Fatassed Stocking Stuffer!

Santa is being told to shift the pounds before Christmas - because the obese saint is failing to set a "good example" for children.
The traditional children's hero, best known for feasting on mince pies left out on Christmas eve, has always sported a bulging midriff.
But shopping centre bosses are giving the well-wisher his marching orders - to the nearest gym - to tackle the increasing problem of obesity.
The revelation comes after a medical report earlier this month stated that by 2050 more than 50 per cent of Brits will be obese.
Bluewater shopping centre in Greenhithe, Kent, has even gone one step further and set-up a Santa boot camp.
Fiona Campbell-Reilly, spokeswoman at the shopping centre, said: "Santa has been around for years, but society has changed and our Santa needs to reflect this.
"Bluewater's Santa Boot Camp is getting Santa in shape and setting a good example to children who idolize him.
"He will still be the same lovable jolly man, but will be fitter and healthier."
Despite Santa burning 600 calories an hour from delivering presents, the problem lies in the tasty mince pies left as a treat.
If he ate every single mince pie left for him by eager children in the UK he would gain an astonishing 721,000 lbs.
Dr Charmaine Griffiths, spokesperson from the British Heart Foundation, said: "The bootcamp would encourage people to get a bit more active - it is a great idea.
"If you are budding Santa or a hopeful elf, then we should all be taking steps to being fit and healthier at Christmas.
"Half an hour of exercise, three days a week could make your heart healthier. I think that like most of us, Santa could be doing more to make himself that little bit fitter.
"He can have a pie every so often but try to squeeze in a few carrots as well."
******************************************************

Mandating what our imaginary character's can and can't do?

Whatever, just as long at the ToothFairy can't get married, I'm happy.

Santa is a the original fatassed stocking stuffer...I started Xmas shopping today. I hope I have enough time to get it all done.

Poor Fella...

This poor guy:

Man, 24, loses 82-year-old wife

An 82-year-old Argentine woman who attracted media attention last month when she married a 24-year-old man has died as a result of heart problems.

Adelfa Volpes was admitted to hospital soon after she and her new husband, Reinaldo Waveqche, returned from their honeymoon in Brazil.

She died in a sanatorium in Santa Fe, the city where the couple were married.
Ms Volpes had rejected criticism over the age difference with the groom, who is the son of one of her best friends.

"I don't want to resign myself to the idea that I lost her," a disconsolate Mr Waveqche told EFE news agency.

The couple were married on 28 September in a civil service after several years of engagement, and later walked through a local church surrounded by reporters.

Their love is said to have blossomed when Mr Waveqche went to live with his future bride after his mother's death, when he was 15.

Here's his picture:

High Brow/ Low Brow

The Dalai Lama grants safety for all those who ask…



Man this joke is only funny if you really know football.

Guilty...of Bad Lyrics

The school teacher-turned-rock star topped Blender's list of the worst lyricists, thanks to lines that betray "mountainous pomposity (and) cloying spirituality," the music magazine said.
The survey, contained in the November issue that hits newsstands next week, placed Rush drummer Neil Peart at No. 2, Creed frontman Scott Stapp at No. 3, Oasis guitarist Noel Gallagher at No. 4, and soft-rocker Dan Fogelberg at No. 5.
Blender assailed Sting for such alleged sins as name-dropping Russian novelist Vladimir Nabokov in the Police tune "Don't Stand So Close to Me," quoting a Volvo bumper sticker ("If You Love Someone Set Them Free"), and co-opting the works of Chaucer, St. Augustine and Shakespeare.

http://music.yahoo.com/read/news/49944484

I hate Sting. I hate the Police. I don’t’ actually hate either of them, because I spend no time thinking about them. They bore the hell out of me. I put them on par with Phil Collins and Genesis. You might think its British easy listening that I hate…and you might be right.

Stinky Feet!

Roommate killed over 'stinky feet'
http://www.breitbart.com/article.php?id=071008171245.ezubiu09&show_article=1

A Texas man is accused of stabbing his roommate to death because the man complained about his "stinky feet," local media reports.
The two men rented a small bedroom in a Houston apartment from a married couple with a baby.
The mother and child were sitting outside Saturday evening when the men started drinking in their room, the Houston Chronicle reported Monday.
They started fighting about the man's "stinky feet" and the woman peered into the room to see one of the men holding a knife in his hands, said Sgt. M. Sosa of the homicide squad.

Just think-if the guy had had beans the whole family might be dead.

Packing Up the Lockers

I could get down on the Phillies, bitch about their sudden lack of hitting, whine about how they have no pitching, blame everything that has ever gone wrong in the city of brotherly love on our Hayseed manager…or I can bask in an awesome season that gave us three games more than any other team in our division.

I think I’ll choose to bask. April is right around the corner…until then I say, “drop the puck bitches!”

I Hate Blogging When I'm Sick!

INSANITY!

I am getting super pissed that MLB, TBS and anyone else involved has yet to announce the playoff schedule times. Rumor has it that the NLDS are going to be mostly afternoon games, while the Red Cox and the Spankees are 8pm games. So I have this to say to all Cox and Spankees fans everywhere…FUCK YOU!

I don’t blame the teams, but I don’t understand how it is that programming directors and advertisers pray on these markets and thumb their nose at Philly. First of all, Philly is the fattest fucking city on Earth! Wouldn’t it make more sense to advertise in a city that partakes in the products you’re looking to hawk. Who is buying a car in New York City? You can’t go anywhere…and Boston with their eternal Big Dig. Please. Again-go with Philly. Sure we have traffic, but no one actually lives in the city.

I’m just annoyed. I have tickets (through the kindly Jim burns) for Thursday, and I don’t know if I have to take off from work or not. It’s irritating. I feel like crap today and would’ve taken a half day, but again I don’t know if I’ll need to leave early on Thursday. Sucks!

Here’s a neat little story.

We are filming for our internet show the second weekend of November (I don’t work retail anymore). One of the locations is a supermarket. So George Stulak-producer at larger-was trying to secure us the site. The contact he gave me, it so turns out< knows my cousins Tim and Dan really well. I gotta admit, this was awesome! Makes me feel less stress about shooting at an actual supermarket. We are almost squared away on all of this mess. I can’t wait.

We had the annual canoe trip this weekend. Seeing as how low the water level was it should’ve been called the walk through a puddle weekend. I got a kayak because Julie wasn’t there. My arms were exhausted. I got quite lost trying to find the place (which is odd because it’s the 4th time I did it). We shoved off at 11:45 and made port again at 4pm. It was nice hanging out with Brian and Vicki…and when I say hanging out, I mean having our water crafts bottom out on the creek bed. Is it any wonder why the Whiteman beat the Indians?

I got home and tried to go to sleep, after the Phillies game (which we lost—This was pre Division Champions). Jim Brett called and woke me up…not really though because I never really fell asleep. He was telling me that Redemption, a band from our high school days were NOT getting back together at REX’s. I was bummed because we were looking forward to it all week. We went anyway because a lot of people we went to high school with were going to be there. Umm…most of them hadn’t changed a bit…like literally. Same moth holed Joy Division Tee shirts. You can’t go home again, and why would you want to?

Then Sunday came. 27 outs later the Phillies are National League East Champions. I am still in awe. I can’t wait for Wednesday. No matter how the place I will be happy…although the smile gets bigger the further they go.

I feel liek crap and may not make it until 5pm.

Film Festival 2007

So we had the Phoenixville Film Festival on Saturday last week. I am always grateful to anyone who comes out. Brian and Vicki came out and I was so distracted trying to keep anyone from ruining Joel’s surprise party that I’m sure I seemed like I was on drugs. Michael and Raj were also there. They have become a staple of the Festival. I don’t know what I’d do if they weren’t there. Actually every year I think, well they are probably too busy and sure enough in the come. Thanks guys.

This year I think the films were much better than in past years. There was even an entry from France. I surprised myself by enjoying the documentary, which are usually terrible.

I always sit in fear of how people will react to our films. Luckily I wasn’t in this one, I merely wrote and produced it. So if the audience started booing and throwing fruit at Jim, Gordon, Kerry and Joel, I’d be able to sneak out unharmed. But alas, that did not happen.

Like most of what we do, this was a slow build. People weren’t certain if it was a comedy or something serious…I mean look at Jim’s mustache for crying out loud! My favorite part of the audience’s reaction was when Joel’s character is tied to the railroad track. A woman on the other side of the theater went, “Aww,” like she felt bad for him. Mind you, the bitch didn’t care that the film opens up with Kerry ties to the tracks. The best part was none of us knew the woman. I love getting a reaction out of an audience that doesn’t know me.

The first Phoenixville Festival featured a spoof I did with John Taterelli called Law and Order SMU (it’s on the website http://indiefilmfest.org/). At the end of it we have what is typically called a “PS.” After the credits have been rolling for a bit the film comes back on. You notice people in theaters stopping and standing and watching. Or they’ll just sit anywhere. Most people will stay through the credits out of respect, but not all of them. This is a way to hook them back in. So Johnny and I did it with a spoof of the Usual Suspects. SMU was the last film, so it ends and people get up to leave. Then the “PS” comes on. People stop and look at the screen, some of them just sit in random seats. One girl even told her boyfriend to sit down. I had succeeded in the PS-FU. Don’t leave my films early. Look at the people who worked on it, they surely didn’t get paid. The least you can do is see their names.

This year was a lot of fun. About 120 people in attendance, they all seemed to enjoy Damsel in Distress. Hopefully you all can too soon as well. As soon as Joel and I get it on the internet…which may be just in time for next year’s festival.

PS (ß)Get it?

PPS: I stole this picture from Jim’s blog http://jimmyfestival.blogspot.com/.

Paul F. Thompkins Anyone?

Holy hell it’s been too long since I have last blogged.

Julie and I went to the Fringe Festival to see our friend Todd’s play last night. It was at the Adrienne Theater across the street from Helium comedy club. After the show I walked over to see who was playing. Julie stayed on the other side of the street. I saw Patrice O’Neil is coming at the end of September. However I am going to see his as prt of the Opie and Anthony Traveling Virus Tour. I also saw Paul F. Thompkins is currently playing there.

I walked back to Julie and told her. Then I though, it’s 10:45 on a Thursday night. I turned back to Helium and who walks out the door? Paul F. Thompkins. Are you kidding me? He walks in the opposite direction of where Julie and I are standing. He was with people, friends perhaps (the fellow is from Philly). I think should I run over there and tell him I’m a fan? Then the moment is gone, he’s too far away, and I do nothing.

I want to call someone…anyone. It then occurs to me, I don’t think anyone I know would give a shit. Most people would have no idea who Paul F. Thompksin is. For those of you I’ll say this: He was a regular on Mr. Show on HBO. If you don’t know Mr. Show google it goddammit! I told Julie, and she asked if he was one of the main guys. I said, “If it were Bob Odenkirk, I would’ve run over regardless of who he was with. He could be giving mouth to mouth to his great grandmother, I’d still interrupt.”

How sad though. I thought through everyone I know. Berger would know who he is, but he won’t care. Tara would know, but she deals with famous people all the time (cast members of Lost call her while we are at Italian Festivals). Sue and Amy would probably know, but again I don’t know how much they would care.

What happened to my Nerds?!?

Everyone rent Mr. Show today. Then we will talk.

My Play!

I should call this blog, Dear Vicki. Because I think you are the only one who reads it Vick…at least you are the only one who sends me emails yelling at me for not updating it.

Here’s some news.

I wrote a ten minute play for City Theater’s 10 minutes sex plays coming up October 13th. I submitted it 2 months ago and heard nothing back. I figured I didn’t get choosen and had accepted it and moved on.

On Saturday I was helping Gordon hang a porch swing when my cell phone rang. It wa s a number I didn’t recognize, so I let the voice mail get it. But they left no message. About 10 minutes later it rings again. This time I figure, might as well.

Gordon was sitting in the newly hung swing as I heard the long lost voice of Tom Shade, one of the founding members of CTC. The last time I spoke to Tom on a phone it ended up with me being on stage in a play. That was my first thought. Doesn’t everyone secretly want to act? (I know Nicolas Cage sure wishes he could).

Tom talked about my play a little bit and said how much he liked it. But he hadn’t yet said it was chosen. It was like he picked his words specifically to torture me. Finally he said it was one of the 6 the theater will be doing on October 13, 3007. I was ecstatic. I really had resigned myself to thinking it didn’t make it.

But now you can all come and see it…except my Mom and Dad. After all it is a “Sex Play” and I am a rather foul human being.

Seriously. Mom, Dad—don’t come!

Here’s the info if you are interested, if you are not—I hope you get the Clap:
http://www.city-theater.org/

Dude, Where's My Wings?

We had a Dude, Where’s My Car moment in Philadelphia last night. Julie, Jim, Kerry and I went into the city to a friend’s benefit. Good times were not had by all. We parked in a very nondescript area. I decided there was no reason to look for a street sign to see exactly where we parked. Hey look a Rite-AID, that’s a landmark.

We went to the benefit, where we were told about 35 minutes after ordering that the kitchen was out of wings. Odd seeing as how we ordered wings and nachos, neither of which take more then 10 minutes to prepare (the place had about 25 people including the bands-not exactly busy). When the lone nachos came it was sans guacamole…they were out of this too…must have had a run on both on Monday night. So we leave around 9:00 and start for our car.

Ferdinand Magellan did not make the trip (he went to Hooters where there are is a shortage of wings).

Everyone had a different idea where the car was parked. We walked through the Italian market talking about Rocky. I’m sure this has never occurred until last night. Julie proceeded to tell me that NBC10 (in it’s infinite wisdom) put together a list listing the best and worst Philadelphia movies. This list was put together by the employees of the station. Very scientific. It would be like Jim Gardner telling everyone the list of chick he’d like to “do.” Not exactly news (yet damn hot).

Take a look for yourself:
http://www.nbc10.com/news/13876553/detail.html?subid=10101521

Now I’m not going to go over the whole list, but I am going to disagree with number 1. First of all when you think Philadelphia and movie 1 of 2 movies comes to mind. Either, “Philadelphia” with Tom Hanks, because you are an idiot and when you hear movie and Philadelphia you can only think of the movie Philadelphia, or Rocky. So it would stand to reason that Rocky would be number one. Nope. Number two. Number one, the Sixth Sense. Now, go up to anyone not from this area and ask them where Sixth Sense was filmed. They might know. Then ask them where Rocky was filmed.

Dumb NBC10.

So as I was saying, we were lost in Philly. We decided to split up, or I realized no one was walking behind me anymore. I found Jim and we decided to retrace our steps (after accidentally ending up back at the benefit). Who knew Philly was round?

Jim and I stood in the middle of a street knowing we had to go right or left. The problem was we walked around for so long that we couldn’t remember if what we were seeing was from the walk to the benefit or the unending walk after it. Finally we saw a wheel chained to a sign post. Jim had pointed it out earlier in the evening asking why it was bent. I had no answer either time…but we now knew we were close. Just then my cell phone starts ringing. It was Julie. Rather than answer my phone Jim and I start running. We wanted to find it on our own, like real men. Hey look Rite-AID.

40 minutes later we found the car.

Nice.

You might think this was a waste of a night, but alas, Chocolate Jimmy was created. He’ll be around for quite a while if I have anything to say about it.

I really want wings now.

Keep Scratchin Lady...

WHITE CITY, Ore. -- A local woman must turn over her lottery winnings after a judge said she won them illegally.

Prosecutors said Christina Goodenow, of White City, used a credit card that belonged to her then-boyfriend's dead mother to buy a winning $1 million Scratch-It ticket in Oct. 2005.
Goodenow asked lottery officials to keep her win quiet, claiming to be a victim of domestic violence. But police learned of the crime about two weeks later, as Goodenow continued to use the stolen credit card.

__________________________

That sucks! The best part of the picture is she's using a subway token to scratch off the ticket.

Keep ridin' them rails!

I Forget What I Was Going To Say.

I had something clever I wanted to say, but I don’t remember what it was. Dammit!

My eye keeps twitching. I think I’m having a nervous breakdown. How do you know? Are there tell tail signs?
















Smurfs would make the cutest damn terrorists.

Gargamel should would step into line...

Based in Reality...

I’m at Philly International on Sunday picking up my goodest buddy Gordon, after his trek to nerd Mecca…San Diego’s “I am 40 and still live in my parent’s basement” Convention.

I get to the airport a few minutes after his plane is to land. I brought a book with me (The Adventures of Cavalier and Clay), because the airport runs about as smoothly as the DMV (No offensive Michelle if you read this). I crack open my book and wait.

After about10 minutes I check the board. The flight isn’t even listed…Hmmm, was I supposed to pick GoHo up today? I check my phone and get a text message at that moment. “We just landed.” I assume that Gordon means the plane just landed, or else he has some serious stories from San Diego (The Whales Vagina-just for you Tara).

I sit back down and continue to read. Just then a girl walks by me and she is holding an 8x10 glossy photo of Scarlett Johansson. “Odd,” I think and continue to read.

I get another Text Message, this time Gordon seems to be fuming (even through text). Apparently the plane has landed but there’s this whole “to do.” “No biggie,” I text back. I keep reading. The girl with the 8x10 jumps on the escalator. Is it possible that Ms. Johansson is in Philly? Nah…but, I follow the girl up the escalator. Sure it seems like stalking, but I defend it by claiming to be stalking Scarlett Jo, not this autograph hound.

The airport is empty. Like the scene in Terminal, when the airport is empty. Did you see it? It was a beauty.

So I walk towards where the girl with the 8x10 is standing and I take a seat. This side of the airport looks like it should have a “Closed” sign up. There is a guy with one of those big buffing machines cleaning the floors. He has on head phones and a janitor’s jump suit. It makes me think of an 80’s film. Not one in particular, but just any old 80’s movie.

SO I attempted to read again, but by this time a smattering of teenage girls started to appear holding 8x10 glossies. What the hell is going on? I decide that whatever hellaciousness is about occur, I wanted no part in it. I wasn’t the only one as an enormous black man in a suit walked pasted the girls escorted by a young woman in sunglasses and a fisherman’s cap. Just then I get another text message, “Heading to Baggage Claim D.” I start to gather my belonging’s which, as I already pointed out, was the book I already had in my hands.

I turned the same corner that the couple I had just seen disappeared behind. I noticed that the Ms Paul (remember the hat?) was now solo. He companion must have stopped off to use the facilities. As I neared her she stuck her hand into her purse. I imagine it was to pull out some lip stick or some fishing bait. As she did this the whole contents of her purse emptied on the floor.

This happens to all of us. A person drops something and we have that secondary pause of, “Should I help them.” It’s not a mean thing, but everyone is heading somewhere. For a split second I was going to keep going…but then my upbringing kicks in. I stop and bend down to help.

“Thank you so much. God I’m a klutz” s voice I vaguely recognize says.
“Nah, it happens to everyone. I can’t tell you how many times I where khaki pants and spill water on them making look like I peed,” is all I can come up with.
“Yeah, that’s not really the same thing,” she laughs.
“I guess not.”

I look past the sunglasses (at 12:00 at night) and past the fisherman’s cap and realize who it is I’m looking at.

“He’s your body guard isn’t he?” I ask, proving I’d unraveled the mystery.
“Yeah. He had to pee. Good thing he’s not wearing Khakis.” She says in a weirdly seductive way.

I realize we’re bonding over another man’s pants, or lack of them.

“What are you doing in Philly?” I ask.
“A friend of mine, Rachel Weisz, is shooting a film here.” She says as I hand her the last of the contents of her purse. I find it odd that she says her friend’s whole name.

She tells me they’re shooting in West Chester this week. Some best seller book that Julie loves. I tell her I’m from West Chester and she says we should get together out there for drinks some night. I figure she’s kidding or blowing me off or both, but I still give her my phone number (I might have forgotten to mention Julie). Julie and I laughed at the story and that was that…until last night.

We were sitting on the couch watching the Phillies beating the Brewers 5 to 1. My cell phone rings and it’s a (310) number I don’t recognize. I answer it thinking it might be a contractor I deal with.

Me: “Hello?”
SJ: “Kevin?”
Me: “Yeah?”
SJ: “It’s Scarlett.”

I look at Julie as if she’s going to help me. Then it dawns on me…

Me: “Oh. Hey what’s goin on?”
SJ: “I’m at a place in West Chester called Kooma. Wanna meet up?”
Me: “Uh, sure. Where?”
SJ: “We were thinking of going to Kildaire’s down the street.”
Me: “Oh.” (Very unenthused).
SJ: “No good?”
Me: “I guess. It’s just that place is always packed.”
SJ: “Do you know a quiet more intimate place we could meet up?”
Me: “Of course!”

And that ladies and gentlemen is how I got Scarlett Johansson to go to the Square Bar. If you were there you might not have recognized her with her “mask” on.




Some side notes:

-Yes Gordon got home okay.
-Yes the Brewers came back to beat the Phillies.
-Yes Scarlett made reference to “spilling” something on my Khaki’s at the Square Bar.

Tune in next time and learn how I got Christina Ricci to eat at Harry’s Hotdogs.

Did I Actually Write a Nice Story?

As you read the continuing story of Michael Vick and think to yourself, “”I hate people,” I have a story to share.

I am a huge West Wing fan. I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a Winghead, but only because that is really lame! So I lent my DVDs to Kerry hoping she’d come back and say, “Oh my God! Kevin, you changed my life!” I still think it could happen. But I was able to convince Kerry, Jim and Julie we should start up a little ritual called West Wing Thursdays…I didn’t realize it would end up costing me $1200.

We watch a couple episodes and Capt. Morse Toliver’s plane was shot down. We were all sadden (except Jim who saw it coming, Oh and me and Julie who have seen this episode about 5 times before). We all said goodbye and went our own ways. And then Kerry called my cell phone.

Apparently Jim was walking home and found a kitty cat just sitting in the sidewalk. He didn’t move when Jim came up behind him, which seemed weird. Jim bent down to pet the kitty and realized he was completely underfeed. He called Kerry who called us (or more specifically, Julie).

Jim and Kerry are “dog people”, Julie is a “cat person” (I am too by marriage).

So off we went to see the cat.

Turns out he was an adorable black cat with white pawls and a white mouth and chest. Kerry and Jim took to calling him “Boots.” He was extremely affectionate and loved to be pet (reminds me of another cat I know). But he looked like complete hell. He could barely stand up. He seemed like he was throwing himself at Jim, Kerry, Julie and I as we’d pet him. I think he was just overjoyed at the attention, which judging from the way he looked he had been in severe lack of for quite a while.

So after very little debate, we set out to find an animal hospital open at 11:30pm. This proved to be a bit more difficult than one would imagine. We ended up driving up and down every street in Newport, DE, because the phone number we had obtained was locked in Kerry’s now dead cell phone. Eventually we found the Hospital.

In the light of an examination room the kitty looked even worse. She weighted almost nothing and half of that was fleas. After about an hour wait we saw the doctor. The doctor gave us a breakdown of what they would do. First of which was make sure the kitty, who Kerry and I had now dubbed Lupin after the mangy character in Harry Potter, didn’t have any diseases. I guess many people figure if it’s sick it’s not worth saving. So they wouldn’t run any tests other than to see if the cat was “worthy” of more tests. I don’t blame the doctors for this, we are such a throw away society it just takes over everything we do. Julie impressed me by telling the doctors to treat Lupin for the fleas. Julie didn’t say it, but I knew she figured even if he wasn’t going to make it, he damn sure should be comfortable.

I asked the doctor’s to run some numbers for me. Not to be insensitive, but I wanted to see if I should file a class action suit against Michael Vick. Apparently I should.

So how does this story end? Does Lupin meet the same fate as Capt Morris Toliver of West Wing? Or does he move in tomorrow to torture the only child kitty that just celebrated her 1 year adoption day last week?

What do you think? You shell out this kind of money, you best get a happy ending!
But I will say this, if this is an indication of how West Wing Night is going to be, we’re going to have to make it monthly, not weekly…or I’m going to have to get a second job.

Camera + Phone = Homemade Porn

I love people and their cell phones. There’s nothing better than walking into a bathroom and hearing on the other side of a stall the sounds of a keypad being tapped. There are far worse things you could hear on the other side of that stall mind you.

So today I walked into the bathroom and there’s a fella there at the urinal with his phone in his hand (I’d say his “free hand’ but I assume you realized that). He could’ve been looking at the time, or reading a text or even playing a game…but I couldn’t help but think he was taking a picture of his cock. Because in the end, why else who you put a camera in a phone?

A side note, I will be sending a picture text to some people later…and being arrested soon afterwards.

About Drinking

I don’t get the whole drink Craze.

I understand the “Soft Drink Wars.” Pepsi v Coke, it’s like the Crips versus the Bloods, even the colors match up. People get very defensive of their chosen brand, that is if you have one.
I remember as a kid every time the family would go to the beach, Mom & Dad (really just Mom) would hit up Shop Rite for generic soda, or pop as the Mid-Western states call it. We would get cola, black cherry, orange, cream (f’ing gross!) and root beer. The cooler wouldn’t hold the cola’s or the root beers very long. And luckily Brian would drink that garbage cream soda. After only a couple of days we had depleted the entire stash of quality soda, leaving us with the orange and the black cherry.

All that said, you’d think I’d be a beverage snob.

Up until just under a month ago I drank more than my share of Coke (and more than yours, and hers and his…), but I decided to say goodbye to the “Gang Lifestyle” of the cola wars. So I have been pretty much sticking to water. Regular old fashion water that I pay $1.00 for.
Why do we pay for something that pretty much flows free everywhere from the White House to your friendly neighborhood rest stop? What’s worse are these stupid added flavors.
I understand adding a lemon to water, personally I don’t do it, but when you’re out on the town…you want to do things that you won’t normally do, like put a napkin in your lap. I have ascertained over the years, this is to keep the Caesar dressing in your pubs to an absolute minimum. Hell when I eat at home you’d be lucky if I even wore pants, let alone a napkin on my lap.

A side note here, when I say “You’d be lucky,” I obviously am referring to my lovely wife…who I’m sure you can all tell, is anything but lucky.

Anywho (people who say “anywho” suck), I bought water I thought was a water from a vending machine today. When I took it from the return in the machine I realized it was fizzing. “What the?” Apparently the water, I thought was water had some sort of grape flavoring in it. My first question would be, “Why?” If I wanted grape juice don’t you think I would have bought grape juice? Somewhere the powers that be decided they knew better than me or my taste buds what I wanted. I was miffed (people who say “miffed” are far worse off than people who say “anywho”). I decided to try the drink anyway. It did not go over well.

I am now drinking a bottled water I left in my extremely hot car for over an hour. Sometimes I think I should’ve just kept drinking Coke.

Mean Girls? More Like Obsessed Girl!

They say that Lindsey Lohan was “chasing” someone when she was pulled over early this morning. I know what you’re thinking, “Kevin, what were you doing in California this morning?”

The answer? Fleeing from my inebriated stalker once again. Lindsey, it’s not cute anymore, we’re through. It’s time to move on.

26 needs 26 more

Chase Utley has 41 doubles on the season. That already puts him at 7 shy of being tied for 100th all time in a single season.

The all time single season record is: 67, or 64 in the National League.

That’s pretty damn impressive.

The man who wears 26 needs the same number to sit at the top of the list. Keep them gappers coming!

Vertigo!

I woke up on Monday and my head felt funny…I went to work.

I woke up Tuesday and the room spun. It was quite noticeable…I went to work.

I woke up Wednesday and the room spun so much I fell back down on the bed…I went to work.

I woke up Thursday and went to the doctor. I have Vertigo!

According to WebMD (and more importantly my Doctor) I have Acute Labyrinthitis. So what did I do Thursday night? I went out drinking.

i Wait...

I haven’t blogged since I told the tale of “No More Coke for Kevin.” I haven’t gone on a binge. I’m still off the “Pop,” although Erick sure was putting the pressure on pretty good last night. You’d think I gave up Twix bars and Kit-Kats too (editor’s note: I haven’t).

I haven’t had much to talk about. I could always make something up. Like my story years back about palling around with Hugh Downs (which I accidentally spelled Huge Downs-which is funny on SO many levels!).

I could throw some real life experience at you, such as spending some quality time with Pop in the hospital over the weekend. But then it would get too deep, and who wants that? However you gotta respect a guy who is told lay off the smokes and booze and he starts “bumming” cigarettes off people in the parking lot. My hero!

I could tell the story of how I was hanging with the Phillies this weekend and have pictures to prove it. I shook Pat Burrell’s hand on Saturday and gave him positive thoughts (you all know I don’t have many of those). Pat the Bat went 3-3 with 4 RBIs that day. Did I have anything to do with that? You betcha!

Or I could tell the story about how Joel and I had to hustle some scalpers for Reel Big Fish tix on Friday night, only to damn near drown in a sea of prepubescent girls…I assure you this is not “Hot.” Could it have been avoided? Sure, if someone’s ID wasn’t expired. Instead of the bar, we stood with the general populous. BOO! Though, the show rocked!

So now I wait. I wait for my book from Amazon.com called “How to Make Love Like a Pornstar,” I assure you it’s for research. I wait to see if I have a play in the 10 minute festival in October. I wait to see if the spoilers I’ve read are true in regards to who dies in this next Harry Potter book. I wait to see if the Phillies pick up a starter. I wait to see who will ditch Gordon on his Birthday this year. I wait…

Full Circle...Empty Can

This may not sound very impressive but I haven’t had a soda in almost two Sundays. That’s two weeks for those of us keeping score at home. I should admit I had one of those really tiny cans of Dr. Pepper during this time. But that shouldn’t count because of how small it was…and because Dr. Pepper is hardly a real soda.

I’m not saying I’ll never drink Coke again, but I figured out a few numbers on the off chance that my cola days are behind me.

I was drinking, on average a 12 pack of coke, every 2 days. That’s 3.5 a week, not including parties and events. But we’ll stick with 3.5 because that’s what I was purchasing myself.

The average case of soda runs about $4.23. I am not a big SALE person, I probably should be but that’s a whole different post. So I was spending about 14.81 a week on soda. Again this doesn’t include going to the mall (which I worked in for 15 years), to the movies, just hitting up a gas station. So again this number is very conservative. In a year I will save $769.86 just on soda. I’ve been drinking a lot of water so it isn’t like I’ve replaced soda with…say imported beer.

Now, drinking all of this soda, I have probably shortened my lifespan a bit. Let’s say the average male’s life expectancy is 84 years old. I honestly don’t know what the number is, but 84 sounds good. I am just shy of 32, so that’s 52 years left. I’ll also subtract the “coke” years and take off about 5 leaving me with 47. I don’t eat particularly healthy so I’ll take off another 5 giving me 42 more years here.

I drive a little too fast, and my car isn’t really in the greatest shape…I’ll remove another 2 years. I also like Tai hookers—that’s about 15 right there, which unfortunately means I am in my twilight years now. That sucks. I could use a coke.








So I have 25 years left…which would be $19246.50 in savings from coke…now if I put that in a safe savings account that would be an additional $1154.79. Modest, sure, but more money! But let’s face it, if my dealings with the Tai’s have taught us anything, it’s that safe isn’t my style. So instead I’d put it all on black (not unlike the Tai’s I suppose). That yields 1.1111 in winnings. So now I’m sitting pretty with $40631.50. Hell, I could buy a new car, which would add those 2 years back on my life. Fifteen? What about fifteen? You think I should put it all on fifteen? That’s a risky. I like the idea of a new car, like the new Sebring, hard-top convertible. But I also like money.




Fifteen it is!








$1,543,997! I can afford to retire, especially seeing as how I’m only gonna live another 25 years. Maybe I should invest. What’s Coke trading at?

Old 97

...And that's a Career!

Krazy Kitty Part 1

That's one pissed off looking Kitty.

I think he's aiming at a dog...

Do the Math...

Which team will forever be branded in the history books as the 10,000th loss to the Philadelphia Phillies?

It’s coming soon, sooner than you might think. The Phillies are a mere 3 losses away from the dubious distinction of being the first team in ALL North American sports, to have attained 10,000 losses. That’s an awful lot of boos.

So I looked at the schedule and thought, “Who will hand us that defining defeat?” Let’s explore a bit shall we?

We have a 3 game series that starts tomorrow against the Colorado Rockies. Usually not much of a threat, the Rockies are 1 game under .500 on the season. They sit in 4th place in rather decent division however they just swept our Archenemy the New York Mets. Even so, I have to believe, with the All-star game coming up and guys like Utley and Rowand heading out to San Fran for a little excitement, that the Rockies won’t follow up their sweep of NY with PA.

After the Rockies we play the Cardinals followed by the Dodgers. It would be a miracle if the inconsistent Phils can get past the next 9 games without losing 3. Just looking at numbers they are unlikely to do this, which means by the time we go to San Diego to play the Padres we’ll be well on our way to 20,000 losses.

So who will it be? You can pretty much bet the Cards. Why? Because Gordon’s Birthday is coming up and he’d never let me hear the end of it. I’d imagine, “10,000” would be how he’d start to greet me.
My phone rings.
Me: “Hello?”
Gordon: “10,000?”
Me: “What do you want?”
Gordon: “Wanna watch wrestling?”
Me: “Fine, but I’m making fun of Chris Benoit.”

Last year the Phils home opener, the cards trounced them. I was there. Gordon was there.
A couple nights later Jimmy Rollin’s hitting streak came to an end. I was there. Gordon was there.

So which game will we lose number 10,000?
Saturday.

Why?
Because I’ll be there, and guess who with?

My luck stinks! 10,000 losses type stinks!

9,995 and counting

How will you celebrate 10,000 losses?
Only 5 to go....

Phones with Options...

I find it immensely troubling that here we are-3 days after the iPhone has hit the shelves yet we still need instructions on how to leave a message for a person. Do I really, in the year 2007, need a recorded voice telling me that if I want to leave a message wait for the beep? It truly is the equivalent of telling an adult to look both ways before crossing the street. They know. Or at least they should know. I am 31, and when I leave my parent’s my mother still says, “Drive carefully.” As if I have it in the back of my mind to haul ass across the neighbor’s front yard.

Police Officer: “Son, why were you driving on that front lawn?”
Me: “Well Officer, my Mom didn’t tell me I couldn’t.”
Police Officer: “Fair enough. Wanna borrow my gun? Go shoot some kids?
Me: “Do I!”

My favorite part of voice mail instructions is when the woman (it’s always a woman) says, “After you leave your message hang up.” Really? Then what? Hello? Lady, where did you go? I have to go to the can and I need instructions. What should I do?

“For more options, press 5.” More options for what? I can either leave a message, or not leave a message. There are no other options!

This entire post will be lost on Joel, who I call a Live Communicator. He never leaves a message. Of course now that he has an iPhone I suppose he does have other options.

Hell Yeah For America!!!

How did the 4th of July become the holiday where we blow shit up? Wouldn’t you think on a day that celebrates casting off your oppressors, you’d want it to be as peaceful as possible?

Why do terrorists hate us so much? You’d think that any country that celebrates it’s independence by blowing shit up would be on their “good side.”

How did the Roman Empire stand so powerful with nothing more than Roman Candles to fight off the enemies?

Why do “snakes” get lumped in with fireworks? All they really do is stain the sidewalk and smell like crap.

Bang Snap? Couldn’t make up you mind huh? That’s be like calling a rooster a Cuck-a-doodle-ba-gawk!

Can a cherry bomb really blow up a toilet or is that a myth, like the female orgasm?

Is it unpatriotic to by an American Flag made in China? And what if the dye in the flag runs? “These colors…um, never mind.”

What are the odds of a person named America speaking English?

If you find the concept of the American Dream sexy, is it possible for you to have a Wet American Dream?

Chris Benoit

What a horrible story.

Chris Benoit, the Rabid Wolverine, was found dead at his Georgia home on Monday morning. Benoit was schedule to wrestle on Sunday night at the WWE pay-per-view “Vengeance.” At the last minute he was replaced on the card, “personal matters” was the listed as the reason.

Along with Chris, his wife and 7 year old son Daniel were all found dead at the residence. No more information was given by investigators. After rumors spread across the internet, authorities released this cold yet telling quote, “No one was shot.”

Julie said maybe it was Carbon Monoxide poisoning, but the “personal matters” wouldn’t really make sense if that was the case.

Today a source is saying that it was in fact murder suicide. Benoit choked his wife, smothered his son and hung himself.

Bizarre doesn’t begin to describe what has happened here.

I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good.

I would never spoil something for someone. Let me rephrase that. I would never deliberately spoil something for someone. Even to this day when someone is talking about The Usual Suspects, I’ll ask those within earshot, “Have you seen it?” That movie is like 10 years old!

I don’t necessarily like spoiling something for myself, but I don’t hate it. I do however, hate when someone spoils it for me. For example (Halloween spoiler coming up), I was once asked by a “less-than” if I saw H20. I told him I had not, but was looking forward to seeing it. He then proceeds to tell me that Jaime Lee Curtis chops off Michael Myers head. I asked him why he would do that when I told him I wanted to see it.

No response came. None was expected.

So with that comes the news that a hacker has actually downloaded a copy of Harry Potter’s final book. The spoilers were available on a website which also warned that there is no way to verify whether they are in fact “real.”

So what would you do? Would you avoid the internet until July21st? Would you not take phone calls from your “alleged” friend hypothetically named Gordon? Would you wait until a “less-than” came at you from afar? Or would you actively seek out the spoilers figuring, “well if anyone is going to ruin it for me, it’ll be me and on my terms?”

What do you think I did?

Are the spoilers true? Who can tell? Will they leak out from the media? Perhaps. Am I a walking knowledge bomb? Don’t piss me off.

I know something you don’t know.

Swim, Swam, Swum

I think one of those is not an actual word.

This is a picture of my new pool toy. I am going to sick him on Jim Festival.

When is Shark Week Jim? That's like a festival.

I see this guy popping out of the ocean at me and I can't help but think, "I really should make a dentist's appointment...and change my underwear."

This flla is ornery, because he's got all those teeth and no toothbrush...so I've heard.

Indiana Jones and The Oscillating Fan

This was me when I walked out in the heat today. I felt like someone opened the "Ark of the Covenant." Toht should've gotten some sweet air conditioning. I hear they have it in the sequel.

Wizard World 2007

Judge Orders Man Not to Have Girlfriend
By Associated Press

Thu Jun 14, 9:12 AM
PETERBOROUGH, Ontario - A judge has ruled that a 24-year-old Canadian man is not allowed to have a girlfriend for the next three years.

Let me tell you folks, that judge is a real f'ing prick! However, unlike the all too debated Paris Hilton case, I think this sentence will be carried out...and then some.

Well ladies and virgins...er gentlemen, Wizard World 2007 was held this weekend in the City of Brotherly Love. And well, if there's any love in store for these guys it is either going to be Brotherly, or well paid for.

Now, allow me to dispel a few beliefs that have circulated in regards to comic books, and those who read them. Not every single person who reads a comic book is, in fact cool. No, it’s true. Some of these fellows are socially awkward. Let’s face it, many are just plain nerds. I know it goes against everything we’ve learned throughout our days on this mortal coil…but alas, many a comic reader…is a fucking geek.

There is however, one thing that unifies all of “Nerdom”. They all seem to possess the uncanny ability to sew. Why is that I wonder? And why is it that they only have one pattern that they’ve mastered through the years? Red, white and blue…Betsy Ross would be proud. Hell, perhaps history never told us of the 30 plus year old son she had living in her basement long after the colonies were granted their sovereignty.

Lucky for us these cretins weren’t given a seat at the table while this country’s traditions were being laid, or we might all “Pledge allegiance to the flag, of the United States of Captain America.”
Don’t get me wrong there was much to be joyous about at the Convention.

Like when you pray that your camera is out of focus enough that you can deny until your dying breath that you are not in the picture. After all, who in their right mind would ever allow a character from Marvel’s Universe to be seen with a character from DC? I mean, what is this a “crossover?” What? Your "Average Joe" knows what a crossover is right? RIGHT? I fear I may have outed myself.


Well, at least let me put to bed the rumors that these Nerdly get-togethers are nothing but a sausage fest. Nothing could be further from the truth. This fine, young, lass seemed to be enjoying her womanly self just fine, although she did seem obsessed with finding a guy with a silver helmet. I told her mine was peach, and I called it Serpentor. It didn’t go over as well as you’d think.

But alas my salvation came thanks to what I assume was a loose snake in the audience. For a guy with a burlap bag over his head, who I guess was the snake's handler, ran by yelling, “La,la,la,la,la,la,la,la,la,la,la, COBRA!”

There were also some very interesting developments announced for the future of comic books. As many of you know, Marvel Comics decided to kill off one of it's more popular characters in March--Captain America. Well Marvel, which typically waits until the Comic Convention in San Diego to make big annoucements, shocked everyone in Philadelphia this weekend.

Apparently Captain America will be replaced by Major Hezbollah. After the “bombshell” revelation, comic book stores throughout the Middle East were bombarded with preorders for the next issue…and then the stores were blown up.

When asked to comment President Bush said, "Comics? I like that Marmaduke."

Marmaduke’s circulation increased by 11%, the President’s approval rating dropped 12.

Even amoung the scores of people spilling out of their home made Spiderman costumes, a face or two might surprise you. I was slightly taken aback to learn that our Lord and Savior was present for the event.

He told me he came in 2nd at the Guitar Hero Tournament. He said he felt might have won the “crown,” had he been allowed more time to practice. However, much of his spare time has been interrupt lately with people praying for “Peace in the Middle East.” He then pointed to Major Hezbollah and said, “Fat Chance.”

In a nutshell, that was the day.

I won’t go into too much detail, but I was asked to leave early. You might think the masses figure out that I intended to expose them all with my indepth blog reporting? Or perhaps a few ladies at the Suicide Girls table claimed my zipper continually fell down? Maybe even my persistantly insisting that Dirk Benedict come to my house later to make Body Slam 2…but you would be wrong. The real reason I was asked to leave? My Aquaman Tee-shirt.

As I was being thrown off the premises I shouted, “I’m all about the Bitches and the Fishes.”

And then me and this dude fuckin' party like it was 1999!

And then he ate my Aquaman tee-shirt, which was a bummer because it cost me $19.99.

Terror on the Phone

Perhaps it is time for the terrorists to turn down the air conditioning. That way they wouldn't need to wear such heavy masks indoors. And really, it hardly goes with the rest of the ensemble. Rule of thumb fellas, the mask should match your belt...not a must, but at least put in some effort.

Terrorists are some of the worst contributers to global warming...one could say they are terrorizing Mother nature. But one would probably have their behinds handed to them for saying such a foolish thing in mixed company.

I do like the water bottle in the background. It shows that at least the fellow is health conscious. Sure, not in regards to "others" health, but conscious nontheless. He is at least away of the concept of "health." I thought about using Photoshop and adding a "TAB," but I felt that would be cheap...also I don't have Photoshop (because I am cheap).

My sources reveal this terrorist is making a "crank" phone call.

What follows is the transcript I was able to ascertain.

For those that are weak of heart, easily scared or over all just a pussy might want to skip ahead to the next blog (Which will likely be about fat guys dress as superheroes).

GWB: Hello?
Bad Guy: Yes. Yes is this George?
GWB: Yes.
Bad Guy: Um, yes is your refrigerator running?
GWB: You mean does it have electricity running to it?
Bad Guy: Is it running?
GWB: Well I just had a ham sandwich…I used mayo. I sure hope the mayo isn’t bad if that’s what you’re asking.
Bad Guy: Is your refrigerator running?
GWB: The little light came on when I opened the door. I also heard a cow “mooing.” The girls got me one of them fridge alarms for Father’s Day. They feel dad is getting a bit rounder…(Laughter).
Bad Guy: Ah…ok. SO then you’d say that the refrigerator is running.
GWB: I was a bit perturbed.
Bad Guy: (Silence)
GWB: I had a hankering for some tomato, that’s why I made the sandwich. I sat down and started to watch Baywatch and half way through I realized I forgot the tomato. That’s half way through the sandwich, not the episode of Baywatch.
Bad Guy: Right.
GWB: I was upset, but what was a guy to do? So I finished the sandwich of course. Then I got a slice of tomato and put some salt on it. I know it’s not healthy, but it’s the weekend.
Bad Guy: I gotta go…
GWB: Then I thought a little salad dressing would probably go a long way here. Paul Newman’s Italian. Laur loves it. But then I thought, I can’t just pick it up and make a mess…and how much more bread should I eat. Then it hit me…a soft pretzel.
Bad Guy: Right.
GWB: I invented a nice afternoon snack. Feelin’ pretty good about myself today.
So…anywho…to answer your previous question, yes my refrigerator is running.
Hello? Hello? Must of hung up.

The President hangs up the phone. He pushes a button and a voice comes over the speaker.

Amy: Yes Mr. President.
GWB: Amy, would you get me Lincoln Bowling Alley?
Amy: Yes sir.

The President just sits there.

Amy: Mr. President? Lincoln Bowling Alley on line 2.

The President picks up the phone.

GWB: Yes sir, do you have 16 pound balls?
Bowling Alley Manager: Yes sir.
GWB: How do you sit down?

Italians, Dogs and Comic Books

Just when you feel 10,000 losses looming, the Phillies sweep the White Sox. This team is amazing. Not necessarily in a good way. They are 2 games behind the first place Mets…which puts us tied for second with the dreaded Atlanta Braves! October baseball perhaps?

I have been emailing back and forth with Vicki today. Apparently her dog Lily is trying to eat her out of house and home…literally. It would appear that Ms. Lily has a taste for window sill. My guess—it tastes like chicken. She is well and coming home from the Vet today.

My mom would tell us boys that we were eating her out of house and home, with the exception of Brian sharpening his teeth on a wicker lamp here or there, I figured this just an expression…what do I know?

Italian Festival last night. For those of you who don’t know my good friend Jimmy Festival is eternally scouring the globe for a Festival to go to. Last night was the Italian Festival in Wilmington. It was a lot of fun, although not very Italian. There were many bands playing music, one sounded Jamaican…but my favorite was the one that played “La Bamba.” That old Italian classic. It does end in a vowel.

This weekend Brian and I are going to Wizard World. I love it. Hopefully many pictures to follow.

On So Sickly...

I have no idea what is wrong with me...

I don't have Lyme's Disease again, but that's what I feel like.

I am so run down. I called out of work and slept until 1pm.

That's 14 hours!

I feel like a teenager again...a 30 year old (+), balding teenager.

OK I feel like a teenage as portrayed on Beverly Hills 90210.

My Philadelphia Phillies are now a mere 14 losses away from hitting the 10,000 loss mark.

I feel a party is definitely in order.

If you can't be the best, at least you can be the best at being the worst. My good friend Steve lived his entire High School career under that philosophy.

I love not having to work weekends, but damn do they fill up quickly! Until about 3 months ago I lingered away in the wondrous world or retail.

But alas, now I have joined the cubical rat race that has spawned more than half of the viewing audience to the sitcom "The Office," as well as more than three quarters of the viewing audience for "King of Queens."

I have never watched "The Office," and I will NEVER watch "King of Queens."--(I was going to rip on "Everybody Loves Raymond" here, but I opted to give it a rare reprieve...look for scathing reference in the future).

I am thinking about having a "Mix Party" in August...not to be confused with a "Mixer."

Instead, it would be a party where the invitees bring a "mix" to be judge by a panel of judges (namely me).

Joel is 100% against this, for he feels Berger has already won.

One word folks--*"Banana Phone."

Details to follow...

I really need to try and attempt to finish a 10 minute play I have been working on.

Subject matter? Sex.

Deadline? June 26th.

Likelihood of me having it done in time? Not very likely.

I have a strange hankering to play golf if there are any takers.

Double D, I'm leaning towards you buddy. I haven't play in roughly 12 years. That's about as much golf as I can handle. Anyone interested whip out your putter and we'll tee it up.

I want to play golf? I must be sick...

*Banana Phone might in fact be two words.

The Return of Empty October Promises

Well folks, it happened. All of my dreams came true. 

Not too many years ago I bought myself not only a jersey, but two... count them two baseball gloves. 

Why two gloves one might ask? Well, one, I'm glad you asked.

You see I have a blue one for the road and a red one for when I'm home.

What does it say on the back of my jersey you may wonder? How about "MESA!"

Hell Yeah!

It would seem that Pat Gillick is taking a page out of David Chase's book which can only read, "I hate the fans!

17-5 we were annihilated yesterday.

Was it all Jose Mesa's fault?

I like to believe so, even if deep down I know that many other hands in the bullpen had a say in the matter.

I'm starting to believe that October baseball is a myth.