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Archive for the ‘Come on!’ Category

Miss Maine Susie Stauble does not understand security

In Come on! on October 2, 2009 at 3:08 pm

While I am currently in Chicago and reside full-time in Brooklyn, my heart will always be in Maine.  So, on the rare occasion that I purchase USA Today, in the “Across the USA: News from Every State” section, my eyes inevitably scan to Maine first.  There is always the chance that the blurb will be about a lobsterman shooting someone who tampered with his traps or a woman who decapitated her husband’s head with a chainsaw and then buried his dismembered body in their backyard (true story from several years ago, a few towns over from where I grew up).

In yesterday’s edition of the paper, the caption perhaps took the cake.  No, no one lost their head, but someone did lose a trophy that rested on hers.  To quote the Maine entry in news around the country:

“Portland- Miss Maine Susie Stauble said her crown was stolen from her car last week.  Stauble, crowned in June, said she keeps the crown in a brown box on the back seat.  She said replacing the crown will be expensive and hopes it’s returned to her before January, when she’ll represent Maine in the Miss America pageant.”

Wow.  Someone should have told Susie that the back seat of a car is not the safest storage space.  In your barn or outhouse is far more safe.  Too harsh?  I’m allowed to.  Maine born and raised!

It’s about freaking time

In Come on! on August 15, 2009 at 6:00 pm

On this eve of the one month anniversary of my last post, I would like to issue an apology to everyone who has checked in for new outbreaks of the Fever and come away with nary an infection.  This is unfortunate and is being remedied now. I would like to give a special, deep, sorrowful apology to one Mr. Carlos Cervantes.

Instead of writing about something stupid I see on TV or a random epic event, I need you to focus on something far more disturbing: The fact that it seems that the memory of me is fatter than the actual me.

Over the past few years, I have been told it looks like I have lost weight at least an average of once a month.  I have essentially stayed the same weight, with a few pound variance on both sides of my average weight (for those of you who don’t know me I come from Brussels, and I am 6’4”- full of muscles).

What this leads me to believe is for some unfortunate reason, when the memory of me gets stored in a person’s head, it adds on some pounds.   I don’t even want to consider how many pounds a camera adds to me if the average person gets 15.

On a non-related note, ninjas are awesome.

Update: 3,333rd viewer is anonymous presumed awesome (APA), and MaineCoast12 looks to Chuck Klosterman for answers about Bayside

In Come on!, Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood on March 22, 2009 at 11:24 pm

If you happened to be reading JSF on St. Patrick’s Day, March 17, between 4:45 and 5 pm, there is a chance that you may have unknowingly hit the jackpot of luck.  Around that time, the 3,333rd viewer visited the site, earning the right to all the good luck that will surely follow this person like a tail, the massive shout-out, my undying adoration, etc, etc.

In heartbreaking fashion, two of the more serious cases of the Fever came close- Uncle Mike logged in at 3,229, while Joe Sarge was moments too late at 3,334.  Both deserve shout-outs, but the rules were the rules.  Only for 3,333.  So, sadly enough, we will have to wait around for 33,333.  I will be praying that THAT person will actually realize it.  FYI: We’re now at 3,585, so only 29,748 more readers necessary.  Also FYI: that could be a while.  At the current rate at which the Fever is spreading, the number will be reached on approximately August 4, 2011.

More importantly, mentioning Tori replacing Kelly on Saved by the Bell aroused the interest of one MaineCoast12, and I’m happy to report that this issue has been studied and reported on by one of the great minds of our generation, Chuck Klosterman.  In his fantastic book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto, Klosterman expounds upon MaineCoast12’s very question, terming the replacement as “The Tori Paradox.”

The Tori Paradox refers to the show’s last season in 1993.  NBC, the network airing Saved by the Bell, ordered a 13 show final season, with the final show consisting of the six main character’s graduation.  After the season had been shot, NBC ordered more episodes, but the Elizabeth Berkeley (Jessie Spano) and Tiffani-Amber Thiessen (Kelly) refused to sign new contracts (stardom as a flashdancer in Vegas and a switch of zip codes to 90210 beckoned).

Instead of just moving on with Lisa, Screech, Zack and Slater, the show’s writers introduced a new character, Tori, to fill the void left by two of the three female characters.  The Tori Paradox, of course, refers to the fact that Jessie and Kelly’s disappearances are never explained, nor is it made clear by Tori shows up.  To make matters more complicated, the show’s final episode was the graduation episode, in which Jessie and Kelly are back.

The lack of commitment to the story from Jessie and Kelly is shocking.  You’re telling me that they could have witnessed heroic performances like Samuel “Screech” Powers inventing a new dance fad, “The Crutch,” to compensate for Lisa’s injury during a dance competition at The Max, and you can’t even finish out the final season?  Come on!

Head Cheerleader + Grade Grubber = Biker Chick (Bayside Class of '93)

Head Cheerleader + Grade Grubber = Biker Chick (Bayside Class of '93)

Curt Schilling is annoying, and a wall of inspiration for the ages

In Come on!, The Sporting Life on March 1, 2009 at 1:50 pm

Curt Schilling was a catalyst for the Red Sox in both 2004 and 2007, bringing the World Series title back to Boston for the first time in 87 years and then again 3 years later.  When he’s on your team, you love him.  He’s fiery and talented, and seems like he cares about nothing else but winning.  He pitches through injuries, and pitches well, especially in big games: he’s 11-2 in playoff games he’s started.  If he’s not on your team, however, he is pretty annoying.  And he’s not on my team any longer.

Obviously I’ll always love him for helping bring two titles to Boston, but pretty much every time I hear from Schilling nowadays, I wish he would just stuff a bloody sock in it.  Today, signing onto espn.com, the headline “Schilling: Rays, Cubs would provide ‘challenge'” was one of the featured articles.

Sure, he is one of the greatest big game pitchers in baseball, but he’s also perhaps the greatest big mouthed pitcher in the majors.  In the article, he claims there is about a “20% chance” he will return to the majors this season.  Since when is a 1/5th chance of something happening newsworthy?  When there is a 20% chance of rain on weather.com, I leave the umbrella at home.

A born again Christian and staunch Republican, he fires opinions off as frequently as fastballs, becoming a lightning rod for controversy with every team he plays with.  Is he talented? Yes.  Is he annoying? Yes.  Is it worth having him on your team?  Absolutely.  Just ask the Phillies, Diamondbacks or Red Sox.  He brought the former to the world series and won a combined three with the latter two.   He’s a winner.  And a loudmouth.

This is more like it

This is more like it

Searching through pictures of Schilling on the web, I was lucky enough to come across Ricciardi’s “Wall of Inspiration.” To a T, I am inspired by every person on this list.  Except Barry Bonds- I kind of hate him.  But Marybeth Ricciardi, Michael Ricciardi and Kathleen McCann?  I have no idea what these people do, but the fact that they’re doing it, that inspires me.

When Wii bowling goes horribly, horribly wrong

In Come on!, Great Television Destruction 2009 on February 16, 2009 at 1:26 pm

Saturday night was a roller coaster ride through the highs and lows of life, accented by tequila, life imitating art, utter dispair, and good people.  Jack triumphantly arrived back at the homestead after a successful Manhattan brunch where numerous screwdrivers were imbibed and cute birds were chatted up (today I kind of feel like sprinkling in cockney British slang) with two college buddies, Sully and Cyrus.  Cyrus sits on the couch all day with such ease and frequency that Jack and Sully, the co-frontmen of Sweet Wizard Band (a band so classy that they took their promotional pictures on our building’s roof), recorded their only song about this (lack of) action.

Soon, beers magically appeared (did I mention they are sweet wizards?), and then tequila shots joined the party (poured from the handle we have been gradually killing with calculated attacks since our two day New Year’s event).  Needless to say, the good times were rolling, and the only way we could think to make it sweeter was to add the element of competition to the mix.  Firing up the Wii, bowling seemed like the best group option for the four of us.  And it was, particularly for me.

Even in real life, bowling and booze are fantastic combination for me.  Thursday night bowling league in college and $2 drafts at the alley? One game I got a 222.  First company outing at my first job out of college with pitchers of brews?  One video ipod won for high score of the night, a 187.  Saturday night?  Headed down that proverbial lane.

Six frames in and I had two spares and four strikes.  I had just rolled a spare on my last turn, missing out on whatever comes after a Turkey.  Tossing the controller over to Jack, I sat back to let Sully go.  As I was bowling the Wii game of my life, I felt a more distinguised seating position suited me, so I lifted my right foot and rested it on my left thigh, creating a perpendicular angle with my knee.

This decision would soon prove fatal for a most beloved appliance as we decided to re-enact the annoying Southwest Airline commercial you have undoubtedly seen, when the guy throws a Wii remote into his friend’s wall mounted flatscreen TV, only to have the TV fall down and smash through the table below.  Yes, Sully channeled that guy on his next roll when the remote shot out of his hand after striking the right toe of my sneaker.  But the guy who installed our TV was apparently more skilled than the technician responsible for allowing the force created by one pound remote being thrown at it from ten feet away that knock a TV off its moorings in the commercial.  So our table is safe.  And believe me, I was pissed at this point (but not really that angry.  Come on, I warned you about the cockney slang).

Oh, the humanity!

Oh, the humanity!

It’s not a pretty picture (although those are some pretty awesome colors that resulted).  Sully, being a stand up wizard, has offered to pay for the same TV if I want it, but to give me that amount if I instead want to upgrade.  So far, in the year and a half we have lived here, we have evolved from a 32” Samsung to the corpse of the 42” Sharp that you see above.

In an effort to support the economy and continue watching sports (or Lifetime movies) on a quality set, I have no choice but to upgrade to a 46” Samsung.  My mouth is watering just thinking of the picture quality, the crispness of color, and the boner inducing clarity of contrast.

But for now, it’s all about the colors.  By the way, from the audio, I was able to determine that the picture above was taken during a segment where Martha Stewart was interviewing Bill Clinton.  The subject they were discussing at the exact moment I clicked my camera?  The saxophone.  Somewhere, Joe Sargent and MaineCoast12 are smiling.

Of mice and men

In Come on! on February 12, 2009 at 12:42 am

Unless you are extremely lucky, you have dealt with bad roommates.  Right now, I have at least two of the worst roommates I have ever had.  They steal my food, take dumps everywhere, and just generally cause a ruckus around the apartment.  Yes, I have tried talking to them, but it is hard to get the words out when I feel the urge to shriek like a little girl whenever I see them.  You see, the unwanted roommates are mice.

Something about our apartment breeds mice that are, sadly, smarter than us.  In the past year, we have caught three.  Two were released alive: one after being caught in a live trap, and I caught one by somehow outsmarting it and closing the pasta box it was in, then holding it shut while I walked outside saying “oh my god oh my god oh my god,” trying not to freak out.  Regrettably, the third died, apparently of starvation when he was caught in the live trap.  Our bad.

But our current tormentors have taken it to a whole new level.  Until a week or so ago, there seemed to be only one: the smallest mouse imaginable, about the size of your thumb.  Of course, we lovingly nicknamed him Fievel.  He became the honorary fourth roommate, and we were prepared to live and let live, at least for a while.  But then Fievel crossed the line and invited another friend into the apartment, and the two of them have been raging ever since.  When I saw both of them together in the kitchen a few days ago, it became clear that the battlelines were being drawn: it was either them or us.  And since we signed the lease, it kind of has to be them.

Our kitchen is now a veritable minefield, unfit for any mouse.  There are four snap traps and two sticky traps, all baited with peanut butter.  Fievel and his friend are somewhere in the apartment right now, laughing at us, because they have licked the peanut butter off two of the snap traps.  The sticky traps have been just as wildly ineffective with the mice, but we did manage to catch a Mosher twice.  That’s right, twice.  Apparently, you should not be surprised that the mice can outsmart us.

While we have never seen either of them in uniform, the following sketches are who we are up against.  All we can ask for are your prayers.