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.

Those Aren't Writers

The writer's strike has really affected my entertainment these days. No Colbert Report or Daily show... and the Those Aren't Pillows blog. All have been off the air without their talented writing staffs. I only hope they can come to an amicable solution to all involved, and get back to creating their entertaining shows (and blogs) soon.

Something really got me mad today. I had an “A HA” moment you could say, a ray of light shown into the usual attic-dark stale recesses of my brain. My new best friend on the radio, the NFL Pick’em Guy, is a total f-ing fraud. And I knew it. Follow me here. Let’s say this guy KNOWS that he can convert a loser into a customer by giving him three free locks in a row, for free. Yes, anyone considering calling an expert sport picker he heard on the radio is now a loser. Anyway, let’s say 10,000 people call him after hearing about his penchant for perfectly nailing his WEEKLY LOCK on his nationally aired radio commercial. OK, let's say The LOCK game is New England -22 against the Jets. Which team does he pick? Well, he fucking picks both. He tells 50% of the callers that it’s New England, and 50% that it’s the Jets. Now he has 5,000 people convince he hit his lock and who will try him out the following week, when he tells 2,500 people that the Steelers will cover against the Sea Chickens, and 2,500 people that Sea Chickens +8 is A LOCK. By the end of week 3 he has 1,250 newly converted customers convinced that this guy can’t miss a pick, which is 1,250 more customers than he had three weeks ago. What an A-Hole.

Am I the last guy on the planet to figure this out?

I saw a double feature with my wife this evening, we went to go see Juno, and Charlie Wilson's War. Both actually are very decent flicks, even though they are nothing like Beerfest. I think it was the first time I saw two back-to-back movies in the theater since JTW and I used to pull the "three for the price of one" movie marathon in SF as kids. And by kids I mean five years after we graduated college.

Each and every one of you should have TWO farms now, since you surly bet one on Pittsburgh this past Thursday, after the Wood Dog raised his pick'em run on Thursday nights to 0-7. I didn't tell you my pick for nothing. Those of you with only one farm right now can only blame yourself.

I have nothing prepared for my upcoming two minutes on stage at the Seattle Comedy Underground for my family Christmas gathering. Well, nothing except some bits about walking my dog. Which doesn’t sound funny at all, until you hear the part about me waiting for his ass to start opening about 20 seconds prior to crapping, and how good that makes me feel. Wow, now it really doesn’t sound funny. But it’s a big deal, when you’re walking your F-ing dog around at midnight in the shitty 38 degree December Seattle rain, and all you want to happen is for the damn dog to take her crap, and when the little butt hole opens up, it’s like she’s getting ready, now she just has to find the right spot, and I’m putting my fists up in a Rocky style victory celebration… So it needs some tweaking, sue me, but this could work. Only a minute forty-five left to go.

If only I had some writers.

Up on the woof

I bought a pair of "Lucky" jeans about two weeks ago. They were expensive, like $125 bucks. WAY more than one should spend on jeans in my opinion. Now, several washings past the return policy, I have determined that they are much too big on me. The gangsta trow-drop look doesn't really go well with my Twinkie white person. (You know the phrase "Twinkie", right? White on the outside, even whiter on the inside?) I think though that I'm going to take the easy way out, and just grow my ass bigger. Maybe I'm just that cheap.

I have FINALLY seen the movie BEER FEST. Holy crap. If you have been known to enjoy beer, and maybe to do stupid things while enjoying your beer, or even if you just like drinking games, RUN DON'T WALK to your blockbuster / netflix account / movie channel and see this movie. It's exceptional. The only thing I didn't love about the movie was that I didn't write it myself. Be warned though, if you're not in the right mood for this kind of movie, you might find it exceptionally stupid... oh and I think chicks will HATE it. If you must watch with a chick, make sure they're drunk.

I love how e-mailing and text messaging from your phone can make you look like a completely illiterate tool. The combination of the tiny keyboards, hurried responses, and the "smart" word selection software can create sentences like the one I sent the other day to let my wife know our takeout Chinese had been delivered: "The food is heterogeneous". I think I will call this phenomenon "mobile retardation".

Sometimes working from a home-office / cave is just like working from a real office. Well, except the PJ's and poor hygiene part. Usually I work on my computer, and talk on the phone just like I would from the company HQ. And then there are days like today where my wife intercom's me and tells me to clean the gutters.

By the way, does anyone know why gutters reek so much? The crap I pulled out of there smelled like I had thrown the boy and the dog up on the roof and told them to have a poop-off, winner doesn't have to sleep in the crate tonight. Why the hell haven't I showered yet?

Thank you to loyal reader, we'll call him Reeegano, for the update on our favorite Lexus driving fish lover, Tuna 307. Well it looks like we have another great hunter who found an even BIGGER natural phenomenon and speared THAT animal through the head and weighed it. Sorry Tuna 307, meet TUNA 381! Yes world, we have a NEW RECORD SIZED DEAD TUNA! How does THAT feel? Tuna 381 makes Tuna 307 seem more like a "Tuna 233", if you ask me. Congrats to you both though for being my 2007 Co-Naturalists of the Year. I hope your two meet some day, and I hope that meeting is on the freeway with your two Lexuses going in opposite directions.

Dare to dream

With two weeks left in the regular season I have “locked up” last place in my NFL pick’em league per our insane league commissioner. My Swan Kick was to incorrectly pick 10 of 14 games last weekend, and I now have a commanding 15 pick lead over my nearest competitor. I am a perfect 0-6 on Thursday games, and near perfect when picking on the road in bad weather. In a 90 person league, this type of lead is almost statistically impossible. I don't think I'm even on the probability bell curve any more.

I was driving around the other day, wallowing in my 38% pick’em accuracy misery, when I heard a commercial for one of those expert sports betting picker guys. He was GUARANTEEING a lock for that week if I just called him, and the lock was free... no strings attached. If I liked his pick, I could call him back to get his COMPLETE LIST for a nominal fee. only if I wanted to. I felt like a recovering alcoholic and Jenny Craig client walking by dollar beer and taco night at the Roanoak. I thought about it. What would ONE pick hurt? I have a 15 pick lead for last place. Maybe that one pick would be the difference to win the Week 16 $150 pot and I could STILL take the overall last place money.

Just the fact that I can win a week and still take last place was starting to get my adrenaline going. I could do it, I could be the king. He seemed so nice on the radio too, and boasted an almost anti-Wood Dog 58% accuracy rate, and like 80% on his LOCKS OF THE WEEK. He seemed nothing like the BRD persona Gold Chain Wearing Fist Pounding LOCK OF THE WEEK guy that haunts my nightmares. Maybe I could just take his picks, win a week, take home some dough and then just win last place by a little less. Not a terrible idea, right?

NO! Not that I was really going to call the guy, but I can NOT think like that. Dead last in a pickem league? That's something I can brag to my kids about later in life.

The cryptic words said to Gold-5 during his last seconds of life as he attacked the Death Star echoed in my head "STAY ON TARGET". Like some magic Jedi A-A Sponsor telling me to fight the craving. STAY ON TARGET. I have to finish what I have started this season. I will NOT CHEAPEN IT. Though I might have to turn off my proverbial targeting computer for these last two weeks to make it through.

(Oh, and I picked St. Louis + 9.5 for this week's Thursday game. Bet the farm... on Pittsburgh. )

STAY ON TARGET

Christmas Card

[AS SEEN AT The Wood Family Blog]

How to make a CHRISTMAS CARD
(in 5 easy steps)

STEP 1: Make some kids

STEP 2: Add water, grow kids

Step 3: Buy a dog

Step 4: take about 150 pictures of kids and dog.
(click on the above to zoom on the pictures)

(OK, nix the dog, too difficult)

Step 5: Make Christmas card