The Last Wobbler.

Celia celebrated her 21st birthday on Saturday. Instead of drinking herself to death like so many 21 year-olds do, she left that task to her friends and husband. A picture is worth a thousand words, so here you go:

(This picture will stay up until Sherry demands that I take it down.)

(Edit: I made this picture much smaller to avoid Sherry’s wrath.)

We had about 10 people over, and ate dinner at Fyfe’s. I had about $70 worth of alcohol at the house, and was determined to get rid of all of it. I started mixing my world-famous “Wobblers”, which I perfected at the age of 16, working as a bartender. True story.

In the sake of full disclosure, here’s a picture taken of me that evening:

If you will, imagine me making that face and laughing for 5 straight hours, and you’ll have a pretty good idea of how I acted that evening. I more or less ruined Celia’s party, but the party was my idea. Is it possible to ruin something that you planned yourself? I’m not sure, but I more than paid for it on Sunday. Poor Benjamin threw up 3 times, cursing me for encouraging him to drink. That’s about all I care to remember. I spent Sunday on the couch, sipping orange juice and watching football, trying very hard not to move.

What an idiot.

I want to formally apologize to the following people: Celia, Benjamin, Sherry, Lindsay, Aaron, Anna, Amy, Chris and Cassie for my behavior. I was annoying, loud, overbearing and immature. I tried really hard to be a good host (reservations, booze, beautifully sliced cheese, etc.), but in the end, my lack of self-control turned me into a goon. I suck, seriously. In all fairness most of us were trashed, but I’m speaking for myself here. Hopefully, the next time we throw a gathering, you’ll put this behind you and show up.

2 things.

First off, Celia totally didn’t deserve to have her birthday upstaged by her embarrassing husband. I felt like Homer when Marge tried to throw that classy dinner for her friends. In this case, I threw the dinner myself, but proceeded to throw up all over it. In recognition of this, I’ll be on my best behavior for the rest of the year. I’ll probably take her out to dinner a lot, too.

Secondly, no more excessive drinking for Ryan. I’m hereby authorizing Celia to use deadly force if necessary to keep me from turding all over the next party we have. I know she only keeps me around to look sexy and wear cute sweaters, so that’s all I plan to do from this point forward. No more talking, because it’s not my strong suit anymore. I’ll cover my personality with hipster glasses and well-fitting denim, and sip Sprite for the rest of my life. I came to this conclusion on my own, because it’s the best way for me to make things right.

Ken Jennings is going to lose tomorrow on Jeopardy. You should watch it.

Tofurkey Depression.

This morning as I was driving to work, I couldn’t help notice that I was the only car in Madison that was heading towards the Capitol. In fact, I was one of about a dozen cars I saw on the road at all. I arrived at work 15 minutes early because of this, and I quickly realized that I was the only person in Madison that had to work today.

Well, not exactly. It sure felt that way, though. Everyone else is busy trampling over themselves at shopping malls nationwide, while I’ve been answering phones and keying in correspondence in an empty building. I thought I would hate this, but it’s actually quite peaceful. I’m taking a few days off in December to get my shopping done, so I’m in no rush there. Celia’s birthday bash is tomorrow (don’t forget to show up), and she’s currently at home enjoying her 4-day weekend. Thanksgiving went just fine back at home, and I stuffed myself like a disgusting glutton.

(It should also be noted that since I write this stuff while I’m at work, you could technically say that I get paid to do it. That’s always nice to know.)

So, without further rambling, here’s my list of 50 things I’m thankful for:

1. Wife, family, friends, cats, etc. (I had to get all this out of the way first.)

2. John Madden Football ’92-’98 for the Sega Genesis.

3. The Oil X-Change a block away from my house.

4. Stores that sell Small-size shirts for men.

5. Shoes that are made of faux leather.

6. “Seinfeld” finally on DVD.

7. “Home Movies” on DVD, although I’m not allowed to buy it.

8. Cheap, bag-less vacuum cleaners.

9. Republicans in office, keeping me safe from brown people.

10. Smirnoff Ice.

11. The ability to draw stick figures being decapitated.

12. Being left-handed.

13. The Sears/K-Mart merger.

14. John Kerry.

15. Every album by At The Drive-In.

16. The Green Bay Packers 5-game winning streak.

17. That kid that got punched in the face by Ron Artest.

18. Sneakers with lights in them.

19. Metal lunchboxes.

20. Taking my lunches at 1:30pm.

21. Ken Jennings. (He will lose on Tuesday.)

22. The dream I had last night.

23. Cool Water aftershave.

24. Not being a known sex offender.

25. Magnets in the shape of states.

26. Calvin & Hobbes.

27. Fancy Japanese toilets.

28. Fancy Japanese people.

29. “Courier New” font.

30. Monkeys who assist the blind and paralyzed.

31. Christopher Reeve finally being put out of his misery.

32. Alan Arkin.

33. When a Wal-Mart burns down.

34. “Classic Alternative”.

35. Red Swingline staplers.

36. Vegetarian nachos at Carlos O’Kellys.

37. Vegetarian burgers at Pizzeria Uno.

38. My cell phone breaking.

39. Anti-Skip CD protection.

40. The smell of White-Out.

41. Really good Key-Tar players.

42. FOX Sunday night programming.

43. Tumbling Pigeons.

44. Finally being good at Checkers.

45. Snack-Packs.

46. Kids who say “buh-sketti” because they’re stupid.

47. 24 hour-a-day gas stations.

48. Flat-screen televisions.

49. That Senator who killed himself on live TV.

50. Jesus, because he seems a lot nicer than God is.

What are you thankful for?

Roses Taped To Your Windshield.

The Architects new album is out. It’s called “Keys to the Building”, and I found it for cheap at CD Baby. I tell you, finding information about these guys is a lot harder now that they changed names. I did find a good review, though. Here are a few snippets, used without permission:

“In 10 short years, the Phillips brothers – Brandon, Zach and Adam – have matured from a youthful ska band (The Gadjits) to fire-and-brimstone-fueled rock revivalists. They’ve been signed and subsequently dropped from two labels that could have broken their career open – Hellcat (owned by Rancid’s Tim Armstrong) and RCA (owned by Clive Davis, the man behind Barry Manilow and Puff Daddy) – and each time rebounded with material that dwarfed anything they’d done previously.”

“”Keys to the Building” should have been The Gadjits’ breakthrough album with RCA. Instead, it’s just another great album that will probably be overlooked on account of the limited resources of its hometown indie label (Kansas City’s Anodyne Records, also home to Overstep and Dirtnap).”

“Regardless of the circumstances surrounding its release, “Keys to the Building” sounds like a major label release. It’s hard to imagine Gilby Clarke doing much better than the gigantic rock sound afforded by KC’s Berry Music Studios and producer John Seymour. This polish was sorely lacking on The Gadjits’ previous album, “Today Is My Day,” and pays dividends from the get go.”

“”Keys to the Building” was recorded during a time of transition for the band – keyboardist Ehren Starks was quitting and former Anniversary keyboardist/vocalist Adrianne Verhoeven was joining (she has since left the band). Both are listed as “additional players” but it’s unclear who made the larger contribution.”

“The nagging personnel issues did little to affect the album’s remarkable continuity and sense of urgency. Each song sounds like a last-ditch effort to save a music career seemingly veering on the edge of collapse. Lead singer Brandon Phillips abuses what’s left of his tour-addled throat to deliver some fine performances, and the rhythm section of Adam and Zack Phillips locks in with Zeppelin-esque precision.”

“While “Keys to the Building” will most likely invite comparisons to rock revivalist contemporaries like The Mooney Suzuki and (ugh) Jet, the album’s uplifting and soulful sound is more in tune with the The Black Crowes or even (gasp!) Creedence Clearwater Revival. Where “Today is My Day” sounded more like a band mainlining its influences, “Keys to the Building” is the sound of a band reshaping its influences into something very much its own.”

“The album’s ten songs are less notable as singles than a coherent unit. Each is infused with an equal amount of hard-earned sweat, and each has the potential to absolutely bring the house down live. The icing on the cake is the album’s closer – “Day of My Relief.” Accompanied by a gospel choir and a majestic grand piano, Brandon Phillips exorcises all the ghosts of his band’s past: “Day of my relief / Sure to come.””

“Fans that lost interest in The Gadjits when they shifted to rock and roll should have no problem dismissing “Keys to the Building” as a continuance of the band’s cheesy classic rock rehashing. But those who held their breathe after witnessing the band’s cathartic live shows finally have proof of just what makes these Gadjits – er, Architects – so unbreakable.”

(As a side note, me and my friends got to hear “Day of my Relief” about a year ago in Milwaukee. They played at the Rave, and we were chatting with Brandon after the show. He had a copy of the song that we blared from my car outside of the venue. It was incredible. I think that if they would’ve got the proper respect at RCA, they could be huge right now, reviving old school rock and soul for the mainstream. Come to think of it, it’s probably a lot better this way.)

So far, they don’t have an official page up, but I’ll be looking into it, and you’ll be the first to know. Other than a December show in Dallas, they have no upcoming tour dates.

That’s what I’m thankful for.

I’ve Got Perfect Words To Say.


Date – TBA

Place – TBA

Time – TBA

Price – TBA

Okay, so this isn’t happening. I just figured if the Benjamins can do it, so can we!

It’s a little past midnight on Friday right now, and I’m just getting ready to go to bed. The house is clean, the cats have been fed and properly groomed, and I’m wearing my flannel pajama bottoms. As you can see, married life has turned me into the man I’ve really always been.

It’s pretty obvious that Celia didn’t have to work very hard to rope me into this. I was never much into casual dating, I disliked parties to no extent, and the women I hung out with had such crippling emotional baggage that I almost went gay my Sophomore year. The thought of waking up next to someone I truly cared about was what sent me onward and upward, looking for that person who would settle for a egomaniacal knob like myself. I’m more true to myself lint-rolling the furniture than I ever was pretending to listen to 15-year olds go on about their boyfriends.

Most guys like choices. They compare it to cereal. If you could choose between eating the same bowl of cereal for breakfast every day for the rest of your life, or getting to pick from the variety pack all the time, what would you choose? What guys tend to forget is that variety isn’t an earned privilege. Just because you’re single doesn’t mean you get free reign over anything you want. Aside from that, the variety packs always leave me unfulfilled and ashamed.

Nothing turns women off faster than a single guy. Single guys don’t know how to take care of themselves. Without a gentle-but-firm female counterpart around, guys fall to pieces. They put on weight, refuse to shave, listen to terrible music, buy clothing that most women can’t stand and then they wonder why the phone’s not ringing.

Meanwhile, a guy with a significant other is well taken care of. The woman drags your ass out of bed, wipes the crust out of your eyes, and puts a ironed shirt on your back. Suddenly, women won’t leave you alone. It’s unfair, it’s completely baffling, it’s women in a nutshell. I couldn’t love it more. What women don’t like about men, GOOD men REALLY don’t like about men.

All around my place of employment, I hear bitter women venting about how much men suck. Suddenly, after 20 years of marriage and 4 kids, they realize that they can function on their own. They finally realize that they married a selfish, unresponsive, sexist prick that has no idea or intention of making their wife happy. The truth is simple. Most men DO suck. Most men think about themselves first, and refuse to make decisions with anyone else in mind. Most men cannot recognize any pain in their significant others unless she’s crying or bleeding. Most men are selfish without even realizing it, and when confronted with the facts, will have the nerve to try to blame it on the nagging of the woman.

Listen, jackass. If that woman wasn’t there for you, you would have absolutely no idea how to function as a normal human being. Sure, you THINK you’d be okay, but you’d be a Goddamn mess and you know it. You should be so lucky that this wonderful woman has offered you the rest of her life to attempt to whip you into decent shape, so she can show you off at gatherings. Do NOT let her down. She deserves better than you, and you’d better make damn sure that she never realizes that.

It’s not hard to make a woman happy, despite what you may think. Allow me to share with you the simple, 3-step process to making a woman content for the rest of her life:

Step #1 – Listen.

Step #2 – Understand.

Step #3 – Repeat.

I’m not writing all of this because I want to impress anyone, or to show off my feminine side. (Although my feminine side is quite a rare wonder.) You just need to understand that I just don’t like guys very much. For the last 22 years, I’ve had to listen to the most asinine comments come out of the lips of men, and pretend to agree with it. Friends, relatives, politicians, everyone. It troubles me to no end to think that behind each of these men, there’s a women who’s upset because of it. No doubt, the women are firmly in control of the relationship, but it’s still not fair to hurt someone you love because you’re retarded.

Not only that, but I don’t think that all these loser guys deserve the women they’re with. Regardless of all the mind-bogglingly awful things that we do, men still get more women than any other species on the planet today. This isn’t right. The next time your man pisses you off, play hardball. Tell him that you’re going to run off with a Yak, or perhaps a Teddy-Bear Hamster. An animal who knows where the nearest stream is, and who keeps in shape on their little exercise wheel. Obviously, it’s getting late, and I’m starting to ramble a bit.

My final thought is this. Men, you have no idea how easy you have it. All women ask of you is that you treat them the way you want to be treated. They may never make up their mind about where they want to eat dinner, but they’ll never waiver on the respect thing, I promise. Some women have serious problems, some men have serious problems, but the majority of people just want a pair of eyes looking back at them and nodding.

It’s the least we can do.

Monkey Is Not A Color.

Since we’re on the subject, here’s some quick thoughts on Television.

I’m starting to worry about Arrested Development. 2 episodes into the new season, and I’m liking the characters a lot less, and the plots are slipping from the absurd to downright silly. I still think it’s the funniest show on TV, but I hope it doesn’t continue the downward trend.

Badgers lose, Packers win. Ryan is torn, but happy.

I talked the Missus into watching The Burbs with me this weekend. Still one of the funniest movies ever made.

Speaking of the Missus, Celia made this prediction on Sunday, November 14 at 8:45PM. The “Boss” on My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss will be a monkey. Mark her words, I think she’s right. I’ll refer back to this post when it’s revealed that she was correct.

Why aren’t you watching Mythbusters? For God’s sake, it’s the best show on cable. If you’re not familiar with it, here are a few quotes from the show to get you started:

Adam Savage: “It just goes to show, don’t grab the third rail with both hands and piss on it from three inches away.”

Jamie Hyneman: “Something seems to be wrong with our Death Ray. I’m standing right in it, and I’m not dead yet.”

Adam Savage: “Let’s say, standard 85-percentile male, right? Six feet, 180 pounds. Uh, proportionally, that’s 72 inches to 180 pounds.” [holds up an action figure for scale-model testing]

Adam Savage: “10 inches tall? 25 pounds. I just did the math. I need him to weigh 25 pounds.”

Jamie Hyneman: “So you’re saying that he needs to be built out of depleted uranium.” Adam Savage: [laughs] “Eh, do you have some? Is it under “D” or “U” over here?”

Adam Savage: “How hard can it be to blow up a room full of gasoline?”

Well, you get the point. I refuse to miss an episode, and plan my day around it. Enough about Television.

Last night I had a dream that I was sitting in the back of an old pickup truck being driven backwards through a wooded area at a high rate of speed by Celia. I was wondering how I had gotten myself into this sort of situation, and how dead I’d be if she were to hit the brakes. Luckily for us, she stopped the truck by a run-down shack and we got out. There, a giant lumberjack of a man shot a flare gun at me, somehow blowing up the shack I was standing in front of. I then wrestled a pitchfork out of the hands of a lanky passerby, and put it through the lumberjack’s neck. As blood exploded from his jugular vein, I threw up and awoke. I didn’t sleep much afterwards.

The weirdest part came this afternoon, when most of that dream came true.

What are you dreaming about?

Violence Good! Sex Bad!

If you have a minute or 2 to kill, check out The English to 12-year old AOL’er Translator. Brilliant!

I’ve been as productive as a corpse this week. Sure, I’ve been typing and working on my pages like crazy, but that seems to be all that’s in need of my services. The house is spotless, there’s food in the fridge, work is as good as it can be. When I come home, I sit until I fall asleep. I’m learning to cherish these moments, because Thanksgiving/Christmas is fast approaching. I’m honestly debating on if I should complete my shopping this week or not.

I’m trying to set honest, reachable goals for myself this holiday season. My first goal is to not drive anywhere when there is more than a quarter-of-an-inch of snow on the ground. I’m not doing it. If I wake up for work one December morn, and see even the slightest of flakes blowing around outside my window, they can shove it. I’m calling in sick.

But it’s way too early to talk about Christmas right now. Today, I want to talk about sex.

Well, sort of. Me and the Missus have been discussing back and forth about sexuality in movies. I say that we as Americans are very reserved about sex, but glorify violence in a way that no other country does. She thinks that every movie ever made should be G. Honestly though, us Americans will watch all the ultraviolence we can handle, which is illegal in real life. However, when there’s sensuality or nudity, which is completely legal and great in real life, people get squirmy. What the crap?

When I went to England several years ago, there was nudity on prime-time television, and every beach was a nude beach. As a frightened American, I was not okay with this. With the exception of having a gun pulled on us, me and my friends saw nary a scrap of violence. (Seriously, we had a gun pulled on us, and we would’ve been mugged had we not made a break for it. For future reference, running from an armed mugger isn’t a good idea, but it worked for us.)

I gave Celia a pretend situation. Suppose that she had to choose what movie I was going to be in. In movie A, I have a brief nude scene (my supple ass, of course), and it’s IMPLIED that I have sex with someone. In movie B, I creatively and perversely murder no less than 35 people.

Before I was even done pitching this to her, she wanted me in the serial killer movie. This may or may not have had to do with the world seeing my supple ass.

Now then, the funny.

There’s a site online called Kids In Mind. It’s a great resource for figuring out what trash is in a movie before you see it. They go over every swear, every bit of violence, and any signs of affection. You, as a responsible parent, should then decide if you want your child to see it. This is also a good resource for desperate guys, as they don’t have to waste their time with a nudity-free film if they so choose.

I’ve been reading this page recently, and I wanted to share with you some of their descriptions of certain scenes from select films. Taken out of context, some of these things sound much different than they actually are. I think it’s hilarious. Enjoy!

This first bit of “violence” is from the new film, “The Polar Express”:

Three children climb into a pneumatic tube and are launched at great speed through a chute (we see their faces stretch from the G-force), and they fall onto a huge pile of gifts, they are closed up into a giant gift bag and are lifted into the sky.

A man trying to fix the light on a moving train slips and grabs onto another man’s beard causing him to scream (he dangles from the man’s beard for some time and the man continues to scream). Also, a man tugs on a man’s beard and he screams with every yank.

A train stops just short of hitting a herd of caribou that is grazing by the tracks. A man yells at a boy. A man appears perched on the top of a train and then disappears in a cloud.

Moving on, we now check out some scenes from the adults-only flick, “The Crocodile Hunter: Collision Course”:

A man pats a woman’s buttock. Two men admire a woman as she approaches them. A man makes comments about wild creatures finding “good looking Sheilas.”

The folks at Kids In Mind are very thorough, as you can tell. Who could forget this memorable scene from Pulp Fiction?:

There’s hardly any nudity, but there are explicit discussions of sex, and, most importantly, a man is shown being raped by another man.

Here’s some violence from Office Space:

Three men destroy a computer by kicking, punching, and hitting it with a bat. A man slices a fish’s belly and pulls out its slimy, slightly bloody intestines. We see a building engulfed in flames.

I firmly hold the belief that in the future, movies will no longer have titles. We’ll just go to the theater, and the signs will just say, “Horror”, “Romantic Comedy”, “Action”, etc. We’ll pay our 12 bucks apiece, and the movies will satisfy our needs.

I urge you to go check this page out and make your own opinions on if this is truly necessary, but before we go, here’s one more review from “Natural Born Killers”:

Many brutal and gruesome acts of violence are shown throughout the film. Scenes of carnage on TV screens play in the background of several scenes. There are beatings with bare hands and blunt objects, one character is tied to a bed and then it is set on fire, many people are shot to death, there is death by stabbing, and scenes of mutilation. Some of the scenes which depict killings are done off-screen, although threat and terror are shown. In one scene bloody bodies are shown hanging and strewn with blood streaked everywhere.

Let me tell you something. If you’re honestly checking to see if your child can view “Natural Born Killers”, perhaps you’re just too stupid to be having children at all.

Frink out!

Meet Me When We’re 10 Years Older.

Yo, yo, yo! I’m makin’ more dough than Charlie Chan, and clockin’ more ho’s than Ed McMahon.

Anyways, I read that Target stores are banning those Salvation Army bell-ringer Santas from peddling outside their stores this holiday season. Apparently, this is due to an existing ban on all solicitation. So, you know where I’ll be shopping this Christmas! Seriously, I must give 20 bucks every December to these people. The worst part is that each Santa is different, and they don’t know that you already gave the Salvation Army money. Dude, I’M BROKE! I have just enough money to buy this Matchbox 20 CD for my sister and maybe grab some dinner. Screw the Salvation Army, and their guilt-driven racket.

If you haven’t already checked out Boycott Unity, you’re missing out on a lot of interesting articles and shrewd propaganda. Remember, that if there’s anything you want to contribute, send it to BOYCOTTUNITY@YAHOO.COM, and I’ll make it so. If you go there now, you’ll see a USA Today article about where I work. Scandal!

Last night, I assembled a 5-story wire rack for the Missus’ stuffed animals that stands 7-feet high. It’s beautiful and horrifying. I’m fully expecting to come home tonight to see plush novelties strewn all over the apartment, with the cats nowhere to be found. As is their custom.

Tonight is a long-living tradition at the Zeinert household. TACO TUESDAY! Every Tuesday, the Missus makes wonderful vegetarian soft-shelled tacos. My only chore is to pick up some sour cream, which I’m typing now so I don’t forget. Come to think of it, it’s time for me to leave work now, too. Later G’s, I’m punching out.

I’d Kill For A Pool Table.

We’ve been living here for a bit now, but I never had the chance to put these pictures up. If you haven’t had the chance to visit us at our new place yet, please do so. I still have plenty of liquor left over from the Halloween gathering, and you’re welcome to crash upstairs (not pictured).

Here we see the Missus enjoying a wholesome television program. Tinker curls up by the fire.

4 inebriated strangers congregate in my kitchen. They refuse to leave until all the chocolate, cheese and wine is gone.

Gabriel and Tinker consummate their love by the fire.

I hope you had a good weekend. I worked more on BOYCOTT UNITY, bought a few CD’s and the new Get Fuzzy book. Celia bought a new winter coat, and we celebrated the purchase with a brisk walk. Tonight, we shall watch brand new episodes of King of the Hill, The Simpsons, Malcolm and Arrested Development. Whoooot!