I've had extended debates on whether or not Brett Favre should be inducted into the Hall of Fame. I understand he has the most touchdowns. (twirls finger in mock celebration) He also has the most interceptions and when you combine them with his fumbles, more turnovers than touchdowns. I'm trying to picture John Stockton going to the HOF with more turnovers than assists. Favre has one super bowl victory...so does Trent Dilfer. Favre has a clothing brand to his credit...so does Stephan Marbury. Farve texted a random woman a picture of his penis...ok i'll give him that one; I laughed heartily.
Anyway, it got me to thinking. What if they had a hall of fame for other professions outside of sports. Of course my mind immediately went to porn; then what the equivalent of a turnover would be. Would porn stars be inducted based on number of videos appeared in? Number of views total? Number of med school letters turned down to pursue this career? I think pretty much any profession would be better served if there were a HOF. The medical field most notably. That would be badass if there were a 'most lives saved' category or a 'best disease curing percentage.' I think that would open up quite a few merchandising opportunities. I can guarantee they would have at least one sale if they made a T-shirt of the best doctor in the world strangling a bacterium with his bare hands. This thought seems somehow incomplete. Any ideas on better professions?
Monday, January 24, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Would you date someone who.....
A friend of mine recently gave me the classic films "JCVD" and "Bloodsport" for Christmas. As I sat there, eyes wide with joy, like a 50 year old housewife as she scrolls through TV guide and finds a rerun of JAG, I noticed the bemused looks of several of my other friends from the cinema proletariat. It didn't bother me that much; my proclivities for Van Damme are well known in my friend circles. It did get me to thinking though. How important are favorite movies in relationships? Would you date someone who hated your top 5 favorite movies? Would you date someone who's top 5 favorite movies you hated? To put that first portion in perspective it's like when a nice girl you just met pulls you aside at the local SkateLand after noticing your incredible aptitude with the huge fuzzy dice and engages you in ribald discussion. She looks pretty good, i'll say somewhere between 7-9. Over the course of the exchange favorite films comes up. You offer up the classics: Dark Knight, Inception, Lord of the Rings, Godfather, and the Lion King. She pauses for a second, looks frantically for a trash receptical, and unleashes her last two meals with the fury of 10,000 volcanos.
She wipes her mouth off, drags herself back to the table and, too exhausted to leave, continues talking with you for awhile longer. She proffers up some classics of her own: Battlefield Earth, Final Destination 3, Gigli, Zombie Strippers, and Soul Plane. In response, for the first time of your life, you acquire the "rage boner" because words alone cannot express the fiery hell you desire to bring her to.
Both of you stare at each other over a pal of silence, the gentle offshoot of the fog machine floating gracefully across the ground. The silence persists and as you gaze into her face you realize that she really is an attractive woman. Simultaneously, she comes to the realization that you look great too especially considering your financial status. Both of you gradually lapse back into conversation and find that on all important subjects you are exactly the same: politics, sports, comedians, etc.
Two hours later you leave with her phone number and are left with the age old question, "Do I call her back?" I'll leave it up for comment, would you call this girl back?
She wipes her mouth off, drags herself back to the table and, too exhausted to leave, continues talking with you for awhile longer. She proffers up some classics of her own: Battlefield Earth, Final Destination 3, Gigli, Zombie Strippers, and Soul Plane. In response, for the first time of your life, you acquire the "rage boner" because words alone cannot express the fiery hell you desire to bring her to.
Both of you stare at each other over a pal of silence, the gentle offshoot of the fog machine floating gracefully across the ground. The silence persists and as you gaze into her face you realize that she really is an attractive woman. Simultaneously, she comes to the realization that you look great too especially considering your financial status. Both of you gradually lapse back into conversation and find that on all important subjects you are exactly the same: politics, sports, comedians, etc.
Two hours later you leave with her phone number and are left with the age old question, "Do I call her back?" I'll leave it up for comment, would you call this girl back?
Monday, November 15, 2010
Working vs Relationships
It was recently posited to me that asking someone out quite closely parallels trying to get a job interview. His basic premise: after initial interview you often are needed back for a secondary one after candidates for the position have been narrowed down, if you get the job you need to perform well or you'll get fired, and if you don't like quitting outright you can deliberately sabotage the job and hope that they don't need your services so badly that they keep you anyway.
Not a bad comparison overall. I constantly hear people say relationships are work. Maybe I misinterpreted that as a metaphor. Perhaps analysis of the opposite will yield better understanding. Being unemployed vs being 'unemployed':
* Don't care about what you look like
* The main things you spend money on are alcohol and fast food
* You spend half the day celebrating not having to work and the other half scheming of ways to get someone to pay you without putting in the effort
* You hate being around people who are 'employed'
* The most frequented place outside of your apt is your parents house
* While everyone else is 'working' you spend your time playing video games and watching TV
* The older you get, the more socially unacceptable it seems to become
The only problem lies in the fact that if you go long enough without having a real job the government will send you a welfare check. Maybe I need to stick with it longer but I have yet to receive a giant box with holes punched in it that smells like cheap perfume with the return address of the US government.
Not a bad comparison overall. I constantly hear people say relationships are work. Maybe I misinterpreted that as a metaphor. Perhaps analysis of the opposite will yield better understanding. Being unemployed vs being 'unemployed':
* Don't care about what you look like
* The main things you spend money on are alcohol and fast food
* You spend half the day celebrating not having to work and the other half scheming of ways to get someone to pay you without putting in the effort
* You hate being around people who are 'employed'
* The most frequented place outside of your apt is your parents house
* While everyone else is 'working' you spend your time playing video games and watching TV
* The older you get, the more socially unacceptable it seems to become
The only problem lies in the fact that if you go long enough without having a real job the government will send you a welfare check. Maybe I need to stick with it longer but I have yet to receive a giant box with holes punched in it that smells like cheap perfume with the return address of the US government.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Omaha being Omaha
Wow, It's been awhile since I dusted off the digital pen and started blogging again. Hard to get back on the horse after a layoff. Now I know what aging pornstars must feel like.
Anyway, I recently left my second job at a gym. My job description was essentially to walk around to....anyone, and give them a free week pass to come into the gym. Seemingly not that difficult. However, I'm here to tell you that not all humans share my zeal for anything free. Most people were willing to give me their names. I did have a few entries that made me question their validity: China, Zappo, Fabi, and Koko (a guy) but not like I can call them out while trying to get them to accept a coupon from me. One trend I did pick up was that I had a alarmingly high 'hit' rate (meaning cell phone and name) from the 30-45 year old women demographic. Now, I'm not a salesmen, but this type of statistic would suggest that maybe I should be, for a product like Botox, e-harmony, or cougar perfume. This, coupled with my popularity with the 19 and under crowd at my previous gym pretty much tells me the only group of people I have no idea how to talk to is the one I currently exist in. I'm sure there is a marketing opportunity in here somewhere but I can't quite put my finger on it.
One other reason I probably shouldn't try to make a living selling is the simple fact that I have off days. You know, days where talking to someone you don't know ranks slightly below swallowing a urine coated pine cone. Now I'm not saying my days are the worst, BUT the combination of bloodshot sleepy eyes, a size medium black shirt (you'd think at a gym where they promote working out there'd be more XL's), a five day old beard, and aggressively walking up to people with my finger pointed loudly saying, "Hey, You want a free pass to a gym!" has yielded very low results so far.
Anyway, I recently left my second job at a gym. My job description was essentially to walk around to....anyone, and give them a free week pass to come into the gym. Seemingly not that difficult. However, I'm here to tell you that not all humans share my zeal for anything free. Most people were willing to give me their names. I did have a few entries that made me question their validity: China, Zappo, Fabi, and Koko (a guy) but not like I can call them out while trying to get them to accept a coupon from me. One trend I did pick up was that I had a alarmingly high 'hit' rate (meaning cell phone and name) from the 30-45 year old women demographic. Now, I'm not a salesmen, but this type of statistic would suggest that maybe I should be, for a product like Botox, e-harmony, or cougar perfume. This, coupled with my popularity with the 19 and under crowd at my previous gym pretty much tells me the only group of people I have no idea how to talk to is the one I currently exist in. I'm sure there is a marketing opportunity in here somewhere but I can't quite put my finger on it.
One other reason I probably shouldn't try to make a living selling is the simple fact that I have off days. You know, days where talking to someone you don't know ranks slightly below swallowing a urine coated pine cone. Now I'm not saying my days are the worst, BUT the combination of bloodshot sleepy eyes, a size medium black shirt (you'd think at a gym where they promote working out there'd be more XL's), a five day old beard, and aggressively walking up to people with my finger pointed loudly saying, "Hey, You want a free pass to a gym!" has yielded very low results so far.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Living Life
My current job involves selling gym memberships to a gym that doesn't exist yet. That's the only thing i'll say on that topic.
Last Friday I was privy to an experience everyone should have at least one point in there lives. Going out with the Young family. Octoberfest was in full swing at the Crescent Moon which stymied the momentum from an entertaining evening at my former female permeated house of residence. Downtrodden but unwilling to give up the night, we about face and head to a relatively benign Barrets. The bar is nothing to the naked eye, but after the raising of several flagons of libations we have so far encountered: a salty waitress, a guy i played ball with who stepped in for the maligned aforementioned waitress, a brief encounter by another troop to see what the commotion was, and the arrival of three of societies finest manifested in the human bodies of the Young offspring. Now, my interpretation of events may be skewed. Anyone who responds to my inquiry with, "Yes Al, playing Bailamos at a bar is a fantastic idea," is automatically my friend for life. As you may have guessed, the eldest Young played the role of enabler and somehow tables were cleared whereupon a dance party ensued the likes of which the barren halls of Barret's had not seen before and neigh will see again. Such greatness had this isolated pocket of celebration that even when I reported to work a scant 4 hours after the last consumption of a beverage a doubt or remorse never entered my still quite intoxicated head the entire day.
In a totally unrelated matter I slept for about 12 hours the subsequent night. Long live random Omaha bars. Although in all fairness to Crescent Moon, I heard it was a pretty great time too.
Last Friday I was privy to an experience everyone should have at least one point in there lives. Going out with the Young family. Octoberfest was in full swing at the Crescent Moon which stymied the momentum from an entertaining evening at my former female permeated house of residence. Downtrodden but unwilling to give up the night, we about face and head to a relatively benign Barrets. The bar is nothing to the naked eye, but after the raising of several flagons of libations we have so far encountered: a salty waitress, a guy i played ball with who stepped in for the maligned aforementioned waitress, a brief encounter by another troop to see what the commotion was, and the arrival of three of societies finest manifested in the human bodies of the Young offspring. Now, my interpretation of events may be skewed. Anyone who responds to my inquiry with, "Yes Al, playing Bailamos at a bar is a fantastic idea," is automatically my friend for life. As you may have guessed, the eldest Young played the role of enabler and somehow tables were cleared whereupon a dance party ensued the likes of which the barren halls of Barret's had not seen before and neigh will see again. Such greatness had this isolated pocket of celebration that even when I reported to work a scant 4 hours after the last consumption of a beverage a doubt or remorse never entered my still quite intoxicated head the entire day.
In a totally unrelated matter I slept for about 12 hours the subsequent night. Long live random Omaha bars. Although in all fairness to Crescent Moon, I heard it was a pretty great time too.
Monday, September 20, 2010
More Ideas
I've discovered the ultimate strategy to find out who your best friends are; delete one person from your facebook friends list every day for 317 days. Then, start calling them Danny Glover (or insert woman equivalent of buddy cop movie) and you're set.
After an intense internet search and a possible virus download I have ascertained the identity of the hottest girl on the planet. Formerly, she was known as 'the chick from the Call On Me music video,' now, Deanne Berry. But, just to prove that nothing good ever comes without some element sucking, she lives in England.
Evidently women traded senior year photos from high school. I'm confident this is gender exclusive; I can't think of another reason I wouldn't have any photos of friends from high school.... Anyway, it must suck to be a girl in high school. All the guys look completely retarded and like they are 15 years old. Most of the women could pass for 20. I'm not sure where else to go with that thought; I feel like I should be able to draw some sort of conclusion but it blew my mind so thoroughly smoke was coming out of my head.
Lastly, if any of you readers feel like you want to dance with my knowledge of fantasy basketball a league is forming. But, if you join the league, and your first draft pick is Kyle Korver or J.J. Reddick I will hate you forever and egg your house, or your parents house...if that's where you happen to live.
After an intense internet search and a possible virus download I have ascertained the identity of the hottest girl on the planet. Formerly, she was known as 'the chick from the Call On Me music video,' now, Deanne Berry. But, just to prove that nothing good ever comes without some element sucking, she lives in England.
Evidently women traded senior year photos from high school. I'm confident this is gender exclusive; I can't think of another reason I wouldn't have any photos of friends from high school.... Anyway, it must suck to be a girl in high school. All the guys look completely retarded and like they are 15 years old. Most of the women could pass for 20. I'm not sure where else to go with that thought; I feel like I should be able to draw some sort of conclusion but it blew my mind so thoroughly smoke was coming out of my head.
Lastly, if any of you readers feel like you want to dance with my knowledge of fantasy basketball a league is forming. But, if you join the league, and your first draft pick is Kyle Korver or J.J. Reddick I will hate you forever and egg your house, or your parents house...if that's where you happen to live.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Update
A couple observations that aren't developed into full thoughts:
1. Tina Fey's body is a government vessel used to transport the most creative tv writing mind in the United States.
2. I just realized the rapper Ghost Face Killer is talking about murdering white people. Still like his music though.
3. I still get amused when the temperature is 69 degrees.
4. The frugality of cutting off the sleeves of t-shirts slightly outweighs the douchebaggery of wearing a sleeve on your head. I'm bringing it back.
5. Why doesn't anyone wear baseball hats of their favorite band?
6. Halestorm is the first rock band with a chick as the lead singer I thought was good with the possible exception of Lacuna Coil.
7. I have nearly reached critical mass trying to balance going out with working out. Something has to give.
8. I need to start mailing in suggestions right now on how to end the next Resident Evil movie. I feel like the franchise has turned into the Dallas Cowboys: awesome action, extremely hot women, interesting personalities, all rolled into one big ball of disappointment. I'm willing to make a concession for good action but how hard can that possibly be. Joel made a history video in high school with light sabers and force powers that rocked and it wasn't even for him.
1. Tina Fey's body is a government vessel used to transport the most creative tv writing mind in the United States.
2. I just realized the rapper Ghost Face Killer is talking about murdering white people. Still like his music though.
3. I still get amused when the temperature is 69 degrees.
4. The frugality of cutting off the sleeves of t-shirts slightly outweighs the douchebaggery of wearing a sleeve on your head. I'm bringing it back.
5. Why doesn't anyone wear baseball hats of their favorite band?
6. Halestorm is the first rock band with a chick as the lead singer I thought was good with the possible exception of Lacuna Coil.
7. I have nearly reached critical mass trying to balance going out with working out. Something has to give.
8. I need to start mailing in suggestions right now on how to end the next Resident Evil movie. I feel like the franchise has turned into the Dallas Cowboys: awesome action, extremely hot women, interesting personalities, all rolled into one big ball of disappointment. I'm willing to make a concession for good action but how hard can that possibly be. Joel made a history video in high school with light sabers and force powers that rocked and it wasn't even for him.
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