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No, I’m not talking about Macaulay Culkin.

This is a picture of me and my brothers waiting for the school bus in what I’m guessing is 1985 or 1986 (’87 at the latest).  If you haven’t figured it out, I’m the one in the cool shades and the tucked in Spiderman t-shirt. Thank goodness I was a head taller than the other kids my age or I would’ve got a kindergarten beat down.

It Tony was my best friend we’d talk about his days as a 2nd baseman for the St. Louis Cardinals and just how heartbreaking it must have been to go from a Major League Baseball player to a housekeeper in Connecticut. He would tell me that life can throw you some curveballs sometimes. I’d enjoy his timely baseball analogy and nod in agreement. Life can be tricky.

While noshing on Tony’s homemade veal sandwich we’d compare secrets in removing common and uncommon household stains and as always, Tony would know far too many housekeeping secrets. Is there anything he’s not good at? What a swell bestie Tony is.

Perhaps over a few beers I’d ask him just how bad things got between him and Angela when he took the teaching job in Iowa and if, in the end, it was worth it.

I might inquire if he had any nude photos of Mona hidden away that I could take a peek at or just how much he misses his blue van. That Mona was smoking hot and that van was super classic. Two old beauties that I wish could last forever.

“Has Jonathan come out of the closet yet?” I’d ask at Billy’s wedding.  Tony would probably laugh and say, “No comment.” He usually says the right things.

I’d probably get drunk one time and tell him he could do better than Angela and that he should go after Samantha. “She’s a hottie and has a nice rack,” I’d confide only remembering that Samantha is his daughter after he sent me reeling with a powerful right jab. “Don’t pretend you never thought about it, Tony!” I would yell angrily as I crawled away, pissing myself in terror. We would never speak again. You’d think Tony would understand that mistakes happen. After all, he did slide into home that one time and was out by a mile. What was he thinking? What a jackass.

Look out Björk! There’s audio out there that might be more mentally disturbing than your last album. A colleague of mine (thanks Arjun) just introduced me to a new drug craze sweeping high schools in the US. What are these Twilight watching, Miley Cyrus listening kids up to now, you ask? Well, this drug isn’t smoked, snorted, or injected. It’s digital and it’s called i-Dosing. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s basically drugs in audio form. The idea is, you listen to specific i-Dosing tracks with headphones, while lying down, calm, and not moving and eventually it will cause some effects in the user (listener) similar to those experienced under the influence of marijuana, cocaine, opium, etc. You use your iPod to listen to these tracks, thus it’s named i-Dosing. While I’m yet to actually try i-Dosing, and like most people am skeptical, I will reserve most of my criticism towards it and teenage culture until I can verify the idiocy of this new fad. Who knows, it could work and I might find myself wearing a bib and sitting down to a plate of my own words.

Obviously, parents are a little worried right now that i-Dosing may be a gateway into some more serious drugs, but I’m a little more concerned that listening to Justin Bieber is a gateway into more serious drugs. It’s Devil’s music I tell ya. Devil’s music.

Kids and teenagers are quite malleable and I remember when I was in Elementary school seeing kids getting high on crushed Rockets because they thought it was cocaine. Tell a kid something will get them high and they’re bound to try and believe it. Again, I’m not saying this is the case with i-Dosing, but merely suggesting it. As you may or may not know, the world is full of stupid people.

So where can you get these tracks and what do they sound like? Well, there is one circulating on YouTube right now, which I’ll include below (make sure to use headphones. It sounds completely different if you don’t use them). The video page also includes a link to a full version of the track if you need some plans for the weekend and your wallet is a little thin on funds. I’ve also embedded a clip of a kid getting i-Dosing.

I’m sure drug dealers everywhere are crossing their fingers waiting for this fad to die out. Looks like there’s more than just TV, videogames and death metal music warping the minds of children these days. What a strange world we live in.

If you’ve tried i-Dosing, please let me know what your experience was like.




A kid i-Dosing to Gates of Hades track

For more on Tickle Me Elmo madness, check out this article from People magazine.

What’s the best/funniest thing you’ve ever found at a garage sale?

P.S. Commenting helps increase world awesomeness.

So instead, here’s a picture of a rabbit’s head on a stake and a smiling sun. I call it, I Don’t Want to Talk About the Montreal Canadiens’ Recent Playoff Success.

Family BBQ fun time with this apron I found in Venice. Looks like David replied to one of those emails I always find in my junk folder.

A special thanks to Irishboy33 for sending me this link via Twitter. He’s always the first to know about anything mustache related and since this post, never hesitates to pass the link on to me. I’ve heard him described as a “forward thinking awesomeer”, and I can confirm that this is, indeed, true.

Is your car lacking in the manliness department? Well Carstache.com has just the solution for you. For just $39.00 USD, you can give your car the mustache you always wished it could have. Tired of nobody caring about your Toyota Tercel or Ford Tempo? Throw on a Carstache and you’ll be the talk of the town.  WOW!

I don’t believe in a God, or a posse of gods, or anything like that, but oddly enough, I’m a big believer in universal payback. Some might call what I believe in karma, but I think that implies I’m more spiritual than I really am. No, what I believe in is a reckoning that comes from the universe being in continuous balance. Still sound like karma? Fine call it what you will. I may never see what punishment the universe has in store for those who have it coming, but I like to make up a series of events that might lead to that punishment.

For instance, on the bus the other day, some douchebag actually pushed me out of the way so he could get to the empty seat before me. Then, get this, has the nerve to smirk at me. I was livid at first, but calmed at the thought that the universe would make this right.

Here’s how I imagined the universe striking back: the woman occupying the seat next to the douchebag sneezes and fails to use a hand, arm or sleeve as a shield against the spray of snot propelled by the sneeze. This is puzzling to her though, because she always, and I mean always covers her nose and mouth in some fashion when she sneezes. Today is different. Today the universe needs her. So the mist of snot, unabated, rains down, almost in slow motion, each droplet highlighted by the white sunlight beaming through the bus windows, and if I’m not mistaken, a small, yet beautiful rainbow forms as the mist rains down upon the douchebag. The douchebag, of course, is yawning because he’s tired after a long day of douchebaggery and thus, ingests the rainbow of airborne mucous.

Seatless, I watch the universe’s magic unfold right in front of me. The douchebag gets off the bus a few stops later, retires to his home, drinks a Bud Light, and puts his feet up. But suddenly he isn’t feeling so well anymore, and it’s not the watered down beer that’s doing it either. He drinks plenty of fluid and goes to bed early, but it’s too late, the woman, the sneezer, our hero, has contracted a rare, deadly tropical virus from the imported, golden, delicious pineapple she noshed on for breakfast earlier that day, and she’s spread this disease to the douchebag. He dies the next day, doctors are baffled, but hey, life’s a bitch sometimes, so they move on. Miraculously, the sneezer is fine except for that one sneeze that occurred on the bus. Why is she okay? Because she only contracted this rare, tropical disease from the imported, golden, delicious pineapple so she could spread it to the douchebag. She is, unknowingly, a soldier of the universe, aiding in the war to maintain universal balance. Ah, what a refreshing daydream.

I’m not so naive to think anything so extreme actually happened, as the universe is usually quite fair, but I’m willing to bet the douchebag, at the very least, stubbed his toe pretty badly that night. Broken nail, maybe some blood. Justice.

So a while back you might recall me talking about overhearing my neighbors bumpin’ uglies through the paper thin wall of my apartment. This wall that we share is what divides their bedroom and my bedroom (if you didn’t read about that, you can find it here). Well, this has continued for a while and if I ever run into them in the hallway it’s going to be rather awkward. I feel like I know them a little better than I should, but that’s no surprise when I have the audio version of the two of them “banging” playing at various times throughout the day. It’s the disgusting soundtrack to my life.

Anyway, you know all this. I’m here to provide you with some new info.

Perhaps my neighbors were under the impression I’d grown tired of their mixed bag of pleasure sounds, because, as it turns out, they’ve added a new audible to their sexual repertoire: slapping.  I assume one is slapping the other’s backside or they’re constantly congratulating each other with mid-sex high fives.

“Nice move, babe. Way to incorporate the ear! Up top!” *SLAP*

Who’s doing the slapping? Is it to the pleasure of the slapper or the slappee? Or both? Are these the kind of questions I want running through my mind before I fall asleep? Nope.

But like I said before, good on them. Besides, if one of them has a blog it probably says the exact same thing about the neighbors they share a bedroom wall with (how funny would that be?). Maybe it’s time to invite them over for dinner and a few bottles of wine. We could remove the borders provided by the paper thin wall and live as one (slap) happy family creating a fuller, richer, orchestral sound for everyone else living on our floor…Or maybe I’ll just turn the fan on a higher setting.

Have a great weekend.

I say to-may-to,  you say to-mah-to. I say po-tay-to, you say po-tat-o…And, hey, that’s okay with me. However, I say bay-gle, and if you say baa-gle, mark my words, I will not call the whole thing off. I’m not that forgiving. I don’t like baaglers. I also don’t like shed-ulers (for schedule) and q-ponners (for coupon) . Starting today, I’m cracking down by cracking the heads of baa-glers.

Anyway, I was going to write some more on this subject, but I need to grab a cold refreshing glass of malk.

Are you a baa-gler or a bay-gler? Any other pronunciations that drive you nuts? Do some countries/cities/regions say one over the other?