When Life Begins

Anti-abortion people are wrong: life actually begins BEFORE conception.

Haven’t they seen Look Who’s Talking? Those little sperms can talk!

All semen is sacred.

Your Cheapest Champagne

So apparently the bars in small-town Connecticut close at 11pm even on a Friday. This wasn't something we were aware of, and so we rudely sat secluded in the back corner until 12:30am, unaware that the place had emptied out. At one point, the bar started playing Ben Folds Five's "Brick" and I joked, "Are they playing an abortion song to get us to leave?" - but maybe it was intentional after all. (Also, I blew my own my mind when I shorthanded Ben Folds Five to "BFF" and realized that was already a familiar acronym.)

Again, oblivious to the time situation, Austin wanted to order drinks to celebrate one of our friends getting engaged this week.

Austin: How much is your cheapest champagne?

Waitress: We only have one kind of champagne, it's $69 for a bottle.

Austin: Oh boy. Uh, how much is your cheapest Miller Lite? [At another point, he would clarify that Miller Lite is the "champagne of beer."]

Waitress: We don't sell Miller Lite.

Austin: Okay, then just bring us something that we can pretend is champagne.

Waitress: Ummm… what?

Austin: Something bubbly. Anything with bubbles.

He then asked her to take a picture of us and referred to her as a "nice waitress", which I know he meant sincerely, but came across as utterly sarcastic because of the context. The wine she brought us did bubble briefly, but given how irritated she must have been with us, I wouldn't be surprised if that was because she had farted in it.

Claus Flaws

Why does Santa never finish his cookies? Every time I see photos of "Santa was here!" it shows a couple of bites taken out of the cookies with a bunch of leftovers. Surely in all of his travels, he knows that there are kids around the world who are starving and would love to finish those cookies. Fair enough if he thinks he's already too fat to eat them, but couldn't he at least bring the cookies with him and leave them at one of the homes with less fortunate children?

Of course not. This is the same man who gives gifts to children that are proportional to their parents' income levels. Ever notice how it's only the richest kids who Santa gives things like trampolines and ponies while impoverished kids are lucky to get a second-hand doll or ball? And we're supposed to believe that somehow it's a meritocracy based on kids behavior, as if the wealthiest kids are always the nicest and poorest kids are the naughtiest?

Fuck a Santa, he's in cahoots with the 1%.

ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL?

I was. Well sort of. I'm not often a, "Go, sports!" kind of guy, but I'm out of town with relatives for a few days, so anything seems exciting at the moment. When my cousins invited me to watch some football at another house, I decided I was in. Sure, it sounded kind of boring, but LESS boring than watching my grandfather pass out in his armchair from his new medication all day, so yay football!

It wasn't just any football viewing experience either. There were three large TVs set up in a row, each one showing a different game. While I had difficulty focusing on even one game, some of my relatives had enough practice to keep track of everything simultaneously. This is why fantasy football is diabolically genius. It convinces people that they not only need to be invested in their favorite team's games, but EVERY team's games. For the sake of winning an imaginary game and bragging rights, every single point and play in all of the NFL suddenly matters. And let's be honest - it doesn't matter at all, it's just large scale capitalism guised as entertainment.

Because I always have to be difficult, I was in the corner "cheering" for the Cowboys, and the hosts made a big point of saying no one in their house cheers for the Cowboys. I get it, North-Easterners have no incentive to root for Texas teams. But my roommate is originally from Dallas, and by proximity, I've been following their season - more than any team anyway - so it just seemed appropriate to give them my meaningless support. I clapped as the Cowboys overcame a two touchdown deficit and brought the game to overtime… only to lose then. 

As I was departing and they made fun of "my" (ha) Cowboys again, I said, "Hey, they're called 'America's Team', so what kind of Americans are you? You may be rooting for the Patriots, but you certainly aren't patriots." At least that got a good laugh.

Okay, goodbye for now football, I'm sure we'll meet again when someone invites me to a Super Bowl party and I have to drink a lot just to laugh off the intense commercialism.  

Harry's Pizza

My dad and I went to get a table at a local restaurant, but there was a 40 minute wait, so he called my mom to suggest we go to "Harry's Pizza" instead. That'd be great, except that we didn't wind up at Harry's Pizza.

Kevin: This is Joe Pizza.

Dad : I know, I always say the wrong name.

Kevin: So we should call mom back.

Dad: No.

Kevin: How else is she going to know to come here?

Dad: She knows I meant here.

Kevin: How does she know that?

Dad: I always mix up the names. She knows I always say "Harry's Pizza" when I mean "Joe Pizza". 

Kevin: So we shouldn't call just to make sure?

Dad: No.

Kevin: Is there actually a Harry's Pizza, though?

D: Yes.

Kevin: But you're sure she won't go to the real Harry's Pizza?  

D: Yes.

Just because he ended up being right doesn't make it any less crazy, as far as I'm concerned. That's 30+ years of marriage for you, I guess.

5 Offensive Christmas Songs You Should Stop Singing

5 Offensive Christmas Songs You Should Stop Singing

I was really excited about this article I wrote because it gave me a chance to muse on some Christmas songs I think have some funky lyrics. I utilized a lot of outraged hyperbole, in part to poke fun at liberals - myself included - who can be overly politically correct at times. 

But you guys, the internet hates me now. There are over 100 comments saying some pretty mean things about me. Like, they HATE me for this article. Basically, they're accusing me of being too PC and an idiot who took all the fun out of the songs. They're taking it at face value. So in one sense, I was successful in my satire, but then maybe I was TOO successful because very few people are reading the humor into it. Heaven forbid you gave them a copy of "A Modest Proposal". 

I mean, in actuality, I only sort of have problems with "Baby It's Cold Outside" (if not outright date rapey, it's definitely creepy) and "Do They Know It's Christmas" (which I've ranted about before.) The other three I was just being obnoxious about - I mean who REALLY would be SUPER UPSET at "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus?"? 

But forget Christmas music, I need a straight up Emo soundtrack for my life right now. I FEEL SO MISUNDERSTOOD. 

Well-Rounded

Angie insisted on Survivor tonight that she's not just some dumb blonde, and she's right: she's not just some dumb blonde, she's the BEST dumb blonde.  

When her tribe kept losing every single challenge and she was asked what the one thing her tribe needed to turn its luck around, she gave the best one word answer possible: "Cookies." Oh, Angie. So delightfully out of touch. It was almost as if she were Marie Angienette declaring, "Let them eat cookies!"

But she's not always far off. I'm going to go ahead and agree that she's well-rounded. VERY well-rounded, clearly.

They're Rubbish!

"For people who care so much about recycling, they sure are really bad at it."

- A comment I made five years ago about my environmentalist roommates who wouldn't fold and compress boxes before putting them in the recycling bin.

This is just a self-reminder that I can get really catty about some ridiculous things.

Murder in the Shower

I got bored in the shower this week (what are you supposed to do in there anyway?!) and I decided to use my roommate's stray hairs to write the word "MURDER" on the shower wall. I thought it would be funny, but I worried that it might come across as passive aggressive, like I was really upset that she left her hair in the shower.

More than worrying about being perceived as passive aggressive, I suppose I should have considered how creepy that would be. When she saw "MURDER", she took a photo of it to show her coworkers to ask if they thought it indicated some crazy guy had snuck into the house. Nope, just a crazy guy who happens to pay to live there with her. 

I assured her that it was a joke and I probably was not actually going to murder her. She seemed to buy it, which might be dumb given that years ago I accidentally threatened her grandmother with a  knife. 

Today she "retaliated" by rearranging her hair into a tic-tac-toe board. That seems like a much nicer way to communicate with your roommate. I, of course, put my X in the middle square; it may be a gross game of shower hair tic-tac-toe, but I'm playing to win!

Carousel? More Like Domestic Abuse = Love

I'm not a big fan of musicals, but despite not knowing so much as a song from the show, I gave the 50s film adaptation Carousel a chance. After learning that Time Magazine named Carousel the best musical of the 20th century, I figured it might actually be entertaining.

But oh dear, it's terrible. In short, a man and young woman meet for the first time on a carousel. Over the course of a single song, they fall in love, in a way that can only happen in theater. Despite knowing nothing about each other, they immediately marry. The guy is an unemployed jerk who controls his wife, alienates her from her family, and hits her. She's pretty forgiving of his poverty, lack of compassion, and abuse, however, because of, duh, *love*. We know this because she sings about it a lot. 

The funny thing is for some reason we're supposed to relate to this man. He's like "the every man" who deserves redemption, or that's how it's portrayed anyway. And, sorry, but I don't relate to a man who loses hundreds of dollars that he doesn't have while gambling with a known conman (who else could deal himself three blackjacks in a row?) and then attempts to rob an innocent man at knifepoint. He dies in this botched robbery, and his wife is distraught - even if her friends don't totally understand - because she LOVED being a doormat, you see?

Anyway, the guy gets to go some approximation of heaven because despite all of his actions, he was deemed a good man deep down. Years later, he receives a day pass back down to earth so he can meet the daughter his wife was pregnant with when he died. He talks to his daughter for all of a few minutes before he winds up smacking her.

Wait, it gets worse. The dialogue that follows between the wife and the daughter is truly disturbing.

Daughter: "He hit me hard. I heard the sound of it, Mother, but it didn't hurt. It didn't hurt at all. It was just as if he kissed my hand."

(a couple of lines later)

Daughter: "Is it possible, Mother, for someone to hit you hard like that - real loud and hard, and it not hurt you at all?"

Wife: "It is possible, dear, for someone to hit you, hit you hard, and it not hurt at all."

And that's pretty much how the film ends, with the wife swooning and fondly recalling the husband who used to hit her without it hurting. I mean, who wouldn't love getting hit if it feels like a kiss? That's how you know he loves you!

I get that it's from another era when domestic abuse isn't quite as frowned upon, but who the fuck would write an abuse-apology story like that? It makes me suspect that you might have been able to find some bruises hidden under stage makeup on Mrs. Rodgers and Mrs. Hammerstein. 

A Sweater for Every Occasion

I attended a party tonight where we were encouraged to wear ugly Christmas sweaters, and, not that there were "winners", but my beautiful friend Dani totally won. 

It's a convenient sweater for every holiday. Easter, Halloween, Fourth of July, St. Patrick's Day, Valentine's Day, Christmas… sure you could have a sweater for each of those occasions, or you could just save closet space by putting all of them on one garment. She said she stole it from her elementary school teacher mom (makes sense, right?), and if there's one big reason why I would return to the teaching profession, it might be for the tacky teacher outfits.

I also have to give her credit for that Christmas tree hat which was for sale at the supermarket. She said she had to choose between buying food or the hat, but I think it was a smart decision considering I can't stop feasting my eyes on that tasty knit cap.

7 Ways Not to React When Your Friend Tells You She's Pregnant

... But that I did anyway.

1. Walk away. 

Okay, I wasn't intentionally trying to be rude, but she said she had big news to tell us, and as she started sharing, someone called me to grab something from him twenty feet away so I went to retrieve it. By the time I got back, the others were hugging her, so I had to whisper, "Wait, what did she say?"

2. "Have you thought about how this is going to affect our friendship?"

Seriously though, we've developed a nice bond over the past two years, and a baby is totally going to have an impact on this dynamic. Did she even think about that? I never got a straight answer to that query.

3. "So, do you need a ride to the clinic?" 

I don't know, it just seemed a little presumptuous to assume that just because she's 30, been married for several years, has previously expressed an interest in starting a family, and shared the fact that she was pregnant with us as good news that she had a desire to keep the fetus.

4. "You are such a liar!"

She had abruptly stopped drinking a few months ago and my friends and I made pregnancy jokes immediately. At the time, she blamed it on a new medication she was on, but my suspicions persisted anyway. When I referenced her previous fibbing, she said we should never expect a woman to discuss that issue that early in the pregnancy, so I just called her a liar even louder. 

5. "Come on, you're drinking for two now."

She had met us at the bar to be social despite having no intentions to drink, but I peer pressured her to booze it up anyway. I also laughed a little too hard when she - without looking - accidentally picked up Jared's beer assuming it was her water and came really close to drinking it. Later, scantily clad "Jameson girls" came around offering free shots, but she told them she was pregnant and wouldn't even grab an extra shot to give to the rest of us. I said to one Jameson girl, "Even babies like Jameson, right?" and she was like, "Yeah… wait…" 

6. "Do you really think it's responsible to bring a new life into Obama's America?"

It's something to consider, anyway.

7. "Oh, I don't even think I said, 'Congratulations' yet… Uh, congratulations."

I probably should have said this before all of those other things. But, like, babies, man. What is she thinking?

I am so not going to be chosen as the baby's godparent. 

A Bad Case of Gas

I've had some exceptionally bad luck with waiting around for service people - like the time I told Time Warner it would be easier to cure cancer than to get them to actually install our internet or the time the plumber made me wait eight hours only to not actually fix my toilet - and this past weekend was no exception. Our hot water went out and the gas company was hardly accommodating. 

All I had to do was wait around the house from noon to eight P.M, which is an unnecessarily long window of time to begin. For the sake of showering, I made my peace with it and waited, hoping he'd come in the first four hours rather than the latter. But eight hours passed and no one arrived. So we called and said "Why has no one shown up?" And the gas company explained, "Oh, when we say noon to eight, we actually mean eight, or until the order is filled." Like, DUH. "So he will still be coming?" "Yes!" they promised.

But then nine rolled around and then ten, and I was beyond skeptical that they were still sending out technicians for non-emergencies past 10 on a weekend night. I call the gas hotline and they assure me someone is still coming. "This late? When is the cut off?" I asked. Evidently, there is no cut off, there is no policy. "So someone can just come at 2 A.M.?" "Oh no, we wouldn't do that, we want to wake anyone up" as if plenty of people wouldn't have already gone to bed by that point, especially after waiting around for that long. 

At 11:15 P.M., the gas man arrived. I was as cordial as someone who just had his Saturday entirely wasted could be. 

Well, maybe not "entirely" wasted. All that waiting did give us the opportunity to watch Dolphin Tale. It was a silly movie, but enjoyable thanks to a internet drinking game we found which had drink: 1. when someone was shown overcoming a disability (this kept happening) 2. anytime you successfully predicted what would happen next (we were good at this) 3. Morgan Freeman finally shows up to rescue the movie (it was more than halfway through before he arrives, but when he does, he is a godsend and I cracked up multiple times at his delivery of that shitty dialogue).

Next, we decided to stick with the theme of hokey based-on-a-true-story family films and watched We Bought a Zoo. Though we didn't play a drinking game, if we had, it should have been to drink anytime one of the characters actually uttered the sentence, "We bought a zoo" as it happened at least four times. I give this film a lot of credit because the title, in no ambiguous terms, spells out the movie. It's right up there with Snakes on a Plane for me in that sense. 

Finally we saw Waterworld, which despite having a reputation for being the world's worst movie, might actually be one of the most enjoyable films of all time.  

Maybe being homebound and "forced" to watch "bad" movies all Saturday was actually a blessing in disguise… but I'm sure as hell not going to admit that to the gas company.

Keira Knightley

I think it would be pretty newsworthy, anyway.

Besides, who can trust the woman? On first look, she has an alliterative name, which is awesome, but when you try to say it aloud, it doesn't hold up. Phony bitch!