Today is Angus Young's birthday. For those of you that don't know who Angus Young is, go sit in the dunce corner for an hour and drink whiskey and then come back and read the rest of this post. Angus is the pint sized school boy outfitted crazy ass lead guitarist of AC/DC and today is his birthday! Appropriately enough, when I was in New Orleans last week, some girl did a strip tease in a random bar on bourbon street to an AC/DC song. Today, in honor of Angus I bring you that song.
Thunderstruck
And since Angus is possibly the greatest guitar God of all time and a crazy bastard, there will be another video, my favorite AC/DC song of all time.
Let There Be Rock
If you could pick any 10 moments in time to be there in the crowd you might pick something like Moses parting the red sea or the Berlin Wall falling or something. Not me, that performance would be in there for me. That solo at the end gets me every time.
Friday, March 30, 2007
37 or 38 Things to do in Chicago
People always have no idea what to do. This list should help. At least 30+ of these are actually feasible and have a low budget. Don't ever complain that you're bored again.
Yes I came up with these while staring at the clock on a friday afternoon, so sue me.
- Erect Statue of Kirk Fogg in Kirk Fogg’s honor
- make origami
- learn to crochet
- go swimming in the lake
- go to one of chicago’s fine drinking establishments
- play a game
- have a jam session
- get everyone to sit in a large circle and give each other back rubs
- go bowling
- go to a poetry reading
- brainstorm ideas for a novel
- walk my neighbors dog
- go tp’ing
- buy a do it yourself book and do it yourself
- buy lots of ingredients and cook fabulous desserts
- play loud instruments outside a retirement home
- watch (NAME REMOVED FOR INNOCENCE) make out with grandpa death
- invite over coworkers for a make out party
- everyone reads their favorite story in the bible and acts it out
- buy a set of legos and don’t stop til our spaceship is built
- or a 3-D puzzle
- look at magic eyes
- cut the top off an empty soda bottle then go catch a caterpillar and a get a milkweed plant and watch the caterpillar metamorphasis into a beautiful buttefly
- go to sonic
- rent every single wrestlemania and watch them in a count down to wrestlemania 24 which happens Sunday night and eat 3 seven pound cans of pudding to satiate ourselves
- rent purple rain and sing along
- use on demand karaoke and sing lightning crash by Live 3 times
- LOTHT drinking game
- putt putt (or mini golf)
- decide who is a better actor once and for all, corey Feldman or corey haim
- watch the transformation of Elizabeth berkeley from saved by the bell innocent to showgirls tramp
- go to a bologna factory and learn how it’s made
- play charades
- play hide and go seek at hawthorne place
- discover the wonders of our IMAAAAAAAAAAGINATION
- play guitar hero
- actually learn how to play guitar - (wait, scratch this one)
- make clay pots while listening to the righteous brotheres
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
The Legend of Alligator Bugaloo
While in New Orleans, I happened to go on a canoe trip in the Bayou. While there, I met a man who goes by the name of Alligator Bugaloo. Alligator Bugaloo wore gator boots, black jeans, a beater, and a black bandana. On his face was a short black as coal beard, and from his left hand pocket hung a knife. He spoke in a thick, southern drawl, and had a tattoo of a skull marking his right shoulder. He was, the biggest bad ass I have ever met in my entire life. The following is my account of our meeting and subsequent adventure.
Kenny Havok: Nice to meet you Mr. Bugaloo. Kenny Havok here AIIIGHHHH FUCKING JESUS WHAT IS THAT?
Alligator Bugaloo: Hi, Kenny. Never mind him. That’s just an alligator on a leash.
(Takes a swig of Coors Light)
KH: Shit! How do you hold down an alligator on a leash? That’s a 9 footer! Can’t that thing MOVE?
AB: Well…he could…but he knows who his daddy is. (Takes a swig of Coors Light) If he try to go back to the swamp he knows he gonna get wrassled. And ain’t no gator beat Bugaloo b’fore. NO GATOR. (Finishes Coors Light)
KH: Damn. How often you feed ‘em?
AB: Live chickens, three times a day. It’s damned difficult to get the chicken in his mouth before he bites yer hand off. (Chugs entire Coors Light)
KH: Okay…well let’s get going here. I have some gator wrasslin’ to learn and some canoeing to do!
(We get in canoes and paddle into the murky obsidian colored bayou. Alligator Bugaloo drinks 5 more Coors Lights. It’s peaceful for awhile. Too peaceful…Alligator Bugaloo spots a 12 foot gator mama protecting its eggs and instructs me to get out of the canoe. I reluctantly oblige. Alligator Bugaloo drinks another Coors Light.)
AB: That there is a beauty. Yer in luck today. Normally I take horse tranquilizers so I don’t go all batshit crazy on the gators. Dried myself out yesterday, though. Makes me a mean ole sumbitch today. Withdrawal and everything.
KH: Are you sure it’s a good idea to go after the mother gator? Why not just go for a random one that might be less hostile.
AB: SHOW YER TATERS YA YANKEE SUMBITCH!
(Alligator Bugaloo pushes me toward the alligator. Immediately, it is pissed and lunges at me to defend her nest. I fall to the ground at the thrust of Alligator Bugaloo’s push and the Alligator bites me. It takes a small chunk out of my forearm. I am shocked.)
Kenny Havok: Nice to meet you Mr. Bugaloo. Kenny Havok here AIIIGHHHH FUCKING JESUS WHAT IS THAT?
Alligator Bugaloo: Hi, Kenny. Never mind him. That’s just an alligator on a leash.
(Takes a swig of Coors Light)
KH: Shit! How do you hold down an alligator on a leash? That’s a 9 footer! Can’t that thing MOVE?
AB: Well…he could…but he knows who his daddy is. (Takes a swig of Coors Light) If he try to go back to the swamp he knows he gonna get wrassled. And ain’t no gator beat Bugaloo b’fore. NO GATOR. (Finishes Coors Light)
KH: Damn. How often you feed ‘em?
AB: Live chickens, three times a day. It’s damned difficult to get the chicken in his mouth before he bites yer hand off. (Chugs entire Coors Light)
KH: Okay…well let’s get going here. I have some gator wrasslin’ to learn and some canoeing to do!
(We get in canoes and paddle into the murky obsidian colored bayou. Alligator Bugaloo drinks 5 more Coors Lights. It’s peaceful for awhile. Too peaceful…Alligator Bugaloo spots a 12 foot gator mama protecting its eggs and instructs me to get out of the canoe. I reluctantly oblige. Alligator Bugaloo drinks another Coors Light.)
AB: That there is a beauty. Yer in luck today. Normally I take horse tranquilizers so I don’t go all batshit crazy on the gators. Dried myself out yesterday, though. Makes me a mean ole sumbitch today. Withdrawal and everything.
KH: Are you sure it’s a good idea to go after the mother gator? Why not just go for a random one that might be less hostile.
AB: SHOW YER TATERS YA YANKEE SUMBITCH!
(Alligator Bugaloo pushes me toward the alligator. Immediately, it is pissed and lunges at me to defend her nest. I fall to the ground at the thrust of Alligator Bugaloo’s push and the Alligator bites me. It takes a small chunk out of my forearm. I am shocked.)
AB: COME ON YANKEE!
(The alligator lunges at me again. I quickly spin out of the way and hop on its back. Alligator Bugaloo throws me a Coors Light. I puncture a hole in the can using the gators teeth.)
KH: AWWWWWWW MEAT!
(I shotgun the beer. Like Popeye and spinach, the beer multiplies my strength 100 fold and the fact that I am drinking a damned Coors product fills me with a venomous rage. I suddenly remember that I am also, a huge bad ass. I pick the gator up by the spiny bitch’s tail and whirl it at a tree. The gator is furious. It charges at me. I reach into my pocket and pull out a ball point pen from my hotel. I jab the pen into the pressure point behind the gators eye effectively killing it.) Editors Note: You can actually kill a gator this way, proving this is a true story.
AB: WAHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! Blackened gator nuggets for everyone tonight.
(We haul the gator into the canoe and paddle back. We get back on land.)
AB: Hey, Havok, check these out. (Lifts shirt, exposes belly and chest.) WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah! Give me what I need, daddy!
KH: Jeezum Crow!
AB: Kenny, chere, just reach in the big tub of beads right there and toss a few this way. Come on, I’m working it here. (Shakes self side to side violently, his skin exactly the color of gator boudin.)
KH: Um, yeah, here ya go. (Tosses beads in bloodsoaked fistfuls.)
AB: Hey, don’t you have something else for your friend here? Little extra lard for the roux, you know, if you’re gonna be cribbin from Papa Bugaloo’s mental kitchen here?
KH: Honestly, I’m havin’ a hard time understanding what you’re saying here. Also, you do realize an alligator bit me right? And that I’m profusely bleeding? You are aware of this, right?
(Striking woman enters)
(The alligator lunges at me again. I quickly spin out of the way and hop on its back. Alligator Bugaloo throws me a Coors Light. I puncture a hole in the can using the gators teeth.)
KH: AWWWWWWW MEAT!
(I shotgun the beer. Like Popeye and spinach, the beer multiplies my strength 100 fold and the fact that I am drinking a damned Coors product fills me with a venomous rage. I suddenly remember that I am also, a huge bad ass. I pick the gator up by the spiny bitch’s tail and whirl it at a tree. The gator is furious. It charges at me. I reach into my pocket and pull out a ball point pen from my hotel. I jab the pen into the pressure point behind the gators eye effectively killing it.) Editors Note: You can actually kill a gator this way, proving this is a true story.
AB: WAHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! Blackened gator nuggets for everyone tonight.
(We haul the gator into the canoe and paddle back. We get back on land.)
AB: Hey, Havok, check these out. (Lifts shirt, exposes belly and chest.) WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah! Give me what I need, daddy!
KH: Jeezum Crow!
AB: Kenny, chere, just reach in the big tub of beads right there and toss a few this way. Come on, I’m working it here. (Shakes self side to side violently, his skin exactly the color of gator boudin.)
KH: Um, yeah, here ya go. (Tosses beads in bloodsoaked fistfuls.)
AB: Hey, don’t you have something else for your friend here? Little extra lard for the roux, you know, if you’re gonna be cribbin from Papa Bugaloo’s mental kitchen here?
KH: Honestly, I’m havin’ a hard time understanding what you’re saying here. Also, you do realize an alligator bit me right? And that I’m profusely bleeding? You are aware of this, right?
(Striking woman enters)
Rosie is a mean woman
AB: Hey, Rosie! Bring that twenty pounds of fine, gumbo-fed assmeat in here and jiggle up the Havok a 48 oz. Hurricane! Vite, my sweet, this boy has a gator bite! So like I was sayin’, a little lagniappe before we yap…
(Rosie leaves)
KH: Just some water will do. I don’t wanna go crazy again. And maybe a band aid. A large band aid.
(Rosie enters.)
AB: Ah, Rosie! You fine piece of fuckslam…I want to make love to your sugar brown ass right here on this desk in front of beer chuggin’ gator wrasslin’ Kenny Havok. Strip it off for me, you mindbending assmagical she-devil.
Rosie: Hm.
(Leaves drinks on desk, turns and exits with ass floating in tractor beam wobble behind her.)
KH: She know you’re talkin’ to her like that?
AB: Ah, that voodoo octaroon GONNA BE THE DEATHAHME YET!!! (Spills drink, collapses in chair.) Lady Claire told me she like to got a piece of my hair when I got here, used it to put the loveroot on me. Now I got to keep my hair under this protective hat all the time. White’s the color of protection in santeria.
KH: Isn’t that a Sublime song? What’s going on here?
(Alligator Bugaloo starts dancing. A snake lurks nearby and slithers towards him. I spot it, pull Alligator Bugaloo’s knife from the shaft and chop its head off)
AB: YOU ARE ONE CRAZY BASTARD! You’re not so bad yankee, thanks fer killin’ the python in the grass.
(Alligator Bugaloo picks up the snakes and walks away. He comes back 5 minutes later with a belt made from the snake.)
AB: A partin’ gift for the Havok!
(He gives me the belt. We exchange contact information and I return back to New Orleans. Later, I realize that his contact information is a bottle of spit.)
THE END OF A TRUE STORY.
(Rosie leaves)
KH: Just some water will do. I don’t wanna go crazy again. And maybe a band aid. A large band aid.
(Rosie enters.)
AB: Ah, Rosie! You fine piece of fuckslam…I want to make love to your sugar brown ass right here on this desk in front of beer chuggin’ gator wrasslin’ Kenny Havok. Strip it off for me, you mindbending assmagical she-devil.
Rosie: Hm.
(Leaves drinks on desk, turns and exits with ass floating in tractor beam wobble behind her.)
KH: She know you’re talkin’ to her like that?
AB: Ah, that voodoo octaroon GONNA BE THE DEATHAHME YET!!! (Spills drink, collapses in chair.) Lady Claire told me she like to got a piece of my hair when I got here, used it to put the loveroot on me. Now I got to keep my hair under this protective hat all the time. White’s the color of protection in santeria.
KH: Isn’t that a Sublime song? What’s going on here?
(Alligator Bugaloo starts dancing. A snake lurks nearby and slithers towards him. I spot it, pull Alligator Bugaloo’s knife from the shaft and chop its head off)
AB: YOU ARE ONE CRAZY BASTARD! You’re not so bad yankee, thanks fer killin’ the python in the grass.
(Alligator Bugaloo picks up the snakes and walks away. He comes back 5 minutes later with a belt made from the snake.)
AB: A partin’ gift for the Havok!
(He gives me the belt. We exchange contact information and I return back to New Orleans. Later, I realize that his contact information is a bottle of spit.)
THE END OF A TRUE STORY.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Cock Rock: Kickstart My Heart
Attention all doctors: If I ever slip into a coma, or have heart troubles or really any health problems for that matter, please play Kickstart My Heart by Motley Crue for me. It is guaranteed to cure me, for I am made of 10% flesh, 50% brain, 75% heart, and 100% rock and roll. I mean look at the song name, it leads itself to disease curing.
Ogresmash: Middle Aged Women
Now I am a young male, liberal and (semi?) intelligent. I am by no means a misogynist and I love the company of women aged 18-30ish. I don't know what I would do without the fairer sex. But, it's no secret that my worst fear is middle aged women. I know it's difficult to picture Kenny Havok with any fear, but it's true; I'm scared of middle aged women. This new pontiac commercial is just killing me, it sends me into cold shivers every time I see it. In it there's a middle aged women who tells me N-O no I can't get a convertible! Then she wants to know what's next an amp? And she MOCKS THE DEVIL HORNS! Listen bitch, when you start mocking the cock rock, you're gonna get my foot so far up your ass I might lose the Zubaz. But really, what is wrong with you? All you want to do is watch Oprah, censor music, prevent me from buying a bad ass car and kick ass amp, and talk to your friends about how other kids are a bad influence on your kid. Oh boo fucking hoo, your son (who is probably named Conner or Tanner, but that is a WHOLE OTHER POST) is getting a C- in math because other kids are a bad influence! NO BITCH, it's because he's got your dumbass genes in him. Don't you have to go be scared about killer bees and bird flu and other fake problems only you care about? Leave me alone to rock!
Let's examine the age groups of women:
Aged 0-18: They're kids, they're supposed to be annoying as hell regardless of sex.
Aged 18-30ish:
I happen to like women my age.
Aged 30ish-60ish:
I wonder if he realizes he's married to Manbearpig?
Women aged 60ish-beyond:
And she's hot too!
I am going to have the worst mid-life crisis ever. This is why I need to take the motorcycle lessons now.
Let's examine the age groups of women:
Aged 0-18: They're kids, they're supposed to be annoying as hell regardless of sex.
Aged 18-30ish:
- Smoking Hot? Check
- Like to party? Check
- Have a sense of humor? Check
- Have shown signs of intelligence? Check
- Are generally a ton of fun? Check
I happen to like women my age.
Aged 30ish-60ish:
- Drive a minivan? Check
- Name their kid douchy names? Check
- Hate music not recorded by people named Norah Jones? Check
- Watch Oprah? Check
- Are afraid of everything? Check
- Are unable to process coherant logic? Check
I wonder if he realizes he's married to Manbearpig?
Women aged 60ish-beyond:
- Give you totally awesome shit like small jars of good and plenty's and cough drops? Check
- Give you $5 all the time even when you're 23? Check
- Like watching cartoons? Check
- Get drunk easily with no regrets? Check
And she's hot too!
I am going to have the worst mid-life crisis ever. This is why I need to take the motorcycle lessons now.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
That's the Impression that I Get
It's March Madness time and everyone's excited about it. Whether they're picking major huge mind blowing upsets like Michigan State over Marquette or they're busy being uncreative and lame and picking no upsets, people are filling out brackets. If you don't, you probably have a Ken Doll private area. Who is my pick? Anyone but Florida. Why? Because Dicky Barrett can't coach college hoops. One of these men coaches the Florida Gators, the other was the lead singer of the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. I bet you can't tell which is which. Oh yeah. Go Albany.
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