In a Funk

Something's been going on in my groove thang lately, and I'm not referring to my previous post, I'm talking about my latest addiction to funk. It started when I watched the documentary Standing in the Shadows of Motown. For those of you who aren't up to snuff on your funkadelic history, the Funk Brothers were a group of studio musicians in Detroit in the 60's and early 70's who were responsible for a plethora of funkified hits, some of which ended up in the film that got white people dancing around the dinner table, The Big Chill.

Anyway, Jus' hang loose, blood. She gonna catch ya up on da' rebound on da' med side. Whoa, I'm not sure what that was, but let's face it the bruthas know how to play bass. When you're the bass player in a group of bruthas, you know you gots special chops, and James Jamerson provided much of the genius behind these hits. Shit man, that honky mus' be messin' my old lady... got to be runnin' cold upside down his head. Sorry, I don't know where that came from, but now that you've been edumacated, lets get back to my funkalicious addiction.
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Now, I'm not going all Bootsy Collins and dressing in futuristic bright purple sequined jumpsuits and over-sized Elton John glasses, but I have been doing my best white man overbite while standing on my sub-woofer, much to Amy's embarrassment. Hey you can't spell embarrassing without bass and ass right? Am I right? High five! Low Five! Around the back, I want my money jack! A week after having my Funk Brothers cherry popped, I find myself once again going to the funkadubious well, and picking up some rump-bumping Sly and the mutha-fuckin' Family Stone. ---
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Hey home, I can dig it. You know he ain't gonna lay no mo' big rap up on you man. Wow that just kind of erupted out of me, I think I must have Jive Tourettes Syndrome, and there's only one cure for JTS...MORE BASS! These two albums should keep me in a funkin' good mood for awhile, and if you want to get your moneymaker on the clock, I recommend these three collections:

The Funk Brothers - Standing in the Shadows of Motown
Various Artists - The Big Chill
Sly and the Family Stone - Greatest Hits

Cut me some slack, Jack! Chump don' want no help, chump don't GET da' help!

Please help cure Jive Tourettes Syndrome, because a kick ass bass line is a terrible thing to waste.

Sick

My ass is running like a fire hydrant in Harlem on the 4th of July, my butt is exploding like Amy's Facebook page. My stomach is tumbling like an under-age Chinese gymnist. I'm tossing more cookies than Mrs. Smith. I'm blowing more chunks than Corey Feldman at a Goonies reunion. The house smells worse than a port-o-potty at an Irritable Bowel Syndrome retreat. I hope that gives you an idea of my Saturday, and my cock-strong simile skills.

It is so bad that Amy and Maggie had to leave the state. They went to Maryland to celebrate my birthday with the family, while I stayed home to fend for myself. They are dining on steak and lobster, while it took me 75 minutes to gnaw through most of a stale McDonalds hamburger. They are drinking beers, playing wii, shooting pool and jamming to tunes, while I am watching The Soup. It's Miley! They are cracking jokes and jonin' on each other, while I am trying to decide which of my armpits smells worse. Do you feel bad yet people?

I'd better go now, because I just had this great idea for a tattoo...

37

Tomorrow is my 37th birthday, which is the same number of dicks sucked by Dante's girlfriend Veronica in Clerks, that is if you include Dante. Tomorrow I will wake up at the same time, take a shower at the same time, drive to work at the same time, where I will kill eight hours workin' for the man, before I head home, watch TV, and go to bed. Hooray! Every birthday between 21 and death is just a reminder that the bell will be tolling for thee sooner than you think, especially the way I eat and drink. I was going to add merry to that sentence because it completes the phrase, but I'm not sure I've ever truly been merry. I've been excited, I've been happy, I've been fucking over the moon after a couple vicodin and some wine, but I don't think I've ever described myself as merry and I'm ok with that.

Some people want death to come quickly, so they don't have time to think about it. I want a nice long drawn out illness to pre-empt my demise, so I have some time to do some fucked up shit first. Here's my top 10 list of things that I would do if I got some jacked up terminal illness:

10. Run onto the track at the Kentucky Derby after my horse loses, and punch the jockey like Joe Pesci did in Easy Money.

9. Get on the Price is Right and bid $2.50 over the highest price every time, so that someone is always getting fucked.

8. Two chicks at the same time, and I'm pretty sure that make-a-wish could hook that up for me.

7. Go to Amsterdam and order a Royale with cheese.

6. Fly on an airplane and leave my unapproved electronic device on during takeoff and landing. I know, I'm crazy, you can't stop me, you can only hope to contain me.

5. Play Russian Roulette Deer Hunter style. Just me and a bunch of crazy asians in a backroom down in Chinatown.

4. Travel to Utah, knock on all the Mormons doors and ask them if they've accepted that Kirk Hammett is God. I will probably need a partner and a couple bikes to get this done. Damn, make-a-wish you put me in a tight spot. I now have two wishes.

3. Pick a random animal from the endangered species list and see if I could make them extinct before I died. The Darwinian race is on bitches!

2. Streak through a Church on Easter Sunday after taking a viagra, yelling "He has Risen!"

1. Live in a Costco for three days while I shoot up a fuck ton of heroin and crack.

Finally, I looked up '37' in Wikipedia and here is what I discovered:

• Spinal Tap has had 37 Drummers. I hope to be #38.
• Shakespeare wrote 37 plays. I’ve written approximately 0.
• 37 degrees is the normal body temperature in Celsius. Too bad I use the Kelvin scale.
• The 37th president was Richard Nixon. I am neither a dick nor a crook, and I don't have a crooked dick, but I do like the song Crooked Stick by Stu Stone and Jamie Kennedy.
• It is the first irregular prime number. I suck at math.

Sorry, I've been crazy with the lists lately. I work in PowerPoint so much these days that I tend to think in bullet points. Actually putting a paragraph of cohesive thought together takes extra effort. Plus, I have been knee deep in the hoopla of learning a new conferencing product, so I've had to purge some of my writing skills, to make room for stuff like figuring out how conferencing software gets installed on a server behind a firewall. Only so many brain cells to go around, folks, 37 to be exact.

19 Things I Think I Know

1. Regardless of how hard I try, I suck at texting and driving

2. The Wii Fit is cooler than I thought it would be

3. The iPod Touch is as cool as I thought it would be

4. Being overweight sucks, but not as much as the process necessary to lose the weight

5. A good bottle of wine can do wonders for your mood

6. Cashews are to nuts what an orgasm is to sex

7. Texting 'is' on my cell phone always comes up 'IP' and that chaps my ass

8. Metallica is back with a vengeance. Death Magnetic lives up to the hype.

9. Midgets are just reincarnated people whose parachutes didn't open in a previous life

10. The Office and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia are back tonight. (See #5)

11. Tomorrow is 70's day at the office (don't ask) does this mean I can go in stoned and listen to Pink Floyd all day?

12. The Steelers are better than I expected

13. My Dad is shocked that I will be 37 next week, he mentioned that his life was pretty much over by then. I'm fucked.

14. When the urologist asked how often I felt my testicles for irregularities, I said weekly because I thought that hourly would be too much information.

15. As much as I love music I will never be proficient at an actual instrument.

16. I saw the kid who keeps fucking with my lamp post this week. He pushes the sliding rod all the way to the right which aggravates my OCD, because it's supposed to be in the middle. I think I need to buy a paint ball gun and jack him up. Is that too aggressive?

17. I've only worked four days and I'm already out of clothes to wear.

18. My last statement was ultra-gay

19. It's a strip mall world and I live smack dab in the middle of it.

There you have my lazy Thursday post. If you wonder why I went with 19 instead of 20, it's because when I exaggerate anything I automatically use the number 19. For example at my Mom's house I might say something like "Holy shit there were like 19 dildos in her closet", when in fact there were only 5 or 6. Now if you'll excuse me I need to get back to my testicle inspection.

I did a search for "Paintball Kid" and this came up, so enjoy your Friday "Moment of Zen".

Word Up!

The halloween costume hunt is on, and Amy is leaning towards a butterfly or a cow but I want Maggie to be Gene Simmons or a lawn jockey.

$10 for black face paint

$5 for a plastic lantern

$20 for a red and white jockey outfit

The look on your neighbors face when they open the door to a 17 month old dressed as a lawn jockey saying "Trick-O-Treat Mammy"...priceless. Some things money can't buy, for everything else there's Mastercard.

OK, that may be a bit over the line racial acceptability, so I'm guessing that she'll end up being a princess or some frilly shit, which is cool, but not as funny.

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I seem to get new jobs in the fall which coincides with my birthday and halloween, two things that are awkward to celebrate with new people. When I was in Nashville I had just started this gig at a copier company and they had people wear costumes for Halloween. Of course I went to work dressed as Alex from A Clockwork Orange. However, the jock needed some sprucing up, ala Cameo, so I decorated it with with red glitter and a bunch of little eyes. Needless to say I was immediately pulled aside and sent home to change. Who would of thunk that long underwear and a bright red jock strap highlighting my package area wouldn't be acceptable in the bible belt. Maybe I should have just gone as Jesus in the latest version of the Village People.

I'm Stuck in Folsom Prison

Ever get that feelling like you just fucked up big time. I got that feeling at my new job today, and I am hoping that it was just the first day jitters. For starters, I am officially on lockdown. The new gig blocks the usual sites like Myspace, ESPN and Facebook, which isn't too unusual, but they even block Gmail. No personal email and they frown upon IM. WTF? Couple that with the fact that I sit across from my boss who can see everything I do, and my glory days of downloading music, finding new bands and blogging are in serious jeopardy. I was in the chocolate factory, but my curiousity got the best of me and the oompa loompas took me away.

Oompa Loompa doompadee doo

I've got another puzzle for you

Oompa Loompa doompadah dee

If you are wise you'll listen to me

What do you get from a new position?

A pain in the neck and the Spanish Inquisition

Why don't you try simply doing some work?

Or are you just being a jerk?

You'll get no...You'll get no

You'll get no...You'll get no

You'll get no... personal e-e-e-e-mail

Oompa Loompa Doompadee Dah

If you're not lazy you will go far

You will live in happiness too

Like the OompaOompa

Loompa doompadee do

Also, my new job is just one big blast of culture shock. As I got the tour of the facility, complete with introductions to every single person, I felt like it was Rush week on campus and I was hoping to get a bid to the fraternity of my choice. The introductions were an exercise in deja vu, this is Matt he's 24, white, and likes the Dave Matthews Band. And here we have Ryan, he's 23, white, and loves Pearl Jam. Here's Greg, he's 26, white, and loves Radiohead. Ten years ago this would have been a dream job, but today I've traded happy hours for dinners with a few close friends, doing shots in the clubs for playtime with my daughter and lap dances for laying on the couch watching football. Call me old, call me boring, just don't call me to come out drinking on a Tuesday night.

Hopefully, I can rally, adapt and make this situation work. I am just trying to hang in there long enough for the free trip to Jamaica in January. Mr. Marley play me out of this post..."Don't worry, about a thing. Cause every little thing gonna be alright."

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I Don't Like Talking About My Flare

So far this week I did nothing. I did absolutely nothing, and it was everything that I thought it could be. Ok, so maybe I did a few things like changed out a lightbulb on the back porch, cleaned up the garage, sold some shit on Craigslist and did some shopping, but mostly I laid around the house watching TV, taking naps and basking in the glow of having zero work responsibilities. Some people say that being home all the time would get old, and maybe it would, but this week has been care free and it has been glorious.

My only setback has been not being able to find Journey's "The Party's Over (Hopelessly in Love)" to download for less than $.99. Everytime I listen to XM while I play Wii I hear a new Journey tune that I don't have on my iPod. It's really an odd phenomenon, it's like they have this storage of hits that were big on the radio back in the day, but completely forgettable. Then, out of nowhere they pop on XM and some dusty unused Steve Perry synapse in my brain is triggered and bam I am on the computer trying to scratch an itch I didn't know I had.

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So here I am with two days of complete freedom left and while I know that the party's almost over, I really must go and check out this chick on channel 9 who looks like Peter Gibbons girlfriend.

Who'll Stop the Rain?

The opening weekend in the NFL means that it is time for my yearly pilgrimage to Heinz field. Tropical storm Hannah is taking a monster dump outside, so I am drenched after throwing my backpack, pillow and jersey into the truck. Nothing like a four hour drive in soaking wet clothes. I settle in, start my trek up 15 North and it is just pissing rain, you'd think I ordered the super soaker car wash down at the wax-n-wash. "Um, yes, sir, excuse me but I ordered the four hour traveling soak, you know the one where you can't see shit out of your windows and the person in front of you just stops for no reason because they think they see standing water on the road, when in fact it is just a reflection of light against the wet pavement. Yeah, the wash where your wiper blades are going back and forth faster than coke addict on a cell phone call to his dealer at 3:00 AM. If you don't mind could you also throw in a tractor trailer rollover so that my rain-soaked clothes really feel great, while I am at a dead stop on the highway watching The Incredibles on the DVD in the mini-van in front of me. Finally, if you could have me hydroplane every 15 seconds or so just to keep me on my toes, I'd really appreciate it. I'd hate for my heart rate to drop below 170. Thanks!"

So that was the start of my trip. After Breezewood, which is about half way between Virginia and Pittsburgh, the weather started to clear up a bit, but not before I got to have my fun on the road to hell, they call the Pennsylvania Turnpike. I'm rolling down the highway doing about 70 and I look to my left and there is a cement wall two inches from my truck. Then, I look to the right and there is a huge semi two inches from my side mirror. Then, I look in the rear view and some douchebag from Ohio is two inches from my bumper. The rain is still coming down and if I make even the slightest error we will be playing Ford Explorer pinball. Like Luke Skywalker attacking the Death Star, I used the force, pushed the accelerator down and prayed for the best. Jesus fucking Christ, Jesus fucking Christ, Jesus fucking Christ, I make it past the semi and immediately merge right. Yeah bitches, suck it! Luckily, my Mom had a crowbar in the garage, because I needed it to loosen my grip on the steering wheel when I got to Pittsburgh.

The rest of my trip was rather uneventful. I got spend some time in the land of mustaches and jean shorts watching da Stillers whoop up on the lowly Texans, before returning back to Northern Virginia. I am off this week, so hopefully I'll conjure up a few posts, but I really need to work on my Wii Mario Cart skills and sell a bunch of shit on Craigslist. Priorities people. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go jam to Bob Seger in my living room and then find some pants so that I don't get arrested at the grocery store.

There's a Football in the Air

Here is a look at my 2008/2009 NFL predictions.

AFC North

1. Steelers (11-5)

Another AFC North title for my boys. Kenny and Bruce you guys will both owe me $5.

2. Clowns (9-7)

Anderson is no longer a surprise, and the inability to stop the run will cost them some close games this year. Plus, they are the brownies, they always find a way to lose.

3. Bungles (7-9)

A lot of proven talent, but no team chemisty and a lack of defense will plague these perennial underachievers.

Toss up: Will they have more arrests or TD's this year?

4. Ratbirds (4-12)

No QB = No Hope. Enjoy the basement fuckers!

AFC EAST

1. Patsys (12-4)

Not perfection this year, but strong enough. Hate 'em, but they are good.

2. Billies (10-6)

Lee Evans has a break out year mainly because he is on my fantasy team.

3. J-E-T-S, Suck! Suck! Suck! (7-9)

Improved, but even OFF (Old Fuck Favre) can't get them to the playoffs.

4. The Fish (4-12)

Parcells is making a bunch of changes, but Miami could still be beaten by most top 25 college teams.

AFC South

1. Dolts (11-5)

Marvin Harrison catches tons of TD's, or else he'll ride the pine on my fantasy team.

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2. Jagoffs (10-6)

No superstars, just a solid team year in and year out. I'm still reeling from Garrard's 32 yard run on 4th and 2 last year. I hope he breaks his liver in the first game.

3. Texans (7-9)

Marked improvement, but not a threat to make the playoffs especially after getting thumped in week 1 by my boys.

4. Oilers (6-10)

If you can name a Titan player other than Vince Young, then you're doing better than me.

AFC West

1. Super Chargers (12-4)

LT is back and so are the Chargers. Does anyone East of the Mississippi notice?

2. Haters (9-7)

Break out year for Russell, but not enough to crack the top 6 in the AFC. Just an observation, but is every Mexican a Raiders fan?

3. Donkeys (8-8)

Up and down like a $2 hooker.

4. Chefs (5-11)

Enjoy the BBQ, because that will be the only good thing in KC this year.

NFC North

1. Mini-Vikes (10-6)

Winner by being the least sucky in this welfare division

2. Fudge Packers (8-8)

No Favre, No Playoffs. Should have welcomed him back with open arms. Idiots!

3. Squares (6-10)

Name one great Bears QB and I'll give you $20.

4. Lions (6-10)

Tatum Bell stole Rudi Johnsons bags this week because he was pissed at being cut. This is the best story that will come out of that shithole they call Detroit this year.

NFC East

1. Cryboys (12-4)

Great team, shitty conference. It is amazing how much T.O and I look alike running on the beach.

2. Giants (10-6)

No repeat, but good enough to be in the mix at the end of the year.

3. Beagles (8-8)

I will only watch one Eagles game this year, and that's because they play the Steelers.

4. Mutha-fuckin Deadskins (7-9)

No QB means they will lose a lot of 3 point games. If you love low scoring, boring football, you will love the 2008/2009 Redskins.

NFC South

1. The Ain'ts (11-5)

The pieces are in place for a great year, but they have to avoid bad losses, hurricanes and George Bush's hatred for black people.

2. Black Panthers (10-6)

Hey, they put up 47 on the Redskins in pre-season. Good enough for me to rank them in 2nd place.

3. Tampa Gay (6-10)

Their offense gets senior citizen discounts at Denny's when they are on the road. Six wins is a prayer for these jokers.

4. Falcons (3-13)

Vick's dogs will chew up more yards than the Atlanta offense this year.

NFC West

1. Squawks (11-5)

They play so far away from everything, they may as well be in the CFL.

2. Red Birds (10-6)

I know they have a great stadium and that's pretty much the extent of my knowledge of this team.

3. Rammers (8-8)

Stephen Jackson's broken leg while river dancing in his shower during the bye week dooms their season.

4. 69'ers (4-12)

Bryant catches 12 TD's under my fantasy tutelage, unfortunately those are the only points they score in their 12 losses.

AFC Playoffs

Steelers over Jags

Colts over Bills

Pats over Steelers

Chargers over Colts

Chargers over Pats

NFC Playoffs

Seahawks over Cardinals

Giants over Vikings

Cowboys over Giants

Saints over Seahawks

Cowboys over Saints

Super Bowl

Chargers over Cowboys

There it is in black and white. We'll revisit this post in February and see how incredibly right I was. Now, I have to go pack up the truck for the trip to Heinz field this Sunday. Then, I need to practice running my victory laps.

School's Out Forever!

Every kid in America is going back to school this week and for me it is quite the opposite. My locker is cleaned out, I have water balloons ready to go, and I've signed everybody's yearbook. "Hey John we sure had some good times in chemistry class this year. What a long strange trip it's been. Stay cool this summer!" Now I am just waiting for the final bell to ring so that I can start singing Alice Cooper's Schools Out.

Friday is my last day, and with it comes a bitter-sweetness. I am excited to move on to the new gig, but there is also the sadness at leaving behind the people that I've worked with for over six years. It's almost like a break up, sure the new girlfriend is hot and you can't wait to rip her clothes off behind the Tastee-Freeze, but you don't have that history yet, like you did with your ex.

It is also reminiscent of my transition between high school and college. Most kids parents drop them off at college, after the obligatory trip to Target to stock up on food and school supplies. There are hugs and tearful goodbyes laced with assurances of success. I showed up at Tower A in Towson, alone in my brown Chevette with a box, a suitcase and a TV. I didn't know a soul and all of my roommates were from New York, while I was the quiet, hick-kid from bumfuck Pennsylvania. Talk about culture shock. I don't think I'd ever met a Jewish person before college, let alone Long Island Jews. Lots of money, nice cars and everyone talked like they were on the SNL skit Coffee Talk. "Hey Crawfud, oh my gawd, I'm going to da fuckin' lie-berry, if you want to go?" Then you had my strong Pittsburgh accent. "Rilly, Yinz are goin' dahn to da library-n-at. Cahnt me in!" After a year surrounded by these clowns, my accent was more New York than Pittsburgh and I was telling everyone, including my family, to go fuck themselves.

I guess the point I am trying to make is that change is difficult, but often necessary, and I have yet to meet a situation in which I couldn't adapt and be successful. So come the 15th I will show up at my new 'school' with a box, a suitcase and a TV and I'll say "Hey fuckers let's get it on!"

Seaside Shenanigans

Ahhh, the smell of an ocean breeze, suntan lotion and sweat is just a distant memory, but before I file them away completely, I'd like to share some of the week's highlights with you.

Drowning Babies

For whatever reason, Maggie hates the water. Not only does she hate it when she gets near it, she hates it when anyone else gets near it. Either she was on the Titanic in a previous life or Amy's womb left some kind of imprint on her that she has yet to overcome. I played Dark Side of the Moon to her when she was in utero, maybe I should see if she reacts the same way to Pink Floyd.

Anyway, in my infinite wisdom I decided to coax Maggie near the water by leaving a trail of balls. When she got near the edge of the pool I picked her up and held her feet to the water. Wimpers, but no major screams, so I step back and whoooooosh. I go under for what seems like an eternity. I have one hand gripping Maggie's dress holding her at the surface and I go to the bottom. As I hear Simon and Garfunkel's The Sound of Silence start to play, I quickly get my bearings and surface yelling for Amy to grab her. Everyone is pretty much stunned and Maggie is a bitter, bitter baby. Luckily, we weren't in Tommy Lee's pool so Maggie survived. Because I fuck around so much, of course everyone thought I was joking. They were like "Oh there's Erik playing the drowning baby game with Maggie, haha. I love it when he holds her head under water and yells who's your daddy? It is High-larious".

Drunken Bets

From drowning babies to potentially drowning brother-in-laws. After several adult beverages we are in the pool placing a multitude of assinine bets on the impending NFL season, when we decided to bet Bruce $20 that he couldn't swim across the canal and back. It is maybe 75 yards, so nothing major, but still there was that chance of getting eaten by a snake or hit by a boat.

Bruce wades out about 1/4 of the way and we are like WTF? Is he Jesus? Is he just going to walk the whole way across? "Dude when you get back can you turn this pool into wine because I'm running low?" He finally drops in and starts his Michael Phelps impersonation. When he reaches the other side he jumps up and screams drawing the attention of our fellow vacationers who are hanging out on the porch across the way. We request a flip turn, but he just scoffs and returns to our side unscathed. We are entertained, but a bit disappointed that he didn't struggle more with the task. Maybe we should have started using the fishing poles to try and hook him, or at least made him do it naked.

Friendly Competition

The weather turned ugly for the middle of the week, so indoor games became all the rage at 2929 Sandpiper Road. Ping Pong became the game of choice. The first day of competition was an exercise in who could suck the least, but by day three of the Sandpiper Open, we were killing it like Forrest Gump. People were sweating and balls were flying around like a gay pride parade. It was like we were all channeling our inner Asian. As soon as I got that paddle in my hand I started craving sushi and my penis began shrinking. Hmmmm, now I know why Amy asked me to drink some Kool-Aid play some basketball before we went to bed.

You Break It You Buy It

We all decided to venture out to the Virginia Beach boardwalk for some grub and to check out the locals. Amy wanted to get a t-shirt for Maggie, so we ended up in the International House of Beach Crap getting a shirt made. As we waited for assistance, Brittany's boyfriend Kenny bumped a shelf and a snow globe smashed to the ground. The clerk rang him up and made him pay $5.98 and we walked out. After the wagons circled and the story was rehashed, Pat opened up a huge can of "It's on Like Donkey Kong" and we headed back into the store to get the party started.

He and Kenny asked the clerk to sweep up the sand and put it in the bag since they paid for it. The clerk was all bitter, but obliged. The manager came out and the war of words really got going. She bragged about being a store manager for over 20 years, Brittany got in her face and went oooooooooooh and Pat said "Maybe you should look into getting an education". Then I smashed three snow globes on the ground, threw a twenty dollar bill in the manager's face and told the clerk to suck it. Ok, maybe that last part didn't happen, but that would have been great.

Throw in some fishing, an uber-competitive badminton game, a lot of drinking, swimming, a 1000 piece puzzle, a viewing of Tropical Thunder and that was our Virginia beach vacation in a nutshell. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to start training for next year's canal walk/swim.