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.

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.

Poorly Hung

In case anyone wasn't at the Cal - UW football game last week, you missed one heck of a halftime show starring Berkeley's very own American Idol, William Hung. Thank you to beat reporter JTW for finding a link to the video here and reminding me of my thoughts on the matter.

OK, JTW isn't beat, unless you consider a 4.7 on hotornot.com as beat. But I digress.

There we were, loyal Cal Berkeley grads and football fans, fighting off the rain and cold of a typical November game in Seattle, when we are warmed by the announcement that our very own William Hung would be performing for us at halftime. What a nice gesture to the Cal crowd in attendance, right?

Well homeboy appears on the field, wearing HUSKY gear, and shouts out "GO DAWGS" to the student section just before going into his inspiring rendition of his trademark song "She Bangs" while the UW cheerleader corps dirty danced around him. The UW band backed him up and even spelled out IDOL! in their own special marching band way. They were one. They were a people. Hung might as well have faced his ass toward the Cal section of the stadium, dropped his pants, and showed us a sparkling new "KISS HERE CAL" tattoo.

I felt betrayed. I felt angry. I felt like someone had kicked my wet cold nuts with a hot iron boot. Was he so wrapped up in the gig that he didn't realize his own people were there, as sworn enemies that day to the school he was now siding with?

William Hung is dead to me. He is the new poster boy for high treason and treachery. That sell out no longer deserves the honor of being considered a true Berkley icon among the ranks of The Naked Guy (may his soul rest in peace), Rosebud (may her soul rest in peace after doing time in the slammer in the sky for attacking the Chancellor), Rick Starr (may his overworked liver and crazy mind continue to belt out Sinatra into his fake microphone attached to a coffee can), David Temple (a.k.a The Yashua Guy), and the lovable Hate Man.

Where you once stood William Hung, you are no longer welcome.


NOTES:
In googling for pictures of the above I ran across this article published in September 2000 declaring that the venerable Rick Starr Show has gone on permanent sabbatical. Something about his tendency to harass attractive coeds on their way to class. Oh that suave crooner was always testing the limits. Rick Starr, thanks for your tunes, I bid you adieu.