Put Your Shirt On, Dude!

It is officially autumn in the northeast United States. If there were ever a time for guys to walk around the neighborhood shirtless, this definitely isn't it.

A Barely Appropriate and Incomplete Tribute to Paul Newman

It's odd for me to do a remembrance for a celebrity on this blog for two reasons. First of all, I don't tend to celebrate famous people (only mock) and, secondly, I always assumed he'd never die. He was one of those guys who, even into his eighties, put men a quarter of his age to shame. But here we are...

I Have a Cold, Not a Meth Lab

My girlfriend is getting sick, which means I'll probably be getting sick soon too. At any rate, she had asked me to pick up some cold medication to help alleviate the symptoms. I was warned that I will need to bring ID and I have to ask for it from behind the counter. "Why?", I asked. "Are they afraid I'm going to get all hopped up cold medication?" Apparently, they are.

Worst. Local Commercials. EVER!

Advertising on television is still the best way to get your brand out to a captive audience (the ones without DVRs at least). A lot of research, time and money goes into all of those memorable ads you talk about the day after the Superbowl. This post is not about those commercials. It's about the local spots you see outside the peak viewing hours, cheaply made and horribly acted. They'd be forgettable if they weren't so ludicrously bad. Observe:

Clay Gay

Two posts in one day? I've never done that before. But I couldn't help myself. This is big news. Everything your read in the paper for the past 10 years? Forget all of it. This is all you need to know forever. Seriously, strap yourself into whatever you're calling a chair these days. While you're at it, send the kids to grandma's and yell at the dog for no good reason. Also: cancel your dinner plans, dump your significant other, quit your job and terminate your insurance policies. Nothing's important anymore except for what I'm about to tell you.

Reality Shows I Just Can't Wrap My Head Around

I don't particularly care for reality television. To me, it's a bunch of lazy, high concept ideas that are thrown against a wall, rapid-fire style, to see what sticks. And way too much is sticking which is making that "wall" a puke-colored mess.

Hangin' With Mr. Blaine

Endurance Artist (and alleged illusionist) David Blaine is at it again. Yesterday, he began his 60 hour "Dive of Death", which has him hanging upside down over Central Park's Wollman Rink in New York City. The curious or just plain "easily entertained" can go and see him until Wednesday evening at which point he will lowered, examined by doctors and sexually gratified by the media.

Boris the Puppy

Boris

No family is complete without a wacky overabundance of animals. That's why I'd like to announce the newest member of our menagerie: Boris. He's 8 weeks old, enjoys chewing on everything, misses the wee-wee pad by a good meter, relaxes to the smooth vocal stylings of Enya and can fit comfortably inside most shoeboxes. We named him Boris because we're teaching him to hate moose and squirrels.

The 9 Life Lessons Learned from America's Funniest Home Videos

As we grow older and leave formal education behind, our brains continue learning from many unlikely sources. For me, my observation of the participants on "America's Funniest Home Videos" have offered up a new world of knowledge about society. And because Christmas is around the corner and I can't afford to buy you anything, I will instead give you the gift of wisdom with these nine life lessons I learned through AFV. Use it how you will.

Attack of the Chick Flick

When it comes to watching TV, I'll often give my girlfriend free-reign to watch whatever she chooses (which, incidentally, is why I ended up writing a piece on "Bridezillas"). It's not so much an act of chivalry but more of apathy. I only actively watch a handful of programs out of the hundreds presented every week. Everything else on TV is open to suggestion. But after seeing Because I Said So, I may have to rethink my policy on not offering input*.

A High Score with No Name

As much as I can appreciate the 40-hour, dialogue-driven action/adventure romps with a clear cut goal that seem to be popular with the video gamers, it'll never compare to the good, old-fashioned score-attack games. That's why I downloaded Groovin' Blocks for the Wii. Sometimes you get tired of saving princesses, damsels, worlds, days and loose change - you just want to get the high score. Yup, old school gaming!

Does Quality Mean Nothing to Pirates?

It's a typical Saturday afternoon in late summer of 2005. I'm doing some wash down at the local laundromat. I just stand there, watching the fuzzy TV tuned to Telemundo with one eye and the hypnotic swirl of soap and boxer shorts with the other. My daydreaming is suddenly interrupted by an unassuming woman peddling some DVDs. Out of curiosity I take a look at what she has to offer. Amongst her collection is a copy of The 40-Year-Old Virgin. Having wanted to see the hyped film but not wanted to venture into a movie theater, I purchased a copy for eight dollars.

Load Times: A Personal Flashback

It's 2008. I no longer want to wait more that three seconds for my entertainment to get with the "entertaining". I want to snap my fingers and have instant gratification for my senses. Perhaps I'm being a tad unrealistic, but when I load up a DVD or video game, I shouldn't have to wade through a cesspool of unskippable copyright warnings, previews or animated developer credits.

Movie: The Musical: The Movie

Somehow, a discussion about the movie "Hairspray" came up. Not the musical adaptation staring a "way too comfortable in drag" John Travolta, but rather the John Water's classic. Although I don't know how we started on the topic of that movie, I know where it led: my bewildering confusion as to the sudden glut of stage musical versions of popular, non-musical films.

I Now Pronounce Thee Man and Psycho

My girlfriend doesn't like it when I make fun of a show she's watching. I admit it's wrong and obnoxious. I understand that pointing out my observation about Andrea Zuckerman looking older than Nat on "Beverly Hills 90210" is completely unnecessary. I will apologize for that. But then I'll stroll into the living room and catch a glimpse of her watching "Bridezillas" and holding my tongue becomes like a runaway train I'm trying to stop with my ass cheeks. How can you watch it and not make fun of it?