No more yanky my wanky, Donger need Food

This is part 1 of a series (of hopefully 1 part) about how I will re-vamp my fantasy baseball team to improve our chances and inspire our fan base. The M's are attempting the same feat by ridding themselves of the best outfield prospect in baseball in exchange for "Ace" pitcher Eric Bedard. We at "Real Men of Genius" HQ respect that, even if we don't agree with it. So here is our own recipe for success, starting with:

Part 1. New Team Name

The Early Candidates are:

1. The Mitchell Brothers

A. Need to draft Bonds, Tejada, Rocket, etc
B. Refers to a strip club, and that's kind of funny

2. Barack's Tales of Suspense

A. Love this team name
B. Refers to Barack Obama's suspenseful run to the presidency
C. Risk: might jinx Barak O's run to the presidency
D. Refers to "Brak's Tales of Suspense", a classic team name circa 1997
E. Risk #2 - Will only be funny to 2 people (on the planet)

3. Seven Pilings

A. Refers to the over / under of the TAP Blog writer's sexual conquests in 2008
B. Has a nautical ring to it
C. Risk 1: only funny to readers of TAP Blog (see 2-E above)
D. Risk 2: even then, not funny
E. I really should do a post just about pilings


4. No he's not Bedarded

A. Refers to "ace" pitcher Eric Bedard
B. Refers to "Grandpa" in Sixteen Candles describing his missing Chinese exchange student Long Duck Dong to the police as "wearing a red argyle sweater, and tan trousers, and red shoes... No, he's not retarded!"
C. Only B above matters
D. Note: must draft Eric Bedard

5. Donger Need Food

A. Simply inspired by Long Duck Dong from 4 above
B. Very loosely tied to baseball, as a "Donger" is not only a penis, but also a home run
C. I just remembered that Kevbo used The Dongs as a Football team name. Damn it.

Dog Tales

Yesterday my 3-year-old daughter asked me "Daddy? Did you have dinner with your little tennis buddies last night?" I never felt so uncool, and at the hands of a 3-year-old.




And YES, damn it, we did have dinner. We couldn't get an indoor court for tennis, but still met for tacos and beer. It was a surprisingly fun time, without the tennis. Me and my little tennis buddies.

The Wookiepedia entry for Matthew Wood refers to a guy who just might be my pretend alter ego. Except that I sound NOTHING like General Grievious.

What? You don't know about Wookiepedia?

I consider myself an excellent microwaver. I have the uncanny ability to pretty much nail the amount of time needed to reheat a plate of food. Reheat a full plate of Chinese takeout? 1:20. KUNG FU HYAH!

My Grandmother still refers to a street in Seattle as "Enterprise" even though it was renamed "Martin Luther King Jr." about 20 years ago. She is certainly not anti-MLK, as she has absolutely zero bigotry in her blood; amazing considering she grew up in Selma, Alabama in the early part of the century. I do think that it is just habitual that she calls the street "Enterprise" and not "MLK". Or maybe she is just really pro-Star Trek.

I was walking my dog Barkley yesterday, in a DOG ON LEASH zoned area of a local park, and was properly abiding by the rules. Then along came this over-weight mangy mutty looking dog with this crazy look in his eyes. About 50 feet behind, this hippie couple was following. They looked like they hadn't showered in a few weeks, and hadn't cut her hair in years or his beard in months. I guess they could also be described as over-weight mangy and mutty themselves. So they called their crazy looking dog back, who was obviously trouble, and tried to steer him around Barkley and me, then said "NO DIABLO!" when he started to bark and mess with Barkley. I tried to alleviate the tense situation by saying something like "Diablo? Well this isn't good!" And they just stared at me with these evil hippie eyes like I had insulted their baby. Now I don't want to judge, but just because you are some crazy hippie couple, who sleeps with your dog, and your probably take your annual communal hippie shower with your dog, doesn't mean you don't have to ABIDE BY THE DOG GAMNED LEASH RULES.

OK, I got that out of my system.

Deja Screw?

Well, our Sea Chickens are headed back to sunny Green Bay for a playoff game. I have one comment to make on this game.

We want the ball, and we're gonna score.

If Matt Hasselbeck doesn't come out and say that on the opening coin flip, I will be monumentally disappointed. Say it Matt, and let them hear you say it.

Oh, one more comment. I predict that we get the total NFL imposed screw job on the officiating of this game ala "Super Bowl Extra Large" two years ago. Just instead of Jerome Bettis we are going to lie, cheat, and call holding penalties for, it's Brett Favre. Everyone in the NFL, fans, owners, officials, cats, dogs, girlfriends, and uncles, ALL wanted Pittsburgh to win that game. Bettis was just too lovable of a guy, with a great career, to not send out with a super bowl ring. Right? And who the F are the Seahawks? Where is Seattle again? Does any team in the following picture look a little out of place and un-loved in the NFL world? OK, other than the Broncos, smartass.

The same thing is going to happen next weekend. Who doesn't want Green Bay to win? and that Brett Favre, he's just so damn likable. He really needs to go out with a ring, or at least get that man into the Super Bowl.

I should do an entire post about the officiating of Super Bowl XL, breaking down every obvious bad call (most of which seemed to ruin huge offensive plays by Seattle), and throw in some post-game thoughts from experts, coaches, and the like, but thankfully...

Wikipedia already has.

Love the Wikipedia crew, they cover everything.

Go get 'em Matt. A few other guys and I are all rooting for you.

Mobile TEST

TEST TEST... huh, apparently I can blog via my cell phone. well, LA DEE F-ING DA! Now, since I DON'T GO ANYWHERE you can see lots of picturs of my home-office cave.

This test pic is Uncle DB doing his standup routine a few weeks ago at the SCU. Not bad... not bad.... if you like bad golf jokes.

Cabbage Soup for your Soul

My wife decided that she was going on the “Cabbage Soup Diet” to jump start the new year. And like Jules in Pulp Fiction, that pretty much means that I’m going on the Cabbage Soup diet to jump start the new year too. So in total support of my wife, with a slight interest in ever having sex again, I joined her in a week long diet sprint known as my:

Seven Days of Hell
and Cabbage

Day 1… Cabbage Soup and Fruit

The first day of this diet was fine. You can do ANYTHING for a day, right? And I was prepared. The night before I had doubled up on dinner; once at my brother’s house when I pigged out on apps during our last and final Christmas gathering. On the drive home I told my wife “well I guess we don’t have to worry about ordering out tonight, since we just had dinner right?” Wife: “What do you mean? I thought we said we were ordering out tonight. I didn’t eat anything”. Me: “Oh right, I’m still hungry. They WERE just apps.” So I had dinner #2 an hour later. The tough part was when 5pm rolled around and I was half way to the scotch cupboard when I realized that I had to make a 180 and hit the Pellegrino. Did I mention the no booze part of this diet? What was I thinking? I am an idiot, that's what I was thinking.

Day 2… Cabbage Soup and Vegetables

Pure hell. I ate veggies straight, for 18 waking hours and was still starving. This was excruciating. No shit this diet will make you lose weight. You basically starve yourself for a week, and eat a fucking soup 24 / 7 made from a known diuretic in cabbage. So not only are you starved, you are dehydrated. Oh yeah, while I was eating celery and tomatoes all day long, I was also pissing like every 20 minutes. How can vegans function in society voluntarily enduring such torture every single day? They must be masochists or something.

Day 3… Cabbage Soup, Fruit, and Veggies

I will exaggerage only slightly and say I feel like I am clinically starved. This was the low point of the diet. Wife declares the diet is over. We have made a severe mistake, let’s order out and cut our losses. I talk her down with a John "Bluto" Blutarsky-esque speech about how life is full of mistakes, but we carry on. Let’s be the idiots that did the Cabbage Soup Diet, not the losers who could not finish the Cabbage Soup Diet. Are you with me!

Day 3 was tough. I felt a little light headed, and weak, but I actually could tell that I was being cleansed a little… ie, I did not have the midday urge to have 3 diet cokes and a coffee.

Day 4…Cabbage Soup, Skim Milk, and Bananas

If nothing else, this diet keeps you guessing. I consumed eight bananas on this day, mostly blended with skim milk and ice, making a delightful smoothie. I didn’t look up if ice was allowed on the diet or not. Yeah that's right, EIGHT bananas.

Day 5… Cabbage Soup, Steak and Tomatoes

THIS is what I’m talking about. I was eating a 12 ounce NY steak at 6:30 AM on Day 5. Holy crap did it taste good. The tough part of the day was the traditional post-tennis trip to Taco Wednesday at the Roanoak that night. $1 Beers $1 Tacos. My F-ing wheelhouse. I was Job, and God was testing me. While my friends were deciding whether to take it easy and stop at 4 tacos or just have 7, I just sat there in sober hunger, repeating my peace mantra to myself so I wouldn’t hurt someone. But I’ll be damned if I wasn’t playing tennis 6 pounds lighter than the week before. Thank GOD it was on steak day, or I would have been too weak to play.

Day 6… Cabbage Soup, Steak, and Vegetables

Jesus, this diet is so confusing. Although I had another steak for lunch, I forgot that it was vegetable day and not fruit day and accidentally ate a piece of pineapple. I guess technically after all of this hard work, I hadn’t followed the diet. DAMN IT.

Day 7… Cabbage Soup, Brown Rice, Fruits, and Veggies

Final day. I can do this. Brown rice never tasted so good. Was this brown rice, or brown heaven? I guess when you are carb starved, even brown rice will feed your soul. Another bowl of soup, a few carrots to go, and I’m done. And yes, the final bowl of soup tasted like vomit to me. I think the 7 days ends at 5pm tonight, so I’ll be the drunk guy covered in delivery pizza, passed out in the corner.

The final tally, I kid you not, was legit. I just weighed in 10 pounds lighter than I weighed the night before I started. Granted, that was the “night of two dinners” night, so my starting point was a little inflated, but still it’s something. I wouldn’t force this diet on my worst enemy, and I have no idea on the long term benefits, but if your goal is to lose the max amount of weight in a week, this could be for you. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Happy New Year

The staff and friends at the Wood Dog Blog wish you a happy and safe 2008.

Day of the EXTREMELY FUNNY and Oppressed Husband

The night of stand-up comedy went exceptionally well. Follwing the advice of my comic partner, The Other Guy in a Black Shirt, I went the "edgy" route with my routine; meaning I bagged on my kids, dog, and life as a family man, which is EXTREMELY FUNNY if you know how happy I am with my kids, dog, and life as a family man. The "you're a prick" text message I got from my wife when she read the script I left at home was totally in jest I'm sure.

You can see some pictures of the Wood Dog Family at the Seattle Comedy Underground on my family blog, by clicking............. HERE.

An amazing thing happened the other night at Tonic in SF. It was trivia night, and one set of questions was to identify the names of famous people in various untitled pictures. I was playing on a team of four heterosexual males, and we could not properly identify Heather Graham from a nude picture of her. Three of the four of us were confessed HG fans too. The distraction was her boobs. The picture was phenomenal, and her boobs must have had the power of the Men In Black little memory flasher device. We are all staring at her, saying things like "I know her. Hell, I LOVE her. What the hell is her name?"

A good friend of mine, we'll call him Posh Beaver, read my post about figuring out the "Pick'em Guy's scam" and gave me crap, "Yes I think you REALLY ARE the last guy on the planet to figure that out." He then asked why the Those Aren't Pillows Blog was on sabbatical, and I told him it was the writers' strike. Posh responded, "REALLY???" ... and I'm the idiot?

So the Monkey League Fantasy Football Draft 2008 has been set. 5:00 PM Saturday, August 23rd, in Las Vegas. It’s really genius. I think all of my buddies, even those tied down with wives, kids, mortgages, and dogs, should be able to make this. YOU HAVE NINE MONTHS. FIGURE IT OUT.

That weekend in Vegas with my friends will be like the Mexican holiday El Día del Marido Oprimido, or the “Day of the Oppressed Husband”. On this one day, for 23.5 hours, husbands have the freedom to do as they wish ... within the scope of Mexican law and their religious faith of course. It is one of the most loved days of the Mari Gras celebration, traditionally on the Monday before Fat Tuesday, and features a bunch of drunk Mexican family men burning sh$% and throwing eggs. I'm not sure we could get away with that here in the states, but woudn't it be funny? Maybe I should put the suggestion in my stand-up routine next year?

Chivalry is on life support

Chivalry is probably almost dead, and if so, I certainly am not the guy attending to its dying needs. I mean, I open doors for ladies when I should, but almost never if the door is attached to a car.

Last week though after a Wednesday evening tennis game with the boys, we were walking out of the freezing tennis center, in the narrow walkway linking the courts to the front office, when unbeknownst to me a foursome of ladies were walking by us, getting ready to start their own game. I say "unbeknownst" not because it’s such a sweet word, but because I had absolutely no idea they were there. I was staring at the ground trying not to eat it on the several short sets of stairs throughout the walkway when the ladies apparently had to dive out of the way of our group as we bullied past them. One lady in fact loudly muttered over her breath "I guess chivalry really IS dead."

Even though it was unintentional I did feel like a dick. I guess 50% of chivalry probably is being aware of potentially non-chivalrous dick-traps. Even if you are a genuinely nice guy a majority of the time.

Oh, as an aside, I think playing tennis indoors while wearing a Northface fleece must really be a Seattle thing. I never did that in California for sure.

After the match (f-ers beat us 6-4, 6-2) we countered any nominal health benefit that 1:30 of doubles tennis will give you be hitting "taco Wednesday" at the Roanoak. 6 tacos, 3 beers, and 35 minutes later, I countered any nominal cerebral benefit talking to my friends for 35 minutes will give you by hitting "Beowulf in 3-D" at the AMC on 4th Avenue.

Great movie by the way if you are in to animated 3-D movies that look like one ginormous kick ass video game. I say that without owning an XBox or game cube, though I don't think many games would feature a 90% nude Angelina Jolee hot demon creature thing, and a hilarious speech dripping with genius sarcasm delivered deadpan by an animated John Malcovich. "Bravo Beowulf..." (clapping) "...Bra-vo."

OK, is it sketchy to find animated characters sexually attractive? It is, isn't it. If that's the case, I should probably be more concerned about my feelings toward Jessica Rabbit that spawned in the late 80's. Oh, and most of my high school "girlfriends".

By the way, an awesome visual movie Beowulf, but know what you're getting yourself in to. Much like Beerfest.

To bring it all back, I pulled another anti-chivalrous move about an hour ago when going through security at sea tac airport. Right ahead of me in line, a chick's bag was toppling over while she was undressing for the guards. I caught the bag, but her wallet spilled out, and stuff dumped everywhere. It felt like it would have been pretty invasive and sketchy to dive on the floor and go after her credit cards, money, and other items, so I just said something lame like, "um, your bag fell."

Wow, I think I really am a dick.