, this is how I looked.  And it was cool back then.  My second favorite were this reddish color on one leg, and black on the other.  And “Umbro” was written across the outside in some crazy font.  They were shinier and slicker than my orange ones.  Man, those were cool.

Why do I ramble about such things?  Well the Umbros are a very important part of the following story, which is both personal, funny, sad, and basically strange.  Buckle your seat belts, SVAC readers.

The fourth grade was a hell of a time for me.  Now, I say this to anyone reading who knew me then, I wasn’t a messed up kid, or obsessive about how life was going.  But looking back, that year had about 10 years worth of shit piled into it.  Proves that I’m a tough lil’ bastard, and that I have a great support system and blah blah blah.  I’ll get on with it.  To spoil the rest of the story, I’ll just spill what happened.  My parents got divorced, and I had open heart surgery.  Crazy, right?  I’ll remark on the former tonight, and the latter another night.  It’s a good’un.

So, my parents got divorced.  It happens.  A lot.  I still remember when my mom and dad told me.  Now, the events aren’t 100% clear, but we were in the family room of our house.  It was a Saturday morning, and I was watching Gator Tales, enjoying a good story and some puppets.  Fun.  Our couch was blue.  Does that frame the setting enough?

Ok.  So I find out.  That’s not the point of this story.  I wasn’t happy, yeah, we know this.  I’m not trying to tell your normal “woe is me/divorce” story.  They had been separated before, so, whatever.  What it boils down to was my actions later and the response.  And that’s when the story begins.

There was this group at school called “Rainbows” run by the school counselor.  She was a real nice lady, I can’t remember her name, but I always liked her.  Anyway, this group was about 6 or 7 other kids in the same situation as me.  A grade school support group.  I think I didn’t like it, because it was early in the morning, and one day before school I cried my eyes out not wanting to go.  I blamed the divorce.  However, part of me thinks I was just avoiding school, and the divorce was a crutch.  Then again, that could be me rationalizing.  Whichever it was, it was decided I needed to see a therapist.

If memory serves, I only went once.  The first time (and probably last, if I went more I blocked it out of my memory), we pulled up and I felt weird instantly.  The waiting room looked like a grandmother’s house, the walls adorned with country-plaid border and various quilted pictures.  The minute I saw the therapist I knew it would be bad.  He looked like the principal from Billy Madison, yet younger.  Maybe a beard.  Definitely brown trousers pulled up to his nipples.  And he often leaned back in his creaky, too small office chair.

There was one exercise that made me, at the age of fourth grade (year?  no clue), realize this was bogus.  I was to draw a picture of myself.  They gave me a pencil and paper, and sat me in a room alone while he talked to my mom.  So, I’m thinking to myself, cool, I like drawing.  I do it all the time at school.  Here we go.  So I draw myself in a sweet Hypercolor shirt and my favorite pair of Umbros.  And I draw the drawstring, because having your drawstring out was the way you wore ‘em.  But, looking at it, I didn’t like the thickness of the strings, and thought it just looked goofy.  So, I erased ‘em.  No sweat.  Picture finito.  I went back in to show first the “Doctor” while my Mom left the room.  He gazed his sweaty eyes over it, and you know what this son of a bitch told me, a fourth grader?

“You are definitely coming to grasp with your sexuality and it is confusing you.”

Saaaay Whaaaaa?  I’m in fourth grade.  My idea of sex is what I glimpse on LA Law or something.  I am noticing girls, but the only thing I was confused about was the divorce.  I was starting to like girls for sure, but how could this guy tell I was having to use the notebook shield at school from looking at a shitty drawing?  How did he know I thought about boobies a lot?  Who can say.  But, because I erased the drawstring (“an obvious phallic reference”), sex was the issue.  Think of my mortification when my mom came back!  Because I fucking erased a drawstring on my favorite pair of Umbros, my problems were with my growing sexuality, not my parents divorce.  I vowed never to go back there.  I never wanted to hear the word “sex” with “Danny” and “phallic” (whatever that meant, I had no idea), around my Mom ever again.

And you know what?  Later that year I had Open Heart Surgery.  And now I blame Dr. Drawstring-Penis for it.  Thanks a ton.

I got over the divorce once I realized I could still see my dad and got used to it.  I never got over my rabid sexual fear of drawstrings.

Thanks for listening.  I’ll play you out:

Recently, I finished “Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs” by Chuck Klosterman.  It looks like this:

Good book.  Funny, interesting, and well written.  (By the way, itunes update… ever wonder what Crosby, Stills, and Nash would sound like if they drank too many Pina Coladas and listened to the Beach Boys’ “Kokomo” all night?  Well, check out the song 50/50.  What shit from such a great group.  Back to your original prose.)  Well, ol’ Chuck has a great idea and really makes sense to this guy.  Why can something by Jane Austen be studied as art, but something like Saved By The Bell cannot?  This is now my new premise.  One of my many (read: 2) bachelor’s degrees is in English, and I’ve done my fair share of reading and analyzing.  Why is this just limited to the canon of old farty works?  Now, I dig that shit for sure, but you know what?  I can use the same skills to really dig deep into today’s world.  Who doesn’t want to know what kind of symbolism to pay attention to in Freddy Got Fingered?  Why can’t there be an annotated bibliography for the psyche of Chuck Palahaniuk as he pertains to incredible perversions?  Can’t someone review “No More Games: The Remix Album” by New Kids on the Block in a way that relates it to postmodernism?  And do it in a humorous, amazingly witty way?  Sure they can. And “they” is “me” in this scenario, if you aren’t following along.  Seriously, have you ever read “Pilgrim’s Progress” from way back in the day?  Thing’s a piece of shit.  I can learn more about the written word breaking down Snoop’s verse in “Dre Day.”  Bow wow wow, yippie yo, yippie ay.  Top that, John Bunyan.

itunes update – “If I Had Changed My Mind” by Tom Vek.  Just heard this guy for the first time.  Odd, layered sound with a slightly “f-you for listening to me” vocal.  So obviously, it’s great.

Now, this may be a great idea.  This might allow me to get all of the creative juices I have in me to ejaculate onto this blog.  Lack of a better term?  Hell no!  To quote Brokeback Mountain (not the movie, the book.  It was a book, you know…)… “Gun’s…. goin….. off….”  That’s right.  I’ve turned the hue of the blog a little more blue.  I’m at my best when I can slightly (or obviously) offend.  But don’t worry, dear reader.  This is merely an academic exercise.

If you have any suggestions, let me have it.  Don’t worry though.  I’ll still regale you with random bitching, embarrassing stories about friends, and more music than you can shake a stick at.  So, one last itunes update, complete with visual accompaniment.  You said it’s not so bad, they’re only vegetables, that’s what you said…

The new era is upon us, Sweatervests Are Cool readers. Let’s brace all tens of us for a minor, if insignificant revolution!

This commercial:

Where do I even begin?  How about the embarrassed woman who is obviously going to a very fancy catered affair.  She’s all dolled up in her sexy black dress and flattering high heels.  But wait!  She has shitty feet!  However will she woo the lonely, married businessman and blackmail him out of money?  Well, she can get the Ped Egg!  Let me tell you a few things about guys.  They don’t care if you have some dry skin on your feet.  No, that’s it.  They don’t.  So this hussy could have still made it to her singles convention or wherever she was going with her feet as is.  It isn’t like the Ped Egg is used on the boobs.  Because that’s all that matters.  To the people who she was going to meet, mind you.

Also, Ped Egg people, where do you get off? Who in the world uses a potato peeler or cheese grater on their feet?  Really?  I’ve never seen it.  And then, when/if they do use the same device they shred their colby jack for tacos on their soles, would they really just let it pile up like Tyrone Biggums’ Piles of Crack party?  I think not, TeleBrands.

The main offense about the Ped Egg commerical is the fact that Mrs. Nasty Feet empties the contents of her Ped Egg ON A TOWEL.  Just throws it out there.  I’m never eating Parmesean Cheese again. Never.  It’s also weird that some of the before feet look very different than the after feet.  Terrible commerical.  Too bad I couldn’t find the clip that starts off with some douchebag saying something like, “Hey, would you use an egg to smooth your foot?” and then some moron breaks an egg on her foot.  HA!  See what they did there?  Ped Egg, egg, same thing, right?  Is funny, no??  NO.  I hate you, Ped Egg.  Now what am I to put on my pasta to give it a little bite?  Black Dress Floosey’s foot shavings?  No thank you.  Anyway, what the hell did you think it would do to a balloon?  I wouldn’t rub something that would pop the damn thing on my feet.

See, now I’m imagining what some nasty foot fetishist is thinking about the Ped Egg.  I wonder what it feels like to snort heel dust.  Gross?  Yep.  Thought you’d like that.  I imagine it’d make your nose run.  That joke and visual pretty much sums up the viewing experience for me and the Ped Egg spot.  Welcome to my world.

I’m going to finish watching the Cardinals come back against the lowly Reds.  Here’s a tune for the road:

Something nice and light for the start of summer.  So, until next time, keep your nose clean and grate your damn feet.

Bike lanes.  It seems that every road here now has slightly thinner lanes to make way for a white painted bike symbol on the side of the road.  I hate it, but not because I am anti-cyclist.  I hate it because it now gives people MANUALLY pedaling a bike almost as much of the lane as someone operating a combustible engine driven machine.  It just doesn’t make sense to me.  They get up to what, 20-30 MPH if they are really crushing those pedals.  But give ‘em an uphill slope, and it’s half that.  Yet all I have to do is press on a simple pedal to go the speed limit.  They have to push two pedals in a circular motion with a bunch of forces of physics in their way.

Also, there are some dick cyclists out there.  I’m sorry, but in a motor vehicle, I ALWAYS have the right of way.  It’s a road.  Paved for my vehicle.  The same moron in the fake gold jersey and still riding with a pinned number on his shirt from a charity race he raced in 7 months ago who gives you dirty looks for passing him will NOT stop at a stop sign.  Want to know how drivers and cyclists can live peacefully?  How about putting blinkers on bikes?  Who the F knows hand signals these days?  They are to traffic culture what words like “erstwhile” and “thou” are to the English language.  If you take the time to learn these signals, you can learn what STOP means.

Actually, I have the solution for this.  Why are we giving up space in our lanes for bikes?  There are some roads where bikes just should not be allowed.  And these are the roads that for some reason keep getting lanes.  Why do this?  Here’s the solution:

Ever seen one of these?  It’s a sidewalk, and no cars are allowed on it.  Yes, people walk there.  But isn’t it safer to displace some old fart walking than it is some old fart driving?  Or, here’s an idea – WIDEN THE SIDEWALK.  Put a bike lane there.  You can thank me later when this achieves world peace.  Until then, you wannabe Lance Armstrongs need to realize that the road was not made for you.  I appreciate your athletic ability and want to be green and such, but use the damn sidewalk.  Hell, it’s for walkers?  Who walks anymore?  If anything, they bike….

The moral of the story is that roads are for cars.  And if we are going to have bikes on the roads, they need to obey the damn laws and extend the lanes.  And not look so lame with the hand signals. If you want to bike on MY streets – check this out and change your look:

Now I’d let THAT guy pass me in the road.  He’s rad, yo.

So, it’s a Friday night in May, and Jamie and our friend Mike (from here on out to be referred to as “The Remainder” – thanks Jamie’s sisters) are in town.  They have traveled in to go to our other friend Matt’s graduation.  Quickly, a little background on Matt.  Matt is intense.  He is currently a reporter/anchor somewhere in Mississippi (feel free to check out his work and very misguided screenshots at http://mattjohnsontv.blogspot.com), and is usually the guy a story like this would be about.  We used to play basketball quite a bit, and he was never technically sound, but could throw a ball from his ankles  that would go in constantly.  You’ve heard of the sky hook, right?

Well, Matt had the Ground Hook.  It looked like he had some kind of palsy, but that shit went in.  We also went to the bars and did karaoke quite a bit.  He was that guy who would always do Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places” and yell “BEER” at the appropriate places.  Once he showed his ass to a group of girls at the bar for a cigarette, which he proceeded to fake smoke.  This is your news reporter, Jackson, MS.

But I digress.  So, Jamie and Mike came in town for the graduation.  They stopped by my house before the ceremony, i’m not really sure why I didn’t go.  Either I had to work or I didnt’ feel like sitting thru it.  We decided to meet up at La Casa Grande after for some food and drinks, and Matt and his family would be there as well.  Sounds nice enough.  But when Jamie showed up, he had a few bags from the grocery store, and with a few words he set about a motion of events that will go down in infamy:

“There’s this drink that I read about on Tuckermax.com – let’s try it.”

I’m not going to look up the drink, but I’m pretty sure it consisted of Everclear, Red Bull, Red Gatorade, and possibly Fresca or 7-Up.  Doesn’t sound terrible, I guess.  So Jamie proceeds to make this concoction in a big fountain soda cup so it could be a roadie.  There were a few things wrong with this drink, as far as I could tell:

• It was VERY red
• Everclear
• All the ingrediants were lukewarm at best

They actually left some of this drink in my fridge.  It was not drank.

So the two of them leave.  Fast forward a few hours, and I show up to La Casa Grande.  Too bad this joint isn’t still open.  They had good nachos.  Anyway, I get there and Matt and a decent amount of his family are at a table right by the bar with no seats left.  That’s when I see Jamie and Mike sitting at the bar.  Cool, i’ll say hi and congrats, and sit at the bar and crush some Dos Equis Amber.  Of course Jamie is already drunk, having nursed on his crazy juice during the ceremony.  But, whatever, good for him.  I order a beer and some nachos, and the next set of occurances may not be in the best order, but who’s going to correct me?  Picture this – you just graduated, your family is there, and one of your friends is loudly cursing and laughing drunk right next to you.  Just to remind you, Matt’s whole family is feet away from us.  With kids.  And old people.

In the middle of eating, Jamie gets up and walks to the small bathroom by the bar, and is gone for a good while.  Maybe 20 minutes?  He comes back with a pretty brutal look on his face, and sits back at the bar.  Not looking good, he puts his head down on the bar, most likely to stop the spinning.  As I get the bill, all of a sudden I hear something that resembles live fish smacking around on land.  Instead, it’s the reddish insides of Jamie leaking out of his mouth down the front of him to the floor.  FEET away from Matt’s family.  FEET away from a pretty mean, pissed off Mexican bartender.  Lucky for us, there is a door very close to the bar so we don’t have to drag his not light ass thru the whole place out the front.  At this point, Jamie can’t stand up.  He’s barely sitting.  So we somehow maneuver him out the door and on to the sidewalk where he continues to puke on out on the cold concrete.  I stay with him there for probably 30-45 minutes (at least) because sitting up causes him to throw up and fall back down.  As I’m cursing the world, I notice that there is a window by us and Jamie is throwing up right in sight of a table of guests eating fajitas.  Not only that, but at the time I taught at one of the high schools here, and at this table was one of my students and his parents.  Sweet.

I’m honestly not sure what happened to Mike at this point.  He might have been with us, but I’ve blocked a lot of that night out.  Now we had to figure out where Jamie was going to stay.  I’m a friend, but my now-wife’s mom and grandma were in town and we didn’t have any empty beds.  One of his friends who also graduated was going to let him stay there, so once he could sit up, we were off.  I drove his truck, and of course he threw up out the side of it (which I cleaned up, goddammit).  We made it to this friend’s apartment, and Jamie was at that happy point of drinking that you’ve thrown up so much all you can do is laugh and talk about how you’ve been drinking.  Well, her family wasnt’ really comfortable with me dropping off a stupid drunk guy at her daughter’s.  At this point it’s cold out and there is an unopened 40 of Bud Light rolling around the cab of the truck for some reason.  Then, I get a bright idea:  call Matt.  We get a hold of Matt, but of course he isnt’ home.  An even longer story short, we met up with him at his place, and Jamie stayed there.  Matt and his girl at the time disappeared for a while upstairs while we waited, but I won’t get in to that here.  So, I had successfully found Jamie a place to stay.  Then I cleaned his truck a bit, went back to La Casa Grande, got my ride, and went home.

I have created a crude map of the bar, for those of you who are visual learners:

Note the puke trail in yellow, the close proximity to Matt’s family, and the Mad Mexican.

That’s it.  I immortalized this night in poetic form years ago, with the names changed to protect the idiotic:

The Ballad of Jimmy Walters

Night was clear as day.
Day was cold as night.
“ku sucks” is what he say,
Sure caused an awful fright.

It’s graduation time,
the spirits all are flowing,
The drink was red like wine,
It’s true power was not yet showing.

“It’s warm, It’s warm” they all would cry
But this was not a worry,
Little Jimmy drank it ’til it was dry,
Seemed to be in a hurry.

Speech was the first skill to go,
Navigation not far behind.
His state of mind would often show,
Hopefully the bathroom is not hard to find.

Si, Si senor the table was full,
so to the bar ol’ Jimmy traversed.
Suddenly gravity increased it’s pull,
The drink, the drink was heavily cursed.

Asleep, asleep, he seemed to be.
like a young child off in the land of dreams.
Until, oh do my eyes decieve?
The vomit flowed like a young child’s screams.

Oh concrete, you are so cold.
There are no sleeves of which to warm.
Eating inside seemed rather bold,
When outside was Jimmy, hurling without harm.

Where to sleep, where to sleep?
Door one was ajar,
“This man we will not keep
for he smells worse than a bar.”

The second door was drawing near,
good thing for windows.
For what we had learned to fear,
was making itself known.

Mr. Double Pump offers his couch,
and possibly his short-lived services.
Jimmy on the couch, looked a slouch,
Far away from the more than early jizz.

Let it be known friends
Please make sure you hear.
The means never justify the ends,
If you mix it with Everclear.

I can’t believe he was throwing up on the other side of a few panes of glass to where parents and one of my student were eating.  And damn it was cold that night.  That bastard was passed out on a sidewalk in short sleeves.

So Jamie, thanks for the story.  The night pretty much sucked, but it was all worth it to have a blog post about it years later.  This song’s for you, buddy:

]]> http://sweatervestsarecool.wordpress.com/2009/05/26/i-like-cold-beverages/feed/ 3 dsnice27 Photobucket Photobucket http://sweatervestsarecool.wordpress.com/2009/05/22/i-was-walkin-down-the-street-concentrating-on-truckin-right/ http://sweatervestsarecool.wordpress.com/2009/05/22/i-was-walkin-down-the-street-concentrating-on-truckin-right/#comments Sat, 23 May 2009 03:45:13 +0000 dsnice27 http://sweatervestsarecool.wordpress.com/?p=135 Continue reading →]]> There are so many things out there that I think I’m missing out on. The whole “the grass is always greener” saying? Truth.

I never was over 21 and single to go out and crush the bars ( I still crushed them, but that whole scene escapes me). I’ve lived in the suburbs and/or college towns all my life, never really experiencing the big city for more than a vacation or conference.  Should I be upset?

NO.  I still hit the bars.  I still command attention when crushing beverages and hitting the town.  I LOVE it here where I live.  I love having a yard and a house.  Hell, my house in NYC would run a few mil.  What’s my small, un-thought-out point?  That the grass isn’t greener.  I spent this afternoon outside eating and drinking with friends, and came home and chilled in my backyard with some music on just enjoying the peace.  There is nothing wrong with that.  I often feel that there is so much more I can do, but then I remind myself i’m only 28 years old and still have plenty of time to do what I want to do.

All of that said, there is one particular type of person that I’m insanely jealous of and would contemplate switching brains with in some weird experiment.  Those people?  Anyone who can really sing and has musical acumen.  I played sax in fourth grade (sucked) and drums in sixth (didn’t really care).  I’d love to be able to grab a guitar and make everyone in the room, men included, want to get in my pants.  That’s skill.  If I could sit down and do something like this:

I would do it ALL the time.  I mean, look at that.  Sit there looking like a goofy oaf, and then open your mouth and that comes out?  One thing is for certain, he is probably the goofiest guy out there pulling all the strange.  Listen to that voice!  And the guy playing guitar looks like the kid from Billy Madison:

Yet he probably pulls out that sweet steel guitar and is instantly the most popular guy in the room.

Ok, it’s not all about pullin’ strange and attention.  I fancy myself a pretty thoughtful dude, and with musical ability comes a brand new world to express what’s on your mind.  These ridiculous blog posts are one thing, hell, even a book or novel doesn’t quite reach the instant gratification of song.  I can read a book and feel moved by it, but it takes a while.  But I can hear a song, and feel it immediately.  Also, I think I’d make a pretty freakin’ sweet rock star.  My stage presence would be top notch, and I’m generally awesome.

Alas, for now, I’ll just settle for being terrible yet dedicated when I hit the karaoke.  I am the white hootie, sans a good singing voice.  If I could do what he did, I’d make a million dollars.  Like the pet rock guy.

Have a great holiday weekend.  Here is an example of the inverse of me at karaoke, and try to listen to this and not feel his emotion:

PS – even though no one reads this – can someone tell me the artist and song that the title of this post is from?  I don’t like reggae, I love it.

Who knows.  But for as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted people to like me. This isn’t a negative, in my opinion.  I’ve made great friends in my life because of this.  I can adapt to the situation and be the person you think I am.  So who am I?  I’m me.  If i’m trying to make you like me, that’s me.  I’ve never lied or totally gone against who Dan is, but I do try to please.

Some of you are saying, Dan, you’re a sarcastic asshole!  What are you talking about?  Well friends, I am funny, and I’m not always sure when I need to turn that switch off.  Part of the whole like me thing.  Laughter rules.  Trust me, when I go to far, I know it, and I feel it.  But, usually I’m too much of a wuss to say so.  It’s my flaw.  Whatever, I still rule.

So why am I getting all introspective?  Well, I’m setting up my state of mind so I can completely skewer someone.  Not one person, but a type of person.  I’ve written on this topic before, but I feel it needs elaboration.  The subject of my ire is the total douchebag (how awesome is it that “douchebag” does not get a red squiggly line under it) who plays softball but is basically looking for a fight.  Well, not a fight, but an argument for sure.  Ok, so we have this dude today who slid into second and when he got up, blatantly kicked our second baseman’s shin on the way up.  WHAT?  He also argued that this guy left the bag early, blah blah blah.  This is D-League softball.  Why in the world would he get to the point of wussy physical altercations over something like this?  Oh yeah, because he’s a loser who is probably right now by himself in his one bedroom apartment punching himself in the face because they lost.  That, and he’s probably just a miserable person.  Why go through life like that?  Why not try to be happy about shit?  We’re not here very long, so to go through life as a prick seems contrary to the point of life.  Again, whatever.  I did crack a joke to him to make him not dislike me.  Seriously.  I have a problem.  But, with a wit like this, why let it go to waste?

Quote of the damn year, from my boy Crutch:

“I kinda want to get struck by lightning.  I know someone who did and now he knows when it’s going to rain.”

Truth.

And, because it makes me happy and I enjoy it, I’ll shuffle the ol’ itunes for some songs.  I enjoy doing it.  And really, this is all about me.  But, do you like it?  I want you to like it…

1. Joe Walsh – At the Station: I admire Joe Walsh.  Sick guitarist, in a HUGE band, and puts out songs like “Life’s Been Good” basically talking about how good he has it.  I bet he’s fun to drink with.
2. New Kids on the Block – Step By Step:  No, I am NOT ashamed of this.  First of all, this song rules.  I remember when this cassette came out, the night before Hot 97 (great station!) played the whole thing on air – and I think they got in some shit about it.  I don’t care, man.  I liked and still like the New Kids.  NSYNC can eat it.  Although Jon and Danny really didn’t need to be there.  I dug Joey when i was a kid in a very hetero way.
3. The Libertines – Horror Show:  If you’ve never heard these guys, check ‘em out.  If for nothing else than the lead singer’s ridiculous drug use.  Cool Brit band.
4. Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young – Our House:  I could listen to these guys sing “rock chalk jayhawk” and I’d think it sounded good.  It’s still be garbled nonsense and I’d want to punch each of ‘em in the face, but the harmony would be decent.
5. The Urge – Had to Happen:  Off “Puttin the Backbone Back” from like 1991.  Lo-fi recording.  Yet, still great.  The boot WILL conquer the sandal.
6. Modest Mouse – Ocean Breathes Salty:  his lisp in this song is weird.  Awesome though.
7. Braid – First Day Back:  I downloaded this because it was on some best of list.  It’s average 90′s rock at best.
8. Hootie and the Blowfish – Running From An Angel:  No comment needed.  This is pretty much the truth when it comes to great music.
9. Nick Drake – Man in a Shed:  soft, slow rock from the 70′s.  Guy died.
10. Bare Jr – Faker:  Contains one of my favorite lines in all of music, “Such a heartbreaker… to be a failure as a faker”

I hope you enjoyed this brief look at me.  I love this acoustic version of this song, it’s amazing.  Enjoy: