Weiners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey

Happy Holidays!

2009-12-23T11:25:00.001-08:00

From Chaz and family.

More toilet paper than you can shake a stick at

2008-09-18T13:54:00.000-07:00

Where does the time go? It seems like it was only yesterday that I was writing about who has bad breath, and that was two and a half years ago. What has happened since my last real post, which was March 24, 2007?

Let's see.

1. I am still awesome, and spectacularly good-looking.
2. So is the wife.
3. We have another dog.
4. I am a homeowner.
5. I work at a German Pacemaker company.
6. My credit is actually good for the first time in my life.
7. I have a fully stocked cabinet of toilet paper.

Number 7 is the real clincher. When I was young and irresponsible, living in apartments that were later condemned (true story), the toilet paper never lasted. If you ran out, you would move on to paper towels, paper napkins, and Kleenex if you were lucky and there was any left in the house. I remember at the time I would visit my mom, and she would have closets dedicated to housing surplus toilet paper. I always marvelled at this. I wondered how anyone had the spare resources to not only buy a lot of toilet paper, but also store it.

At the time, I equated being a grown up to having an ample supply of toilet paper. Think about it- when was the last time your grandma ran out of toilet paper and you had to scrounge for newspaper because all the soft paper products were spent? Never! She thought ahead, and planned to replace the toilet paper when it got low rather than rolling the dice and waiting until the last minute.

Fast forward to New Years Eve, December 31, 2007. We went up to Wacky and Jimmy's house to spend a quiet holiday with friends, and were talking about what the year meant to everyone. When it got to me, I said happily "I have a fully stocked cabinet of toilet paper!" I am growing up, and surprisingly, it isn't as bad as I thought it would be.

The days have gone by since I first posted something on this blog, and I realized something about myself. A lot of the terms I used a couple years ago are totally dated. I don't think people are "down" with stuff anymore. If I ever return to this blog long-term, the "Down List", (see earlier posts) my list of everything I was totally down with, will be renamed to something more relevant.

Regardless, I don't think anyone reads this blog anymore, which is exactly what I was waiting for. I am going to write stuff when my mood takes me here, but I will not tell anyone about it. It may be tomorrow, it may be next week, it maybe next month. See you next time...

Is there anybody out there?

2008-02-11T13:43:00.000-08:00

Hello out there. Just a quick check to see if anyone comes to this site anymore. If you do, say "I".

Not as responsible as I thought I was.

2007-04-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

But it was worth it. I caved, ladies and gents, and bought me a couple gadgets. More to come...

The Glory of Metal

2007-03-24T16:56:00.000-07:00

Right now I am watching UCLA play Kansas in the NCAA tournament, and it is shaping up to be a classic. back and forth leads, shots at the buzzer, steals, and all kinds of crazy shit. Right now it is halftime, and I am crossing my fingers that the second half kicks ass as much as the first.

So what's new with the Chaz? Not too much. Week 2 of operation quit smoking is a success. I went to a smoking bar last night and did not smoke. I definitely felt much better this morning, and I don't smell bad anymore. Well, not that bad.

In addition, I got a bonus at work yesterday, which was completely unexpected. Typically when I get an unexpected stash of money, it goes towards something for myself, usually electronics of some sort. Well, today I went to a TV store to find myself a fancy new TV, but something stopped me, and I turned around and walked out. The bonus money is now sitting comfortably in my savings account. Why is this important? Because it is so uncharacteristic of me. I am the guy who goes out and spends money on stupid stuff and lives paycheck to paycheck. For the past 10 years, I have been the guy who spends my money irresponsibly, throwing it away on whatever I could. It will be interested to see how long the money sits in there before I get the itch to spend it on something...

In the meantime, I did buy two things:

1. The Arcade Fire Neon Bible- This is the new CD by The Arcade Fire, a band I first heard a few years ago on a jukebox in a smoky bar. Since then, it has been a major part of my music rotation, along with Grandaddy and Bloc Party. I have only listened to half of the new CD I got today, and so far it is phenomenal. Amazing. In fact, when this basketball game is over, I will listen to the whole album in it's entirety.

2. See's Candies Chocolate Lollipops- These might be the greatest treat ever invented. These little square gems might look like a turd on a stick, but that's where the resemblance to poop stops. I have been rocking these things since mom used to buy them for us back in the day, and they are just as good today. In fact, they are suprisingly effective in helping me keep off the cigarettes.

I also made another purchase, this time for my kickball team which starts league play in a couple weeks- A Dio Holy Diver T-Shirt. That's right, Dio. If you have never heard Holy Diver, crack open a cold one, put on some oversize headphones, pop in an 8-track and prepare to rock. This song will make you want to throw on some acid wash jeans and a mesh shirt, rock a mullet and bang your head. The reason for the shirt? This year's team is called "Lords of Metal". We will celebrate the glory of metal by crushing our kickball opponents. It is sure to be a fun time.

Love that chicken at Popeye's

2007-03-19T21:17:00.000-07:00

For some people, change comes easy. I have always wanted to be one of them. With risk of using an overused cliche that really underestimates the statement, old habits die hard. Over the course of the past month or so, I have been attempting to stick a pitchfork in some of my old habits. I have:

1. Quit Smoking (1.5 weeks so far)
2. Rebuilt my credit (2 years in the making, but really moving forward the past month or so)
3. Purchased Jogging Apparel to incorporate actual exercise into my life
4. Ate me some Popeye's chicken

OK, maybe #4 doesn't fit in there, but if you haven't had it you can't understand how otherworldly it is. Sure it kills #3, but sometimes you have to jump on the grenade, even if it's for yourself. Nevertheless, it sure feels good to attempt to get my ass respectable again.

Habits I have yet to kick:

1. TV- My sweetest friend. I have ice cold Tivo running through my veins.
2. The internet
3. Popeye's Chicken

In other news:
1. I have gone from basketball fan to basketball fanatic. For those of you who don't know, the wife and I have Blazers season tickets, and we are loving it. I am also completely immersed in the NCAA basketball tournament, which is fun. Every now and again, I will throw down some basketball blogs that will bore the pants off of everyone, but hey, no one knows I am back anyway so it really doesn't matter. In the meantime, check out Henry Abbott's fantastic basketball blog, Truehoop.

2. The wife is still sewing away and just completed her first pair of jeans. I figured I would throw that in there, because she is really excited about it and she should be. They look pretty darn hot on her.

3. The Riches, a new show on FX, is fast becoming my new favorite show. For those who don't know, the show is constantly being replayed and is only in it's second episode, so catch it now and we'll chat about it later.

4. I am looking for good hip-hop, because I am really missing it. Kick any suggestions my way.

I have a lot more to catch up on, but that's all for now. Until next time...

Coming Soon...

2006-10-02T09:37:00.000-07:00

Chazzie Chaz will be comin' back soon. Check back in the next few days...

Viva Las Chazzy

2006-04-18T14:53:00.000-07:00

Vegas is one of the only places I know that can be simultaneously fun, depressing, exciting and terrible all at the same time. I have been to Vegas a number of times over the past few years. I went in 2002 with my main dog Chewy, whose goal in life at the time was to do a line of coke off a stripper's ass to commemorate his 30th birthday. My aspirations for the trip were a bit more subdued, being that I was to be married a week following our trip.

Chewy's main drive for being in Vegas was simple: Gamble and look at tits. I had a more relaxed approach to the city. I wanted to walk around, check out the different places, and get a real feel for the town. In the end, Chewy's approach won for the most part, as we partook in table games and slot machines all over the city for the next two days, drinking all the free drinks we could. At one point I was sitting at a blackjack table at 6:00 AM, drinking a Jack and Coke and smoking a cigarette. That is how we did.

After a couple days of non-stop gambling, I decided to break free from the shackles of the casino floor. I walked up and down the strip, checking out all the different attractions there were to see. Finally I came upon the Bellagio, where I sat outside and waited to watch the water show in their large lake. I was entranced with the elegance of the water shooting off the lake, the lights cascading off the rippling waters, and the beautiful opera song the water danced to. I was at once reminded of my soon to be wife at home, how much she would enjoy it, and how much I really loved her.

That's how Vegas reels you in. Just when you think it is a cold lifeless place that preys on your cash and soul, something interesting happens. You never know what you're going to get.

This time around, I was for a convention for the second year in a row for my work. The convention is nothing exciting, just a bunch of computer manufacturers peddling their wares and technology for folks like me. They give you pens and other crazy gifts, you chat for awhile about how they can help your company, and you move to the next booth. At 4:00 PM, everyone stops what they are doing and goes out to get shitfaced on the Strip. Welcome to the Vegas workday.

Over the years of going to Vegas for different trips, I have put together a list of things I have to do before I leave. Here is that list:

1) Go to Caramel Lounge in the Bellagio for a martini. The martini used to cost a whopping $18, but now it is a more reasonable $15 and completely worth it. The scene is dark and candlelit, with a DJ playing a mix of downtempo and hip-hop music. The beautiful people file in as the night goes on, and soon you are surrounded by eye candy, like something out of the show Las Vegas on TV. A great place to chill.

2) Watch the Fountains in front of the Bellagio. See reasons above. Even though a lot of the music pairings are cheesy as hell (Elton John on the most recent trip), the place still holds a special place in my heart.

3) Drink a Jack and Coke at a Blackjack table at Dawn (Non-work trips only) I mean, hey, it felt good doing it then, right? Jimmy and I will be doing this within one year. Guaranteed.

4) Figure out new innovative ways to get a free drink This is one of my favorite games to play, since I don't necessarily want to"gamble", yet I still want the free drink that comes with it. This past trip was a good experience, as I taught a co-worker the art of copping free drinks. It was one of those times where as the teacher, not only did I help develop someone else, I learned a lot about myself. Damnit, I told myself I wouldn't cry...

5) Find a diamond in the rough I love to explore, and this time around, my find was in downtown Las Vegas, otherwise known as "Old Vegas" in the Four Queens casino. We were lured in by free stuff giveaways by the door of the casino, and while starving looking for something to eat and drink that wasn't a shrimp cocktail or prime rib, we came across the Chicago Brewing Company. We sat down to some better than average beer and a surprisingly decent Chicago style deep dish pizza, and marveled how we lucked upon the place in such a shitty location. It was a good find.

6) Walk like crazy This isn't something I really want to do, but you have to on the strip to get anywhere. Why take a cab for $10 when it takes 15 minutes to walk? It makes no sense. The problem is, a little walking can become a lot of walking quick. This time around, on the second day of the trip, we got out of the convention at 2:00 PM and had to kill time until 6:30 PM, when we had to be at the airport. None of us wanted to drink or gamble, so we ended up walking. and walking. and walking. We got to see a whole lot of stuff, but man, it was a lot of walking. My feet are still recovering.

That's all I got on Vegas this time around, but I might have some random notes about my trip in the next couple days. I am only half here today, for reasons I will explain in more detail on Friday.

I'm not dead... yet.

2006-04-17T20:49:00.000-07:00

This is not a ghost speaking. Chaz is still alive and kickin' it y'all. I have been crazy busy with a new baby in the family (as I am sure you are all painfully aware by now) a trip to Vegas for work (story to come) my mother coming to town, crazy work, and more! This has all led to a general lack of any sort of personal time necessary to write something to the standard I really want to write. I could slop a bunch of shit on a page real quick, but you really don't want that, do you?

Don't answer that question.

Things are finally starting to mellow out now, and with that will come fresh new writings that tell of my past few weeks. For those of you who still check my blog all the time, I apologize for my lack of stuff. For those of you who have given up on ol' chazzy, you can eat poo. (Just kidding, I love you guys too)

For now, I have a See's candie lollypop with my name on it in the living room. A new blog is on it's way tomorrow!

My New Niece

2006-03-30T13:03:00.000-08:00

Ladies and gents, may I present you with my new Niece, born this morning at 3:00. Welcome to the world, Acadia Rose.

Not on purpose, anyway

2006-03-28T08:46:00.000-08:00

My dog got sick again. Little Velcro, our wonderful little dog, done got herself sick. The Wife was in Chi-town trying to get her TV show on, and I was at home, tending to my 3.5 pound pup. She is doing better now, but not without some worry on our part.

Our dog got pancreatitis back about six months ago. It is a disease where the pancreas over produces enzymes that eventually eat away at the other organs up in there. Usually if the dog was sick, we would just take it easy, let her rest, and be done with it, but with the pancreatitis and eventual flare-ups that could happen, it makes us worry a bit more.

Alas, she is OK. She pooped a magnificent poop yesterday for the first time in a few days. I'm talking an award winning poop. Good stuff.

In regards to part III of my hippie days, it is still on tap. My mind has been elsewhere the past few days, and I have been unable to focus. Maybe it is all the acid...

In other news, my twin sis is about to have herself another kid. Yeah that's right. Chaz has himself a twin sister. More importantly, he has himself a twin sister with a couple children, moving on three. She will be having her third little one by Wednesday, when they induce the labor. I will post a pic when I get one.

In the meantime, bear with me. I am still going to be writing and what not, but it has been a crazy couple weeks with crazy ones coming up with babies, familes, and of course a healing velcro.

The Wife and her quest for global domination

2006-03-22T17:36:00.000-08:00

You might be asking yourself "Self, where the hell is part III of Chaz's hippie epic?" I really want to read about that crazy cat.

Well, part III is still being crafted in my head, so you are going to have to wait another day for it. In the meantime, I would like to throw a shout out to The Wife, who is rocking Chicago at this very moment.

The Wife kicks ass. She is incredibly talented and creative, and is going to try to do something big in Chi-town. I love her to death, and am sending my best good luck vibes to her right now.

So in the place of my blog today is her blog with a countdown to the big day tomorrow. Read and enjoy.

http://bagsfagsanddrags.blogspot.com

See y'all tomorrow!

The hippie days, part II

2006-03-20T21:25:00.000-08:00

After college, I went to a friend's family's cabin to stay for the summer. I got in a pretty bad car accident, which sent me back to Colorado to live. After about a year of wrangling, I was left with a pretty decent settlement from the insurance company of my friend who drove the car. The money left me with what I at the time dubbed the "Summer of Love."

It was the summer after my second year of college. I was still smoking a ton of weed with my friend Beans, and doing acid when we could. We were still living like pot smoking clichés, playing a lot of guitar, partying a lot, and getting more and more hippie.

It was at this time I decided to grow my hair out long. It was down to my chin at this point, and I was rockin' tie-dye shirts and birkenstock knock-offs. My music collection was mostly classic rock, with some Grateful Dead thrown in for good measure. I spent my summer days laying by the pool at "The Matador", the apartment complex we lived in, and my nights doing some sort of drug or drinking at one of the many parties that were going on in town.

The Matador Apartments were a complex of about 15 buildings, all with probably 16-20 apartments each. The complex was located a few blocks away from the Colorado State University campus, and most of the people who lived there were college students. At night, the buildings were a hotbed for parties, with different events going on almost nightly. Beans and My apartment was the meeting place for all of our friends, a crazy pack of people all intent on partying and living "kind".

Our friends had quite the social network- on any given night, weeknights or otherwise, we would call around until someone found something for all of us to do. Everyone would meet at my apartment, we would smoke some weed, rock out to some music or make our own, and get in a big party train to whatever party we decided was worthy of crashing. Most of the time our itinerary involved multiple stops in a night, as the police force in Ft. Collins was crippling-- a party getting busted was expected, and we needed backups.

Regardless, usually the pre-party at our place was much crazier than the parties we went to. There would always be an assortment of trouble you could get yourself into, and there would always be girls over. When we went on the party train, I usually led the pack on my scooter I had at the time, usually either giving Beans a ride or one of the girls I met at our place. Behind me would follow three or more cars loaded with people, intent on getting their swerve on.

At the end of the night, we usually had just as many people crashing out at our place, and in the morning we would smoke some weed, get some music going, and either hit the pool or go to the local bagel shop. We all took turns buying breakfast, knowing eventually the other guy or girl would eventually have their turn. After breakfast, the rest of the day would be spent by the pool, drinking drinks, smoking weed, or having a morning trip. Acid in the morning was always the best, because you could actually get to sleep at night, at least most of the time.

The days went on like that for months. We would venture out further to go to shows every now and again, go dancing or hang out at home and do stuff with all the people that ended up at our place. Guitar would be played, the occasional drum would come out, and life was simple.

When the money ran out, I got a job working at an Italian restaurant as the pasta maker. My days would be spent by the pasta machine, adding flour, eggs and salt over and over again, listening to talk radio, and going out back to smoke or drink with the cooks and the dishwasher. My normal day ended at 3:00, and I would head back to my place to do whatever came to me. I had a fake ID, so I would sometimes hit the bars with my co-workers and drink like the restaurant industry folk do.

Every now and again I would go into the job on no sleep or worse-- I would take acid while at work. This was not the best idea, but then again I wasn't the brightest kid back then. One time while on acid at work, I got my finger caught in the pasta machine. It barely phased me. It was not until I showed my boss my traumatized finger that I realized what actually happened, and a few stitches later I was back at home, wondering where to go that night.

We continued this lifestyle for awhile. A lot of cigarettes, weed and acid passed through our hands, and life was a big carnival. It all peaked in the fall of 1995, when Beans and I decided to make a road trip to Lincoln, NE to see Phish play. This was going to be a very memorable trip indeed.

Tomorrow: Part III of my hippie life.

The Hippie Lifestyle

2006-03-18T20:09:00.000-08:00

Throughout my life I had hippie roots. My parents were old hippies in San Francisco, selling bumper stickers, tie-dyes and paraphernalia out of their old milk van to make ends meet. They moved on to sell jewelry on the streets, sometimes during the protests that defined that city in those days. They smoked a lot of weed and did all the crazy stuff that can be expected of a hippie in the late '60's in San Francisco.

Although our parents mellowed out (pardon the pun) from their hippie leanings when we were children, a big part of the lifestyle still remained. When we were growing up, we traveled constantly with our parents, whose life was going to different arts & crafts festivals all over the west coast to sell leather belts and crazy belt buckles.

Some of my parents best friends were on that tour. There was "Uncle Eric" and "Uncle Steve", a gay couple who sold crystals and showed at a lot of the same shows as my parents. Both were well over 6' tall. Eric, had big eyes and a beak-like nose-- he reminded me of an eagle. Steve was a spitting image of Jesus Christ. They used to come over, hang out with our parents, and smoke a lot of weed late into the night.

There was also Jad and Sue, who lived in a cabin way, way up in the California hills. We would go and visit them from time to time. They were friends of friends of friends of Robin Williams, and that seemed to come up a lot. Jad used to smoke those long brown cigarettes, one after the other. Sue had Herpes, something I overheard my parents discuss long ago but didn't understand until after my sex-ed classes in elementary school. It seemed to be a lot bigger deal back then than it is now; now people just shrug that kind of thing off these days.

I don't remember much about going and visiting their cabin, other than walking through the woods. It was a small place, and most of our time was spent eating and talking. My dad would sit on the porch with a chain smoking Jad, smoking those crazy brown cigarettes he smoked. One time when I went out there and sat with them, my dad looked over at me and told me to go in and get him a "special cigarette" from my mom. I went in to ask her for a "special cigarette" for dad, and she presented me with a gigantic joint to bring to him. I didn't ask questions, just delivered the goods. I am guessing he got a good ass-chewing from her for that, because they were always a lot more covert in their pot smoking from then on out. They really tried to keep it away from us and only do it at night after we had gone to bed.

There are two chapters I remember from childhood: the adventurous early years of my youth where we drove around all summer long staying in hotels, hanging out at malls and plazas, and having a wild time, and the more subdued chapter wherein my parents attempted to stabilize themselves and the family by moving us to Colorado. I always thought the former was much more fun than the latter. As our time in Colorado went on, my parent's hippie tendencies slowly went away.

It never went away with me, however. In 1991, my freshman year of high school, The Iraq war started. I didn't want the war, so I started attending protests in Ft. Collins, CO. Ft. Collins is a college town, so when the war started, the protests were big and raucous. The first protest brought out over 5000 people marching against the war. After the march, there were speakers in the downtown square. One of them was a girl I recognized from my high school-- she was speaking on behalf of the Students for Peace and Justice of my high school, and I knew I had to get in with her. I started going to those meetings at school, and eventually ended up dating her, who was a senior at the time. ( I was a stone cold pimp) We did all kinds of crazy hippie shit, like go get tea and talk about "the man". I must admit, I was mostly into trying to get busy with the girl, but a good portion of our talks rubbed off on me. My hippie roots were coming out.

Through high school, I became more and more focused on smoking weed and even taking acid for the first time my Jr. year of high school. My main man "Beans" and I would smoke tons, listen to Hendrix, and mellow out in his basement room with blacklight posters and crazy glowy shit. We were basically a cliche- exactly what you would expect from a couple stoned out high school kids.

Somehow Beans, my partner in crime, and I got through high school and into college, where we partied a ton. We lived in a (cough!) fraternity, and became the house Timothy Leary, dosing straight-edge people who wanted to rebel with acid and guiding them through the trip. By guiding them through the trip, usually that just consisted of watching Dazed and Confused or Liquid Television, laughing a lot, and talking them through the high. It worked for us. We made a lot of close friends that way.

Coming tomorrow:

Part II of the Hippie Lifestyle! Stay tuned.

More than a feelin'

2006-03-13T18:29:00.000-08:00

In my younger years, I had many identities. In junior high, I always wanted to be the new waver kid that rocked all black. That faded in and out through my early years of high school. Towards the end of my high school years, my fashion and identity wavered between "that stoned guy" and attempts at preppiness (my reasoning: the preppy guys got all the ladies). In college, I was a member of a (cough) fraternity, and adhered to the fashion of my "brothers". After college I went through a hippie phase, followed by a raver phase, banana republic phase, a hip trendster phase, a black t-shirt phase, and a euro-fashion phase before I settled into my current phase, which is "broke guy trying to look good."

My main man chewy has a theory about people's fashion as they age, and we have talked about it in length over many a beer and drink. It goes something like this:

Eventually, most everyone gets stuck in a period of dress.

A perfect example of this are the rocker guys from the late 70's, early 80's. These are the guys that are usually sporting mullets, rocking a Boston or Bad Company T-Shirt, and most likely have a comb hanging out of their back pocket. Though more rare today than, say, 5 years ago, the 80's rockers were unprecedented in their ability to get stuck in a period of dress.

Take a look at your grandparents. Throughout my childhood, my grandpa was always rocking the collar shirt with some form of slacks and sensible shoes. The slacks were usually some dated brand and design, usually polyester, and usually in a color palate only available at Sears 30 years ago. He found the style that suited him and stayed with it.

As for me, I have been stagnant in my dress in the past. There was a 3 year period where I was rocking my hair in crazy mini-spikes that I could have easily rocked for 3 more years. I had my labret pierced for years, but took it out a couple years ago. I would have gone back to it, was it not for The Wife gently letting me know to move forward, not behind. It is a good thing, too. It was comfortable.

That's what it all comes down to-- comfort. People find what suits them in all they do, and stick with it. That is why married couples settle down into a rhythm. Same for people eating the same meals all the time, knowing they could be making duck confit but instead having Mac & Cheese. They know what they are in for, what to expect from it, and there is no guesswork.

Lately I have been getting scared about getting comfortable. I don't ever want to settle for something rather than working to have something better and less predictable, but I can see it is happening to me slowly regardless. Perhaps it is human nature.

This week, I am going to talk about the phases in my life I mentioned in the first paragraph, and will go into detail about the Chaz from back then vs. Chaz now. It will give you a chance to see the crazy places some people (me) went to fit in. Fun fun fun.

***

In other news, The Wife is out of town. She has been in Seattle since Saturday. When you are married and you see someone every day, it takes some time away from that person to realize how wonderful they truly are. In marriage, it is easy to get comfy in a situation and take the other person for granted. When they are gone, it make you wonder how you ever got by alone. She'll be back on Wednesday night, and I look forward to it.

Really Really Really Good Looking…..

2006-03-08T09:30:00.000-08:00

Editor's note: Today is Wednesday, which only means one thing- Guest Writer Day! Today's guest writer, we'll call her "Steezer", is crazy, rad, and has her own blog at http://weeninwyoming.blogspot.com. We don't hang out much, but we should. Yo Steezer- let's do lunch!

I recently became a Nike foot model.

That’s right, I am a model for the stinkiest, ugliest, strangest fetish part of the body. Why me? Its not that I have never modeled before, don’t get me wrong. I am living proof that anyone can be a model.

I was a runway model for a local clothing boutique in Bellingham, WA once. During this show I had three outfit changes. One, was a workin’ girl sort of outfit, the other was sporty chic and the last a prom dress. I really worked the stage. People loved me. I thought my new career had been born, but sadly I realized that people there were wasted, not in love with me, although there is a fine line between the two.

Next, I found myself modeling clothing for a friend of mine that lives here in Portland. Nothing too fancy, just me and him in my living room, me cheesin’ it up for the camera. I know that sounds suspiciously like a porno, but it was on the up and up I swear. But a foot model? I don’t have pretty feet. Believe me. In fact, I have a screw in one of my feet from a surgery I had when I was in Junior High. So along with these screws I have scars galore.

Ok….so it should be said now that a foot model doesn’t necessarily have to show off their feet. In fact I didn’t have to at all. So, why me? Because one of my best friends is the producer at a photography studio and she got me the gig. I wore some stunning Nike shoes and was paid $100 for my effort. I actually think I got some sort of a work out doing it because I had to hold in my foot in awkward positions for like 3 hours.

All the modeling got me thinking about being a model and living your life based solely on your looks. How would that feel? I can tell you that from my experience it is uncomfortable to say the least. The photographer was taking these REALLY close up pictures of my shoe’d foot and leg. By close up I mean CLOSE UP. He had a camera with a ginormous lens and then he was sitting about 3 inches from me with the camera trained at my leg. Have you ever seen your leg that close up? Well I have and it ain’t pretty. I don’t care who you are. It can’t be. I could see my skin cells practically. Every hair follicle, every place I should have put lotion, every vein, every skin imperfection in general. THEN I had to sit there while about 5 people talked crap about how my leg looked. Lets just say I left there with a renewed sense of self, and an appreciation that I am not relying on my looks to get me through life. I am not sure if it is any smarter to rely on my brain, but I have more of a chance to “fake it.”

Me, A shoe and a dream...

Bounce with me, bounce with me

2006-03-05T09:53:00.000-08:00

It has been a little over three excruciating weeks since we had our last Down List. The time has now come to drop some science on your collective asses.

First, a quick Public Service Announcement about Drinking the Alcohol:

"Hello, my name is Chaz Fresh. You might remember me from such blogs as 'If it ain't jumbo, don't shrimp it' and 'It tastes like a bottle of piss someone farted in.' I would like to talk to you about a very serious topic: Drinking the alcohol.

Drinking the alcohol socially can lead to embarrassing moments and awkward situations. You might think if you don't drink the alcohol your chums will call you a 'square' or worse, but by not giving in to their god hating ways, you are doing your body and your head a big favor. Just say no to the drinking of the booze.

Drinking the alcohol regularly can pose even larger problems. Not only will your head hurt all the time until you get your next 'fix', your taste in good liquor will go down. Drinking for flavor will be out the window, and before long you might find yourself sleeping in a port-a-potty, waking yourself up to shoot grain alcohol to the back of your throat with a syringe your found on the street corner. Don't play that game, friend.

In addition, drinking the aloholic beverage in excess will lead to the following:
Headaches
Taco Bell cravings
Nausea
Sharting in bed
Projectile Vomiting
Sleeping with 'unsavory' partners
Taz Tattoos
Diarrhea
Recklessness
Shit talking
Professing your love for someone you just met
Usage of 'Profanity'
And more...

So remember what Ol' Chaz Fresh says about drinking. 'Don't be a crazy in the head tool, drinking the alcohol is not cool.' Thank you."

Back to the lecture at hand-- it is time to bring you, my faithful reader, a dip into the world of Chaz. That's right people, after a long delay, I am back to bring you the Down List, a fun list of what is hot in my world right now.

1. Bacon. There are things in this world that are so beautiful they defy explanation; bacon is one of those wondrous things. Sliced pork strips are the cat's pajamas, a treat that can be enjoyed breakfast, lunch or dinner. Why, I just capped my morning off with a breakfast sandwich complete with a nice slice of bacon on it. Amen.

2. Frisbee Golf. The year was 1995. Chaz was just a wee lad of 20 going through a hippie phase, his hair long and tied into a topknot. I lived near a disc golf course, and took every opportunity to smoke a little weed and go throw some disks. In one of my final games, I threw a par on the course, which might have been my greatest moment ever. I didn't play after that for years until last Sunday, when I played 27 holes at a course nearby. The first 9 I was a bit rusty, throwing a 7 over par. The second nine I trimmed that to 5 over, and by the third nine I was at 2 over. A good time was had by all.

3. Hitachino Nest White Ale. This beer is pure heaven. An absolute masterpiece. This Japanese beer, suggested to me by master beer guy Jimmy Drylids, is a floral delight. If you have not had this beer, you should go get one. In Portland, you can find it at Concordia Ale House, Ciao Vito, or that new gigantic asian grocery store up on 82nd. Check it, yo.

4. New Windshield Wipers. My ride kicks ass, but when I got it, the windshield wipers were making a godawful clacking noise every time they went back and forth. Every time I got in the car I was pained by the annoying sound of the wipers. (remember, we just had a streak of 40 days with rain) We were driving back from Centralia, WA on Friday and ran into some light rain. I turned the wipers on, and the drivers side wiper blade went flying into the sunset at breakneck speeds. This led me to believe I needed to replace the wipers. I replaced them yesterday with some fancy teflon wipers. To test them, I splashed my bottle of water on the windshield, then jumped in the car to listen. They were absolutely silent. It was a dream come true.

5. The Wife's New Blog. It is twisted, funny and crazy. Give it a look at: http://bagsfagsanddrags.blogspot.com/

6. The Bouncing Boobies Website. This was originally posted on Deadspin, one of my fav sports blog things on the web. The link is actually a site for sports bras, but will no doubt elicit some chuckles:
http://www.shockabsorber.co.uk/bounceometer/shock.html

Have a great week everyone.

Small town blues

2006-03-04T09:47:00.000-08:00

Sorry I have missed the past couple days, folks. Thursday I was simply being lazy, spending my time at the gym and around the house. It was a great day for the out of shape Chaz to get his groove on working out, and it was a good one. My upper body is still sore today.

I was out of town yesterday with The Wife, exploring the great unknown that is Centralia, WA.
Centralia, WA is a small town in the middle of Washington off I-5, not too far away from Olympia. It is a typical small rural town in the middle of nowhere. It does, however, have a quaint little downtown which looks straight out of the past, filled with old diners, antique shops, mom & pop furniture shops, the town hardware store, and more. The Amtrak stops a block over from the main strip of the downtown, letting people from other areas (Portland, Seattle, etc) stop at Centralia to wander around for a while.

We went to Centralia to chill for the day. The Wife had a short class to teach, and we were going to check out the shops and have lunch when she was done. While waiting, I went to the Centralia Perk Coffee Shop to relax. Centralia Perk is an old cafe/antique shop full of chandeliers, crazy old furniture, and more knick knacks than should be allowed. They also have tables strewn throughout the controlled chaos where you can sit with your coffee and chill. I got a mocha and sat to read my GQ while waiting for my wife to get done. Townsfolks came and went in the hour I sat there, all greeting the barrista warmly by name, inquiring about kids, and sharing in the most recent Centralia gossip.

I have always wondered what it would be like to rock a small town like that. Long ago, a part of me wanted to live in a small town-- I had this big fish small pond daydream. That dream vanished long ago when I was in a car wreck in Ashland, NE and had to ride 45 minutes in an ambulance to the nearest hospital. The conveniences in a large town really do come in handy.

Even so, being in a small town in a small cafe, it is amazing to hear what they have to talk about, what is important to them. They talked about family-- babies and shit-- and meaningful stuff about friends and their own lives. Just listening makes you feel like a part of it, even if you are an outsider looking in.

I finished my coffee and headed over to meet the wife at McMenamin's Olympic Club, a bar/pool hall/hotel/movie theatre that has been restored and seems to be the center of downtown. We had a couple beers with our nice, slow lunch, and headed out into the land of the antiques. I am not a huge antiquing fan, but when we go, I enjoy it. I like going to Goodwills and thrift stores to try to find diamonds in the rough, but antique stores are different. They already know what has value and what doesn't, so the prices are way higher than one might expect. We went to several antique shops looking for modern classic pieces for our house, as well as for a specific gift item The Wife was searching for. If you are into antiques, Centralia is your place.

We called it a day around 4:30 to head back home. It would have been great to stay the night at the Olympic Club, catch a movie in their restored theatre, and relax. Maybe next time.

With that, I bid y'all farewell until tomorrow, when I give you the long awaited, special Sunday edition of Down List, brought to you by the good folks at Weiners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey.

A Fan of Showers?

2006-03-01T13:48:00.000-08:00

Editors Note: Today is Wednesday, which means one thing- guest writer day! Gracing us with her presence again is The Wife, who has started up a blog of her own! Please visit her new blog at http://bagsfagsanddrags.blogspot.com

There are four different types of showers. The kind that gets you clean, the kind that gets you dirty (you know which golden one I am talking about), there is the kind that replenishes the earth, and then there is the loud, gaggling, sorority-like, nausea inducing shower. For the few men out there and most of the women who have attended such a shower, you know what I mean.

I have attended one. That first and only shower was my own. A wedding shower. It was uncomfortable and cheesy, but full of loot, so I am not going to complain. I walked away with more stuff than Chaz and I did on our wedding day! But for the most part, showers all entail the same thing: Games, food, prizes and, of course, GIFTS. As far as I know, you only get two showers in your lifetime, that is, IF you decide to have children. The ubiquitous Wedding Shower and the non-drinking Baby Shower (don’t want to remind the mother-to-be of what she is missing). Well this weekend I am attending the latter.

MY FIRST BABY SHOWER. (From here on out listed as B.S.)

A month ago, my doppelganger Gucci (she has been renamed to hide her identity), went to her first B.S. Now Gucci and I have gone way back, and have many of the same life principals and ideas, one of them being to remain childless. Gucci has very little experience with children in general. A week before the B.S. Gucci calls me up:

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Hey, I can’t come to Fiesta de Chaz, I have Anal’s B.S. to go to.”

“Oh, B.S. What are you going to bring?”

“I don’t know. Have you ever been to a B.S. before?”

“No. But I think you play games, win prizes, eat food and give gifts.”

“Shit. It’s at 10:00am. There is no way Anal is going to serve cocktails. I hate pastels. Ugh I hate B.S.’s!”

“Tough Titty Gucci.”

Gucci was at a loss, felt out of place and ended up drinking two bottles of champagne with another childless friend, while the “mom gang”, as she puts it, shunned the two of them. It sounded miserable to me, b.s. Well, now it is my turn for my first B.S. Since it is my sister-in-law who is preggers, I am more excited about it then Gucci was. I mean, I’m going to be this child’s aunt. I am the one that will give her her first taste of champagne. I am the one who will take her to get her eyebrows waxed and to art museums and fashion shows. This is way more exciting than some strange kid from an old friend back in high school. This is FAMILY. I can buck up, wear something demure and hit a family B.S. because that is what family is for, right?

Right.

So B.S.’s aren’t my thing. Big deal. It is only an hour or so of my time. And since I am not getting a second shower in my lifetime, I should have one in it’s place. Right? Right. So, since I’m not having a B.S. I have decided to have a 1/3 Shower. A shower that is for my 1/3 of a century, to be held on the 33rd day of my 33rd year, which is August 16th, 2011. And you all better be ready to play some games, eat some food, win prizes and give gifts! That is my idea of a shower that EVERYONE can enjoy! Right?

Age ain't nothing but a number

2006-02-28T16:49:00.000-08:00

The Wife and I were sitting at home last Tuesday watching American Idol. The wife can't get enough of the show, and I am not afraid to admit that I don't mind it either. On the show the "women" were competing the first night. One of the girls performing was 16, and when asked if she felt any pressure because of her age, she replied "Age is just a number, it doesn't matter."

During the same telecast, I saw the commercial for the upcoming movie Aquamarine for the first time. The plot for this movie (so far as I could tell) goes like this: a couple teenybopper chicks meet a blonde teenage mermaid who needs to find love (or some shit like that) and the young mermaid grants the teens wishes. It looked absolutely terrible. More importantly, the commercial for this movie made me feel much worse.

For the first time in my life, it made me feel old.

Now I am only 31 years old, which isn't very old in the big scheme of things, but in terms of a generation gap, this is huge. Here's why:

For the first 30 years of my life, the only generations to directly effect my life were those who were older than me- I was still part of "Young America." There were younger generations coming in towards my later years, but I still felt like I was fresh enough to relate to them. Now, for the first time in my life, there is a younger generation that exists who share different ideals and morals, those based on how they were raised in our current tech-heavy world. Their version of entertainment differs considerably than what I consider entertainment, especially in this day and age. Sure, we might both be watching American Idol, but they are voting for people based on a completely different criteria than I am, theirs being one that is based on their modern upbringing.

Think about this for a moment...

When I was born, internet and personal computers largely did not exist. CDs, DVDs, VHS and cassette tapes weren't even heard of. Rap music didn't exist in the mainstream. Homes didn't have microwave ovens or cable for their TV. Buttons on phones were still coming into their own, and cell phone, pagers, and even cordless phones were not going to be around for awhile. My friends and I grew up in a great age of technological discovery. The youth of the world (age 16 and down) have almost always had it available, and it has shaped their lives in a whole different way.

I went to high school in a college town. Often times my friends and I would go out to lunch at some of the little places around campus, where we were guaranteed to see tables of college students sitting around and studying. Looking at them, there was a considerable difference in the way they looked-- they appeared more mature, older and wiser. My friend Beans and I wondered if we would look like that someday to high school students, or even to each other. We didn't know the answer to that question at the time.

As I have found, however, our friends and other people in our age group all seemed to look the same over the years, but the people outside our age group looked a lot different. When I see some of my old friends, they look like they did in high school or college, but if I were looking at pictures then and now, there would be a noticable difference. When I see teenagers, however, they just keep looking younger and younger. It's funny how the mind works.

After I saw that movie trailer, I felt like I was losing my connection with youth in general-- my youth and youth-at-large, and it made me feel disconnected for the first time. Technically, I could be the father of a 15 year old right now, (though that would be more applicable if I was in Alabama) which is a scary thought to have. I still feel young, but to the young I am not young. I am a 31 year old man.

This is not to say I don't feel young. I am writing about the perception of young and old from opposing views- those of the younger generation and those of my own. This isn't to say I am out of the loop, either, nor would I suggest such a thing. I am still dope-ass Chaz Fresh muh-fuggers, so don't disrespect.

So that's that. I guess now I move forward in life, knowing I will live life to my fullest with a young mind and a beautiful wife. I am only old in the minds of teenagers, who might see me in a restaurant someday and wonder if they will ever look like I do someday. If they're lucky...

I've got the free beefs

2006-02-24T15:08:00.000-08:00

It is Friday, and you know what that means- Free Beef!!

The year was 2001. I was a younger version of myself, footloose and fancy free. The world was my oyster, and I had just recently moved to Portland, OR from Brooklyn, NY. Portland seemed like a normal town, but something caught my eye that year that didn't make sense. It was a giant billboard for a tire company called Les Schwab advertising "Free Beef" with the purchase of some tires. To me, it was absolute madness. "Free Beef is Back!" The billboard lured.

I was a vegetarian at the time and railed against such a travesty. "This is absurd," I thought, "What a cowtown Portand is." I remember the first time I drove by a Les Schwab I noticed a gleaming white freezer behind their service counter, presumably full of meat. It felt completely surreal. I mean seriously. Free beef at a tire place?

Fast forward to the year 2006. The signs were all over town again, touting "Free Beef." Commercials on TV promised "Free Beef is Back!" The pimp-ass ride needed new tires, and there is a Les Schwab right near the house. This was going to be the opportunity of a lifetime!

So today I cut out of work a bit early to get my tires. I got the cheapest tires they had to replace the two back ones, they examined the front tires and one of them was shot too, so they gave me a used one to put on that will last about 6 months or so. While I was waiting in the lobby for them to replace the tires, I ate some complimentary popcorn, wondering what kind of beef I would be getting. I waited an excruciating 20 minutes that seemed like 20 years, and finally was able to collect my meat prize.

They wait until the very end to give you your beef. After the money has changed hands, the girl behind the counter got a twinkle in her eye and said "Since you bought two tires, would you like some free beef?" "Hell yeah!" I said back to her. She gave me the option of bacon wrapped sirloins or regular sirloin steaks. I went for the regular ones. She stuck them in a box, handed them to me, and sent me on my merry way.

Tonight, we will go to Wacky Poo Blacky and Jimmy's house to eat these delicious looking beefs.

The Down List will come in a special Sunday post this week, because these steaks might or might not make the list. For now, I am down with free beef, regardless of how it tastes. (or looks) This could all change very soon.

Runnin' Late

2006-02-24T12:06:00.000-08:00

Hey All- I was going to post something last night, but went out for beers with a co-worker instead. Sorry!

I will be running a new post this evening- The Down List! Come by later or this weekend and check it out.

In the meantime, my friend Wacky Poo Blacky started her own blogsite:
http://wackypooblacky.blogspot.com

Check it out, and see you soon!

DAWG vs. DOG

2006-02-22T13:46:00.000-08:00

Editor's note. Wednesday is guest writer day, and here is a good one from The Wife. Enjoy.

(Otherwise known as “Randy Jackson” vs. “Roake’s” Coney Island)

This weekend was an eye opener for me. I done got educated. And not only did I get some education, I got it from THE DOG! Chaz was there to witness the occasion, but he is not THE DOG I speak of, Roake’s Coney Island is.

Yup, I graduated from the school of “Roake’s” on Saturday. Summa Cum Chili Dog.

Nestled on the quaint avenue of McLoughlin, 18109 S.E. McLoughlin Blvd to be exact, is Roake’s. A tin can squashed in the middle of two parking lots. Yes that is right, not one, but TWO parking lots. Roake’s shack houses seats for maybe 12, if you don’t mind sitting on top of one another, or getting hit by the door, but dining IN is not what Roake’s is all about. In fact, the ambience isn’t what it is all about. It is THE DOG. Most diners choose to sit behind the wheel of their rigs enjoying THE DOG, and since Roake’s has parking for 40, who needs restaurant seating?

IT WAS MIND BLOWING!

Chaz can be hit or miss when it comes to food recommendations, but the Roake’s Dog is gourmet genius. It was a foot long, quality dog with a light smattering of mustard and a smearing of chili (aka Coney Sauce) topped with the perfect balance of chopped onion all shoved in a nicely toasted bun. The perfection. The balance. The impact of heaven. When I was finished I turned to Chaz and said “you’d better thank GOD we’re never having children, cuz if I got pregnant you'd have to drive your ass out here twice a DAY!”

The only way I can paint how amazing this dog is, is to put it in these words: Once you’ve had a Roake’s all other hot dogs become Randy Jacksons. Yup. Now you understand. For example, your phone rings, you pick up:

“Hello.”

“Hey ________, it’s Johnny here, wanna go grab a quick Randy Jackson?”

“Naw man, I had a Roake’s the other nite, and now I can’t never touch a Randy Jackson!”

Click.

Get my point? I thought so. But if you are still a bit confused here are some write ups I found while doing hot dog research:

“The term 'Randy Jackson' is credited to sports cartoonist Tad Dorgan. At a 1901 baseball game at the Polo Grounds in New York, vendors began selling hot dachshund sausages in rolls.

From the press box, Dorgan could hear the vendors yelling, 'Get your dachshund sausages while they're red hot!' He sketched a cartoon depicting the scene but wasn't sure how to spell 'dachshund' so he called them simply, 'Randy Jacksons.' And the rest is history.” – from the National Randy Jackson & sausage council

Why would you want to eat a dachshund? Let alone a Randy Jackson?

Also:

"Most supermarket Randy Jacksons use cellulose casings, which are removed before packaging. Some, however, still use the traditional natural casings, made from animal intestines. By law, a Randy Jackson can contain up to 3.5 percent of 'non-meat ingredients.' Don't be scared. This is usually just some type of milk or soy product used to add to the nutritional value. Many Randy Jacksons may be relatively high in fat and sodium, but they are also a good source of protein, iron, and other necessary vitamins." – from the National Randy Jackson & sausage council

Can you just say “EEW”?

And if you need a chef's opinion, here are chef Caprial & John Pence’s take:

"John and I are big fans of hot dogs," she says. "We'll be at the bistro and kind of look at each other, then we'll cut out and go to Roake's…” Caprial (pronounced "kuh-preel") likes hers with sauerkraut, cheese and mustard. "I'm a chili dog guy," John says. -from the Portland Tribune

So there you have it. One visit is all you need, and every other hot dog becomes just an ordinary ol’ Randy Jackson.

I'm back, yo

2006-02-21T12:10:00.000-08:00

I hope you didn't miss me too much in my week break. In everything you do, you need to take some time off to chill. I started this blog in July, and the only time I took a week off was for the holidays when my mom came to visit. I needed a week to regain my composure, get my cool back, and think of ways to make my blog better. Hopefully the end result will entail more stuff to write about, funny things, more guest writers, and a bunch of other good shit.

When I started this blog, it was only to practice writing. I wanted to hone my writing skills while putting together something entertaining for my friends to read. Over time it became something more than that, something people actually started pestering me about when I missed a day. This has been a humbling thing for me, as people are actually enjoying what I have to say on a daily basis, but it has also been frustrating. I have also recently felt that I have been posted some things not because I wanted to, but because people expected me to. Over the past few weeks it has been progressively more frustrating because I have been at a loss for things to write about. This has led me to either post things for the sake of posting them, or not post anything.

I took my week off to think about what I wanted from this blog. I enjoy writing tremendously, but I had to weigh in whether I was writing to keep the schedule people expected of me or because it was something I really felt and wanted to do. In the end, I came to the conclusion that I am going to keep writing and try to keep to the schedule I have set for myself, realizing my frustration was more based on finding new and interesting things to talk about than keeping a regular writing schedule. In the end, I just love my readers too much.

In the next few weeks of my blog, I am going to try some new things.

1. More Food and Drink. This may include recipes, reviews, things about my life as a foodie. It is a passion, and I am going to expand on it.

2. More Chaz Back in the day stories. I love writing about my nutty past, and will continue to do this. I have a lot of silly, stupid, depricating stories that I would love to share.

3. The Down List every Friday. I know no one can live without it, because it is the shit. The Down List will be a mainstay every Friday.

4. Guest Writers. To know Chaz you have to know his friends. I am hoping more of my friends will "Cowboy Up" and share their love with the world. Please let me know if you want to be a guest writer. I am all about it.

5. Silly celebrity stuff. You thought I was done with the bad breath stuff? Hell no. I am working on my 2nd Team All Bad Breath Team- coming soon to a blog near you. I love the celeb gossip somewhat, but a part of me also thinks it is incredibly inane. Hopefully you will find my postings satirical in nature and regardless of your feelings on celeb stuff, you can get a little chuckle from it.

6. Pop culture. You know I love it. You know you love it. Let's move on.

7. Scatagorical Comedy. I love my poo jokes, and they are not going away. Get used to it.

8. The Bus Station. This is material I was going to save to write a book with, but I will give you a taste of it every now and again. We'll get into this later.

So there you go. I'm back and recharged, and ready to do this. Carpe Diem, suckas.

A nice week off

2006-02-16T16:46:00.000-08:00

In case you are wondering where Chaz has been, I have been taking the week off. I am coming up for good ideas for future weeks, and will be back in my post next Tuesday. Until then, check out the following blogs:

http://jimmydrylids.blogspot.com

http://www.threefourtwo.org

http://weeninwyoming.blogspot.com

http://k-rollin.blogspot.com

http://wyomingite.blogspot.com

http://www.tylerbooth.com/

http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&friendID=6088980&MyToken=e901af68-01b1-4ca0-97e5-b64c220761f8ML

Yeah. If I forgot your blog, I will add it as I remember it. Or you can remind me. Whatever works.

See you all next week!

International House of Down-Cakes

2006-02-10T12:42:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know the title is bad. Sorry about that. It is hard to be creative when you have a new down list each and every week. If you can come up with a better title each week for this blog, be my guest. Please-- I am all ears.

This week has been another action packed one. We had to take our rock star cat Timmy to the vet because he has the sniffles yesterday. He is at home resting now, eating like crazy and doing what cats do. He is typically an indoor/outdoor guy, but has been relegated to be only inside until he is better, meaning he is probably driving The Wife crazy at this very moment.

In other news, I watched the entire Grammy telecast on Wednesday. All 3 1/2 bloated hours of it. It was the year of the awkward collaboration at the Grammys this year. Here, for your reading pleasure, is my review of the performances:

1. The Gorillaz/Madonna performance. It was a surprisingly good one, and technologically neat. The Gorillaz showed up as animations on the stage, and when Madonna came on, she appeared to walk behind one of the Gorillaz. It was pretty cool. Madonna herself looked abnormally good. Said The Wife: " I hope I look that good when I'm old."

2. Coldplay. In the past year or two, Coldplay went from the band that everyone loved to the band that everyone's parents started loving. When it was once cool to like them, it has somehow become uncool all of a sudden. Regardless, their performance was one of the best of the night- I have seen many of their live performances on TV and believe they are much better live than recorded. That's just me though.

3. The Mary J. Blige/U2 combination. I am not a U2 fan. I can't stand Bono's holier than thou shit don't stink attitude. I really don't think their music is that great either. It is not that it is bad or poorly made, I am just not that into it. Regardless, U2 began with that crazy Vertigo song, and worked their way into their anthem "One", when Mary J popped on stage and threw it down with Bono. It was semi-awkward, but in a strange way they made it work.

4. That crazy Sly Stone Reunion. An absolute mess, and it cemented the fact that I really don't like Joss Stone. She seems alright, cute and shit, but she does that thing that Christina Aguilera used to do where she always has to belt every single note out- there is nothing left to the imagination. Other than that, it was just nuts. Sly showed up for a couple minutes, then walked right back off stage.

5. Paul McCartney. He is old, and should shut it down gracefully. No disrespect to Sir Paul, but I'm surprised dude still has teeth.

6. Bruce Springsteen. Right when I started getting into the performance, The Wife beaned me with our little dog's stuffed monkey. Hit me right in the head. It threw my concentration off, and I could not get into the rest of what Bruce was doing. Damnit.

7. Christina Aguilera/Herbie Hancock. The Wife went off about Christina's voice and how she is always trying to throw it down. We listened and listened, and it felt like the song was 30 minutes long.

8. Linkin Park/ Jay-Z/ Paul McCartney. This is no typo, it actually happened. Jay-Z was performing with Linkin Park (which was actually pretty good, because it was mostly Jay-Z) and all of a sudden they inexplicably start singing "Yesterday" and Paul McCartney comes out of nowhere singing along with them. He looked tremendously confused. It was kind of sad, actually.

9. Kanye West/ Jamie Foxx. They had fireworks, marching bands, and girls in bikinis. In other words, it was perfect.

The other performances were pretty damn lame, so I am not going to include them here.

So, with that, here it comes- The Down List, brought to you by the good folks over at Weiners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey.

This week Chaz is down with:

1. Crossword Puzzles. Our nightly ritual now, The Wife and I will rip through the daily puzzle each night before bed. We are becoming pros.

2. My friend's blogs. Most of my friends have kick- ass blogs, and I enjoy reading them. Next week I will put out an updated list of the hot blogs to check out. I like reading what y'all write. Some might say I'm down with it.

3. Roake's Hot Dogs. One of my co-workers dragged me out to Milwaukie, OR on a lunch break to experience the goodness that is a Roake's coney dog. It was one of the best hot dogs I have ever had. It was a great quality dog with a bit of mustard, and a smearing of "Coney Sauce" which is basically meaty chili. It was fucking unbelievable. My co-worker ordered the fries, which were hand cut and amazing as well. This place is quite the find, is cheap as hell, and is going to be a part of my life from here on out.

4. The Know. I am again down with my smoky neighborhood bar. This past weekend The Wife and I meandered in there, ordered a couple beers, and ended up getting in a crazy conversation with some people who happened to be sitting next to us. It happens every time. The place is conducive to conversation, and is a great place to chill. One word of warning, however: it is smoky as hell up in there. You will stink when you leave, but when you're there, you will marvel in the down of it all.

5. All Things to All Men, by Cinematic Orchestra featuring Roots Manuva. This came on a mix CD I got once, mixed by Giles Peterson. It is a hauntingly beautiful 10 minute song masterfully produced by Cinematic Orchestra, with Roots Manuva providing the lyrics. It is an absolute gem. If you have a chance to download it (legally or otherwise) do so. It is well worth it.

So that's that. Have a great weekend everyone!

Argyles R' Us

2006-02-09T09:56:00.000-08:00

There was a time, not terribly long ago, when my sock drawer was bland. There was no color-- it was all gray and black. Each morning I would dip into the sock drawer and pick out another lifeless pair. They were just socks, afterall. You wear them so your feet don't get stinky, not for fashion, right?

Wrong.

I soon discovered the error of my ways when I came upon a sock sale at J. Crew. I hate to say my argyle addiction began at J. Crew of all places, but hey- it was a sale, and I'm down with that. I was sifting through the socks when I came upon the motherlode: Brightly colored argyles. $2.99 a pair, no less! It was like Thanksgiving, Hannukah and 4th of July all put together. My life was going to change. I was going to be a brighter, more colorful person. My feet were going to be stylin!

I started shopping for argyles exclusively after that momentous event. Now it should be said that good argyles are hard to find. Finding brightly colored argyles is nearly impossible unless you are willing to shell out a good $20 a pair or more. I love me some socks, but not that much. Usually the socks I would find would be black with the argyle pattern comprised of varying shades of khaki. I would pick these pairs up, always waiting for something more to come along.

I don't know when it came into effect, but I put myself on a two year plan to replace all of my normal socks with argyles. Every new pair I was to purchase was to be of the Argyle variety. It was my new mission. The two years came and passed, and I still found an alarming number of non-argyles in my sock drawer. Earlier this year, I made a resolution to fulfill the prophecy of the argyles and take my place as the ruler of the world.

On a side note, I must admit my sock collection has not always been boring. For awhile I had a toe sock fetish. For those not in the know, toe socks look like little gloves for the feet, with an individual sleeve for each toe. They are creepy looking, but comfortable. They freaked my boy Chewy out. Regardless, the toe sock thing didn't last long, and bland socks overtook them. The point of this little detour is that this isn't my first sock infatuation. I am an old (and decidedly creepy) pro. Back to the story...

Last week, a suspect package arrived at my home doorstep while I was at work. It was a yellow envelope from a company I had never heard of. It was fluffy, as if stuffed with something soft. I opened it up slowly, and was elated when I found myself staring into an envelope full of argyles. Six pairs, to be exact. All of them were in colors other than khaki & black, and each pair was wrapped in plastic. I dumped them out on the couch and marveled at my fortunes. I looked in the envelope for some clue of where they came from, but I was out of luck. It was just an envelope full of socks. There was no tracking number or identifier on the envelope, which made matters worse.

Someone had anonymously socked my ass.

I called all the usual suspects to inquire as to whether they purchased these socks for my birthday present, and they all said no. I grilled chief suspect numbero uno about it on Sunday, and she denied the allegations. Something had to give. I was running out of suspects.

On Monday, I finally received an email from my sister:

Did you get your b-day present from us yet...hee hee...
I got a note it was sent out last Monday....anything?

A-ha! So it was the sister and fam who were the random sockers. They had read the blog with my New Year's Resolution and thought they would help speed along the process of my sock dynasty. You go guys. You go.

So now I move forward, with six more pair of boring socks replaced. I don't know how much further I have to go, or how many obstacles will block my path to complete sock domination. At least my feet will be warm and toasty until I get there.

The All Good Breath Team

2006-02-08T11:12:00.000-08:00

The all bad breath team rocked ass. There was no doubt in my mind that any of those people didn't have some sort of stank ass breath. Friends argued the point with me and debates ensued, but for the most part people thought I was pretty much on point. That is a good thing.

What have I learned over the past few days?

It is really hard to come up with a team of people who look like they would have good breath.

Here is an excerpt of a conversation with Chewy about it:

Chewy: it it aint jumbo don't shrimp it
Chaz: I am working on my all good breath team today
Chaz: I had to get pics yesterday
Chewy: i see
Chewy: make sure you include jewel and michelle branch
Chaz: are those your two choices?
Chewy: hmm
Chaz: of all the people in the world?
Chewy: i bet charlize theron would have good breath
Chaz: yeah
Chaz: that is a good one
Chaz: I am going to add her to the list
Chewy: and the girl from scrubs
Chewy: aka 2nd becky from roseanne
Chaz: Sarah Chalke
Chaz: I am not so into her
Chaz: i am soooooo into her
Chewy: what about sarah michelle gellar?
Chewy: i bet cher's breath smells like cheap perfume and coffee
Chaz: I think Sarah Michelle Gellar might have had good breath once, but it was ruined the minute she first kissed Freddie Prinze Jr.
Chewy: i am thinking sarah chalke has good breath
Chewy: i have been looking at pictures

Umm, yeah. Another stimulating conversation.

With that, I present:

The All Good Breath Team!
Brought to you by the good folks at Weiners, Cheese Balls, and Horse Puckey.

1. Charlize Theron. This was an oversight originally, but it sure does make sense now. Charlize has got the mouth of a damn angel. On a separate completely random note, I read once a while back that her nose is the most requested by gay men getting nose jobs. You learn something new every day.

2. Mos Def. The mighty Mos is one of the most talented rappers around, a budding actor, and Alicia Key's muse in that video she did with Mos Def in it. Nothing that can come out of this man's mouth could possibly be stinky. I won't allow it.

3. Rachel McAdams. She seems like the type to always smell like flowers and strawberries. The same extends to her breath, even if she is kissing that foul-mouthed Ryan Gosling.

4. Jerry O'Connell. This one is for The Wife, who inexplicably loves her some Jerry-O. I'm not the biggest Jerry-O fan, but he was good in that time traveler show with the big guy who had a beard. The Wife, this one's for you.

5. Christina Milian. I think she sings and acts, although I am not quite sure exactly what she does. What I do know is she is at awards shows, is on MTV every now and again, and is cute as can be. Look at those pearly white teeth- they might as well be signs that read "No Odor Lurks Here" or "The Halitosis stops here."

6. Wilmer Valderamma. Look at this guy. He is clearly a tool. yet somehow, someway, this guy has banged his way through most of young hollywood. Is it the hair? That crazy accent? Secret Hollywood hand gestures? Or is it that breath, which screams "You are under my spell, I would love to ..um.. how do you say? Ahh yes. Have the sex with you."

7. Paris Hilton. She probably has the worst breath imaginable. I just thought this picture was kind of funny. Carry on.

8. That one chick from That 70's Show. Her name is Mila Kunis, and she once dated Macaulay Culkin. I am not going to hold that against her, because she looks like her breath can move mountains. Unfortunately her breath can't get her any good movie gigs, unless you count American Psycho II (electric bugaloo) as a "good" movie, but hey, she is young and Russian. She can do whatever the hell she wants.

9. Tom Brady. This guy is like Mr. All-America. He is the guy in high school that was hitting it with the prom queen, and cheating on her with the captain of the cheerleading squad. Ladies love cool Tom, even The Wife. When he came out to flip the coin at the Superbowl, The Wife exclaimed "Who is that? He is good looking! I bet he totally has minty fresh breath!" OK, she might not have said the minty fresh breath part, but I am sure she was thinking it.

10. Jessica Alba. Even her costars can't shake the feeling- she is hot, and I'll bet she has the breath to match. I'd imagine her breath to smell like that initial overwhelming rush of sweet air right when you walk into a candy store that just made caramel apples. OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Regardless, I am guessing she could eat raw garlic followed by a tuna sandwich followed by a jar of sauerkraut and you would still not notice her breath.

Tomorrow: The mystery of the argyle socks REVEALED!

Friday: The Down List

***

If it ain't jumbo, don't shrimp it

2006-02-03T10:42:00.000-08:00

Hey there people! Once again Friday is upon us, and a great one it is. This week for Chaz has been trying at times, but greatly rewarding. It has been one of those weeks at work that I have been crazy busy, but also fixing big problems and making things better. While frustration and other emotions came into play, this has been one of those weeks where I come home feeling more accomplished than I have in past work weeks. That is a good thing.

What does Chaz do for a living, you might ask? I am a nuclear technician working in the field of rocket sciencism. Just kidding. I am a tech guy at a software company. That is as far as I will go, but at least you know how I roll now.

Not that many people read this thing that don't know me. If you do read me and don't know me, I suggest you write a comment and say "hello."

In other news, tomorrow The Wife and I will be going to the Goodwill bins. What are the Goodwill bins, you might ask? For those not in the know, Goodwill is a chain of thrift stores that sponsors employees and helps people find jobs. The thrift stores usually have all of the good stuff, and the left over bags and bags and bags of stuff go to the Goodwill bins, a giant warehouse full of big rolling bins full of clothes, gadgets, and junk. Before it gets incinerated or sent to 3rd world countries, it goes to the bins.

The Wife and I go to the bins from time to time to pick for pieces of vintage fabric that can be used in The Wife's handbag designs. The place is pretty nuts. People are lined up at the bin in rubber gloves, sifting through piles and piles of clothes, rugs, curtains, and more. When a new bin gets rolled out, it creates a stampede and only the strongest get first pick from the new bin. The people range from young hipsters and artists to old russian women to young families and kids-- it is as diverse as Portland can get. At the end, when you have had your fill, you pay by the pound for your finds. Good depressing fun.

We are also watching the Super Bowl at our friend Mr. Poo's house (name changed for anonymity). He will be serving up the game on his new HD flatscreen TV, along with serving up some chicken wings. I have elected to bring the little smokies. Jimmy Drylids will bring the beer, and a good time will be had by all.

With that, I bring you, my loyal peeps, the soup of the day-- the Down List, brought to you by the good folks at Weiners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey.

1. Never Win, by Fischerspooner. I have heard this song a couple times on the radio, and I have wondered who made it. Now that I know, I am going to go out and buy it. Great song.

2. Steak. As I have mentioned in the past and on Jimmy Drylids' blog, I used to be a veggie. Now, instead of using my canine teeth to rip into a carrot, I am ripping into meat. For the holidays my sister & her fam sent The Wife and I a gift pack of Omaha Steaks. The Wife cooked up the Sirloins last night, and they were amazing. Tender, beautiful meat. Booyah.

3. Giant Shrimp at Red Lobster. Giant Shrimp is back at Red Lobster! That point has been driven home by the countless Red Lobster commercials on seemingly every channel. Our dog, Velcro, is infatuated with Red Lobster. That is a different story though. Why is this in the list? I have no idea. Next!

4. Snow. Being that it has rained basically every day for the past two months, it was nice to go up to Timberline Lodge this past weekend and see honest to goodness snow, and a whole lot of it. Timberline Lodge is at a very high point on Mt. Hood, Oregon's beautiful extinct volcano. They have been getting gobs of snow this winter, so we decided to go up to investigate. It was absolutely amazing and made me miss the occasional snow storm. I know people who read this in cold snowy places are going to dish me some shit for this, but before you do, think about the following: Would you rather have snow every now and again or buckets of rain all the time?

5. Breakfast Calzone. The other morning I was looking for something to cook for breakfast. I had bacon, eggs, veggies, toast, potatoes, and all kinds of other stuff. I wasn't feeling toast, and I wanted something different. I took out a pizza dough ball from the freezer, defrosted it, and filled it with bacon, crispy potatoes, parmesan & mozzarella cheese, and half cooked scrambled eggs cooked with sauteed onions (so they would cook as the calzone cooked). It was a fucking masterpiece- beautiful in every way. I should have taken pictures.

So that's that. A boring wrap up of the last week. Stay tuned next week for more fun stuff. I am still planning on getting the all-good breath team out soon. Have a great week!

Crazy times

2006-02-02T08:56:00.000-08:00

Back in the day, the world was stuck in the dot-com boom, an era where small tech companies went public on the stock market and made more money than many small countries. It all started out in the mid 90's and was at it's peak in 1999 and early 2000.

The dot-com was the place to work back in the day. Every day you would hear stories about new dot-com millionaires cashing in on their companies fortunes. Companies would lure people in by offering tons of stock options with promises of riches and rewards. Investors were throwing money into small companies with hopes they would be the next Yahoo. Jobs were everywhere, and where you worked was dependent on how cool the company was you were trying to work for.

I didn't originally intend to get a dot-com job-- I just needed a job. A few weeks after moving to New York City, a friend called me and asked me if I wanted to go to a internet job fair. All we needed to do was dress up a bit, print up a ton of resumes, and walk around talking to different companies.

We went, and it was unlike anything I had ever seen. Row after row of booths for internet start-ups filled an enormous convention center, all looking for people to hire. Everywhere you looked people were being lured by free mugs, t-shirts, pens, toys and all kinds of fun gadgets. The free swag was my first glimpse into my future, a world where competing companies tried to out do the others with cooler giveaways.

I walked around with my friend, looking for companies I thought were pretty cool. Everywhere you looked, companies were offering cool offices, catered lunches, lots of vacation time, flexible hours, free health club membership, free transit passes, stock options, and all kinds of other stuff. One of the companies stopped us to talk to us, and I got an interview for scheduled later that week.

I got the job, and quickly realized this wasn't an ordinary company. We had massages every week, free lunch every Friday, tons of free snacks and drinks, catered lunches from time to time, the best technology we could get, crazy logo'ed company junk we didn't need, and parties. The company I worked for had a party each quarter, each one crazier than the next. At the time, our company was getting so much money from investors, it needed to be spent so investors would not think the company was stagnant. Thousands of my companies dollars were spent on company parties.

my favorite company party was our trip to Metrazur. By far the most lavish of my company's parties, this thing was crazy. Metrazur is a restaurant that sits on one of the balconies in the main concourse of Grand Central Station in NYC. At the time it was one of the hotter tickets in town to get seats at and it was very expensive. Our entire company (60 people) were treated to an open bar, multi-course dinner, and more open bar. We took the place over for hours and we could order whatever we wanted. I found out later from a friend in HR that the final cost for the party was $40,000.

The parties didn't stop with my company. Back in the day, other dot-coms would have crazy blow-outs, and people within the industry would email the invites to other people within the industry, turning these parties into bonafied bonanzas. It seemed at least every couple weeks there was a dot-com party, each trying to out do the next.

When weather.com went live, they threw a gigantic party at a two-level club on Houston street. Booze was free, of course, and amazing food was arranged in giant sculpted piles all over the place. Another dot-com did a party at Chelsea Piers, over looking the river.

When my friend Rerun was working for his company (again, keeping the company name on the d/l), they had their company party on an giant restored historic boat. Rerun graciously invited me to their small gathering, as they each could invite one person. We had a great time. Drinks were served left and right, my friend Rerun got to play records, and everyone was getting loose.

I met a group of people that seemed pretty fun, and started hanging out with them. We started drinking a ton, and eventually the girl I was hanging out with in the group suggested we all leave and go to a club I had never heard of. We were all lit, and I really didn't know what I was doing other than leaving with a girl I had just met and her friends. Soon we were at a crazy modern club drinking martinis and bullshitting. I remember getting a drink, sipping it slowly, and I slightly remember making out with the girl. All of a sudden, I was being kicked out of a cab in a neighborhood I didn't know. Everything that happened from the moment I was at the club until I was getting thrown out of the cab was a mystery. At this point it was probably 3:00 AM and I was drunk and lost. I finally found a cab and paid him to take me home. I was at work at 8:30 the next morning.

That is how it worked back then. We worked hard with hopes of reaping the rewards of a successful company launch, and played just as hard when we were not at work. When my company finally went public on the stock market, the dot-com era was coming to a close, and it didn't skyrocket like all of us wanted it to. Instead we were stuck with thousands of stock options that were basically worthless.

My company moved to a completely new and modern location soon thereafter. It took six months to build and was quite fancy. The problem was, we had less and less money coming in. People could see it was getting to be the beginning of the end. They stayed in their new location for only a year.

I left the company right before the New Year in 2001 to move to Oregon to find a more happy personal place. The company ended up laying off a lot of people who got it where it was, moving a lot of it's work to a partner company in Israel. Everywhere you looked people were losing jobs, and the stock market was tumbling. For those who were there and working in it, it was a good ride while it lasted.

Are you down? That's what I thought...

2006-01-27T09:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was one of those days where I woke up and everything was gloomy and gray. A dark cloud followed me through the day, and I never quite got to be in a good mood. Even my favorite meal (homemade pizza) was a little more melancholy than usual. Why do we have days like that? For no explicable reason I was a big ol' grump ball, much to the chagrin of my co-workers and wife. I went to bed somberly, hoping something would change.

I woke up this morning, I was so glad*.

I awoke this morning feeling like a fucking champ. If this morning could have a soundtrack, it would be the annoyingly cheesy It's A Beautiful Day, by U2. Birds were chirping, the pets were purring, I got the obligatory "TGIF Bitch!" from the wife, who still gets a kick out of saying that every time, and life again was A-OK. My road rage didn't even effect me too much this morning driving to work.

As Ice Cube said, "Today I didn't even have to use my AK, I got to say it was a good day." Tell it, Ice Cube. Tell it.

In other news, tonight The Wife and I are going to see the Blazers play the Nets. When the Blazers are not playing against the Nuggets, I cheer for them voraciously. It is only when they take on my team that I am a hater. The Wife's Dad hooks us up with his season tickets from time to time, and they are fantastic. 3rd row, close to center. You can hear the players talking to each other. It completely changes the game. Hold that thought...

Yessir, hold onto your hats and garter belts because it is time for the one, the only, The Down List, brought to you by the good folk (me) at Weiners, Cheese Balls, and Horse Puckey. Today's list features my favorite things of the past two weeks.

The Wife's Dad's Blazers Tickets. As I was saying, these tickets are tits. Solid gold. Money and so much more. Not to mention The Wife's dad is an amazing guy. Super cool... Wait a minute...

The Wife's Dad. Why not give the man his day in the sun? He is an awesome Father-in-law and I am down with that.

Velveeta Cheese Dip. Ain't no party like a Chaz Fresh party cuz a Chaz Fresh party don't stop... serving velveeta cheese dip! This delectible hors d'oeuvre is a staple at my parties. I don't care if it is "tacky" or not considered "classy," because when all is said and done people eat the shit out of it, myself included. It is a beautiful moment when people of all walks of life arm themselves not with guns, but with chips. When people dip, it is like they are extending the olympic torch into the cauldron of flame in a symbol of worldwide peace, only when they are through they are getting delicious melted processed cheese mixed with salsa. Olé!

New Glasses. New eyewear kicks ass. It makes you feel like a completely different person, and makes you want to do new and different things. It completely changes the way people look at you. I have two of my four new pair now, and I am hoping the 3rd and 4th will be ready for pick up this weekend.

Made. This cheesy MTV show chronicles the lives of teenagers who want to step out of their comfort zone and be "made" into something better. The Wife and I are suckers for this show, and watch it all the time. Last night, a band dork was remade into a rock star. Other episodes have had a nerdy outcast turn into a beauty queen, a skinny weakling turn into a wrestler, and a dorky overweight girl attempting to become prom queen. Riveting stuff it isn't, but it is entertaining as hell.

Great Release, by LCD Soundsystem. This song fucking rules, and has been listened to quite a few times this week.

Scoop on Poop, by Brenna E. Lorenz. There is nothing that gets my main man Chewy and I laughing more than poo or fart talk. He came upon this website and sent me the link, and when I went there I felt like I was in heaven. Here are some good excerpts:

From the Q & A section:

Can you get sick from eating poop? (Question submitted by Wendell)

Yes, you can definitely get sick from eating poop, even in minute quantities! Although urine emerges sterile from the body (unless the person has an infection), poop emerges loaded with bacteria and sometimes other life forms. Many diseases, including food poisoning, cholera and typhus, are spread by fecal contamination. Many parasites, such as the notorious tapeworm, can be spread through deliberate or accidental ingestion of poop.

There are some parasites, such as pinworms, who depend on people eating their own poop to keep the population up. Pinworms are small nematodes that live in the colon. The females emerge from the anus at night to lay their eggs. Their activity makes the anal area itch. The person scratches the itch (often doing so in his sleep), procuring a small amount of fecal matter and eggs under his fingernails, and then puts his fingers in his mouth. Once the eggs are consumed, the person is infected with a new generation of pinworms.

I have read that almost everyone has pinworms. Luckily, pinworms don't do much harm. You only notice them if you have a lot of pinworms! If you want to find out if you do indeed have them, get someone to gently touch around your anal area with Scotch tape while you are sleeping. The worms will stick to the tape and you'll be able to see them.

Golden.

Here is a great excerpt from the Rhymes, Riddles and Sayings section (this one is an old favorite of mine):

Here I sit, cheeks a-flexin', Giving birth to another Texan.

OK everyone, that is enough poo talk for one week. have yourselves a wonderful weekend! We'll see you next week!

*100 cool points if you can name the movie this quote came from

Poo-Poo Platter

2006-01-26T10:19:00.000-08:00

I seem to have writers block more often than not. This week, specifically, has been one of those weeks where I have not been able to think of anything to write. What do you do in this situation?

I used to have dreams of writing books for a living. It was a good dream. Back in my younger days, I even wrote fifty pages of a book before I realized it was just horrendous. Mind bendingly god-awful. Besides the technical writing I did at work, I spent a good 8 or 9 years not writing anything before I started this crazy blog.

Luckily for you, I will not go another 9 years without writing something anymore, but I might skip a day or two every now and again. Sometimes that's the way shit rolls. What can you do?

In the spirit of the theme, I have nothing real to write today, so I thought I would throw together a smattering of random stuff.

With that, I give you The Weiners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey Poo-Poo Platter, brought to you by your old pal Chaz. Here goes:

***
My good buddy Jimmy Drylids recently came up with a list of his top 10 television shows. In the spirit of conversation, here is my top 6, in no particular order:

1. The Office, US version. As mentioned in my 2005 Down List year in review, this was one of my top shows last year. Guess what people, it still is. There are some things that happen in an office that people that don't work in offices don't understand, and this show really tries to capture those moments. A great TV show.

2. Mythbusters. One of Jimmy's favs as well, this show just kicks ass and gets better as it goes. There is nothing better than dispelling a myth, especially when it involves blowing shit up. It has science, humor, and a watchability that keeps me coming back for more.

3. Monk. One of the best shows one television.

4. Project Runway. I am putting this one in here for The Wife, who will watch the same episodes of this show over and over and over and over again. In any given week, I will have been subjected to this show way more than any human should allow, but along the way I have started enjoying it. Damnit.

5. Las Vegas. This is such a guilty pleasure. Another one of my best of 2005.

6. House. We recently got into this show, and love it. I don't really know how to explain it, but I know Hugh Laurie, who plays Dr. House, is awesome and just won a Golden Globe for it. Word.

***
Why did the Walrus go to the tupperware party?

He was looking for a tight seal.

***
If you have not been to Wikipedia.org, you need to go there. It is an online encyclopedia that anyone can edit. People are free to enter their own entries, and because of that (and the fact that it's free) it has become one of the most visited site on the internet.

It is fun to go there and get lost in their info. You can also click "Random Article" on the homepage and it will send you to some random article. Click here for your random Wikipedia article.

Here is what I got:

Furphy
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

A furphy is Australian slang for a rumour, or an erroneous or improbable story. The word is possibly derived from two sources equally: the popular 19th century Australian author, Joseph Furphy (1843-1913) and water carts made by a company owned by his brother John: J. Furphy & Sons of Shepparton, Victoria.

Many Furphy carts were used to transport water to Australian Army personnel during World War I. The carts, with "J. Furphy & Sons" written large on their tanks, became popular as gathering places where soldiers could exchange gossip, rumours and fanciful tales.

Originally it was synonymous with "rumour" and "scuttlebutt", but the modern meaning (especially in Australian politics) is "an irrelevant or minor issue raised to specifically divert attention away from the real issue".

Note, that "scuttlebutt" itself has a similar etymology, a scuttlebutt originally being a cask of drinking water on a ship

***
My friend Chewy is a die-hard Pittsburgh Steelers fan. He sent me this link a couple days ago, and it has creeped me out ever since.

http://www.steelerbaby.com/

In other sports news, My Denver Nuggets have won their last seven games in a row including last night's win over The Wife's Portland Trailblazers. Just thought I would throw that in there. Carry on...

***
Birthday booze update:

Two bottles of wine, one beer down since Sunday. 3 bottles of tequila and 1 bottle of scotch remain untouched, and the fridge full of beer is giving us very few places to put our leftovers. Life is so tough sometimes.

***
The other day, I bought a Spicy V-8 because it sounded "good."

***
I don't know why, but I kind of feel bad for Kevin Federline, especially with this new video of him grooving to his terribly awful song, PopoZao. Watch it, and keep in mind this is the guy that is married to Britney Spears. Just plain wrong.

http://www.youtube.com/w/Kevin-Federline-jamming-to-PopoZao?v=Q7Ys46KA4xw&eurl=

***
Coming Tomorrow:

I am back with the Down List. Booyah.

Coming Next Week:

I did my all bad breath team last week, so I figure I should do an all good breath team. Look for it early next week.

Mas tequila por favor

2006-01-24T09:52:00.000-08:00

Another year has come and gone in the life of Chaz Fresh, and boy do I feel old. On Sunday I turned the big 31, or as The Wife and others call it, "Thirty Wonderful." For my birthday, I really wanted to have a party. We decided to have "Fiesta de Chaz", a Mexican themed party.

In the days coming up to party, The Wife and I decided we were going to make taquitos. For those of you not in the know, taquitos are corn tortillas with any sort of filling, rolled up and fried. We thought it would be a relatively easy and fun party snack, the perfect pair to a margarita. The Wife was of the mind that we could bake the Taquitos to make it a little easier to do them in bulk. I was of the mind that frying them would be the best option.

We began the Taquito experience on Friday night. I had glanced at some recipes, but for the most part we were going into it blind. We immediately butted heads on the best method of rolling the taquitos, and frustrations were building as tortillas cracked. One of the taquito builders threw a box of toothpicks at the other in frustration. This caused a bit of yelling, and the proclamation of "I'm Fucking Done!" by the other taquito maker. It was turning out to be the taquito night from hell. Teamwork finally prevailed, as the two of us worked through it to create a good system for making taquitos and followed through on it. All told, we made over 80 of them and they were good as hell.

Instead of writing all kinds of stuff about the party, I will instead give a timeline of events:

6:45 PM The party was set to start at 8:00, but Jimmy Drylids and Wacky Poo Blacky came early with Wacky's parents who were in town. Based on my new years resolutions blog where I said I wanted to catch a fish, Jimmy and Wacky proudly presented me with a new fishing pole and a beer koozy shaped like a sturgeon.

7:30 PM Cracked open a Tecate, ready to let the good times roll.

8:00 PM Brit & K-Fed show up and present me with more guacamole than you can shake a stick at. They also brought me the gift of Tequila, as well as some fancy margarita mix and salt. God bless 'em.

8:20 PM A co-worker shows up with his wife. I tell him he should talk to K-Fed because they are both computer geeks. Co-worker looks hurt by this statement.

8:40 PM Friends show and present me with a 2006 Manvalanche calendar showing one of my friends posing in a speedo in various locations. Brutally funny. Also showing up is a friend who is drunk already.

9:30 PM Drunk friend leaves the party to pass out at home. In other news, the taquitos are being eaten like crazy. A noticable dent has been placed in the bean & cheese taquito plate.

10:00 PM More friends show up, two of them armed with bottles of tequila for me, another with a bottle of single-malt scotch. My friends must think I am a drunk. Other friends show up happily proclaiming "WE BROUGHT FLAN!"

10:30 PM At this point, we have already gone through a few pitchers of margaritas, and people are starting to feel loose. The noise level rises considerably.

11:30 PM Brit and others discover another one of my presents, a box of bandages designed to resemble duct tape. Soon people are walking around with what looks like duct tape all over their bodies. More tecate and margaritas are flowing, and the taquitos are flying off the shelves. In addition, the crock pot of the velveeta cheese dip has formed a nice layer of skin around the edges where it has burnt to the sides.

12:00 AM I take part in the first round of Tequila shots- it ended up going from one person doing the shot to seven. Those shot glasses remained active well into the night. From out of nowhere came a plate with flan on it, jiggling along to the latin music playing on the stereo. I ate it quickly.

12:30 PM One of our more proper British friends has reportedly done a body shot of tequila off her husband's stomach. Shots are starting to happen regularly. With the beer and liquor kicking in, people are going nuts for the cheese dip and taquitos. What once was a seven layer dip now is a one layer puddle of swirled colors. People still dip into it. Shot glasses are dropped and broken.

1:00 PM The Wife, inspired by our British friend's lack of reserve, decides she wants to do a body shot as well. Done.

1:45 AM (Or sometime around there) Our last guests go home. We do an assessment of leftovers, and the only remaining food is half a bowl of corn salsa and crusted up cheese remains in what was once a proud cheese dip. Our friends left our house surprisingly clean, and we ended up with 4 bottles of liquor, 3 bottles of wine, and over 30 beers of various types. All in all, it was a good night.

So that was our little party. It was awesome to have our friends together.

***

Just so everyone knows, I don't usually do a posting on Monday- I usually try to do Tuesday through Friday, although I have been a crazy slacker as of late and posting only a couple times a week. I'll try to do better this week.

***

The All Bad Breath Team

2006-01-18T17:52:00.000-08:00

The Wife and I watch a lot of TV. Usually when we are watching TV, we critique most everyone we see. We judge just about everyone. People with gigantic teeth and smiles, typically seen in toothpaste commercials, are part of the "I'll eat your face!" brigade. Those that are just wrong in all senses get a "whoa" or a "damn." Sometimes when I see an attractive female, I will say something to the effect of "That girl is pretty cute" or more depending on The Wife's reaction, but I usually keep those to myself.

There is one special designation I concocted many years ago- those who look like they have bad breath AKA the Helen Hunt Prophecy. It started many moons ago, when I was flipping through the channels and landed inexplicably on Mad About You. In the scene I happened to flip to, Paul Reiser and Helen Hunt were laying in bed with their faces about a foot apart, chatting. All I could think while watching this was "Man, I bet that Helen Hunt has got some stank-ass breath!" Even though at the time she was probably bringing in millions from the show and could most likely afford to nip halitosis at the bud, I could no longer picture her without picturing ass breath.

With that in mind, I bring you my top ten celebrities who look to me like they have bad breath. (sorry if it is a bit harsh, sometimes I call 'em like I see 'em)

1. Helen Hunt. If bad breath were mormonism, she would be Joseph Smith. She is the reason for the season, and god bless her for it. I bow to you, sweet Helen, with your evil jungle mouth.

2. Jake Gylenhaal. Girls can't help but love this google-eyed dreamboat, but the reality is, he looks to me like he's got some brokeback breath. Give me two fingers of Listerine, Jake, and step on it.

3. Nicole Richie. I bet her breath smells like a cross between stomach acid, beef jerky and pickles. That's what happens when you have not had a thing to eat in six months. She probably doesn't brush her teeth because the toothbrush is too big to squeeze into her gaunt-ass mouth. Aqua Fresh your ass, Nicole. Eat a cheeseburger while you're at it.

4. Keifer Sutherland. Too much Molson, eh? This beer loving canuck and The Lost Boys alum obviously is not a vampire in real life, because the cloud of garlic around him would have turned him into dust a long time ago. You can't cover your mouth 24 hours a day.

5. Kirsten Dunst. I am guessing Jake Gylenhaal passed her the bad breath when they dated. Regardless, the only tic-tac she knows are those crazy tic-tac teeth she's rockin'. I bet Spiderman kisses her upside down so he doesn't have to smell her rising breath.

6. Sean Connery. Sean, you old grizzly bear you. I know nestled in between those grey whiskers are the remnants of what once was great, but now is a few martinis broken. Older ladies love the Connery flavor, but I know the Connery flavor is a cross between cat food and chili cheese fritos. Damn!

7. Tara Reid. Umm, yeah. I'm guessing her breath ain't the only thing that's stank.

8. Drew Barrymore. When Drew Barrymore talks, it seems like there is a lack of saliva in her mouth. It looks like her cheeks stick to her teeth. Yo Drew, drink some water and brush them shits! On a completely unrelated note, there is no time like the present to bra those bad boys up.

9. Penelope Cruz. Alo! You have, um, how do you say? Ahh yes. Shitty ass mouth.

10. Brittney Murphy. You've got to be Clueless if you think your breath ain't funky, Brittney. You'd need an Altoid the size of a urinal cake to fix what ails you. Do they make those? By the way, she is also a member of the "I'll eat your face" team.

Technical Issues

2006-01-18T08:47:00.000-08:00

Hey all! I had a post written and ready to go yesterday, and when I went to save it, it disappeared into thin air. I hope it is still floating somewhere in the World Wide Web, waiting to find a good porn site to anchor to. Regardless, I still have the pictures for it, but I won't be able to post it until this evening, being that they are all at home. In the meantime, you can visit the following blogs for your daily entertainment:

Jimmy Drylids
Jeri
Chewy (ask and I shall tell)
Brit
Brit's Sister
K-Fed
Jen Black
Girl's Handbook
Aubrey
Lisa

Sorry about the delay. See you tonight!

TGIF Bitch!

2006-01-13T09:20:00.000-08:00

The rain is falling hard yet again today. For those that are not in the state of Oregon, we are now on our 26th straight rainy day. It is gloomy as hell, with each day seeming darker than the next.

Rain is like a loud bathroom fan. The first time you poop in a bathroom with the loud bathroom fan, it can be really annoying. As time progresses, you stop noticing it, as if the fan was never there. That is like the rain here in Oregon. People from out of town are as put off with the rain as they would be with an annoyingly loud bathroom fan, where all of us locals have adapted to it and can go about our business.

I bring up loud bathroom fans because we have one in our bathroom. Every time you turn on the light, on comes that crazy fan. Brit and K-Fed got us something to address the loudness of the fan and balance the zen- a moving water picture. I don't know if y'all have seen these things before, but it usually is a picture the ocean, a river or a waterfall that is backlit with ripples simulating water movement. Ours is a picture of the ocean with the sun setting on the horizon and the water rippling away. In addition, this lovely picture comes the added bonus of sound effects. That's right people, not only can you see the ocean in our bathroom, you can hear it too. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell the briny sea air, and you can picture yourself on a wharf sharing a bowl of clam chowder with a guy with a peg leg and an eye patch.

Now, on to more important things... It is the most fabulous day of the week, Friday, and that means you-know-who is bringing you the you-know-what! That's right, today we bring you The Down List, which is only the greatest list in the history of lists.

So here it comes, ladies and gents, The Down List! This week Chaz is down with:

1. Chili Dogs. The wife went to her friend's house a couple days ago to have a girl's night out, and it was my time to shine in the kitchen. Everyone knows my love for the hot dog, and I took it to the next level. Being that one of my resolutions is to lose weight, I made chili dogs with low-fat hot dogs, chili and cheese. They were money and then some. These are not something I can eat every day, but when I do, I am so down.

2. Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah. This newish band was featured on a co-worker's itunes share, and it was money. It kind of sounds like a cross between The Talking Heads and The Strokes. Their music is super catchy, plus any band that can name themselves "Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah" are OK in my book.

3. Flavor Blasted Cheddar Goldfish. Anything that is "Flavor Blasted" is OK by me, especially when it is "Flavor Blasted" with Cheddar. They should expand this line to include Flavor Blasted Cheddar Cupcakes, Flavor Blasted Cheddar Bologna, and Flavor Blasted Cheddar Wheaties.

4. Crossword Puzzles. I love me some crossword puzzles. Not a lot of witty stuff to add in here. Carry on.

5. Saint Ralph. My Good friend Jimmy Drylids wrote about the movie Saint Ralph a few weeks back, and based on his review we rented it. It was truly a fantastic movie. For more info, check out his blog posting from December 21. Good stuff.

6. My New Glasses. My new glasses are cool as hell. There are more on the way too. Booyah!

7. 22 Chuck Norris Facts. This is a late addition to this Down List, but it is a good one. I am not usually a fan of forwarded mail, but this one gives specific reasons why Chuck Norris is so badass. My personal favorite: "19. When chuck Norris jumps into a body of water, he doesn't get wet. The Water gets Chuck Norris." Since I don't forward emails, let me know if you want this and I will send it on over.

So that's that. 7 things the Chaz is down with. As I always say, If you would like to submit your own Down List, email it to me. Have a great weekend!

As normal as cleaning out the tub

2006-01-11T11:16:00.000-08:00

Editor's note: today is guest writer day, and today's post is written by "The Wife."

Over the weekend my Grandmother passed away.

I was cleaning the tub. I used both Comet and Ajax. I had full bottles of the two and wanted to compare their cleaning power.

It was 4 in the afternoon when she passed.

I was probably mid-tub at this point. I hadn’t even hit the tile yet, still scrubbing the yellowed deposits from the tub walls.

She was in the hospital. Her family was all around her. Two sons. Three daughters.

I had purchased new gloves that day. They were the cheap yellow ones. My old pair had a hole in the forefinger, allowing dishwater to come and go as it pleased. In turn, this holy glove ended up stinking to high heaven. When I got home from the store, before unloading the groceries, I threw away the smelly set of gloves, which were green, prepared to fill their place with a new pair, yellow, $1.99.

She had caught pneumonia. The antibodies weren’t working. She was brought to the hospital where her family helped her on. She was peaceful. She wasn’t in any pain.

When my dad called me, I had already finished cleaning the tub. I didn’t know where to place my emotions. I got up from my spot next to my husband on the couch and rattled off questions. My first set of emotions had already started filing down my cheeks. My second set carried me away from my husband to a room alone.

It was a short conversation. I did most of the talking. “Four o’clock,” he said.

I was cleaning the tub.

It has taken a few days to arrange my emotions in a sequence I can read. I have talked to friends. Received condolences, which made me feel guilty. I didn’t know my Grandmother. I won’t know her any more now in her death. My father lost his mother.

Death is a daily occurrence. Like the chore of cleaning the tub.
That night, in the fog between wake and sleep, my husband and I two pencil shavings in bed, I thought of my Grandmother. Under the wedding quilt she had made for us. Her stitches holding my family in sleep.

One crazy night

2006-01-10T08:41:00.000-08:00

Back in the day, I was not the suave sophisticated Chaz you know and love. I was a crazy raver dude who partied all the time, did a lot of drugs and dressed in gigantic pants. Life was nuts back then, but I was still able to balance my work and partying.

One summer weekend night, I decided to go to a rave down in Denver with my friend "Twina". It was her birthday, and we were both down for an all night event which was sure to be loaded with mayhem. I brought a couple hits of acid with me , which I thought would be a good way of celebrating the long night's music and festivities. We hopped into her bright orange VW Bug and made the long drive to Denver.

At the time, party promoters tried to be semi-secretive about where their raves were going to be held. Usually on the night of the party you would call a phone number on a party flier which would direct you to a map point, where you could buy tickets and receive maps with directions on getting to the party. The parties were usually in old warehouses or unused theaters, but this particular party was to be an outdoor location in the industrial outskirts of the city, which, given the summer's heat, was the preferred destination.

We arrived at the party semi-early (12:00 AM), and it had all the signs of being a big one. There were probably already 700-800 people there, dancing, buying water and toys and gearing up for the night ahead. Twina and I staked out a place near the stage and waited for our friends to show up. I decided to take my acid and get the party started.

About 45 minutes later, the euphoric rush started to come to life. My body started tingling, the music started to sound crystal clear, and a big smile formed on my face. The acid was coming to life. Some of our friends had showed up at the party, and we had formed a small circle of friends among the crowd, which by now had easily doubled. One of the better DJ's to be playing that night took over on the turntables, and we all grooved to the sounds. This was going to be a good night.

All of a sudden there was the sound of sirens and bullhorns. The music stopped, and a large contingent of police cars pulled up in front of the entrance to the party. "We're sorry, but this party is over," someone said on stage. The large crowd slowly filtered out of the area. I found Twina, who was still sober, and she decided to drive us back to Denver to go back to the map point and find out of there was an alternate plan. We hopped in the car to go, following some friends of ours.

At this point, the acid was peaking. Twina was joking and laughing with me (and at me) as I sat captivated by the streetlights streaking by. Twina kicked on some good music and we drove to Denver, not knowing what to expect. When we got back to the map point it was deserted except for a few cars full of party kids trying to figure out their next move. We drove around to a bunch of party spots, but we could not find anything going on. finally, after we had exhausted our search, we decided to call it a night.

When twina dropped me off it was very early in the AM, and there was no way I was going to be able to sleep. As I crept into the house quietly, I could hear my man Chewy throwing down some thunderous snores, which in my acid induced state was pretty darn funny. I chuckled my way to my room, where I attempted to go to sleep. I got into bed and stared at the dark ceiling, but that did not work. I decided I would turn the lights on and play some music, which still sounded amazing, being that I was still pretty messed up.

About a half hour into my music, my phone started ringing. I answered it. It was a couple girls I knew that had been at the party that got busted, and they were wondering what was going on and if I wanted to hang out. I typically didn't hang out with these girls because word on the street was they were speed freaks, specifically into meth. I said "What the hell" and told them to come get me, since I wasn't going to be sleeping in the near future. I got dressed and sat and waited for them to come.

A half hour later they showed up in front of the house, and they were talking a mile a minute. The music was blaring and everything seemed to be in fast motion. They suggested we drive up to Horsetooth Lake, which is a big lake set in the mountains that overlooks the town of Ft. Collins. Before we did that, however, they inexplicably needed to stop at the car wash.

For those not in the know, there is a long running joke that you can always tell a speed freak's house because it is always going to be spotless. They sit up for hours on end doing meth, and they have energy to burn, so they end up cleaning their houses (and stealing identities). The fact that they wanted to go to the car wash in the very early morning hours (now around 5:00 AM) solidified the joke for me, causing me to laugh all the way there.

Once we reached the car wash, I stood back and watched in awe as two sped up girls produced from the trunk a magnificent caddy of cleaning supplies, intent on cleaning the shit out of that car. I sat down and was doubled up in laughter, watching their sped up window cleaning, vacuuming and shining. They were going at it hard and fast, cleaning it like their lives depended on it. They had a whole routine to cleaning the car, as if they had done it a million times. In just a short 10 minutes, the car had been washed, dried, vacuumed, windexed in and out, wheel cleaned and tire shined. It was incredible.

Once they were done with their crazy cleaning spree, we headed up to Horsetooth. Despite our insanely different paths and lives, we sat at the overlook while the sun rose over the city in silence. We stayed for awhile, but I was dressed in giant black pants and a very warm shirt and in the the emerging summer sun I was getting hot and tired. They too were getting tired, as their meth supply ran out shortly before their cleaning expedition. We made our way back to the car, which was alone in the parking lot.

We hopped in the car, and one of the speed freaks tried starting it. Nothing. It was not starting up. Here I was, coming down off an acid high in the summer with my night rave gear on with two meth heads who were grumpily coming down from their high. This was decidedly not a good place to be. We started calling everyone we knew on our cell phones, but no one answered, being that it was early Sunday morning. We ended up being stuck up there for another hour and a half until the driver was finally able to get in touch with her roommate, who came up and gave us a jump start. They took me home, and with the euphoric energy finally worn off, I was finally able to sleep around 7:30 AM.

So that was that. A crazy madcap night of zaniness. It was a different time back then, and while I would never in a million years want to go back to a life like that, it is still funny to think about all the nutty situations I put myself in.

2006? I'm down.

2006-01-06T08:53:00.000-08:00

Hey party people! Hope you are all doing well today. It is Friday, and that always means the Down List is coming your way very shortly. Booyah!

Speaking of Booyah, I had pronounced the word "Booyeah" as one I am down with, despite the haters. Well, another hater popped up and threw down the following comment to my year end Down List:

"booyeah is a term that originated in the military, what branch I am not sure, If I had to guess I would probably say the marines, as they are the only ones dumb enough to shout BOOYEAH everywhere they go- sorry dawg but I am hating on this phrase- In the military its used as kind of a catch-all answer to anything- yes sir BOOYEAH!! that kind of shit- so next time you say it think of some dumb ass redneck from kentucky all fired up to do some killing in the name of amerikkka yelling BOOYEAH, BOOYEAH not so cool now is it? sorry Im just a little touchy with the military jargon"

Needless to say, it took some of the wind out of my sails. The haters have overturned my booyeah into a booyah. Oh well. It was good while it lasted.

In other news, in a repeat of the events of Friday, Dec. 16th, I rolled over in bed this morning to a wide eyed wife, happily proclaiming "TGIF Bitch!" I think she lives for Friday morning.

Also I would like to apologize for slacking this week on posts- It is my first real week at work back from vacation, and it is draining me pretty good. Next week I should be back and full of energy, writing actual stories rather than crazy lists. I also plan on having a guest writer next week, so stay tuned.

OK, so here we go- The Down List, brought to you by the good folks at Weiners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey:

1. The Rose Bowl. I mean, did you see it? It was insane! I am not a big football fan, but this game had me at the edge of my seat. Vince Young threw it down and then some. It was an amazing display of offense, mostly by Vince in the 4th quarter. USC threw away a good lead in the end, and Texas was triumphant, stopping USC's 34 game win streak and preventing them from getting a 3rd National championship in a row.

2. Pizza. Not just any pizza, but the homemade pizzas the wife and I create. I got a bunch of pizza paraphernalia from The Wife and others, and I was able to use it on Tuesday. Not only did it make a kick ass pizza, it made me down.

3. Turkey Sandwiches. Around Thanksgiving I bought a 22 pound turkey because it cost 19 cents a pound. Around $5 for a gigantic turkey. It was the deal of a lifetime. from then until New Years, it sat in my freezer, waiting for it's time to be eaten. My friend cooked her up New Year's Eve 8 people ate happily from it, and there was still 3 giant plates of turkey meat left over. That means turkey sandwiches for me, and that is a good thing.

4. Chewy's blog. You've got to be on myspace to enjoy it, but if you can get there, get there. Email me for more details.

5. Eyeglasses. I used to buy them all the time, always with a new year, but in the past few years I have had the same pair. That is all going to change, however, because as soon as my flex spending kicks in for 2006 I am getting 3 new pair of fashionable eyewear. I will send out pics when I get them, but they are all really really cool. Kind of like me. Booyah!

So that's that. I promise more writing and less laziness last week. Much love, and power to the people.

New Year Blahs

2006-01-04T08:47:00.000-08:00

Well, the new year is among us, and with it comes some good old fashioned chill time. I am not going to miss the holidays much now they are gone. Sure, I love the family, the parties, and the kick ass food, but it hits a point where I just want to kick my feet up and relax.

Alas, that relaxation is going to have to wait, because with the new year comes Chaz's New Year's Resolutions, and I am going to share some of them with you, my crazy readers.

1. Argyle Socks. A couple years back, I went on a two year plan to replace all of my normal socks with bright argyle socks. For a while there I was pretty hellbent on getting new argyles, but I was selective given I had a couple years to fulfill my plan. Now that the two years have passed, I still have an alarming number of normal socks in my sock drawer, and I am none too pleased. This year is going to be the year I fulfill my sock prophecy and be the argyle king! Bwahahahah ha ha... eh.

2. Gettin' Bready With It. (nananana na na) Over the past couple years, I have tried my hand at making bagels, which I felt I did rather well. I have also perfected a great pizza dough, which I rock all the time and just gets better and better. I want this year to be the year I break on through to the Bready side and bake breads for the first time.

For those of you who don't know, I am a self-proclaimed breadaholic. I have had whole meals of bread, and whole loaves of bread with meals. I love everything about bread- the crust, the smell, the texture-- everything. There is nothing that smells better than baking bread (unless it is baking at Subway) and I figure I should bathe my house in the same smell, and enjoy the fruits of my labor. This year, we're having bread for dinner!

3. Lose some weight. It is going to be hard to fulfill resolution #2 when I have to lose some weight, but moderation is the key to everything, or so I've heard. So here it is- I am chubby. I need to lose some weight and feel great, and this is the year I am going to do it. Back in the day I sported a flat stomach and a killer attitude. Not so much the case anymore. This year, I am exercising and getting back in the game. Booyah!*

4. Stop talking about Gougères so much. Aw hell.

5. Get back into Hip Hop and House Music. I have been letting all the bad rap get to my head lately, and have not focused on any of the good hip hop coming out. This year, I am going to get back to my hip hop. I am also going to re-explore house music, as it used to be my very favorite, but I ditched it a couple years ago when nothing innovative was coming out. This year, I am going to find new and deep beautiful house to rock.

6. Catch a fish. I only remember ever catching one fish in my life. I think I caught a trout once while I was in camp, but that doesn't really count, as the camp counselor did all the work getting it off the hook. This year, I want to catch a fish. I don't have the rod, the reel, or any knowledge of fishing, but that isn't going to stop me. This year, it is fish for dinner!

7. Drive Them Balls. A couple years back, The Wife's Dad (some might call him my father-in-law) gave me his old golf clubs with hopes I might someday use them. I went to the driving range a couple times, but usually either hit the balls 30 feet forward or 90 feet to the left or right, and like everything else, I quit doing it. After New Year's Eve we spent the night at our friend's house, and in the morning the guys went to the driving range. I hit the balls better than I have ever hit 'em, and it renewed my faith in myself. This year, I am going to go to the driving range more and get my swing good enough to actually golf on a course someday. This year, it's golf for dinner! Wait a minute...

8. Pet Insurance. Over the past couple years, our pets medical issues have spent so much money that could have been spent on better things, like beer. This year, I am going to go the extra mile for them and get them all pet insurance. Sure, it isn't cheap, but just like people insurance, it is all about peace of mind.

So that's that. Eight simple resolutions I can get behind. Feel free to share your own as well! Drop me a comment with your resolution. Happy New Year everyone! See you tomorrow.

Down with 2005

2005-12-30T10:14:00.000-08:00

The year is almost over, and with it comes one last helping of The Down List, brought to you by the good folks (me) at Weiners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey.

But first...

New Years Eve has mostly been a disappointment for me. There has never been a New Years I look back on and say "That was one rockin' New Years Party." This is not to say I have not had good times on New Years; it just has never been to the level it should have been. Back when I was a kid, we would stay at home with the parents who would fix up a master food spread, we would watch Dick Clark and celebrate at midnight. Those were the best memories as there were no expectations of anything better, just us kids staying up past midnight, which was totally awesome.

High school rolled around and New Years meant something different. It meant parties, it meant socializing and it meant going all out. My first year of high school I attended the New Year's Dance at our high school, which went until midnight. The dance basically amounted to all the people who didn't get invited to the good parties having their own thing. Throughout high school, it didn't really get any better. Parties came and went, always hyped to be more than they should be, and we always left disappointed.

When I turned 21, I thought this opened up a new era in my New Years celebrations- I was finally able to go out, drink champagne and celebrate with the big boys. As I found out, New Years in any bar was a jam packed, sweaty ordeal not worth it's time. New Years is basically amateur night, where people who don't usually get loose or do anything but this one time a year are out in full force, clogging your favorite bars and clubs. These are the people who order intricate foo-foo drinks when there are 20 people waiting in line, not knowing their drink is going to make the line twice as long. They get in your way, usually throw up, and they don't tip their bartenders. Bars and Clubs feed on people like this, and they usually squeeze them in so you can't sit or walk. When midnight finally comes around they dramatically kiss each other, but they won't so much as wish you a Happy New Year.

The past couple years I made a vow to not go out, so instead we have been going to our friends' house where we enjoy a nice dinner, a lot of drinking, and other fun. There are no expectations other than to have nice conversation, listen to good music, eat nice food, and drink a lot of good (not watered down) drinks. This year we plan to do the same.

With that, I give you the year end Down List. Everyone is throwing down their best of lists for 2005, so I figured "what the hell?" I will do one myself. You, my loyal readers, are worth it.

This year, Chaz was down with:

2005 TV Awards

1. The Office, US version. I hear nothing but love for the Brit version of The Office, and I must say I didn't enjoy the first season of the US version, but the second season (this year) has come alive and has been fantastic. Why it has not received more love than some of the other crap on TV (3 and a Half Men, for instance) is beyond me. Here's hoping it can continue being good.

2. Las Vegas. I know so many people who are down with this show right now. It has adventure, cheese humor, beautiful people, and James Caan. What more could you ask for? The storylines are ridiculous, the acting is semi-terrible (Particularly Molly Sims) but overall the show is entertaining as hell. I am down.

2005 Movie Awards

I don't get out to the movies much. In fact, this year, due to being broke most of the beginning part of the year, I didn't get out and see many movies at all. So, in an attempt to fill some space, I am giving awards for what I was not down with or just made up reviews. See if you can tell which is which.

1. The Wedding Date. This might have been the biggest turd of a movie I have ever seen. The only reason I admit to seeing it is because I was on a plane with 6 hours to kill, it was showing on the main screen, and I had just finished my magazine. It was watch the movie or stare at the tray table and seat back in front of me. Now, after seeing this crappy horseshit movie, I wish I had just watched the seat back. The basic premise of the movie is this: Girl goes to her sister's wedding, her sister gets all the attention, girl hires male escort to take her to the wedding, the male escort is the only one who has common sense, girl falls in love with escort, drama with the sister ensues, but everyone ends up happy. I felt dirty after watching this film. Seriously.

2. Pooh's Heffalump Movie. This was by far the defining movie of our generation. The bonding of Pooh with the others is heavenly. Tigger and Owl came together with the dramatic chops to give them serious consideration come Oscar time, but the grittiest of role playing was by the indelible combination of Kanga and Rabbit, who showed us true heart and soul in their brave roles. There was tension, drama, comedy, and in the end I felt like I learned something about myself. Kudos to you, Pooh, and to your wonderful film! Absolutely brilliant.

2005 Music Awards

1. Kanye West, Late Registration. I know, this is totally cliche, but I loved the album. It had a little something for everyone: the beats were strong, and the rhyming totally improved.

2. Arcade Fire, Funeral. Though released late 2004, this album didn't really start getting any play until 2005 so I am going to count it in my best of last year. Amazing album all the way through, with tons of heart and feeling. Good stuff.

2005 Food Awards

1. Gougères. Like you didn't see this coming from a mile away? You must be crazy if I didn't include these luscious morsels in my year end list. I am telling you- these shits is good as hell.

2. Lobster. This was my first year eating lobster, and it has been something to remember. Yeah, you can call me fancy all you want but I don't care- I'm too busy being down.

2005 Other Stuff

1. Blogs. As far as I am concerned, I consider this year to be the year of the blog-- a good many of my friends have entered blogdom with open arms, and are putting together some enjoyable stuff. Even my best friend Chewy has gotten into the mix, writing his own blog on Myspace.

2. The word "Booyeah". Booyeah is a good word, despite what the haters are saying.

3. Timbuk2. See posts from earlier this week.

4. Harry Potter. A new book and movie out this past year, and not to be a geek, but I am down. Booyeah!

5. Deadspin. This sports/entertainment blog comes from the good people who did Gawker, Defamer, Gizmodo, and other sweet entertainment sites. This one is unrelenting sports stuff, including funny encounters with famous athletes. I love this stuff.

6. Pizza Dough. This has been the year that I learned a new pizza dough that spawned a pizza revolution with us and our friends. We have eaten so much pizza in the past year it would make your head spin. This is also a shout out to The Wife. (wink)

7. Strawberry Park Hot Springs. We went to this place with my folks when we went to Colorado in June. It was absolutely beautiful, mostly relaxing, and serene as could be. If anyone is in the Steamboat, CO area, I urge you to check this place out.

8. Tecate. The official beer of the year, Tecate has rocked my world. Crack a lime in it, and let the good times roll. Over the summer, Jimmy Drylids and I drank this stuff like water.

9. The Thomas Kincaid Folding Picture Frame. This thing is swank. So swank. The best mystery gift ever. I have heard rumors it has experienced some serious adventure, but I have no proof. More to come on that. Am I being cryptic? Hmm....

10. Weiners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey. That's right, I am down with this here blog. I have had a great time, and hope by the end of next year I will have more great stuff for you. Actually, by the end of next year, I hope I am sunning myself on a yacht whilst lying on giant piles of cash, but whatever.

So that conludes my Down List for 2005. I bid you all a safe and Happy New Year! See you in 2006.

I worship the cheeses

2005-12-29T07:31:00.000-08:00

editor's note: As with many of my stories, my friends have heard them a thousand times. To those of you who have heard this one, I am sorry for putting you through it once again, but I must.

My first job in Portland was right in the heart of downtown. I had recently moved into a new office with windows that overlooked a park and the Willamette River, which was wonderful. I shared this office with two of my co-workers who had the same job duties as I did.

One of the people I shared my office with was Jenny (name changed for anonymity), who was the driven sort, mostly quiet and always on-task. Even though our desks were next to each other, we would go whole days without talking to each other. I would get telephone calls from my friends and talk about poo and other regular stuff I would always talk about, and she would get a frightened look on her face and try as hard as she could to zone me out. We had a fragile relationship based on mostly work, although every now and again we would enter some awkward fragmented attempt at a conversation.

My other officemate, Brad (his name changed too), was also a driven sort. Brad didn't talk much, but when he did you would learn more about his crazy life. Brad was an older guy in his 40's who was semi-intense but mostly OK. He would do strange things like enter the office after his jog wearing a spandex singlet similar to what amateur wrestlers sport, with his package protruding for the world to see. He was dating a woman in Romania he met "over the internet," and was planning on bringing her out to Portland to live with him at some point, although the details of their meeting and future was always changing. He was a straight laced guy who probably sported the same close cropped haircut he had in the military, and whose wardrobe was as non-descript as anyone else's in our business casual world.

One day while working I received a call from The Wife, who offered to bring food to me at work so we could go to Pioneer Square, the main plaza in downtown, and have a nice picnic lunch. The Wife worked at a winery at the time that always hosted private catered events, and often times would reap the benefits of keeping the fancy food when the events ended. For this lunch she brought along several large hunks of fancy cheese leftover from a party the night before. She also brought along olives, bread, and some other good stuff.

We traversed down to the square, where we proceeded to have a great slow meal. We talked a lot, mostly about the food we ate and particularly about one cheese neither she nor I had tried before. We wondered what this goodness we were eating was called. Regardless, we finished the meal a short time later and she walked me back to work.

As I walked into my building, I started wondering more about the cheese that I just tried. I walked into my office, and immediately asked my co-workers, "Hey, do you guys know anything about cheeses?"

They both tensed up as if I was asking something improper. Jenny shied away from me, as usual, but peeked over with the corner of her eyes to see what would happen. Brad looked at Jenny for help, and tensely said "I know a lot- what can I tell you?"

"The one I had," I responded, "Was really creamy with blue streaks in it--"

Brad cut me off. "Wait a minute, what are you talking about?"

"Cheese," I replied quizzically.

"Oh!" he said as if totally relieved, "I thought you were asking me about Jesus."

So there you go. The moral of the story is don't go talking about cheeses at work-it might make people uncomfortable.

Timbuk2 is A-OK

2005-12-28T09:01:00.000-08:00

Last year we had the perfect holidays planned. The Wife and I were going to fly out to visit my mother, as we had been rotating our holidays between her parents and mine since we got married. Everything was going according to plan, and we were looking forward to another stressful time with my folks. That is when the unthinkable happened.

We have a small chihuahua named Velcro who sometimes tended to get underfoot. About a week before Christmas, I walked into the kitchen and stepped on Velcro's paw accidentally, breaking her leg. We took her to the emergency pet hospital, who took an X-Ray and put her leg in a cast. They also gave her pain killers to help her through the pain. The cost for this trip was somewhere around $800, and we still had a surgery to pay for.

At the time, The Wife and I were unemployed. We were broke as a joke, and we had spent all of the money we did have on presents for our families. I had already bought her presents, and we decided that we would try to return some of them to recoup some money to pay for Velcro's surgery. One of the presents I bought for The Wife was a Build-Your-Own Bag at Timbuk2, a designer of hip messenger bags. I emailed them the following to get my money back:

Hello! First off, love the company. My wife and I are on our second Timbuk2 bags, and would never use another bag. In fact, I bought the "bag in the box" gift certificate for my wife to customize her new bag for xmas. The problem is, we have a little chihuahua whose leg just broke yesterday, and I need to recoup as much cash from our gifts as possible to pay vet bills. Being that this has not shipped yet, is there a way to cancel the order and credit the card I made the purchase with? I will probably be coming back in a couple months when everything is settled to buy this again, but I cannot do it right now. Let me know what you can do. My info is supplied below.

Thank you, and happy holidays.
"Chaz"

A short while later, they responded with the following:

Hi "Chaz",

Thank you for contacting Timbuk2! Im so sorry to hear about your dog. I have good news and bad news. The bad news is your order already shipped from our warehouse so I cant cancel it. The good news is we are in the holiday spirit so I will go ahead and credit your account and you can hold on to the Bag in a Box as our Christmas present to you. Thanks for your continued support of Timbuk2 and have a very happy holiday!

Regards,
Laura Thomas
Customer Service Representative
Timbuk2 Designs Inc.
www.timbuk2.com

I was elated. After a couple days of pure hell which included canceling our trip to see Mom, returning presents, and the guilt of accidentally hurting my poor defenseless pup, something good happened and it happened due to the kindness of a small company whose gesture was huge. They basically gave us $100- it was way too kind. As a thank you to the Timbuk2 folks, I have gone all out to recommend them to all of my friends over the past year, and will continue to do so.

So again, one year later, a huge thanks to Timbuk2. You made a terrible time a whole lot easier.

As I mentioned yesterday, thanks to a gift from The Wife, I built myself a new bag that should be on it's way in a day or two. If you go to the bag-builder on the Timbuk2 website, I got the Medium bag with cordura fabric and the colors in coffee-sky-coffee. Check it out.

***

For every good experience there is a bad one. Here is one man's account of his battle with an online camera store.

http://thomashawk.com/2005/11/priceritephoto-abusive-bait-and-switch.html

***

A cow that poops jelly beans

2005-12-27T08:35:00.000-08:00

After a long exhaustive holiday break, I am back! I hope y'all didn't miss me too much. I know some of you were not able to function without your regular dose of Wieners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey, and it is to you people that I apologize for being such a slacker.

The holiday season has come and gone in the Fresh household. The tree is now down and the decorations are gone. My mother has flown back to her home, and The Wife and I have been relishing the peaceful calm. The holidays brought some really nice moments.

Some of the highlights:

1. My first lobster experience. The Wife's parents, who live in town, took my parents, The Wife, and me out to a nice dinner. We slurped down oysters and I got a whole lobster for the first time. I had a lobster tail in the past once, but since I am only a couple years removed from being a long time vegetarian that was the extent of my lobster experience. It kicked some serious ass. On a similar note,

2. Some Serious Weight Gain. It was all good food all the time, although everyone knows that good food does not equate healthy food. It was all about mom's beef stroganoff, lobster, bacon & eggs, bagels with cream cheese, filet mignon, decadent desserts, and everyone's favorite, Gougères. If you need me this week, I will be rolling my bloated body around.

3. Presents. I love me some presents. I got some good stuff from everyone. Presents of note: "Manny the (battery powered and plastic) Singing Menorah," a plastic cow that poops jelly beans, tons and tons of pizza making paraphernalia, a bright green scarf handmade by mom, a marshmallow blow gun, a New York Times 365 day crossword calendar, a mean ass Omaha Steaks combo pack with steaks and fish, and a Timbuk2 bag, which I will talk about in more detail later this week.

4. Beer. As I may have mentioned (but probably have not mentioned) in the past, my friend Jimmy Drylids is a brewer, and I got to visit his brewpub for the first time. The beer was delightful, and he brought more of it down on Christmas morning to share with my family. Booyeah.

5. Friends and Family. The best present of all. I have myself some great friends, in-laws and family.

So that's that. My highlights of my time off. There are a ton more, but I will pepper them into the blog all week long. I am going to try writing the next few days in a row. Enjoy.

Happy Holidays

2005-12-20T19:09:00.000-08:00

Hey all! Due to my mother coming in tomorrow from out of town and the holidays and commitments to follow, I will be taking a week break. I will be back on Tuesday the 27th with a special Tuesday edition of the Down List.

Best wishes to all!

I'll drink to that

2005-12-16T07:47:00.000-08:00

I get up pretty darn early every morning to get to work at an early time. My morning routine includes a shower, getting dressed, and getting out of the house as quick as I can because I am almost always one snooze bar behind. Most of what I do in the morning is in the cover of darkness, as The Wife doesn't like to get up before I leave the house. When I am all ready to leave for work I usually go into our dark room, traversing obstacles such as vagabond shoes to make it to the bed, and try to place a kiss in the vicinity of her face. Usually if I land a kiss somewhere on her face, which is always coated in that nice morning bed warmth, I will get some sort of satisfied groan from her.

This morning I went through the regular steps of being quiet and getting myself ready. Once I was all ready to go I went into our bedroom to kiss The Wife goodbye. As I leaned over to kiss her, her eyes opened suddenly and she proclaimed "TGIF, Bitch!"

I love that lady more and more each day.

With that, I give you the Down List, my happy list of things I am down with this week. As I mentioned yesterday, I have called a one week moratorium of all things potty. Therefore this list will not include anything mentioning farts, beefs, gas, poop, shit, ass, or anything else.

This week The Chaz is down with:

1. The end of Holiday Shopping. The Wife and I did something different this year than any other year- we made a budget, put it down in a spreadsheet which showed what we wanted to get people, how much we wanted to spend, and we kept to it or below it. We've shipped out all the presents that needed to be airborne, and we only have a few loose ends to tie up. Now, for the next couple weeks the only thing we need to focus on is buying each other presents, and we are good to go. I was thinking His & Her Trans-Ams with matching eagles on the hoods, hers in pink and mine in gold. I'll have mine with the T-Tops as well.

2. Love Actually. We were at Circuit City buying The Wife's parents a DVD player, and we wanted to get them a movie to enjoy with it. We were trying to keep in mind the season, and also give them something they would enjoy. We ended up getting them Love Actually, and while we were at it we got ourselves a copy. While it is technically a romantic comedy, there are enough funny bits and side stories to keep everyone entertained. There are 8 different stories that intertwine perfectly, forming a movie that never gets old. Great holiday movie.

3. Gougères. Ha ha, just kidding. Carry on.

4. Beer of the week: Widmer Snow Plow Milk Stout. I have had better beers in my day, but this one reminds me of the time Jimmy Drylids and I made a beautiful cream stout which we lovingly called "Cream Abdul Jabaarley." These memories last a lifetime, and now I coddle them in Snow Plow, a winter beer full of creamy stout goodness from the good people at Widmer. An unrelated side note: the Widmer brewery in Portland is where The Wife and I had our rehearsal dinner when we got married. A second completely unrelated side note: If ever you visit the Widmer brewery, don't order the Chicken Wings. Them shits is gamy as hell.

5. Weenie Wraps. If "white trash" were gauged by what food we ingest, you would have to give me a mullet and a wife beater, because that's how I'd roll. One of our favorite fun meals which we make around once a month is weenie wraps. It all starts with a high quality hot dog. Lately my fave has been the Reduced Fat Hebrew Nationals. Cut a slit in the dog and put some cheese in there if you'd like, (The Wife likes hers cheese-free) and wrap with a pillsbury crescent roll (we use low fat for that too). Bake those bitches up, and have the ketchup and mustard waiting. Très bien!

I am not the only one who is down with stuff this week. My good friend Rerun has graced us with his Down List this week.

Without further ado, Rerun's Down List:

1) Peach Blunts - Growing up my posse and I smoked a lot of blunts, but in past years the craze has died down. A big part of it is that blunts are usually too much for one person to rock - you need a posse. As the winds of life have scattered my homies to various points here and there, it's been difficult to get a blunt-smoking quorum. Blunts are also mad wasteful. For a good stretch of time we couldn't afford to roll up that much smoke in a giant power joint. Recently however - the few smoking friends who remain and myself have ... sparked?....a new found interest in blunt smoking. The best part - they now sell flavored blunts. Peach is our favorite. Long live the peach.

2) Sleigh Riding *- Call me a man child, talk about Peter Pan syndrome - I don't care - I still love doing lots of the things I liked doing as a child. It's not that they've become any less fun, it's just that the people my age are becoming increasingly lame. This is certainly true of sleigh riding. This past weekend it snowed a bunch. Since there is a kick-ass hill near where I live and I happen to have two top-of-the-line sleds, I went sledding not once, but twice, each time after smoking an afore-mentioned Peach blunt. It was good fun and good exercise. I'm still down with sledding.

3) Vocoding - What is vocoding you ask? It's that effect they've been putting on people's voices in recent years to make them sound 'electronic'. A decent example of it would be Daft Punk's "Around the World". A bad example would be Cher's "Do you believe in love". When it comes to vocoding, I'm a total slut. I'm a vocoder whore. To me it's the next evolution of the human voice. Take a piece of poop, vocode it, I'm down. Like all things, the 'vocoder sound' is subjective - you either like it or you don't. Any attempt to logically say it is or is not a good thing is straight-up retarded. My favorite one is "it all sounds the same". So does distortion on an electric guitar. Next customer please?

4) Day Porters - Mid-to-large sized corporations like the one I work at have daytime cleaning staff called "Day Porters". They mainly keep the kitchen and bathrooms nice, but will generally clean anything that needs cleaning. Every Day Porter I've ever known have been good people. It kills me when most of my fellow employees treat them as if they were invisible servants. They do a job nobody wants to do for crap money, and clean up after messy selfish people who won't even acknowledge their presence. Respect for Day Porters.

5) Vitamin Water - For those of you in the civilized world (Blue States), there is a fairly new class of drinks on the drink scene called "Vitamin Water". They are apparently infused with vitamins, but I could give two terdy spits about that. I just care about the taste, and the taste rocks. The key issue is that unlike every other drink in the world, they don't use sucrose sugar as the sweetener, they use crystalline fructose (fruit sugar). The difference? When I drink too much sucrose-based crap (Soda, Snapple, Sobe, etc.), I start feeling disgusting and sick. Not so with Vitamin water. You could hook me up to a Vitamin water IV and I'd still be thirsty. Soo down with the Vitamin Water, especially Green Tea and Fruit Punch.

6) The American Dream - I know this sounds lame...but I'm a believer in the American dream, specifically the own-your-own business part of it. I have a growing number of friends who are trying and slowly succeeding at owning their own business. My friend Doug a.k.a Shakeyface (http://www.shakeyface.com/) got tired of his shitty record deal, so he started his own record label and is releasing his second album on it this February. My friends Tim and Anna ( www.annasheachocolates.com) opened a chocolate shop which quickly burnt down in a freak fire. They've rebuilt, expanded, and are now about to get a shitload of press in top magazines like Reader's Digest and Martha Stewart Living. In the wings are my other friends Alice and Uriel who will be opening a stationary and card store in the next year or two, and the wife another good friend (Chaz) who is launching her own handbag line ( http://www.michelleiswell.com/). Booyah people!

7) Dinah the Cat - My Cat Dinah has recently taken to snuggling under the covers for long periods of time. She's basically a little cuddle buddy available whenever you want. That's the ideal pet. That's exactly what she would be were it not for the fact that she's half retarded and misbehaved in every other way.

8) Space Heaters - Space heaters are pretty sinister things. They use so much electricity you can feel everything in the room battling for enough juice to survive. They produce so much heat that any contact with flammable materials will result in instant fire and death. I am confronted with these realities every day because our main heater is broken and it's 14 degrees outside right now. My landlord is moving as quickly as possible and has ordered a brand new gigantic heating unit, but that won't be here for three weeks. In the meantime they have given us a lunchbox-sized space heater to replace the gigantic and broken industrial wall unit. When I first saw the space heater, lunchbox-sized as it was, I thought it was cute. It reminded me of a space heater's younger brother, Billy. How could little Billy heat such a big space? I stand before this congregation a witness. Billy has mad game. We have been adequate heated in some evilly cold weather. Space heaters represent.

9) Violent Video Games - I'm not a huge fan of violent video games, but I appreciate that they exist. They make a tangible declaration of free speech that forces us to confront violence in our society. They force issues of proper parenting and free speech into the spotlight, and engage debate from all age groups, kids and adults alike. Every few decades we makes some good strides in regards to evolving as a society. Abolition of slavery, women's rights, civil rights, and now emerging gay rights - we incrementally move the bar forward and evolve as a species. That's done in lots of little increments initiated by public debate or focus on issues. Violent video games provide that debate and focus and move us forward as a result. As Rage-Against-The-Machine as it sounds, I'm down with that.

10) A-Track, Sunglasses Is a Must - DJ A-trak won the world DJ championship at age 15 with a routine that was absolutely flawless and so dope, it leaves me nearly unconscious. After what has seemed like years, a self-produced documentary on his career called "Sunglasses Is a Must", is finally about come out on DVD. I got an advance copy and loved the hell out of it. Not only is it incredibly sick from a DJ perspective, but it's also pretty well produced and enjoyable. My wife was down. That's pretty rare in a genre typically made up of corny or under-produced crap. http://www.djatrak.com/. Recognize.

***

Thanks Rerun, I only have one thing left.

*Sleigh Riding: As you mentioned in your post above, you refer to sledding as sleigh riding but also as sledding. Chewy and I have been arguing about this for years- I say it is sledding, he says sled riding. I will leave it to my faithful readers to help provide the answer to this riddle.

Have a great weekend all!

Steve Guttenberg is a damn pimp

2005-12-15T13:20:00.000-08:00

Yeah, my last post sucked. It happens. This link should make it all better. An interview with the one and only Steve Guttenberg. He, like my cat, is a stone cold pimp. This comes from Defamer, a celeb-industry watching blog in LA.

http://www.defamer.com/hollywood/steve-guttenberg/the-guttenberg-returneth-f-you-im-rich-143332.php

More tomorrow...

Poo Particles

2005-12-15T07:27:00.000-08:00

Back in the day, Chewy, me, and our friend Sarsh(alias, duh) would hang out all the time. We used to talk about some nasty stuff, with poop and farts being among our favorite topics. That was years ago and not much has changed, as evidenced by Chewy's blog posting from yesterday.

One of the things Chewy and Sarsh always argued was the presence of poo particles in passed gas. It has been argued left and right, front and back, with no one giving an inch. Sarsh's key argument was (and still is) that gas is a gas, and she equated it to cigarette smoke (which technically isn't a gas). Chewy jumped all over that argument, insisting there were microscopic pieces of poo floating around the air after a good beef. The argument has gone one for years, with new angles always being examined. The underwear as a filter has been a huge debate point. The debate never went anywhere except to give Sarsh and Chewy another excuse to bicker, which they commonly did.

These discussions would lead to the next level of grossness, usually to the point where someone had to stop the gross talk. We never had any prejudices, and all body functions and parts were fair game. To the newcomers and some of our other friends, we, especially Chewy and I, were dubbed to be the most grotesque combo in history, able to instantaneously take the potty humor down to a level 1000 places lower than it should have been. That was our legacy, and we relished it.

When I lived in New York, I would visit Colorado quite often. One night, for reasons he still regrets, our friend T-Rex invited us to a small get together of his Japanese class. He invited me, Chewy, and our other friend DJ Fuckyouup. DJ Fuckyouup was a partier at the time who drank heavily and laughed loud. When we walking into the party, it was set in a tiny apartment with 10 to 15 members of T-Rex's class sitting in a circle sipping drinks and half talking in awkward broken Japanese phrases while their teacher, and older semi-prim Japanese woman, looking on.

Right when we walked in, the music screeched to a halt and everyone looked up at us. I headed straight for the kitchen, where I mixed us some Gin and Tonics. When I got back to the living room, Chewy was talking to the visibly shaken teacher, trying to confirm some of the dirty Japanese phrases he had learned back in the day. After a few minutes, a terrible smell overtook the room and everyone groaned and covered their noses. Chewy, who had been kneeling on the wall next to DJ Fuckyouup immediately got up and made a B-line for the front door, which he slammed behind him. This one was a real face melter, and DJ Fuckyouup tooking no time loudly and triumphantly putting the blame on Chewy. I was laughing hard, partially from the burning shame of accompanying a beef-and-runner. I went outside and went off on Chewy, who has been known to cropdust in the past. He insisted he walked outside to smoke, partially because a terrible stench was forming. We stood out there for a couple minutes, when T-Rex and DJ Fuckyouup came outside. DJ Fuckyouup had a shiteating grin on his face, and he admitted "I didn' t think it would smell." We didn't go back into the party.

Those are my friends, people.

I have lots of fun stories to tell, but I am going to wait awhile- I think we have all been pooed and farted on plenty this week. I am putting a one week moratorium on all things potty, starting now.

Tomorrow: The Down List! Your favorite list of all things hot and cool, brought to you by MC Chaz. Also tomorrow, my good friend Rerun will share things he is down with. Buenos Dias!

The Panacea of Lunacy

2005-12-14T07:53:00.000-08:00

Good morning, loyal readers!

My name is Chewy, and I am Chaz’s guest blogger today. Apparently Chaz needs some time off in order to update his fantasy basketball stats, and also to prepare for this weekend’s sure-to-be-epic Dungeons & Dragons game.

Let us start with washing one’s hands in the bathroom. How many of you do it? I myself am of opposing mindsets when it comes to it. When I was a younger lad and before my germ-phobia had started to spin inexorably out of control, I used to feel that washing one’s hands after peeing (not pooping) was not wholly necessary, especially if one were a man (I am!). I mean, I know where my “member” has been all day, and that was almost always inside of my pants tucked behind clean underwear. I don’t pee on my hands, so I thought it was silly to wash my hands after touching “Little Juan”. It didn’t seem any different than not washing my hands after touching my elbow (which I am sure is FAR dirtier than “Juanito”), and I am sure most (if not all) of you do NOT wash your hands after touching your elbow.

This was when I came up with my conspiracy theory: the church was behind all of this. They wanted us to feel that touching our private parts was dirty and necessitated a hand-washing. I am nothing if not….liberal in my views on sexuality and religion, so I decided it was improper to wash my hands if all I did was pee (and didn’t actually pee ON them). Take THAT, church! But then I started thinking of other people and their hygiene habits and I realized that I didn’t know where their wieners had been and how often they washed themselves. And then I thought about how I have to touch all these things throughout the day that people who may or may not wash their wieners had touched.

It nearly paralyzed me with fear.

I work with computers all day, and have to touch a lot of people’s keyboards, and I realized I could not allow myself to be paralyzed in such a way, or else my career trajectory could be severely limited.

So I decided that I would wash MY hands every time I used the bathroom, thus ridding me (hopefully) of other people’s germs that I would pick up throughout the day. I would hate to touch “Little Juan” with god-knows-what on my hands….

So now I have noticed an even scarier trend—people who PRETEND to wash their hands but really DON’T. They merely run water over them quickly and then dry off. What is that about? They’re not fooling anybody. They are hand-washing POSEURS, which in my opinion is worse than not washing one’s hands. Non-hand-washers are at least taking a stand of sorts.

So now I have to use a paper towel to open the bathroom door at work, because I don’t trust these people. I mean, if that is how they wash their hands, how do they shower?? Do they even shower??? If they do, do they use SOAP??? I don’t even want to find out the horrible truth.

I also don’t even profess to know what goes on in the ladies’ room, so I won’t even try to decipher the hand-washing practices of the fairer sex.

This leads us into perhaps the grossest part of today’s rant: farting while peeing. This is a fine practice for when you are at home, but I have noticed people at my work who will stand next to you at the urinal (ladies, be thankful you do not have so sit shoulder to shoulder whilst peeing) and just let one rip. Since I am peeing, I am stuck there, and as a result am forced to breathe in their gross farts (which I think we all know contain little poop particles)! How does one address this? You can’t really ask them not to do it, because talking to a stranger while peeing is tantamount to checking out their package as they pee. It is simply not done. One must avoid eye contact with one’s peeing neighbors at all costs while standing before the urinal. Besides, the odds are that you will not ever encounter this scenario with the same person again.

That is all for today, folks, it has been both an honor and a privilege to write in stead of the great Chaz. I hope his Dungeons & Dragons game goes well. He has +6 against orcs (or so he claims).
I am going to go wash my hands.

Things Chewy is Down with:
Canadian indie-pop Sci-Fi books
Drunkenly text-messaging haiku to pretty girls late at night
Talking about poop
Pooping
Sushi
Miller High Life
Iron City Beer
Video games
Hairdressers
Dressing better than you
Always being perfectly coiffed
Yo mama jokes
Pleather
Las Vegas (the show)
Nip/Tuck
Pinball
Thundarr the Barbarian
The poem “Fuck Me Like Fried Potatoes” by Richard Brautigan:

Fuck me like fried potatoes on the most beautifully hungry morning of my God-damn life.

Watermelon juice

Things Chewy is NOT down with:
Poor grammar
Poor spelling
Poor dental hygiene
Discolored teeth
Chaz’s pooping practices
Pinot Grigio

***
Editor's note: Chaz does not take part in any D&D activities. His friend Chewy, however, wears black t-shirts with wizards, dragons and unicorns on them. That is how he rolls.

The big 1000

2005-12-13T07:55:00.000-08:00

It all started with some dirt and a dream, many moons ago. I am speaking of Wieners, Cheese Balls, and Horse Puckey, America's favorite blog hosted by yours truly, Chaz. It was July 6, 2005 when I started this blog so I could comment on my friend Katie's blog. Meanwhile, at home the Chaz was in a crisis as mentioned in my first real post, dated September 14, 2005:

"So Chazfresh, What do you do?"

I work.

"No, I didn't mean work, I meant everything else... Hobbies, pastimes, you know. What do you do?"

The million dollar question, and I cannot think of a good answer for it. I have no discernable hobbies, unless you count eating and drinking with my friends, which I do in abundance. Back in the days when I was a teenager, before I had status and before I had a pager, I had many things going on in my life. There was no stone left unturned. I played games in parks and rode bikes. I went dancing and collected music. I played guitar and wrote poems and music. Ahh, the good old days. Nowadays my life has been relegated to TV and internet, but that's all going to change- I am not going to turn into a typical lazy American. Not yet anyway.

Call it early midlife crisis, or whatever else you want. I was searching for meaning in this cold cruel place. Maybe I was just bored. Enter Weiners, Cheese Balls, and Horse Puckey. All of a sudden I was writing about poo, food, metaphor penises, beer, and the stupid things I did earlier on in life. I wanted to use this blog to practice different writing styles, and at the beginning I did. As it went on, however, writing this blog became something special for me-- it became a real hobby. By writing, I was able to get over the hump.

Now here I am, 4 months later. I am getting 10 to 20 unique visitors a day, all coming to read about Chazzie's adventures and misadventures. I started a hit counter on October 4, 2005, and I just recently went over the 1000 hit mark. More importantly, I have a faithful readerbase of people who post comments and read me even if I suck. As I move forward, a thank you to y'all who keep me going (in no specific order):

The Wife
Jimmy Drylids
Wacky Poo Blacky
Jeri
Chewy
Brit
K-Fed
Jen Black
Rerun (otherwise known as Wesamphetamine)
The Girl's Handbook
Aubrey
Rachel
Sarah
Lisa
Carsten
and everyone else who reads this blog and doesn't post comments

Speaking of comments, A few people posted comments of things they are down with on my last posting. If you would like to guest write my Down List, let me know and I will plug you in. Otherwise you are going to see Gougères on every list. That's how I do these days. They are that good.

So that's all. A quick thanks to those who support me. Hope you like this thing, and keep the comments coming. I will be back tomorrow with more fun stuff.

***

Are you down?

2005-12-09T07:52:00.000-08:00

Here we are, a couple weeks to the holidays, and Uncle Chazzy is giving you the gift of literature-- Four straight days of it.

"Wait a minute, Chaz," you might be thinking, "Why do you always say 'holidays' rather than Christmas or Hannukah or Kwanzaa?"

I'm so glad you asked.

My family is Jewish. My mom and dad both were raised Jewish, and their families were very religious growing up. When I was a kid my family went to services but only on the big holidays. Since we would always get Christmas Break off from school, we would either stay home or go to Grandma's & Grandpa's place for the holiday. It became tradition that we would exchange gifts on Christmas day, because it was convenient for everyone. My parents owned their own arts and crafts business, and they would have to work right up to Christmas Eve, so the only day they would get off to celebrate was Christmas Day. It became a tradition with our family to exchange Hannukah presents on Christmas Day.

The tradition grew once we moved to Colorado. We were then closer to my Aunt's family, who were all similarly aged to our own. We all got along fabulously, and in time our two families became more like one extended family. We would all get together on Christmas morning, have a great big breakfast, and open our presents. It wasn't about religion, it was about giving each other presents and having a day to spend with family.

Nowadays, with The Wife's family in the mix, the holidays are never dull. We alternate years with my family and hers. With my family, it is a food loaded gift bonanza. With her family it is more subdued, with a nice dinner and some good conversation. For me it is a win-win.

So with that said, the good folks at Weiners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey are bringing you the latest in what The Chaz is down with, The Down List. For those of you who are not in the know, click here to catch the wave of enlightenment.

This week I am down with:

1) Gougères. yes, I know I said this on my last down list, but The Wife baked these pillows of cheesy goodness again on Wednesday to celebrate the finale of her favorite show, America's Next Top Model. These morsels of perfection are outstanding, and if you ever get a chance to eat them, do. You won't regret it.

2) Jingle Bells, Frank Sinatra Version. When The Wife and I are driving in the new pimp ride, nothing tickles her fancy more than rockin' the Christmas tunes. As anyone who listens to the all Christmas music radio station can attest, it can get a bit stale after awhile. We were feeling that burn after a long car ride when Ol' Blue Eyes came on belting out his own version of Jingle Bells, which singlehandedly brought us back to life.

3) Chicken Fingers. Not the fingers of chickens, but the sliced and breaded chicken parts we make at home. I have mastered the recipe, and cook some mean ass chicken fingers. They are almost as good as...

4) Tecate. Dubbed the beer of last summer by me and Jimmy Drylids, nary a day went by when there wasn't at least one ice cold Tecate in my refrigerator. We had a few left over in our fridge, so a couple days ago I cracked one open, put some lime in there, and let the good times roll.

5) Extreme Ironing. So The Wife and I were walking around the Fred Meyer, which is a gigantic grocery store that is like a cross between a Safeway and a Target, and we came across the calendar section of the store. We needed to get our friend a gift for her 30th birthday, and we wanted to find the cheesiest calendar we could find. Extreme Ironing was that calendar. It showcased people ironing while hanging off the sides of cliffs, in rugged weather on mountain peaks, underwater, and all kinds of other extreme situations. If you drink Mountain Dew, this calendar is for you.

6) Do You Want To, By Franz Ferdinand. This song is getting tons of radio play right now, and people are probably pretty sick of it. Not me, however-- this song is catchy as hell and I am down.

7) The Know. Are you in the know about The Know? If you are not in the know, then you wouldn't know that The Know is a friendly neighborhood dive bar near my house. It has a small microtheater attached to the bar, so you can watch movies on a big screen while sipping your beer. They also have very cheap beer, Pinball, and the owners of the place are all really great. While the place tends to get super smoky, it is worth it because of it's nutty clientele. There are tattoo ridden hipsters, punk rockers, artists, and plain neighborhood folk all coming together at big tables and getting to know each other with little pretension. It's a good place.

So that's that. If you would like to contribute your own Down List for me to publish on my blog, email it to me. Have a great weekend, one and all!

The NBA is fan-tastic

2005-12-08T07:56:00.000-08:00

So far in the short time I have written my blog, you have read my take on the NBA and The Wife's take on the NBA. Today, my good friend Jimmy Drylids is dropping his ode to the NBA for your reading pleasure. Be sure to check out his new blog What's That Smell?, which hopefully will be updated soon. More from me after Jimmy's article...

***

I woke up this morning, made a pot of coffee, and turned on the TV. I decided to turn on Sportscenter to check some of the NBA scores and see how my fantasy players were doing. This is my first fantasy league, and I’m pretty into it. I used to be really into basketball, but seemed to stray away from it until last year when Chaz got me hooked on it again. Thanks dog. It doesn't hurt that the team I’ve loved since I was a kid, the Detroit Pistons, is actually good now.

Back to the task at hand. Sportscenter was showing highlight after highlight of the previous night's football game which was a blowout of 42-0 where the home team lost. I understand home-field advantage, and that a shutout of any sort pretty big, but nothing exciting happened in the game. They spent probably 40% of the show on this football game. They would show brief highlights of every other sport, including the NBA, in between segments about the same football game. While waiting for the NBA highlights through all of the football news, I realized something:

Basketball is a truly superior sport to American football.

Having a Letterman moment, I’ve decided to list my top ten reasons why basketball is better than football. Like to hear it, here it go.

10) Michael Jordan. Granted he is not playing anymore, but come on. I mean, the man changed professional sports. Never had or has anyone been as highly endorsed (although Shaq might be getting close), especially in pro-football. If it wasn’t for the endorsement deals that he was the first to really make money off of, football players like Deion Sanders would not have made as much money as they did. Oh yeah, he could ball too. !

9) Basketball is an international sport. The only place other than the U.S. that plays our style of football is Canada, and, well... Basketball is played all over the world, and other countries are really good; See Argentina, Puerto Rico, and let’s face it, most of the last Olympic teams besides ours.

8) No shut-outs. Shut outs are boring, even if your team is winning. The only time you ever really want a shut out is if your team is playing their worst enemies. Basketball never has shut-outs. Blow-outs yes, but never a shut-out. No matter how much better one team is than an other, the worse team will at least score once.

7) Lebron James. The guy started in the NBA when he was 18, and now he is only 21. That dude’s insane. I wish Homer’s Ballers would trade him to me.

6) Basketballs are orange. This one is for my wife. She hates football because she can never see where the ball is. Problem solved.

5) More games in the regular season. This is simple, More games = more opportunity to play = more chances = better game = what football doesn’t have.

4) No perfect seasons in basketball. I may be wrong about this, but I was to lazy to try and look this up. Only one team has ever done it in football, and another might do it this year. That has it’s exciting moments, but only if you like the team. Wait until the undefeated team plays your favorite, then we’ll see who you root for. No one has perfect seasons in basketball because of the reasons listed in 5.

3) March Madness. I know, I know, this isn’t pro basketball, but since there is college football, I figured it still applies. When else do you get the chance to see last place teams beat first place teams and then go all the way to a national championship. It’s exciting to even think about.

2) The sound the ball makes when it goes through the hoop. Footballs don’t make any noise when they go through the goal-post.

1) No pads. Neither basketball players nor Rugby players where pads. Football players do.

Now these may not be in any order, because they are all selling points to me. Feel free to add any that you feel. Some people may not agree with this but that’s good, maybe they can guest write on Chaz’s blog next week.

***

Jimmy Drylids everybody! He sees dead people. Again, check him out at http://jimmydrylids.blogspot.com/

If you have any commentary that has been jammed up in the "cellar" for awhile, please feel free to email it to me, and you can be my next guest writer! How you like those apples?

Coming tomorrow: The blog streak continues! Friday will bring us the second edition of The Down List, telling you, our faithful reader, what Master Chaz is down with. Booyeah!

***

Holiday shopping is fun, Part 2

2005-12-07T07:45:00.000-08:00

After the furby incident, a lot of things changed. First off, I was a bruised and battered man. OK, not really. I was cool with it. What it did to was change my perspective on the return policy of gifts, and it taught me no matter how hard you look and try, people just might not dig the things you get them.

Around the same time, my family was turning the corner from being anti-gift certificate to pro-gift certificate, which revolutionized the way we did our shopping. Rather than worry about getting someone the right gift, all that needed to be worried about was getting the right store. There were two reasons for this change:

1) My mother. I love my mother to pieces, but brothers and sisters, she doesn't know how to pick out clothes. Every year she would go out and buy us clothes, mostly on sale or clearance, and we would have no choice but to keep them, knowing they would only fetch us $7 to $10 in exchange. Don't get me wrong, she meant very well and always tried, but it never really worked out. She got herself some picky kids when it comes to clothes, and we made enough no-clothes requests to spawn a revolution.

2) Geography. We all started to move away, which led to the shipping issue. It is much easier to mail a card than to ship a gigantic box full of stuff.

I was humbled by the Furby experience, but I was not quite ready to jump on the gift certificate bandwagon. a year passed and I moved to New York City. "Holiday shopping should be a breeze," I thought to myself, "New York has everything!" I didn't realize how nightmarish the city was during the holidays.

For those who have never been to New York during the holiday season, I will help describe the scene. If you have ever been to a sold out concert or sports event, imagine the rush for the doors after the event has ended. People on top of people, all taking up an aisle that is too small, all headed for the same place. That is how New York City shopping is. People come from miles and miles around in every direction to shop in NYC for the Holidays. The city is jam packed, lines are long, and holiday cheer is short. I worked a couple blocks from one of the shopping epicenters of NYC, Macy's, and had to encounter the crowds on a daily basis. Usually shoppers roamed in packs, all carrying large bags and walking too slow, unaware their large bags were blocking all detours around them. You were stuck in the crowd, inching your way towards the next store.

The mad scene didn't dissuade me from immersing myself in it for the good of the cause: shopping for my peeps. This was one of my first years away, and I wanted to make a good impression. I still wanted to get people gifts I thought they would really want. New York, despite all of it's commerce, was an incredibly difficult place to shop. It was not for the lack of choice, it was for all too much choice. There was too much to choose from. I had not been proactive in creating a list of gifts, so I went in blind, and the city chewed me up and spit me back out. I ended up getting everyone great presents, but the city took a piece of my shopping spirit.

In the years since holiday shopping has become more and more nightmarish. Something needed to change. I had worked on getting lists of people and their gifts together prior to shopping, which helped immensely, but I needed to avoid the crowds. I turned to my good pal the internet. I figured ye olde information superhighway shoppe would cure all that ailed me. Sure, I had purchased gifts off the internet all the time, but my entire shopping list? Online?

I sat down at the computer and hit up amazon.com. "This is going to be great," I thought to myself. I had a beer next to me for good measure. I had two groups of presents to ship out. One was a package to my sister in LA, the other was a package to my Mother and extended family out in Colorado. I cracked open a beer and started my search, thinking "Boy, this is the life!" The easy people to shop for came first, my Mom and extended family. Rather than shop at a bunch of different websites, I was determined to shop at only one place so everything shipped in one box, saving me valuable shipping dollars. Minutes turned to hours, and by the time I sent in my final order, it was late and I was frazzled. The next night I did the same thing, examining every toy I could find to find the perfect ones for my nieces to include in my sister's package. It took hours. It would have taken 15 minutes at a Toys R' Us store. It taught me there is still an advantage to shopping in person.

Regardless of my complaining, there is still much I enjoy about the holiday shopping experience. The lights, the trees, the decorations, and the cinnamon smells that stores pump out to lure you in all add to the experience, regardless of the hassle of dealing with crowds. I didn't get that last year when I did the shopping online, and I kind of missed it. There is also the satisfaction of knowing you are getting someone a gift, which always feels good.

So that's that. This year, we created a budget for each person we have to buy gifts for, and we are sticking to it. We are doing our shopping on weekday afternoons to avoid the crowds, and have not really encountered anything terribly annoying other than the occasional loud baby. Maybe this is the year things change. Probably not though.

***

Because I feel guilty about shirking on my blog the past couple of weeks, Ol' Uncle Chazzy will be posting something tomorrow. Think of it as an early gift.

Holiday shopping is fun

2005-12-06T07:56:00.000-08:00

Back in elementary school, holiday shopping was a breeze. My mom would hook me up with some cash and send me to school, where they would transform a classroom into a second hand bazaar filled with all kinds of crazy gifts. I would buy everyone in the family something, and if I had any money left over I would buy candy. It was one stress free day of shopping, and it was fantastic.

High school was just as easy- I had a job and I didn't have to pay for anything at home, so I had plenty of money to buy people stuff. I would smoke some weed with my dog 'Beans', we would head to the mall, and buy everyone gifts in the course of an afternoon. The mall was a must, because not only could we do our shopping, but we could also look at girls and eat Chik-Fil-A, the greatest mall food ever. We didn't really notice the crowds, but that was probably because we were high. We put a lot of thought into the gifts we got our families, and usually our families were happy with the gifts they received. It was quick, painless, and relatively easy.

College became the first time when holiday shopping turned ugly. It was one of the first times in my life I didn't have money to buy gift, and I was on my own as well. Fortunately I was going to the University of Nebraska, which had a new program where your student ID could buy things in the school bookstore on credit. That year, members of my family were treated to University of Nebraska sweatshirts and other University of Nebraska paraphernalia. Regardless of the money crunch I felt, it was still pretty easy shopping at the University of Nebraska Bookstore. I didn't have to really battle the crowds too much, and my family was happy with their Nebraska duds.

After I dropped out of college, I was working full time. Family was starting to move away and expand, and it was a lot harder to keep tabs on people's interests or needs. Shopping became much more of a crapshoot, and I found myself fitting people to sales I found rather than finding objects based on a specific want or need by a person.

Up until that point there was still a guilt factor associated with returning a gift I didn't want or need. People would give me a terrible cosby sweater, and I would hold onto it for years. I would be so guilty I would even wear the cosby sweater once, as horrible as it might have been, rather than return it for something I liked. This mentality was carrying over to my shopping, where I would pore over every gift trying to get people that perfect something, the thing they would never think to return.

One year, while living in Colorado, I decided I was going to get my nephew the hottest toy around- something he would play with all the time, and he would be the envy of his friends. I wanted him to have the year's buzz toy: The Furby. For those of you who don't know, the Furby is an animatronic puffball that is basically a virtual pet. If you don't give it attention it gets mad, it purrs when you pet it, and it says cool things to you when you do something nice. I thought my nephew would love it.

I called all the stores in town, and was usually laughed off the phone. "Are you kidding me?" The salespeople would say "We are totally sold out of those things!" I stepped up the drive to get a Furby, wanting one more than anything. It became more of a drive for myself than for my nephew. I had to have one. I checked on ebay, and they were going for upwards of $150 to $200 for a $24.99 toy. I called Toys R' Us the day before Thanksgiving, and they said they were getting a truck in late that night, they were closed Thanksgiving, and when they opened up the day after Thanksgiving, odds were good they would have a few in stock. It was on.

I woke up at 4:00 AM to get to the Toys R' Us store. It was a cold Colorado morning, probably somewhere around 20 degrees. I threw on some clothes and a hat and was off. When I arrived at the store, there were already four people in line. "It's four AM," I thought, "Are these people crazy?" My hopes of getting a Furby were fading fast, but I decided to wait in line anyway.

The people waiting were a chipper bunch, all of them talking about their Thanksgivings, looking forward to leftovers, gifts they were giving and receiving, and other stuff. I asked the people what they were waiting for, and two of them were there for another toy. That meant it was one other person, me, and the people behind me fighting for the coveted Furby.

The hours passed, and a Toys R' Us employee came out to talk to the first couple people in line. I asked him if there were any Furbys, and he said there were four of them. Hooray! The line had been forming since I arrived, and was now a good 40 people deep, and quite a few of them heard the Furby exchange with the Toys R' Us guy and were excitedly telling their friends. This was going to be a battle.

The time finally came for them to open their doors, and the friendliness that was there a couple hours earlier had vanished. People had their game faces on, and they were ready to do some damage. The doors opened, and I made a mad dash into the store. I ran into an aisle and realized I had no idea where the Furbys were. I ran up to a salesperson, and screamed at her "WHERE ARE THE FURBYS??" With terror in her eyes, she pointed to the front of the store, near the cash registers. I tore off to the front of the store, and saw the person in front of me grabbing a Furby off a shelf. There were now three left, and a few people were running that way. I had to be the first there. I ran as fast as I could to the Furby table and grabbed one. I got one! I got a Furby. Booyeah.

Christmas rolled around, and I saved the gift to my Nephew for last. I was excited- this is the moment I had been waiting for for the past month. I was going to be the cool uncle! This was my time! I handed him the gift and said "This one's from Uncle Chazzy." He opened it slowly, and turned it around in his hands to get a good look at it. The anticipation was killing me. He looked up at me quizzically and asked "What is it?" "It's a Furby," I said, a little deflated, "They're all the rage." "Oh. OK," He said, and set the Furby down next to him, shifting his attention to something else.

At that moment, everything changed.

Part II of holiday shopping coming tomorrow!

In the meantime...

This link comes from my man Chewy, who shares my love for scatalogical humor. It is for the classier of sorts...

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,177367,00.html

The family

2005-11-30T08:16:00.000-08:00

The wife and I love our pets. They mean the world to us. We have little nicknames and stories for each of them, and they give us all the love in the world. Yeah, we are a little Swiss Family Robinson, only more than half of us are animals and we are not Swiss. When talking about the dog's issues last week, I mentioned I would be profiling my pets for you, my faithful reader. Well the time has come, so sit back, relax, and let Chaz take you for a ride.

My Pets by Chaz Fresh, Grade 3

Velcro, The 3.5 Chihuahua.

As a kid, I grew up with a lot of different dogs. Velcro is by far smarter than any of them. She knows how to get in people's heads and get what she wants. She knows all of her different toys by name, and she always goes to the bathroom outside. She loves to play ball, and does everything a big dog would do, only in a smaller more convenient package.

We got Velcro shortly after we returned from our honeymoon. The Wife wanted a chihuahua really bad. I wasn't sold on it, because chihuahuas are really really small, but she talked me into it. We picked her up from a place outside Portland, a farm loaded with all kinds of crazy animals. Dogs were running all over the property. As we walked in the door, there was a laundry hamper with 3 cats sleeping in it. Once inside, they had 2 crazy cats that were not meant for domestication, as they were closer to mountain lion than housecat. They had long ears, and made crazy hissing sounds. Also in the house was a pet fox in a cage, some tropical birds and all kinds of other little animals. They brought out the kennel with the puppies in it, and we instantly knew Velcro was the runt. While her brothers were strapping and covered with hair, she looked like an alien.

Velcro Statsheet:
Height: 7"
Weight: 3.5 lbs
Favorite Restaurant: Red Lobster
If she could eat any breakfast in the world, she would eat: Denver Omelet
Favorite Band: Spice Girls, Britney Spears
Favorite Toy: "Jingly Ball" a jingly plush ball with a bunch of loops on it

Timmy, the pimp.

Timmy is a stone cold pimp. He walks around the neighborhood keeping his bitches in line, and represents with flair and grace. He is a lover, not a fighter, and can be found kicking it in the neighborhood with his good friends Little Bug and Toby. He usually is on the sidewalk, waiting for people to come by and pet him. Sometimes he will go to random neighbors' houses and yell until they come out and give him food. People think we are starving him, but you would never know it from his husky frame.

We picked up Timmy about a month before we got married. My mother and aunt were in town for the wife's bridal shower, and they went to Bed Bath and Beyond to shop for gifts. Since they didn't want us to see what they were buying us, we went to Petsmart to look around. It was adoption day, and we went to look at the cats. They were all pretty cute, but Timmy (whose name from the humane society was 'Flame') stood out from the rest. Maybe it was his cool blue eyes or the fact he stuck his paw out of the cage and batted at the spikes in my hair, but we had to see him. We opened up the cage, and he came lunging out full force with his paws around my head as if he were giving me a giant hug. We had to have him, and a few days later I brought him home to surprise the wife.

An interesting side note: there is a cat down the street that looks like a thinner, cleaner version of Timmy. From the way it runs to its markings to it's eyes, they are spitting images. We call that cat Twimmy, Timmy's doppelganger.

Timmy Statsheet:
Height: 12"
Weight: Pleasantly plump
Favorite Restaurant: Popeye's Chicken
Alias: Jimmy, Jammy, Jim-Jim, Tim, Tommy
Favorite Bathroom: Under the Rhododendron bush near the front door
Likes: Walking through the 'hood, chillin' with his homies
Dislikes: Water, Velcro's voice, being pet most of the time
Smells like: Smoke. All the time- like wood fire smoke. He did at our old place, and he does now. It makes no sense.
Favorite toy: Catnip Cigar

Lafonda, the terror.

Lafonda is a crazy ass cat. She inevitably breaks or messes up everything in the house. Before we got Lafonda, we could leave glasses or cups of water out without lids. Not anymore--she has radar for that shit, and has knocked over countless cups or glasses of water. She breaks stuff all the time. She also scratches the couch, much to the chagrin of The Wife. Besides that, she is the most loving and easy going cat of all time. You can do anything to her, and she will not scratch or bite.

We just got Lafonda this past summer. We saw her at the Humane Society while our friends Brit & K-Fed were looking for a puppy. We were drawn in by her name, and we stayed for the pets. She kept butting her head up on the cage so we would give her more love. She is crazy looking, with her strange orange nose and wacky markings. We wanted to pet her and love her more, but the place was closing so we could not. I liked her a lot, and found myself talking about her. A couple days later, I came home and The Wife surprised me by bringing her home.

Lafonda Statsheet:
Height: It depends- she can actually stand on her back paws, which makes her like 3 times the height
Weight: This is totally irrelevant
Favorite Activity: Knocking water glasses over, drinking from the toilet, chewing on the wife's hair, batting stuff around the floor, swatting at Timmy
Favorite toy: Anything she has knocked off a counter or table
Likes: Scratching the couch, staying up late
Turn ons: Lots of hair, being pet
Turn offs: Short hair, Velcro

***

My friend Jimmy Drylids just started writing a blog. Check it out:

http://jimmydrylids.blogspot.com

***

This article is interesting, in that I always thought I felt more tired after a Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe I was tired because I consumed half my weight in food.

http://physorg.com/news8453.html

***

Fish food

2005-11-28T07:47:00.000-08:00

We were watching television when we heard the squeak of the mailbox slot. At first we passed it off as wind, but the wind never really made the mailbox squeak before. Velcro (our dog) barked, and The wife looked out the window to see if anyone was outside. It was the evening, and we were relaxing on the couch, watching a movie prior to going to a friend's party. It was dark out, and way too late for mail to be delivered. We checked the mail slot inside the house, but there was nothing in it. "Must be the wind," I concluded, and we surrendered to the din of the television.

Later, as The wife was getting ready for the party, I took Velcro outside to pee. When Velcro was done doing her business, we walked up the steps to the house and I noticed an envelope sticking out of the mail slot. I pulled it out slowly, looking around my yard to check for anything unusual. Velcro shivered, typical of a 3 1/2 pound dog on a cold night, and I let her in. I waited outside for a minute, examining the blank envelope before opening it up. Finally, I opened the envelope flap and to my horror found this picture:

I recognized it immediately. This was our plastic garden gnome with its pants pulled down which had gone missing 6 months ago. The wife actually bought this thing a couple years ago, and we had it prominently displayed at our old apartment building, which was a courtyard shaped place reminiscent of Melrose Place, minus the pool. The people who lived at this place were all young, semi-crazy, and mostly friendly with us. When we moved from that place to the place we currently reside, we left the gnome behind. After a couple months of living in our new place, we drove by the old courtyard to see if anything changed. We saw the gnome still sitting there, mooning everyone who walked by, and had to have it again. I ran out of the car, grabbed the gnome guerilla style, and took off with our old friend.

We brought our gnome home and proudly displayed him near the entrance to our house. He sat there for a good couple months until one day he just up and disappeared. The Wife and I didn't think twice about it, thinking some neighborhood kids nabbed it. Heck, when I was a teenager, I wouldn't have thought twice about taking a bare-assed gnome. We figured we had a good run with him and his time had come to move on in the world. All of a sudden he was back in our lives, six months after he left, bound and gagged in a picture. I stared at it for awhile, and then realized there was something else in the envelope. I pulled out a white piece of paper, unfolded it, and realized I was reading a ransom letter. Letters cut from magazines and newspapers formed the words, which read something to the effect of:

"Bring your Bacci set and a 12'er of Pabst to Overlook Park at 3:00 Sunday, where we will duel for the fate of your gnome. Tell no one, or your friend will be fish food"

(note: That is not exactly what it said, but close. I don't have the note handy and am too lazy to get up and get it. By the way, Bacci is how it was spelled on the note. More on that later)

I ran inside to show The Wife. She laughed, but both of us had a serious glare in our eyes. Someone was trying to pull a prank on us. We needed to solve this case before whoever took our gnome had the last laugh. We had to be detectives.

The first order of business was to narrow down the list of suspects. We tried to think of old neighbors that would know where we live now, or would be in town. It was the weekend before Thanksgiving, so it might have been taken by someone awhile back who is just now getting back in town. We also had to think about all the people we had played Bocce with, which narrowed the list down even further. We also had to deduce who knew we had a Bocce set that might not have played with us. Also, some of those people we played with might not have had access to our gnome, so those people were ruled out. Regardless, we had a party to get to, and one of chief suspects was the host.

We went to the party, and immediately cornered our friend. "We saw you in our neighborhood tonight," I prodded, "Why didn't you come in and say hi?" "What are you doing tomorrow?" The Wife asked. We drilled him, but finally realized he was not the man we were looking for- he was busy shopping all day for the party. We showed him the picture and the ransom letter and asked him if he could be of any assistance. He could not offer us any help.

We woke up the next morning with hangovers and no additional clues as to who might have sent this ransom letter. We had the list narrowed down more, however. We cut out people who we knew would spell Bocce correctly. I noticed the "Ba" in Bacci was cut out of the front page of "Us Weekly," The Wife's favorite rag, which narrowed the list even further. We had it down to two couples we thought were the culprits, so we decided to call one of them.

The Wife called our friends Brit and K-Fed (names changed for protection of the innocent). Brit, one of The Wife's best friends, and The Wife chatted for awhile. The Wife started prodding Brit, and as she did The Wife silently pointed above our computer, where there was a bundle of the same envelopes the kidnapper used for the ransom letter. She gave Brit some of these envelopes a year back for Brit to use with her resumes. Booyeah. We found our kidnapper. The Wife, still on the phone, decided we were going to mess with them. "Oh you know, we have had a long week so we are just going to stay home, watch movies and relax," The Wife said to Brit, "We are not going out at all." They exchanged small talk for about five more minutes and then hung up the phone. The Wife and I exchanged a high-five.

A few minutes later, The Wife got a call on her cell phone from the number "01234567." She didn't answer it, thinking it might have been a telemarketer. When her phone signaled she had a voice message, she checked it and realized it was K-Fed, trying to be anonymous but sounding exactly like himself, warning us that if we didn't show up the gnome was going to "get it." The Wife must have gotten Brit to think we were not going to meet them to play Bocce and save our gnome, and being reactionary, K-Fed made this ridiculous call to us to try to sway us.

Things they did wrong:
1) The bandana used to gag the gnome was the same one Brit used as a costume 2 halloweens prior, which we still had a picture of on our fridge.

2) Used the "Ba" from the US Magazine cover

3) Spelled Bocce "Bacci"

4) Used the same envelope The Wife gave her

5) That ridiculous phone call from K-Fed

6) The only time we have ever heard of Overlook Park was from Brit and K-Fed, who go there all the time

7) Only a small number of people we know could tie a good know, and K-Fed was one of them

8) K-Fed is Tech savvy and would know how to mask his phone number

When the time came to meet at the park, we left a half hour early and waited outside Brit & K-Fed's house to catch them in the act of leaving. Like clockwork, they left their house around 2:45 PM, and we pulled up the Van to confront them. They busted out laughing, hopped in the van and went to the park with us, where we played Bocce. They won, and got to keep the gnome, which we were happy to give them. Heck, they had already had it for six months.

It was a good trick to play on us, for the sheer time factor involved. They did a pretty good job, and almost had us were it not for the small things, but you can't fade the Fresh family when it comes to solving a riddle. We are just too good.

This past Wednesday night Brit and K-Fed came over to watch America’s Next Top Model, The Wife’s favorite show. During a commercial break, I took Velcro out to pee again, and our friend the gnome was back, his ass out for the world to see. From where he stood, he looked like he was mooning the dog. Life was again back to normal.

***

I will be getting back into a normal writing schedule after the crazy past couple weeks of holidays and dog maladies. Sorry about the extended leaves of absence.

Thanksgiving wishes and caviar dreams

2005-11-23T07:54:00.000-08:00

Before we start, a couple things...

1) Sorry about the lack of posts over the past few days. I have been a slacker.

2) Our dog, Velcro, looks to be doing better. I have received a lot of calls and emails regarding her, I appreciate it.

Typically Velcro is an active, happy, energetic 3.5 lb chihuahua, but she was not happy at all, and was hiding in our bedroom for most of Saturday night and all day Sunday. When The Wife tried to comfort Velcro, Velcro nipped her and we knew something was wrong. We took Velcro to the emergency pet hospital on Sunday night.

The emergency Pet hospital is one of the most depressing places I have ever been. The place evokes negative memories for me; this is the place we had to take Velcro last December with her broken leg, and this was the place our cat Azura was put to sleep in July, 10 years too soon. Sunday night brought back all the memories of pet trauma from years past. Most memorable was a gruff older man, a true man's man, who brought in his 15 1/2 year old dog "Beardog." Beardog was a rickety old dog who had definitely seen a full and happy life. The man walked into the examination room with his dog, and walked out with tears in his eyes, a bereavement guide in one of his hands, and with his other hand he stuffed Beardog's leash and collar in his coat pocket.

After hours of waiting, we were finally able to get our dog back. They said she had Pancreatitis, which I had read about online before we left. It can be life threatening, but they said our dog would probably pull through like a champ. We needed to give her Pepcid AC (we bought it at the supermarket) pain killers, and put her on a bland food diet of boiled chicken and rice or baby food. We had to make sure she was drinking plenty of water as well, or else she would have to be hospitalized to get fluids in her.

That night and Monday night we fed Velcro tons of baby food, and Tuesday night she got boiled chicken and rice, making her first solid meal in 2 days. After the meal she had more spring in her step, and she looks to be making a solid recovery.

For those of you who are wondering why I am taking the time to go over this in such great detail, you must know that Velcro, my dog, and my two cats Lafonda and Timmy are like children to The Wife and I. We have already come to an understanding that we will probably never have kids, so we have the pets instead. They make us happy.

Coming soon: Bios on Chaz's animals. Who are they? What makes them tick?

***

I love Thanksgiving. I love that a holiday can be centered on spending time with the ones you love and eating the hell out of some turkey. As a vegetarian for 10 years, I didn't eat any turkey, so now I have to eat twice as much to make up for it. I would eat all the side dishes, which usually filled me up pretty good, and every now and again I would cook myself a Tofurkey, which is like eating a sponge filled with salt.

When I lived in New York City, I managed a Tech Support group that was open 365 days a year, 24 hours a day. I had already been home a few times earlier in the year, so I decided to stay in NYC and see how the city did Thanksgiving. Anyone who has ever been to New York knows the city goes all out for it's holidays, and I was looking forward to going to what I had wanted to see since I was a small child:

The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

As a child, I would get up on Thanksgiving morning, wake up my sister (or vice versa) and plop down in front of the television to watch the parade. We never got down with the marching bands; they were basically the commercials between the show, which to us was the intricate floats and the giant balloons. We would wonder out loud what the next balloon would be, and talk about cartoon characters that had not made their way onto a balloon yet. We were always disappointed when Santa brought in the rear of the parade, because it meant there were no more balloons to see.

Flash forward years later, and I am in New York City with no plans for Thanksgiving. My office was across the street from the back of Macy's, and I had been watching them deck out the windows, the store, and the bleachers in front for the past month. Since I had not had any plans for the holiday, I decided I would relieve a co-worker at noon so he could spend the rest of the day with his family. Before noon I was going to go to the parade.

I had been told to get a good spot on the parade route, you have to get up really early, so with that in mind I woke up at 4:30 AM Thanksgiving morning. The parade started at 9:00 AM, but I wanted the best spot possible. It was a brutally cold morning; the temperature was somewhere around 10 degrees, so I bundled up appropriately. I got on the train by 5:30 AM, and it was already packed with families in giant poofy jackets, folding chairs with thermos' full of cocoa. The train I took had a transfer at Union Square, where there were even more people piling on to the train headed uptown.

By the time I made it to my destination it was 6:00 AM and the parade route was lined with people. In some places people were 4 rows deep already. Kids were out in the street playing and adults were talking to each other drinking steaming cups of coffee or cocoa. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Lines to all the food or coffee places were all out the door, packed with people trying to buy snacks or more warm beverages to temper the cold morning. I got in line at a small coffee shop where I waited for the next 20 minutes for a gigantic coffee drink.

Once armed with my coffee, I was ready to go find a spot. I scouted one block after the next, trying to find the perfect spot to watch the parade. I finally found a corner with a street pole I could lean against where I was behind some short people. Score! Time check: 7:00 AM. Two hours to go! I looked around and realized no one was sitting. Everyone was standing in place, sometimes stretching their legs a bit, but not moving so as to not relinquish their spots.

By the time the parade started, my legs felt like two immobile logs attached to my ass. I was cold everywhere, my coffee was gone, and I had to pee like a racehorse. I was ready to call it a day, when off in the distance I saw the first float. The crowd roared to life, cheering and screaming like we were watching a football game. By this time there were rows of people behind me, and all of them were pushing forward to get a better view of the road. For the next 3 hours I witnesses first hand the Thanksgiving Day parade in all of it's glory. Fancy glittering floats meandered by, bands played cheesy band music, Miss America waved at the crowds, and the balloons were truly larger than life. Being at an intersection, I even got to watch the balloon crews navigate under the streetlights, which was pretty cool.

Once the parade was over, I went into the office and told my co-worker to go home. It was warm, and I peed for what seemed to be a lifetime. The company I worked for had just recently went public on the stock market, and one of our investors had purchased the company an enormous 7' tall 6' wide and 6' deep plush teddy bear that was unbelievably soft, which I dragged over to my cubicle and slept on through the rest of my shift. That night, I cooked myself up a Tofurkey.

It was the first Thanksgiving I had ever spent by myself, and I am not saying by any means it beat being with my family, but it was amazing nonetheless. Growing up, the parade was something of legend, something so huge it seemed unattainable as so many things do when you're a kid. As a young adult, even though I couldn't go home, the parade made me feel at home, if that makes any sense. Now every time I think about Thanksgiving, I think about that parade. Good times, good times.

I hope all of you have a safe and happy Thanksgiving. Eat the hell out of the turkey, and beware of the Thanksgiving poo-- it is lethal and unforgiving.

Dog issues

2005-11-22T08:02:00.000-08:00

Hey what up ya'll. Sorry a post didn't come yesterday, we are having pet issues at home. I will have one out either tonight or early tomorrow. Sorry!

I'm down with that

2005-11-18T07:22:00.000-08:00

You might be asking yourself, what is Chaz into these days? What makes that brother tick? Well kids, look no further than the "Down List," brought to you by the good people at Weiners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey.

Before we get into that, some of you might be wondering to yourselves, "of all the names for a blog you could have come up with, why Wieners, Cheese Balls and Horse Puckey? Why not calling it something more fitting for you and what you're all about?" Well, I am feeling footloose and fancy free, and I'm going to spill the beans.

1) I talk about weiners a lot. Weiners in the hot dog sense and in the not so hot dog sense. Sometimes I will see phallic things around the house and I will use them (ahem) as a metaphor for my penis. Here's how it works: Say there is something phallic, like a wine bottle or a spaghetti container sitting around on a counter or something. Pick it up, stick one end on your crotch, move forward and back a few times and voila! You are the funniest person in the room. Fun for the whole family! Yes, I am really 30 years old.

2) I love me some cheese ball. If lovin' cheese balls is a crime, then I am guilty as charged. I have no idea where the love for the cheese ball came along, but something about that processed cheese rolled in almond slivers gets me all kinds of revved up. I know the things are considered tacky-- some might go so far as to say they are white trashy, but brothers and sisters I don't care because, going with today's theme, I am down.

3) I have no idea about the horse puckey part. Seriously, I rarely use the term "Horse Puckey." Who says horse puckey anyway? Not me. I talk about poo a bunch though. Poo is one of those funny topics that never gets old. One of my very first posts referred to floaty poos. It is among my friend Chewy's and my favorite topics. For instance, a little clip from our IM chat today:

Chewy: i pooped chocolate mousse this morning
Chewy: it was brutal, but i am sure it will be tasty after it sets

If anything, I should have called this Blog Metaphor Penises, Cheese Balls, and Poo. That has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Regardless, if you can come up with a better name for my blog, I would love to hear it. I will totally change it if need be.

OK, so without further ado, The Down List, brought to you by the good folks at Metaphor Penises, Cheese Balls and Poo.

This week I am down with:

1) My new pimp ride
2) Popeye's spicy fried chicken (man that stuff is good)
3) The Blazers beating the Bulls on a last second slam by Theo Ratliff
4) "Run" By Snow Patrol off the album "Final Straw"- good song
5) "Gone" By Kanye West off the album "Late Registration"
6) Gougères
7) The Wife caving and finally putting a magazine rack in the bathroom (thanks babe)

***

If any of you read the Mystery Gift Revealed blog, read it again. Particularly the comments. Notice our good friend, "Thomas Kincaid Folding Picture" posted a comment. Hmm... What does it all mean? Stay tuned.

***
Two muffins are sitting in an oven, baking.
After awhile, one of the muffins turns to the other and says, "Man, is it hot in here, or what?
The other muffin turns around, looks at the other muffin and yells "Holy Crap! A talking muffin!"

Ba-dum-dum.

Along the same line, here is a great clip, forwarded to me by my good friend Rerun. Turn on the sound for this one.

http://users.bestweb.net/~wes/forwards/flash/psst.swf

***

4 years and counting

2005-11-16T07:33:00.000-08:00

November 13, 2001.

Three days prior to My Wife's and my meeting, I had been riding in a Uhaul truck with my good friend Chewy, who was moving from Wookietown, CO to Portland, OR. We were coming off a week straight of partying, as Chewy's birthday and going away party went off before we left Wookietown. Chewy smokes like a chimney, and I was randomly smoking, so the cab of the Uhaul was chock full of smoke for most of the ride. I was feeling pretty rough after a long week of partying, and knew I was going to get sick soon. I needed some rest.

We stopped in Burley, Idaho for the night, and I was looking forward to all the sleep I could muster. We got a room with two beds, and chewy was sleeping in the bed next to mine. Chewy fell asleep almost instantly, and within minutes came a great roar from his body- he was snoring like a man possessed. It sounded like a chainsaw dueling a leaf blower to the death. No amount of pillows was going to cover the astounding sound Chewy was producing, and as a result I found it almost impossible to sleep. About an hour went by, and Chewy sat up in bed bolt upright. In his sleep, he said "Yo, Tupac," ripped a tremendous fart, and lay back down again. I knew I was not going to get to sleep at this point, so I flipped on the TV and watched it, dozing off a couple times.

(Note: This really doesn't have to do that much with how The Wife and I met, but hey, good fart story, no?)

The next morning, I knew I was getting sick. We finished the drive to Portland, and I retreated to my room and slept like a champ. The next day, my lungs were tight and I felt like crap. All that partying and lack of sleep had taken its toll. I was straight up sick. I dragged my ass to work, but ended up going to the doctor's office to find out about my tight lungs- it was hard to breathe. The doctor told me I probably had bronchitis, and I should take meds and if my lungs were especially tight I could drink tea or coffee, and the caffeine would open my airways. He sent me on my way, and I went home to rest.

November 16, 2002.

By the night of the 16th I was feeling good enough to go out. Me and Chewy's destination was the club I always went to on Saturday nights, The Ohm. It was a small, dark club finished in red brick. It had a lot of candles and mini lights all over the place. There was a small dance floor, surrounded by small tables and the bar over to the left. At the front of the dance floor on a pedestal sat the DJ, who spun the tunes well into the night. If you walked past the bar, you would arrive on the Ohm's back patio, where there was a small pool with a Buddha in the middle, some tables and chairs, and a whole lot of people.

I went to the bar to order myself a coffee. Typically my drink was a Gin & Tonic, but I had to be good tonight. My lungs felt like giant weights in my chest. Usually when I went to the Ohm I would hang out on a big bright red velvet couch between the bar and dance floor, or I would go outside and hang out there. Tonight I felt like moving around a bit, and it was out by the dance floor when I saw her for the first time.

(Cue house music here)

In movies and TV, they have the moment where two people that are destined to be in love meet, all time stops, the music changes, and they notice each other. I had always thought that part of the movie was cheesy, because I didn't understand it could actually happen.

Time stopped when I saw her walking across the dance floor. OK, it didn't stop, but it slowed down pretty good. She walked across my path, wearing a red jacket with a red hood sticking out of it. At that moment she was everything. Nothing else existed. The music slowed to a crawl, and it seemed like everything was happening in slow motion. As she walked by she turned her head slowly, looked up, and our eyes connected. She turned her lips to smile and walked past, her eyes slowly making their way back in front of her. Time started back up again.

I was stuck in my tracks. I literally could not move. She stopped off the dance floor a bit, and it appeared she was talking to one of her friends. I collected myself, and was finally able to muster a step. I did the lame club thing where I needed to circle around her for a bit to get the nerves to go over and talk to her. She had been watching me doing the pathetic circling thing, and started whispering to her friend something. As she was whispering to her friend, she looked straight at me while pointing at me. I was totally in.

I waltzed up to her, coffee in hand, and as I did she took a step towards me. We were face to face.

"You pointed at me," I said, "Do I know you?"
"I was just telling my friend you were cute," she said.

Yes! I was in. We introduced ourselves to each other, and we chatted for a very short while. She went out to the dance floor to dance and I watched her, transfixed by her. Every now and again she would return the gaze and look away quickly, smiling. She was not out there for very long. She, her friend and I went outside and sat by the fountain pool thing. We talked for awhile, and (I don't remember this) I apparently stuck my hand on her leg. A short while later it was time for her to go. I asked her for her phone number. She said she was not sure, so she would consult her Magic 8-Ball. She shook her invisible Magic 8-Ball next to her head, and I said "Yes," trying to coax the correct answer out of it. She said yes, and we exchanged phone numbers. We hugged, and she left.

November 18, 2002.

There is a stupid game that boys and girls play where after they get a phone number, they have to wait a certain amount of time before calling to not look desperate. They always preach psychology as the reason; calling her too soon makes you seem needy, too long makes you seem like you forgot her, etc. Again, I played the lame game and waited a couple days before calling her. I didn't want to, but those were supposed to be the rules.

It turns out I didn't have to call her. She called me. We talked for a good while, talking about nonsense. I asked if we could go out the next night. She said that would be good, although she was going to have a performance review at work the next day and was not sure if it would be a good or bad thing. I told her we could celebrate if she got a raise, and I would coddle her if it didn't work out. I was to meet her at work the next night.

November 19, 2002.

I met her at her work, which was a wine bar. She greeted me with a beautiful smile. She had some coworkers sitting at the bar drinking wine, and I introduced myself to them and had a glass or two with them until The Wife was done working. When she was finally done working, we headed up to the Matador, one of the nastiest dive bars I have ever been to. We sat for quite some time, talked deeply and drank beer. When we talked, it seemed like nothing else was around us. It was amazing. As we were talking, she noticed I had quite a few rings on my fingers. We started taking them off and putting them on her fingers. I took off my pinky finger and inadvertently placed it on her wedding finger, without even thinking about it, where it stayed the rest of the night.

When we were done drinking for the night, we walked outside and noticed it was raining quite a bit. Being the guy that I am, I said we should go to my place, which was a 25 floor tower, and go up on the roof and see the entire city. I thought it would be romantic. She agreed, and we headed to my place, which was a few blocks away.

We stopped in my apartment to grab an umbrella. Chewy was sleeping in the living room, snoring like crazy. We headed up to the roof, and marveled at the beautiful view. She started dancing around in the rain, paying no attention to the umbrella I clutched for dear life. I stood there watching her, smiling and laughing. She ran towards me, grabbed my umbrella, and threw it on the ground. We kissed right there, and it was amazing. A moment that perfect isn’t supposed to exist.

November 16, 2005.

3 years has passed since we were married. We have gone though some hard times, from unemployment to pet's broken legs to cats passing away, but have maintained and become even closer. We have had some wonderful times, but it is the little things that make it great. For instance, last night we realized if we make disgusting barfing noises, it makes our dog super excited, so we proceeded to crack each other up by making pukey noises well into the night. (Our dog was happy as hell) It is moments like these that define a relationship, and I hope there are a good many more where that came from.

To my wife, who I love dearly, Happy Anniversary. Stay cool and sweet!

Help a brother out

2005-11-14T08:03:00.000-08:00

A good friend of mine, we'll call him "Rerun," is trying to buy a home in the tight NYC area, where houses are way overpriced. Rerun and his wife have worked hard as hell to save up over $100,000 on their own, with no help from anyone. They have applied their money as a down payment for their first house, but are running a few thousand short after closing costs. They have already signed the contract, so they are past the point of no return. As a result, they are selling their DVD collection. Check out this Craigslist posting to see all the movies and also to bid on the collection. If nothing else, check it out for it's entertaining cheesiness. He will have upcoming sales on all kinds of other stuff too- here is some of what is going to be for sale--

- Sony DV Camcorder
- Family's stamp collection
- A bunch of Kate Spade Handbags
- Some Digital Cameras
- Non-complete Transformers
- Records
- An old Korg Synthesizer
--and more!

Here are pics of the house they are trying to buy. As you can see, if is a fixer upper, and they need all the help they can get in getting over the hump, as they are going to have to spend plenty more to get this house fixed up.

If you are interested you can email Chaz and I can get you his info.

***

I have yet to receive any good names for my new ride. Send 'em my way. Get those comments going!

***

The future is here: Liquid Cereal. While they have jammed yogurt, lattes, and every other beverage imaginable into a can, now they've gone and hit the jackpot. I have never seen anything quite like it. I would love to try the fruit one.

http://www.bevnet.com/reviews/liquid_cereal/index.asp

Pimp ass ride

2005-11-13T16:08:00.000-08:00

The winner of the "what kind of car is Chaz going to get" contest is the 1986 Toyota Van. We chose this particular one because we got a sweet deal on it. It has only had one owner who put only 111,000 miles on it. Also notice the sweet ass brown stripe down the side. It also has dual air conditioners for the front and back, cruise control, and all kinds of other fun stuff. Other than a couple small rusty bits, it is in really clean shape too.

The wife and I have been deliberating on what we should name it. We would love some suggestions, so post your comments soon!

I will have more to say about the van soon. For now, I am going to go on a drive.

Driving Record

2005-11-09T19:55:00.000-08:00

As far as driving goes, I have never had good luck behind the wheel. It started when I took my driver's test at the tender age of 16 years old. It was my birthday, and I was pumped up to be getting my driver's license. I had been reading the drivers manual for the past 2 weeks, and I aced the exam portion of the test. "No problemo," I thought, "Bring on the driving test so I can go home and have cake."

I had been practicing driving for the past 6 months- I got my permit the day I turned 15 1/2. I was taking the test on my older sister's car, a mint green Volkswagon Rabbit, which was a breeze to drive since it had an automatic transmission. I pulled the car around to the waiting area, where I was to wait for my tester. Fear flowed through my veins. Cold, icy sweat saturated my body, giving me the chills. My heart was racing. Finally, in what seemed to be the longest 5 minutes of my life, the instructor got into the car.

The tester was a tough old broad. I thought I would be able to sweet talk and give her some of the ol' Chazzy charm to butter her up a bit, but she was straight up business. She told me her name, my objectives, and then got out of the car to check the lights. She got back in the car, and instructed me to leave the parking lot of the DMV and make a right turn onto the street. As I pulled into the lane perfectly, I accelerated to driving speed. "This isn't so tough," I thought to myself. My confidence was building. I was already thinking about where I would drive by myself once I got my license.

"Change lanes here," the gruff tester barked at me. "Sure thing," I said confidently. I hit the turn signal, and started checking mirrors and blindspots for other cars. There were none. I was good to go. I changed lanes like a pro. It was all too perfect...

"Alright, take us back to the office," the tester growled to me after I completed changing lanes.

"Did I pass? That was quick."

"You not only changed lanes in the middle of an intersection, but you also did it while the light was red. You did not pass, you (add reverb and elevate volume here) Failed. Take me back to the office, and we will finish the grading there," The tester said. I thought there was a small hint of satisfaction in the way she said it, but I could not have been sure.

"Well FUCK," I said, not caring if the tester heard.

I was dumbstruck. I checked my rearview mirror, and sure enough, there was a red stoplight there. I changed lanes to get back in my right lane (perfectly, I might add), and headed back to the DMV office. As I was pulling up to the parking space, I ran the front of the car into the concrete parking block thing, causing us both to lurch forward. She hurried out of the car without going over the results with me. I was screwed. I would not be able to take the test again for a couple days, because it was Friday and they don't test over the weekend. I had to be a failure all weekend until I could try again on Monday. To add insult to injury, my twin sister got her license that day. She drove us home. I did end up getting my license that Monday, but the wait was excruciating.

Over the course of the next year, my mother had just bought a new car, a shiny red Toyota Tercel Hatchback, and my twin sister bought an old '85 Honda Accord hatchback. I didn't buy a car, so I was stuck with the Van. The Van was a giant people moving Plymouth Voyager with 3 benches in the back. It was reddish-orange with a black stripe going through the middle of it. It had a Dodge 440 V-8 engine which gave it immense power-- it was way faster than a lot of sporty cars, but also burned through gas-- It got 8 to 10 miles per gallon. It also had a kickin' stereo with 8 good speakers in it. Regardless of how ugly it was, I kind of liked driving it. It was fast, I could bring tons and tons of my friends with me, and I felt like I owned the road. As it turned out, however, my bad car luck did not go away.

During the next 9 months, here is a sampling of the fender-benders I was in:

At a gas station, I was turning around to get on the right side of the pump to put in some gas. As I was backing up, I backed into a car and dented their door pretty good. The lady driving looked to be 13 months pregnant, and was furious. She got out of her car, screamed at me and called me every obscenity she could think of, then got in her car and drove off. I don't know how, but I was off the hook.
At the bank, I tried doing the drive-thru banking thing. Reading my turn angle wrong, I ended up ramming the van into the brick wall where the tube that shot your transaction to the bankers was housed. I looked up, and saw all the bankers in the window of the bank looking at me, pointing and laughing.
The night before homecoming, our school had a parade. After the parade, I jammed 20 people and my friend "Beans" into the van, and we went to some fast food joint to get some food. After we all ate, we piled into the van, I started it up and backed out. As I was backing out, one of the girls in the back row screamed "Oh my god! You just hit a guy on a bike!" I got out of the car, and sure enough, there was a guy on the ground picking his bike up. He was unhurt and unscraped, as I was backing up slowly, but he was still quite upset. Regardless, there was no damage to him or his bike. He screamed obscenities and called me names too, but then hopped on his bike and rode away. Again, I was off the hook somehow.

The night after the biker incident was homecoming night. My date was my girlfriend at the time, and my mom totally did not want us to go in a van. I am not sure if she didn't want us to use the van because it was ugly and tacky, or if she was afraid we would get busy in it. Either way, she ended up letting us use her car, the red tercel. I picked up my date, who looked wonderful in her blue shiny dress. We took pictures with her family, laughed, and had a great time. We hopped in the car on our way to dinner.

We got onto the road, which was a 2 lane road with wide shoulders. I saw ahead of me someone had their left blinker on, so I went around that person on the right in the shoulder. That person decided to ditch the left turn and instead turn right just as I was passing them, and rammed into the front end of my mother's new car. They didn't stop for a few feet, and pushed our car into the curb. My girlfriend was freaking out, as was I. We came to a stop, the police came, and gave me the ticket for improper passing since I was in the shoulder when I was passing the other car. I called my mom, and she told me to go on with my date, we could worry about the car later.

My girlfriend and I went to the dinner, but I was in a terrible mood. She tried to comfort me, and towards the end of the meal my mood changed a bit and I felt better. We had dessert, talked and laughed, and I paid the tab. We had a dance to go to! So we got in the car once again, and headed towards the high school. On the way, I was in the left turn lane waiting for the light to change. The lights turned green, and the jeep in front of me made a left, so I followed it. It turns out the Jeep was pulling a fast one, and I had made a left into oncoming traffic. I got slammed in the rear of the car and pushed over the curb into some railroad tracks.

Yeah, that's right. 2 accidents in the same night. Homecoming night. With my date. I wanted to crawl under a rock and die. My mom was going to kill me. The cops pulled me into the car this time to find out if I had been drinking. I was issued another ticket. While I was in the back of the cop car, I looked out and saw my date, shivering in the dark cold in her beautiful dress next to a busted ass car. I never felt so low. After the police left the scene, we hopped back into the car, where I told her I would take her home if she wanted since I already ruined her night. She declined, and wanted to press on to the dance.

We finally made it to the dance, where I remember 3 things.

1. Waiting in line to get our pictures taken, knowing my mom was going to kill me.

2. Drinking punch, knowing my mom was going to kill me.

3. I saw someone I worked with waiting in line for pictures. Word was already spreading about my legendary night, so I asked him if he had heard about my accidents.

"Wow," he said, "No, but I was actually going to tell you about Krista." Krista was a beautiful girl I worked with, who was a relatively good work friend.

"What about her?" I asked.

"Well, last night she was driving on a country road, and she got in an accident. A drunk driver plowed through an intersection and slammed into her car. She's dead."

The rest of the night was a blur. I hated cars- everything about them. I was sad, and I didn't want to go home for fear of what my mother would do to me. I stayed at my girlfriend's house as long as I could, but eventually I had to leave to face the music. I went home.

I shook my mom to wake her. I let her know about the second accident, and how it was my fault, and how I didn't have insurance. She ripped into me exactly as I thought she would, and I just broke down and cried. The night was too much for me. She asked me why I was so emotional, and I gave her the play by play for the night. At the end, I think we both agreed that a few big dents in the car was no match for a life lost driving, and we both agreed we should count our lucky stars I or my girlfriend were not hurt or worse.

I didn't drive again in high school. For one, I couldn't afford it. I had accidents and citations to pay for, and I had no money leftover from my fast food salary to pay for a car. It didn't matter, though. I felt like I was a menace in the car, one who was better off without wheels. It was OK. I had good friends to drive me places, so long as I bought the gas money.

When I went to school for college, I was basically dropped off on campus at the place I was staying, and that was that. I walked everywhere, and when I needed to go home for the holidays I took the train. It was a simple existence, and I was happy with it. Towards the end of the year, everyone made plans f0r the summer. My plan was to go stay at mom's, and just spend time and work there. My mom had just moved one town over from where we were living, and there was nothing to do there. I would have been stuck at home. Regardless, I ended up going.

A week later I got a call from a friend who lived in Central Nebraska. His parents owned a cabin on a lake, and he said I could stay with him there for the summer. He could even get me a job where he worked, tending to the golf course at the local country club. It was a hard, labor intensive job, but it was good money and we would get off early every day because we would have to show up at the crack of dawn. I said "Hell yeah," hopped on a bus and met him there 2 days later.

Our typical schedule looked like this:

3:00 AM- Get up

4:00 AM- Start work

9:00 AM- eat "lunch"

1:00 PM to 2:00 PM- leave work

3:00 PM to 11:00 PM- Hang out by the lake, grill food, and drink lots of booze

11:00 PM- Pass out

We carried on that schedule for a good month and a half, rarely getting a day off. One night, his girlfriend came over, and we all got piss drunk. At this point it was about midnight, and we all stopped drinking. He and his girlfriend got into an arguement for most of the rest of the night, and we barely slept. We left the house at 4:45 AM, and he was pissed off. He gunned the car, a 1988 Toyota Celica, out of the driveway and we tore off down the gravel road we traveled every day. It was foggy out, so thick you couldn't see 20 feet ahead, and he was driving a good 55 mph on a road we should have been doing no more than 30 mph on. At the end of the road, which I knew was coming up, was a dead end where you could go left or right. Before we knew it, there was the dead end sign (yellow with arrows pointing either way) 15 feet in front of us. He slammed on the brakes, but it was no use- a couple seconds later we were plowing through the sign, which went flying over the car. We jumped over a berm, flew through the air, and plowed into the side of a ditch at 50mph.

All the air was knocked out of me. I couldn't move. I immediately thought I was going to die, but then my wind came back and I realized I was alive and semi-ok. I looked over at my friend and his head went through the windshield on his side, ripping his eyebrows clean off- he was not wearing his seatbelt. I helped him out of the car, took off my shirt and wrapped it around his head. We walked around the car, and the car was so crumpled the headlights were a foot away from the windshield. He was OK besides the eyebrows, apparently the steering wheel kept him in the car. I had also been lucky, suffering only a back injury and bruising where the seatbelt had been. A police officer said if I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt, I would have flown through the window and I would have surely died.

I left that place a week later, and was afraid of driving in cars for a good 3 years after. I ended up getting a scooter as my main mode of transportation- I felt more safe on the scooter than I did in a car. I did not own a car until I bought a brand new Volkswagon Jetta when I was 25 and I sold it after 6 months to move to NYC where a car is not required. I leased a car once I got to Portland, a couple years ago, but I could not afford to pay for it because of unemployment. It had to be turned back in.

Now, almost 2 years after I last had a car, I am in the market to buy a cheapie. At this point in most people's lives they have already been through a few cars and know the drill, but it is an all new experience for me. I am down to two choices for the type of car I drive:

1) Late 80's Volvo 240 Wagon- a tank, built to drive for hundreds of thousands of miles. We need the wagon to haul the wife's stuff. Here is what they look like:

or I will go for...

2) Late 80's Toyota Van- perfect for hauling the wife's stuff, lasts forever with the toyota engine, and I kind of like the way it looks. It looks like what they thought the future would look like back in the 80's- very angular and kooky looking. Kind of euro-looking too. Great gas mileage, and fun to drive. The only van I would ever drive. They look something like this:

So that's that. A not so brief look into my past. I wish I had more to say here to wrap this really long blog posting up, but I don't. I will say I will keep everyone posted as to what vehicle the Chaz gets. Until then, keep it real, yo.

***

Mystery Gift REVEALED!

2005-11-06T18:30:00.000-08:00

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the moment you have been waiting for. The dream of all dreams. I give you, with all it's glory, the magical mystery gift. It arrived late last week, and was hand delivered by my sister today.

Before we unveil the magical mystery gift, I would like to show off everything else I ordered in addition to the mystery gift.

Item #1- The Cactus Shaped Salt & Pepper Shakers

These bitches is SWANK. Guaranteed to class up any home. Notice the dark rider, sporting the black hat. I wonder if he gets along with the white hatter, or if they are enemies riding in different posses and in a cruel twist of fate have been paired together for eternity, or until one of their cute lil' cacti arms breaks off.

Item #2- "Old Fashioned" Peanut Brittle

Nothing says big money playa like Old Fashioned Peanut Brittle. This little box is the monetary equivalent of one entree at the Olive Garden. That's how we do.

Item #3- Wrapping Paper

This wrapping paper was kind of a deal- the fundraiser people threw in an arm and torso! Ha, just kidding. That is The Wife, proudly displaying our latest and greatest wrapping paper addition. We are very proud. Man, I told myself I wouldn't cry...

So here we go. Time to unveil the mystery gift! First of all, I want to share the following conversation I had with my sister a few days ago over the phone.

Sister: Hey, your fundraiser stuff came in.

Chaz: No way! Did you get a look at the mystery gift?

Sister: I think your mystery gift is more than one thing. I think there are 3 things in there.

Chaz: NO WAY. Did you get a look at it? Is it awesome?

Sister: Umm... It is interesting.

Chaz: Is it a $12 value?

Sister: Oh, Definitely.

Mystery Gift Item #1- Sleigh bears ring, are you listening?

Nothing says "Home for the holidays" like a ceramic bell with bears bundled up for the winter on it. This awesome piece came to us chipped on the lip of the bell, which is probably why it is a mystery gift now. This new showpiece is going to be displayed in our office at home until the end of the year. If you are in the Portland area, don't deny yourself the opportunity to see this brilliant collector's item.

Mystery Gift Item #2- The most beautiful star in the world

Feast your eyes upon this. A gold, glittery star on a springy base. The only mystery here is why someone wouldn't want to buy this.

Mystery Gift Item #3- The Thomas Kincade Folding Cardboard Picture Frame Thing

Rear View

Front View

Yes, this is the masterpiece of the whole collection. The godfather of light, Thomas Kinkade, has blessed me with this folding cardboard thing with windows to put some of my own pictures. I am the luckiest man in the world. This hot little number will be travelling with me to work, where it will be displayed prominently on my desk.

So there it is. A month of anticipation was well worth it. I really stretched that $6.

As I mentioned before, if you can find a grab bag or mystery gift for under $10, let me know. I will buy it and display it on my site. Until then, wishes of a great week to all.

All these Pavarottis followin' me

2005-11-03T19:33:00.000-08:00

In an effort to keep all of you ahead of the game on Kevin Federline's new album, I am posting a very special Thursday blog post. It is based on the following link:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20051103/ap_en_mu/people_kevin_federline

Yo go dog.

I once tried a career as a hip hopper. I was working at an automobile bumper factory and living in a trailer with my dysfunctional drunk mother in Detroit. I went to a bunch of rap battles and froze up, until I went to one and represented, yo.

Wait a minute... That was eminem in 8 Mile.

I do have a funny rap battle story, however.

Back in college, life was a little more, shall we say, experimental. My good friend at the time, We'll call him "Beans," and I went to a hot house party. There were some DJs kickin' the hip-hop beats in the main room with a bunch of guys standing around freestyling (or trying to freestyle). Beans and I went to the backyard, where another friend of ours gave us a handful of mushrooms. We both took them, thinking "why not?"

Fast forward to an hour later. I was feeling pretty ..um.. euphoric. I couldn't find Beans anywhere and I wasn't really looking. I found a place to plant myself on a wall in the room where the freestylers were doing their thing and watched in amusement as they all did their best Fred Durst impressions. All of a sudden, the mic is handed to someone I couldn't see, but whose voice I recognized immediately. It was Beans. What the hell was he doing? He had never rapped a day in his life! I couldn't see him at first, then the crowd parted and there he was, with a smile on his face that would make a game show host proud. He started out with what might be the worst opening line ever:

"Yo, my name is Beans and I'd like to say....."

It got worse from there, but that cheesy smile never faded. He went on to create lines that didn't rhyme and made no sense, and when he ran out of lines, he just started calling out words that rhymed. It was horrifying. I was dumbstruck. I didn't know whether to laugh or give my boy some props, or both. I was really too messed up to know, so I stayed planted on the wall, watching with curiosity and awe. You could tell he was getting to the end of the line because he started running out of things to say. He started inching closer to me until he was right next to me, now just giving his shout outs to his "peeps." All eyes were darting from him to me.

I knew what was coming next. He, in his happy grinned show, was going to pass the mic to his boy. "Oh god please no," I thought to myself. I don't rap. I could barely speak at this point. It was as if it was happening in slow motion...

Beans: ...Yo yo this goes out to all my kids...
The crowd winces collectively.
Beans: My girl Kristin over there... How are you doing, girl?!? YEAH!
Kristin ducks behind her friends, who are laughing hysterically.
Crowd: GROAN
Beans inches closer to Chaz, still rhyming incoherently, until he is right next to Chaz.
Beans: ...So now I pass the mic to Chazzy!!
Beans jams the mic in Chaz's face. The room gets quiet. Beans has a large smile on his face running ear to ear and is breathing heavily in a triumphant manner. The crowd turns their attention to Chaz. The DJ scratches a couple times, and besides the beats and some noise from the backyard, everyone is in silent anticipation. The mic is 4 inches from Chaz's mouth. All eyes are on Chaz.
Chaz: ..um.. You need to get that out of my face.
Beans' smile fades. The crowd all looks at each other, wondering what just happened. Chaz runs out of the room into the backyard and hides behind a tree.

That was the beginning of the end of my hip hop career, and yes, it really happened.

***

Jermaine O'Neil & Jimmy Choo's

2005-11-02T07:20:00.000-08:00

Hey all! Today is Wednesday, which is guest writer day. Today's guest writer is none other than Chaz's better half, "The Wife". You go girl.

***

The 2005/06 NBA season is now underway, and I won’t be the first to admit that I am quite looking forward to the next few months. For those of you who haven’t found the ‘Horry’ spirit, listed are a few of the reasons why I am so stoked:

dollar dog night
the National anthem
team colors
team spirit
team mascots
team dancers
renaming players such as Joel Przybilla “the Big Vanilla”
play-by-play announcing to Chaz while he is in the kitchen cooking me up some bomb ass NBA nosh
center court seats in the rafters (where the real fans sit)
trash talking
three pointers taken from the bridge
one hour 4th quarters
and the cherry of all cherries: THE NBA PLAYOFFS

There are many more reasons to be excited about the upcoming season, even if MY team is in a “rebuilding phase.” (All I have to say is I doubt the trail they blaze won’t go unnoticed). But my team isn’t what I am guest writing about. Jermaine O’Neil and Jimmy Choo’s are.

Chaz and I were watching the season opener of Denver vs. San Antonio. During a 3rd quarter break a new-to-me Nike commercial aired. A scrawny group of teenage boys are battling it out on the court, one of the teen-skin-woes heads out to the vending machine, plugs his cash in, and where a soda would deposit out pops Jermaine O’Neil. Well, first the machine vends O’Neil’s Nike shoe, of which the pimple popper grabs, thus pulling Jermaine out with it. Jermaine offers the kid his help. Jermaine joins him on the court schooling the Oxy ridden bunch. Fin.

This commercial got me thinking. If I were in a crisis and sought a vending machine out for help, what would my crisis be? What would the machine vend? In the movie, “28 Days Later,” a handful of survivors try to find sanctuary after a mysterious, incurable virus spreads throughout the UK. They eat mostly vending machine food for sustenance.

Would I be seeking the vending machine for sustenance? Or would I go to the vending machine for a hero, like Jermaine O’Neil? Or would I go for the…. SHOE? It didn’t take me long to deduce SHOES would be what I would seek out, not just in the time of a fashion crisis, but any time. And if I were to get, say a shoe, like the oily-T-zone kid did, would I also get the wearer of the shoe?

This is where Jimmy Choo comes in. That would be the shoe I would want dropping out of my vending machine. I have never tried on a pair, and probably never will. But nine out of every ten fashionistas that remember the designer of their $800 shoes remembers the name Jimmy Choo. Not because it is a cute name, but because his shoes are fucking gorgeous! Pictured below is an example of a pair I would like to receive with my 2-5 quarters.

As for the wearer? Well I would rather not have to share them with someone, especially Jermaine O’Neil, he would just stretch them all out and give me athletes foot. But if the shoes did come with a person, I would prefer if it was Parker Posey. Maybe she already would have a pair in her handbag, then hand me the Jimmy Choo’s, and then the two of us could go to Dairy Queen and get a coke. That is how Michelle vends.

But alas, Jimmy Choos, Parker Poseys, Jermaine O’Neils, and Nikes don’t just kur-plunk out of vending machines. The NBA is just an over paid game. And most commercials don’t make me think. That is ok with me. I spend most of my time in daydreams.

***

Halloween back in the day

2005-10-31T20:30:00.000-08:00

Back when I was a kid, Halloween was by far the coolest day of the year. As opposed to sitting around doing the same boring school stuff, you got to do mostly fun edu-taining Halloween stuff like reading horror stories or constructing halloween decorations. Even the school lunches were better that day, usually spiced up with "Terrible Tator Tots" or "Bloody Jello". The best part of the day was dressing up. Except for the Jehovah's Witnesses, everyone dressed up. Some of the kids had really cool elaborate costumes that their parents worked on for days, but most everyone had one of these generic costumes:

1) Count Suckula, AKA: Vampire- Old reliable. All it took was a cape, some hair gel, a little powder, makeup, and most importantly, plastic fangs. This was a popular choice because it didn't require much-- so long as there were plastic fangs and the requisite pale face/blood coming from mouth look, you didn't even need anything else.

2) The Cute Lil' Princess- There were very few girls in the school who didn't want to be a princess of some sort. There were flower princesses, pink princesses, Barbie princesses, and every other variety princess you could ever dream of.

3) Ol' Plasticface AKA "My parents bought my costume at the walgreens" (eg: Spiderman, Wonder Woman, The Hulk, R2D2, Yoda, Kermit the Frog)- It was guaranteed there were going to be a few of these bad boys popping up each year. These costumes always have the plastic mask in the shape of the character you are portraying with nostril holes, a little mouth hole, and eye holes. These are held on with an elastic string that usually breaks before the night is through, requiring your parents to fix it and make it way tighter than it ever should be, forcing the mask to be pressed up against your face and smushing it. These costumes also had the light plastic bodysuit thing that strapped to the front of your body and legs, but was usually bunchy looking since you had to wear clothes behind it. Talking is usually out of the question, because no one can hear you anyways. I was Ol' Plasticface once. In one the best pictures I have from my Halloween past, there I was, wearing a Chewbacca costume clutching the world's biggest popcorn ball next to my sister who was sporting the Wonder Woman. I loved that costume.

4) Hobo- Nothing says "good costume" more than dressing your kid up as a homeless person, more specifically a homeless clown. Kids are cute as hell when dressed up as homeless cigar-chomping train hopping transients. It is funny because, well, the homeless are so darn cute. I was one of these one year too. It was a fave of my mom, because it required no shopping for a costume, she would just bust out a plastic cigar she seemed to have on hand every Halloween and let the good times roll.

5) Horror Mask- These were popular with the boys- they are masks of some horrific gruesome creature or the generic hockey mask a la Friday The 13th. Usually these masks were paired with a black cape. These would be semi freaky looking if you didn't see them all the time. I equate the fear factor of these masks to the first time a kid sees a clown- it might be scary at first, but in time you see them enough and they become normal. My mom never let me wear these.

6) Bugs and Flowers AKA Revenge of the Anne Geddes (eg: ladybugs, spiders, bees, sunflowers), - What is cuter than seeing a ladybug with an oversized kids head? Nothing. Especially if they are wearing one of those headbands that have long springs with balls on the end to simulate antennae, which is a signature of the bug costume. There is also the Sunflower, which looks like a giant stuffed sunflower only instead of sunflower seeds there is a kids head popping out.

7) The Tammy Faye AKA "Make me up, before you go-go"- This is the one where parents paint their kids faces to be spooky, but they don't do anything else. There are so many kids who do this- they are normal kids from neck to sneakers, but for some reason they were made up to be zombies or other things on their face. Sometimes they were given moustaches or scars. It never made any sense.

Honorable mention: Pirates, Cops, "Indians", Prisoners, Soldiers, Cowboys & Cowgirls

Towards the end of the day was the dreaded costume parade, where all the kids in the school had to awkwardly parade through the school or playground in their costumes while all the parents took pictures, pointed and laughed. The best part of it was when it was over, because that meant we could go home, get ready to trick or treat and eat us some candy.

Trick or Treating was always the highlight. We would get out our pillow cases and go out until we could not trick or treat anymore. We knew all the stops- where we would get money instead of candy, the places we would get a lot of candy, and the places that decked out there place to be extra spooky. Most importantly, we were on a quest for the holy grail of trick or treating: full size candy bars. Getting a full size candy bar made you the envy of all your friends. It automatically became the showpiece of your candy collection, and the only piece of candy you save for a special occasion. It didn't matter to us when we would get multiple mini candy bars, which amounted to more candy than the full size bar- Size was everything.

At the end of the night, we would arrange our candy in piles, do some trading with our friends, begrudgingly give our parents their cut (usually the worst candy) , and create a secret stash so we did not have to be limited to 3 pieces a day.

I would love to say more, but it is Monday, and I so have to get to work.

Happy Halloween Everyone. Hope your night is Ghoulish! Bwahahahahaha!

***
My friend said he would not read my blog unless I talked about him. Friend, this one's for you.

***

My friend Chewy sent me this in an IM, stating "You have been caught." You got me, Chewy. You totally got me.

http://www.wfmynews2.com/watercooler/article.aspx?storyid=51035

Say Something Funny

2005-10-28T21:57:00.000-07:00

One of my newest hobbies is knitting cozies for household appliances. I also knit booties for my pets. There is nothing worse than exposed blenders or nude kitty paws! I feel an adrenaline rush every time I slide a freshly knit cozy on the toaster for the first time- it is as exciting as the first time I had sex (when I was 7). I also do kleenex box cozies and crochet doilies. This is god's work, and through my knitting, I am the messenger. Footprints baby. yeah.

Does that paragraph horrify you? Does it make you squirm? Good. It is probably the equivalent of me reading my Wednesday post yesterday and wondering how I could write such a crappy piece. Harry Potter? OK I like it. To write a whole blog about it? I must have lost my damn mind. To those of you who liked the story, more power to you. For those who thought it was cheesier than a brick shithouse, I apologize.

I have a lot of stories to tell, as I have led a semi-interesting life. Once I sit down to write them, I get stuck in one of those "Say something funny!" moments where I can't think of a thing. Everyone knows the "Say something funny!" moment-- it usually happens when you are at a party or at work and someone you know comes out of nowhere and introduces you to someone else. The person doing the introductions says you are funny, which leads either the introducer or the introducee to say something to the effect of "Say something funny," at which time you do one of two things: You choke or you say something semi-lame in a rush to get something good out there. That is what happened when I wrote the "Harry Potter" post. Rather than sit down and think about the story I was going to write, I ended up freezing up, flailing, and putting that steaming hunk of poo out there for the world to see. My bad.

I now know I should compile a list of things to write about from my past so I always have something to work off of. The list will include amusing anecdotes, plucky stories about pop culture things, and glowing tales of my favorite things. There might be some bittersweet stuff in there, or some red light stories from my red light years. Overall, I got some good stuff to give. There are, however going to be things I will never write about. Here are some of those things:

The complexities of a Hemi Engine
Lean Cuisine
Venti anything
LL Bean
Amy Grant
CSI
Prune Juice
Ponies
Bratz
Scott Baio
Starfruit
Steel-Belted Radials
Shabby Chic
Boston Market
Hi and Lois
Fruitcake
Conrad Bain
Decoupage
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Cat Fancy Magazine
Phillies Blunts
Geico
Snowmobiling
Spelt
Peruvian artifacts
Bimart
Gary, Indiana
The Six Dollar Burger

Here are things I have talked about or mentioned in past posts I wish I could take back:

Harry Potter
Dungeons and Dragons
Magic: The Gathering
Jam Bands
Old Navy
Spencer Gifts
the word "Aplomb"
My Fair Brady
Subway
the term "Yeasty Ass"

So that is a start. We can only go uphill from here. Bear with me people, I am relatively new at this. In the future you can be guaranteed more semi-funny links, lots more poo talk, and a whole lot more self deprecation. Happy Halloween!

Harry Potter

2005-10-26T21:34:00.000-07:00

I used to criticize people for liking Harry Potter. I thought Harry Potter fans were like the guys playing Magic: The Gathering at coffee shops wearing black t-shirts with wizards and warlocks on them. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it was just never my scene. I was never into the fantasy thing- it just didn't do it for me. I read some fantasy books when I was a kid, and they all seemed the same to me. Wizards, warlocks, elves, trolls, unicorns and the occasional pegasus were always involved, life as they knew it was threatened, and an epic battle ensued. I was more interested in watching TV and playing my nintendo. I was content in my non-fantasy upbringing and life, so when Harry Potter took the world by storm, of course I was quick to judge. Wizards? Check. Trolls? Check. Magic Wands? Check. It had all the makings of the typical fantasy blah.

Harry Potter was not typical in that the world was captured by it like no other. It started with my sister and nephew, who assured me it was a fantastic book. I smiled and nodded, thinking to myself "like hell it is." Potter fever started hitting my friends, then coworkers. People I would have never expected to read Harry Potter started reading Harry Potter, all with glowing recommendations about it. Most everyone says something to the effect of "You have to read the books! They are so good!"

It finally hit a breaking point when the 6th Harry Potter book came out. I was living in an apartment building that was shaped as a courtyard, so when people sat outside they were in public view of everyone else. The Day after the book came out, it was a warm summer day, and I walked outside to say hi to my neighbors. To my horror, three people were sitting outside completely ignoring me reading the new Harry Potter book, as if in a trance. These were some close friends, and they had completely succumbed to the power of the Potter. I started to wonder if I was the one who was crazy.

A few weeks after that horrifying episode, we decided to have a courtyard-wide yard sale. Everyone from all the apartments were taking part in it, and we all got together to post flyers, get a keg, and do it right. It was also a remarkable opportunity to peer into the lives of my neighbors. At the end of the sale, everyone got the stuff together they did not sell so we could donate everything to Goodwill. This was also a great chance to get stuff for free that we would have had to pay for a few hours earlier. One of our neighbors happened to be getting rid of her collection of Harry Potter books. A couple months prior I would have paid no attention to them, but I started wondering if I should see what all the fuss was about, if for no other reason than to have something to talk about with my nephew. Much to The Wife's chagrin, I brought the books home with me.

I started reading the first Harry Potter book the next day, and was done with it by that evening. It didn't have any of the elements I usually enjoy in a book, but for some reason I loved it and needed more. I started on the second book immediately. Two weeks later, I had read the entire series and was renting the movies to watch at home. I started complaining to The Wife the movies were not near as good as the books. "Oh god," I thought to myself "I am one of them!" It turns out there was a Harry Potter fan inside me. When the last Potter book came out, I bought it within 2 days of it's release, on a Friday, and read it nonstop until I was done early Sunday. Now, I am itching for the final book to come out. Why must they keep us waiting?

So I was at work the other day, and I received a catalog from a hardware company. I was about to through the catalog away, but something caught my eye. On the back of the catalog, in big letters, was the following:

HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

below that it said:

Get Your Advance Screening Tickets

Wow. Could this be happening? I emailed them, and sure enough I was registered for the event. What's the catch? I have to sit through an hour "movie" about this company's hardware followed by a half hour "Q&A Session" before the movie starts. No problem. That is how bad it's gotten. I am willing to sit through BS to see the Harry Potter movie.

The point of this story? There really isn't one. I guess I am a geek that reads and enjoys children's fantasy books. Whatever. They made a believer out of me. If you have a problem with that, I will have no other choice but to sic my herd of unicorns on your ass and put a wizarding spell on you. That's how I roll, yo.

***
It is no secret I love talking about poo and poo related things, but I would never think of doing anything like this:

http://www.team4news.com/Global/story.asp?S=4029330&nav=0w0v

***
I might, however, do this.

http://nydailynews.com/front/story/358121p-305140c.html

***

Oysterfest 2005

2005-10-24T19:49:00.000-07:00

For 10 years I was a vegetarian, roughly from ages 19 to 29. During that time I was a pretty staunch non-meat eater. "If it has a face, I ain't eatin' it," I would say. I would scan the packages of the foods I bought in the store, and if they contained meat products, I wouldn't eat them. I was still on the cheese and eggs, though. I loved me some eggs and cheese. I also loved the garlic bread, but that is a different discussion entirely.

Every now and again I would happen upon other folks who were vegetarians, and vegetarianism was always a topic of discussion. We would talk about why we became vegetarians, what we ate, and that one badass Dead show in Rotterdam in '73. (just kidding) One of my first questions for them was "Do you eat fish?" There are a whole lot of people who don't consider fish to be meat, regardless of their little brains, eyes and those cute lil' flippers. I call these people "Portland Vegetarians" due to the high volume of people in Portland who eat fish but not other meats.

There are also the "vegetarians" who say they eat chicken, turkey and fish, but no pork or beef. To them, the fact that they are not eating red meat makes them a vegetarian. This never made sense to me.

A lot of those people typically get offended when I bring up the fact they are a Portland Vegetarian or not a vegetarian at all- they feel I am putting an asterisk next to their vegetarian "title." I feel like there are a lot of people out there who dig having the vegetarian title and get very defensive if someone like me comes along and questions it. The funny thing is, when I was a veggie, I was very defensive of my title if a vegan came along and started questioning my routine. For those who don't know, vegans are crazy people who don't eat meat, dairy, eggs, honey, or anything else that came from an animal. I believe vegans to be a cult of aliens who secretly eat babies while listening to jam bands. Regardless, what I have learned in my short life is that vegetarians love calling themselves vegetarian, and is that it really doesn't matter what you call yourself, so long as you are doing what makes you happy. The other point is to not listen to me. I am crazy as the vegans.

Before I was a vegetarian, I was not what you would call a giant seafood fan. I was never really around seafood when I lived in Colorado through jr. high and high school. Then I turned veggie and there was another 10 years of my life that I had not experienced seafood. Then I met The Wife, who is born and raised Portland and, like many Portlanders, was raised eating seafood. We would go out to dinner quite frequently, and it always made it tough on both of us when one of us (ie: me) would not find anything to eat. We would then have to go to some other restaurant until I was happy.

We got married after a year together, and after about another year I started wondering what good seafood tastes like. when I would see people eating white fish like halibut or sea bass, it looked like they were eating something bouncy like tofu and I wanted to try it. I started getting curious about eating seafood until one night when we went out, I ordered Calamari and an Ahi Tuna steak. That was the end of my vegetarianism as I knew it and the beginning of a beautiful new life as a foodie.

Flash forward to this past Friday. My best friend Chewy (name changed so he doesn't sue my ass) was in town for the day, and the stage was set for Oysterfest 2005. Historically, Oysterfest originally happened in 2002, when The Wife and Chewy, both big fans of oysters, decided they were going to have a night that consisted entirely of oysters and booze. At the time I was a mere spectator, watching with wonder as The Wife and Chewy slurped down oysters on the half-shell, oyster shooters, and fried oysters. This time around I was eligible to be a participant, since I am now a full-fledged meat eater.

A few months after I rescinded my vegetarian title, I had my first oyster in a shooter. I slurped it down with all the horseradish and cocktail sauce that comes with it, and I loved it. I later had oysters on the half-shell at a fancy brunch in California, which cemented my like for the gummy creatures.

I don't think I was prepared for what was about to go down.

We started out at destination #1, an eclectic restaurant which we knew served shooters and fried oysters. We each started out with 2 shooters and some beer and ordered up a tray of fried oysters. We laughed, ate our oysters, and talked just like we used to. It was good fun.

We packed up and moved to destination #2, a well known (and the only) oyster bar downtown. They had 6 different varieties of oysters to try, so we got 2 dozen in a mixed platter and a couple more beers. We toasted with the shells as we slurped the raw oysters down, taking in their briny goodness.

It was time to move on to destination #3, which was happy hour at a fancy seafood restaurant. We had what I considered to be our best oysters here, and we also had some of the fried variety. It was our last stop. We were all filled with oysters, and ready to call it a day.

It was great to see Chewy. A good friend never becomes unfamiliar, and It never felt like he was ever gone. In the future it will be the same- The Wife, Chewy and I taking down oysters, laughing and having fun. Oysterfest is no longer a one or two time thing. It is for real.

***
I cannot believe something like this can happen.

http://abcnews.go.com/Primetime/story?id=1231684&page=1

***
Here is something everyone wants to know: The history of the Codpiece.

http://www.r3.org/life/articles/codpiece.html

***

Slow news day

2005-10-21T21:41:00.000-07:00

Hey all!

Typically I would do a Friday post- it is a slow day at work. Unfortunately for you, my friend "Chewy" is in town and I am going to kick it with him. I will try to get something out this weekend to make up for this terrible travesty.

Until then, much love and keep on keepin' on. Keep hope alive.

Scotch and Salsa

2005-10-19T11:53:00.000-07:00

Today is guest writer day, where a good friend of mine writes the blog. I am going to try making this a regular occurrence with my friends.

Today we have a good bar story from a good friend of mine in Florida, "DJ Fuckyouup". Without further ado:

"So a few months ago I went out with some friends for a few cocktails at a pretty upscale establishment. My friend caroline's sister was in town from U of F for the weekend. She's a pretty hot little number, you know, crazy college party girl. The funny part was her dipshit boyfriend, everybody knows the type, 20 years old, pink polo shirt, popped collar, way to much jell in the hair, thinks he's real fucking cool-probably wearing axe body spray. So we are all just having a mellow time, the place is a "salsa" joint, pretty high end, and all the ladies look good and know how to dance. I look over and this dipshit boyfriend orders up a double johnny walker blue on the rocks! Now I like me some scotch, but even I have never tasted the magical liquid that is Johnny Blue. The bartender double takes the kid, asks him if he's sure that's what he wants. The kid snottily replies something like"thats what I said wasn't it," so the dude serves him up a nice double. Dumbass takes a sip, nods his head in approval (like this fuck could even tell the difference of such a fine spirit) all good, then the bartender says, with a nice grin I might add, that will be $130.00 dollars please. I thought the kid was going to throw up. Several of us were watching this whole transaction go down and you know me-I was in a hysterical fit of laughter. I'm elbowing my buddy, he's laughing, kid looks like he's in a state of panic, pulls out his wallet and hes only got about 30 bucks in there!!! So he kind of slinks over to his girlfriend and nonchalantly asks to borrow her credit card-now I'm really laughing as is everybody on my side of the bar, I had to tell everyone there about this misfortune- girlfriend knows whats up, makes him grovel for the plastic. To top the whole thing off, I think he only tipped the dude three bucks. This is my definition of a douchbag. Hope you enjoy this story."

So there you go. The moral of the story? Douchbags are indeed a reality.

***
My homey Chewy sent me this link. Was it some sort of hint?

http://www.sky.com/skynews/article/0,,31500-13451812,00.html?f=rss

***

This has been a topic of interest for me as of late, after hearing a Grandaddy song for a car commercial. It really bothered me.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,172324,00.html

***
***

The Great Pumpkin Patch

2005-10-17T19:23:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend we visited our good friends "Wacky Pooblacky" and her husband "Jimmy Drylids." (again, names changed for anonymity) It was a nice relaxing weekend, one we spent eating, as usual. We grilled up some clams and mussels on Saturday night, drank some wine, and a good time was had by all. We followed dinner up with some drinks, a cigar, and some ice cold crack cocaine.

In the morning, we headed up to Pumpkin Funland at Rasmussen Farms, a pumpkin patch and fruit market in the beautiful Hood River Valley. We went early so as to avoid the onslaught of kids- the patch was rated by Nickelodeon as one of the top pumpkin patches in the country. I went prepared to be awed, but perhaps my cynicism got the best of me as I was left a bit dissapointed. Not to say I didn't have fun or I would not do it again. It was a brilliant day.

We started at the Pumpkin Funland building, which turned gourds and pumkins into people and animals in scenes representing various idioms- for instance, "Don't burn bridges" was represented as a bridge made of gourds with little cars (also made of gourd pieces, I assume) on fire. There was also the moving "Don't bite the hand that feeds you," which depicted a gourd-headed baby biting a bloody finger off her gourd-headed parent, which teaches kids it is OK to bite your parent's finger, so long as it is made of squash. There were probably at least 50 different scenes, each one cleverly depicting squash and gourd sculptures.

We got about halfway through the pumpkin funland before the creepiness of the place really got to me. I had to get outside. Once outside, Jimmy, Wacky and the wife explored the "Halloween Hut" Which looked like a giant pile of hay with tiny little pathways you can crawl through. I decided to skip that part, antsy to get over to what I considered the main attraction, the Corn Maze. Once they got their fill of the hut, we all grooved over to the Corn Maze.

The corn maze was not so much a maze but more a corn path. There was nowhere to go off the main path, no choices to make, just a path that curved around through the corn. At various times throughout the walk there would be a storyboard with a continuing fairy tale that completed at the end of the maze. If I were a kid, it would have been the bee's knees.

The corn path ended up in the pumpkin patch. This, my friends, is where the magic happens. We walked through the patch, each of us with the task of selecting one pumpkin. I was the last to pick a pumpkin, because I was on the quest for the perfect pumpkin. Everyone else had already picked their pumpkins, and they were getting to the point where they were suggesting pumpkins to me. It went kind of like this:

Jimmy: Hey Chaz, check this one out.
Chaz: Umm, well, I was looking for something a bit more, umm, orange.
Jimmy: (a mild sense of disappointment in his voice) Oh.
The Wife: Well what about this one? It it pretty.
Chaz: It is really nice, but no. It's not the one.
Wacky: How about this one?
Chaz: That one is great, but it is not old-looking enough.
Wacky: Huh?

So we plodded through the pumpkin patch as the morning sun cut through the fog to make the day warm. The pumpkins were all starting to look the same- I could just pick one up and go with it... No! I must carry on! As I was about to settle on some lame pumpkin, something caught my attention. A glow illuminated it, like a halo above an angel. As I looked on music from the gods started playing a symphony only I could hear-sweet jesus- it was my perfect pumpkin.

***

Keep checking back tomorrow night or Weds. morning- I have a guest writer telling a funny story. Stay tuned.

Chewy of Wookietown

2005-10-14T21:53:00.000-07:00

I had a crazy day yesterday. It started with an email from a friend who works with my best friend stating my best friend had not been at work for two days- no call, no show- nor had he answered his phone. His work was getting ready to can his ass. My best friend (we'll call him "Chewy" for anonymity purposes) had some issues in the past with some bad elements, but has been up on his game recently and living semi-respectively, although we still worried about him sometimes. I was obviously freaked out something had happened to Chewy, wondering if the last time I talked to him was the last time I talked to him. I called all kinds of people in Wookietown (again with the anonymity) where Chewy lives to check on him at his house, but no one answered their phones. I ended up having to make a very tough call to Chewy's mother and sister to let them know he has not been seen or heard from in a couple days.

I don't know how I would take it if my sister's best friend called me up randomly to let me know my sister has fallen off the radar. I would freak the hell out if I got that call. Luckily, they were poised and not terribly worried, or at least they didn't show it over the phone. They tried calling him too, and while I was talking to his mother, his sister called on the other line.

Chewy's Sister: I just got in touch with Chewy.
Chaz: Thank god, is he OK?
Chewy's Sister: Yeah, he was sleeping on the couch. He had a migraine.

I was relieved. While I felt like a fool for contacting everyone and their mother (literally), I also was at ease that Chewy was all good. It ended up that Chewy had called in to work and thought everything was OK. He was sleeping when everyone was calling him, which is why he didn't answer. Once we got in touch with him, he dragged his ass to work to straighten everything out.

The rest of my day was kind of a waste. The day takes on a whole new meaning when something like that happens. I was sure Chewy was fine, but how could I really be sure? In the blink of an eye (or the ring of your telephone), your life as you know it can change and you have absolutely no control over what happens. That was the toughest part. I am not going to get sappy or emotional here, because everything turned up well. There was indeed joy in Wookietown, for the mighty Chewy turned up.

***

I have been a germaphobe lately. I feel like my office is a giant sick factory, and I am strapped to a conveyer belt with people coughing and sneezing on me as I pass through. Everyone I work with is getting sick, is sick, or was sick and is getting over it. I have been the guy in the office who opens the bathroom door with napkins and takes the paths through the office that don't require me touching any doors. I have been staying put in my cubicle, shaking my fists in rage at the air vent blowing recycled air above me. When I am in a meeting, I shudder when someone goes into a sneezing fit or sets a dirty tissue down on the conference room table. I already had a super mild cold this season, but I know I am going to get the stuff flying around the office. The worst part of it all is hearing all the people talking about how sick they are/were and everyone sharing their remedies for getting better, as if it is a potluck and they are sharing recipes. Ugh.

***
If you don't ever post comments on my blogs, you should at least read them. Particularly the comments from my October 10 blog delivered by Tyler, who sent URL for Poop Report. He scooped me (pun intended) on the site, because I was going to write a blog about poo and how I talk about it all the time and stuff. (Thanks Tyler- nice one) Regardless, check out the site if you enjoy reading stories about the perfect poo and other poo related topics. It is childish, silly, and completely gross. If you are like me and you have the mentality of 12 year old, you will absolutely LOVE it.

***

Last but not least, a story about my friend Chewy's favorite catalog.

http://www.radaronline.com/magazine/features/2005/10/adventures-of-an-international-male.php

***

Fun comes in all shapes and sizes

2005-10-12T23:32:00.000-07:00

As I might have mentioned in a post before, I am a big NBA fan.

Why the NBA, you might ask? Why not football or baseball?

In baseball, each trip to the batters box is full of delays, there is a good 30 seconds (at least) between pitches, there is a long break between each inning, and there is a 7th inning s-t-r-e-t-c-h where everyone sings. It is just not my game. Sure, if you are at the game it seems like you are having tons of fun, but that is because you are getting tanked on $8 beers. I also think they put hallucinogens in the hot dogs.

Football (college more than NFL) is a little bit better, but it takes a ridiculously long time to get through a game. I was just watching football this weekend, and there was a commercial break for a timeout, followed by a couple plays, followed by a touchdown. After the touchdown, they had a commercial break. When the game returned, they showed the kickoff and return, then went to another commercial break. After that, the team went through a few plays, punted, and (guess what?) another commercial break! It was maddening.

Basketball is all action all the time. Sure, they call more timeouts than they should, but for the most part, they are playing the game all the time. They are running up and down the court, body-checking, elbowing, pivoting for the ball, driving in the lane, and -BAM- dunking on someone's head.

Pro basketballers are some of the most insane athletes out there. You can watch a towering mountain of muscle in Shaq, the athletic freakishness of the young Lebron James or Amare Stoudemire, the amazing dunks of Vince Carter and Tracy Mcgrady, the marksman-like shooting of Ray Allen or Peja Stojakovic and the nimble footwork of Earl Boykins, who at 5'5 is the smallest guy in the NBA. Where else can you watch a 7'5 guy from China play against a 6'2 guy from Argentina?

I hate to admit it, but I am a fantasy NBA guy. People think fantasy sports are lame, and I would agree, but they can also be kind of fun. Managing your roster, talking shit with your friends in the league, it's all good. I started playing fantasy a few years ago when my friend Clint told me I should join a league. I was already watching some basketball on TV and enjoying it, but I didn't know the specifics of the game, what or who to follow. I ended up learning tons about the sport, about how the game is played, and the individual players of the game. By keeping track of the players, I was able to follow games more closely.

Fantasy NBA works like this: You go through a draft, pick your team from all the players in the NBA, and your team goes head to head with your friend's team every week based on the stats the players produce in their real world games. There is not much you actually do- it is a pretty automated process. All you have to do is change a roster around, replace people who get hurt, drink beer, and talk mad shit. You watch more basketball, you make friends, and everyone is happy. A good time is had by all.

There is one thing a true NBA fan can't live without: NBA League Pass. Channel upon channel of mind numbing basketball, every day of the week for the entire basketball season. This will be my third year in a row ordering it. You basically get to watch every game from every team, except for the nationally televised games which you can watch on regular channels. It is crack of the highest form for the NBA junkie, and, I am totally hooked.

I have tons more to talk about, but I am going to have to call it a day. More tomorrow or Friday.

***
Yes we know. Portland is down with Indie music. Shouldn't this article have been written years ago? It must be a slow news day.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20051012/ap_en_mu/music_indie_town

***
I can't wait for ET II- Return of The Sacrament.

http://www.cathnews.com/news/510/56.php

***
If these guys have more kids, they should name them Jello, Jackal, and Japoopy.

http://www.breitbart.com/news/2005/10/12/D8D6KS7O1.html

***

Everyone Loves The Mall

2005-10-10T20:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was in a funk that started the very moment I woke up. It was one of those days where I slept fine the night before and I was excited to have a day off, but I was in a blah mood all day. It was not a bad mood, just one of those crazy days you don't feel like talking much. The wife asked me what was going on, insisting I needed to talk about something, but there was nothing to talk about. I just was in a blah mood.

There is a difference between a blah mood and a bad mood. A blah mood means you really don't want to chat about things, and you are just, well, blah. A bad mood is a whole different baby, one that cries in your ear while it's pooping it's pants. I haven't had a bona fide crappy crummy shitty bad mood in quite some time. Something really has to get me riled up to get me in a really bad mood. Ol' Chaz is too mellow to groove like that.

On Saturday I was really bored, so I decided to walk from my house to the local mall, The Lloyd Center . The mall is located about a mile and a half from my house to the place, so it makes a great walking destination. The Lloyd Center is 3 stories of really tacky stores with an Ice rink as the pièce de résistance in the center of the mall. It has all the stores kids and white trash America love; Hot Topic, The Disney Store, Old Navy, Marshall's, Ross, and everyone's favorite, Spencer Gifts. There are some nice stores in there, but they are few and far between.

So Chazzy (me) was strolling about the mall and felt a pang of hunger. I went up to the 3rd floor to rock the food court Chaz style. I went to my favorite mall food place, Steamers (I laughed at the name of it the first time I saw it too) , where I got some steamed dumplings, pork and vegetable buns, and some edamame. It was either that or a hot dog at Orange Julius.

After I picked up my food, I grabbed a table, sat down, and immediately started stuffing my face with my food court munchies. As I was packing my maw with food, I noticed a girl sitting by herself at the table next to me. A very clean-cut looking guy was walking towards her with a steaming tray of fried beef burritos from Taco Time. For those who don't know, Taco Time is Taco Bell-esque nasty stuff guaranteed to give some nasty poos. Eating it has the same risk as riding a mechanical bull after taking a laxative; it's a total roll of the dice. Back to the story, clean-cut guy set the tray down between them and sat down across from her. They joined both hand, leaned forward, pressed their foreheads together over the steam rising from the burritos, and began to pray.

I found this oddly peculiar on many levels. For one, I don't pray, nor do I know anyone who does, so for me there is a strange curiosity why one would do so in that setting. I found it especially peculiar they were giving thanks for the steamy pile of crap they were about to ingest. I wondered if I truly appreciated the meal before me, or if I was taking it for granted. Darn them for making me feel that way- I was thoroughly enjoying my Steamers! Did I appreciate it? I really don't know. I mean, I have been fortunate enough to have very few moments in my life where food was scarce. I guess I appreciated the Steamers well enough, but not enough to give thanks for it like the people next to me. Did they really appreciate their food, or were they praying because they always pray before a meal? My head was spinning. I decided it would be easier to chuckle and agree to disagree with them, even though they had not said a word to me. I shook my head indifferently, then got up to go to the trash can to throw away the food I couldn't finish.

***
A couple updates:

Update #1: Hit counter experiment! As of Thursday at around 3ish, I had received 20 more hits to bring me to 32. I am now up to 46, although a few of those are from my house and don't count. I guess I am just not that popular after all. I thought I had a chance of being the next Yahoo, damnit.

Update #2: Mystery Gift Update! The check I gave to my niece for the Peanut Brittle, Salt & Pepper shakers shaped as Cactuses with bandanas and sombreros, the wrapping paper and last (but certainly not least) the MYSTERY GIFT has been cashed! That means I should be receiving the mystery gift sometime in the next 2-3 weeks! I am trembling with anticipation.

***

The wife and I were in "Beaverwood" last week eating at our friend's restaurant. That was before it was cool. We are so ahead on the trend.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20051010/ap_en_mo/beaverton_vs__beaverwood

***

If you have ever been to an office potluck, this link is for you.

http://www.amalah.com/photos/the_company_cookbook/index.html

***
***

Hey Guys! Over here! um..Guys? Anyone?

2005-10-05T20:41:00.000-07:00

I installed a hit counter yesterday to find out how many hits I am getting on my blog. (see bottom of page) Call me optimistic, but I was thinking more than 10 people a day visit my site. Boy was I wrong. As of 1:47 PM yesterday afternoon (26 hours ago), This site has been seen by 3 unique visitors (my home computer being one of 'em) and a whopping 12 hits. Damn.

Hot dogs, beanie babies, investments, pizza, pontiac GTO, biodegradeable diapers

Perhaps I am not talking about things people really want to know about. Perhaps what is important to me is not important to other people.

hurricane katrina, peanuts, britney spears, knitting, high speed internet, dog food

So what if I were to engage in an experiment where I add a bunch of keywords people might be searching for...

Kate Moss, Space Shuttle, Denver Broncos, PETA, NRA, fruit of the loom, George W. Bush, Suicide Bombers, Julia Roberts, Dominos Pizza, Tools, construction estimates, shoe polish

...and added those terms to my blogsite in a gratuitous attempt at getting more hits?

Terrell Owens, Big Bird, Habitats for Humanity, Joe Montana, Rolling Stone Magazine, Ebay, Dental Dams, Cornnuts, french onion soup, New York, NY, movie reviews, linux, hippies

Would that totally be cheating or what?

Democratic Party, Red Sox, Hearts of Palm, Argyle socks, Paparazzi, Crossword Puzzle, Trivial Pursuit, You Can't Do That On Television!, Survivor, Hot Teen Sex, Jesus

I don't think it would be cheating. I mean, why not see if I can innocently lure strange people to my website? What is the harm in that? It happens every day, people.

Oops- the hits just hit 13! Nice! Just talking about the keywords is bringing the people in! In 24 hours, I am going to update everyone as to how many hits I have received vs. yesterday.

I would write more but I am feeling sick today. More tomorrow...

***

When you know you're hungry...

http://www.ninjaburger.com/

***

Oh god, please no...

http://www.thesun.co.uk/article/0,,2004580002-2005460337,00.html

***

This bacon tastes funny...

2005-10-04T22:09:00.000-07:00

Sorry about the lack of posts in the past few days. I actually wrote a great article yesterday-- funny as can be, moving, it was everything an more! After writing it, I patted myself on the back, fired up a celebratory cigar, and proudly clicked "Publish Post". I went to my blogsite to admire my work, and it was not there. I went back to blogger and checked my archives, and it was not there. It had vanished into thin air, with no proof I ever did it.

It is like one of those tree falling in the woods type things. If I typed a blog, no one ever saw it and it did not save anywhere, did it ever exist? Was it a figment of my imagination, a result of a stressful work day? Was it so amazingly good there was a divine intervention to stop it from ever being seen so as to prevent false idolship? Who knows. All I know is an hour of my life vanished with the click of the mouse, and that stinks like poo.

I had a great weekend this past weekend. Relaxing, as always. Sunday mornings are my favorite. The wife and I usually make breakfast, and this week was no exception. This past week the highlight of breakfast was the turkey bacon I got at safeway on clearance. That is no typo- I live on the edge. The turkey bacon ended up having this crunchy/chewy texture that was really creepy-- it was like a cross between beef jerky and bacon. It was nasty as hell, and left an ominous cloud over an otherwise decent breakfast.

Sunday mornings are always good because the wife and I always get to play (cue music) "What In The World Is The Temperature Of The Place I Am Going To Ask You," which is only the greatest game ever. The game goes like this: The wife will call out cities from the weather page of the Sunday paper. She calls out 3 regional cities, 5 national, 2 European, and 1 from each other region of the world. I (or whatever guests we have over at the time that have the balls to play with us) then guess what we believe the high temperature will be in those areas. If our guess is within 3 degrees, we get 1 point. If we hit it head on, which is incredibly satisfactory, we get 2 points. A good time is had by all.

On this Sunday, I got my ass whooped at (cue music) "What In The World Is The Temperature Of The Place I Am Going To Ask You." We had a guest for breakfast, and she reluctantly decided to play the game with us. She started right off the bat with a point, and in the end, it was 9 points to 5. The wife decided to throw a bonus round, where you get 5 points if you guess the national extreme high or low temperature. I am not going to go into what happened, for it is way too disturbing for me to recall. All I am going to say is the final score was 14 points to 5. I was owned.

Also on Sunday, my niece, nephew and sister came to visit us. The kids came running in with school fundraiser packets in their hands and a glint in their eye. They knew ol' Uncle Chaz would hook them straight up. Everyone knows the school fundraiser packets- you usually have your choice of crappy holiday stuff, anemic amounts of candy, or miniaturized candles that are in the shape of apples and turkeys. The final tally of ol' Uncle Chaz's purchases? 2 magazine subscriptions, 1 roll of wrapping paper, peanut brittle, a pair of salt & pepper shakers shaped like cactuses wearing bandanas and sombreros, and a $6 "mystery gift" with a value of $12. $72.50 total. Ol' Uncle Chaz is a pimp.

The "mystery gift" intrigues me. When places sell "mystery gifts" AKA "grab bags" type deals, it is usually stuff they could not sell, so instead of throwing the stuff away they wrap it up and make it "mysterious", hoping some sucker will take the bait. Being that the fundraising catalog is full of cheap, crappy, overpriced stuff, I am at the edge of my seat to see what I end up getting. With that said I officially announce, in 4 to 6 weeks, I will be posting pictures and descriptions of my "mystery gift" in a column titled "Mystery Gift REVEALED!"

I am also posing a challenge to everyone out there- if you are shopping online and you see a "grab bag", "mystery gift", or any other thing where you are buying something blindly, let me know and I will order it (if it is under 10 bucks) and post pics and item descriptions of what I actually get on my blogsite. Ladies and Gentlemen, start your browsing!

***

This machine is the beginning of the end. Really. I see a future where these are posted on every street corner, the sweet smell of hydrogenated oil thickly in the air everywhere you go, and elastic waisted pants become all the rage.

http://www.patatachef.com/patatachef.html

***

It is so on. NBA Basketball is FAN-tastic!

http://sports.espn.go.com/nba/trainingcamp05/index

For the US Weekly Magaziners in the house, here are some fun pics of NBA'ers wives.

http://www.lipstickalley.com/vb/showthread.php?t=15653&page=1&pp=30

***

Sometimes I have that not so "fresh" feeling

2005-09-29T22:08:00.000-07:00

Think about it...

(silence)

Anyhow, a friend last night noticed a glaring omission to my list of good inner city movies- in the same time frame as Fresh came Menace II Society, a great movie. I don't know how that didn't turn up on my movie radar. Someone also brought up the movie Poetic Justice, but I refuse to give props to an inner city struggle movie starring Janet Jackson. That is like casting George Bush in a Michael Moore film.

***
This might be the best story ever:

http://contactmusic.com/new/xmlfeed.nsf/mndwebpages/cronenbergs%20public%20sex

I'll bet Viggo was really relieved when this movie was "In the can." (pun intended) Stuff like this never happens where I work.

***

http://www.cnn.com/2005/SHOWBIZ/TV/09/27/tv.themes/index.html

This article is so relevant, if only because I know we all have TV songs stuck in our head that we never wanted there in the first place. My friend Sarah always sings the song from Sisters, in which she joyfully proclaims the sisters are "doing it for themselves." Even though I only saw the show a couple times, I recognized that song immediately. That is the nature of a TV theme song. At any given moment, I could throw down The Golden Girls or The Facts Of Life without batting an eyelash. These songs are like syphilis-- you can't get rid of 'em.

There were some good theme songs though. The A-Team, The Dukes of Hazzard, Crime Story (one of my favorite shows from back in the day), and the sha-la-la-la from Family Ties (but only the sha-la-la-la, nothing more) all kicked some serious ass. They are all songs I would easily download and throw into a mix, if I haven't already.

As far as current TV goes, I can't really think of any theme songs that really stand out. House has a remix of a Massive Attack song (Teardrop), which is pretty damn cool, but kind of cheating. It doesn't have the flair of The Jeffersons or the downright cheesiness of the theme to Full House, both winners as far as theme songs go. The cheesy vocal theme song has been replaced by cheesy instrumental theme songs, and it is a very sad thing. Oh well. As long as there are reruns and cd mixes these songs will live on, at least until being "ironic" falls out of fashion.

***

I bust the dope moves

2005-09-28T22:02:00.000-07:00

No one gave me the right answer for the trivia question at the end of Monday's blog. Actually, no on gave me an answer. I guess that would mean people were actually reading this thing.

Without further ado, the movie's name is Fresh.

In Ft. Collins, CO I had a seasonal job working in the Foothills Fashion Mall at a Camelot Music store. The manager of the store told me I had a great shot for staying on full time, (not that I wanted to, but hey, I needed a job) but at the end of the season when it came time to announce who was staying and who was going, I was on the going list. I had 2 weeks to go, but I really didn't want to finish them out, so the next day I went into the office and announced I was leaving, and I was not coming back. The manager on duty told me it was nice having me there, and asked me if I wanted to take a couple of the promotional movies or CD's on the way out. In my rush to get out the door before the main manager came back, I grabbed Fresh thinking it had a cool name and rushed out the door.

A couple weeks went by, and finally I decided to watch the movie. This was an era when Juice and Boyz N The Hood spawned a ton of subpar inner city movies,so I figured it was going to be a crappy movie.

Instead I was treated to a gritty (sorry for the movie reviewer's word, but it actually fits) account of one boy's hard life. It is a hard movie to watch at times, and in the end you wonder what just happened, so you watch again and again, realizing the chess games Fresh plays with his dad are more symbolic than you think.

This movie was underrated and overlooked when it came time for acclaim that year. Regardless, I recommend it highly. One warning-- it is not for the faint of heart. There is some tough subject matter in there. Check it out yo.

***

As all of you know, I am way into pop culture. One of my favorite columnists is Bill Simmons, who writes on Page 2 of ESPN.com. I am typically not into sports writers, but he weaves a ton of pop culture references into all his articles, making them very funny and usually semi-interesting. This week he is interviewing Chuck Klosterman, one of my favorite pop culture essayists who writes for Esquire, Spin, and has a few books out as well. The interview is kind of cheesy at times, but I am stoked two of my favs are going head to head.

Part 1:
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/050927

Part 2: (this is a bit less sports intensive)
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/050928&num=0

***
Let's face it-- if you throw pets in military fatigues, that shit is funny as hell.

http://www.petsinuniform.com/

***

This is just brutal. Seriously.

http://www.bumvertising.com/

***

"It tastes like a bottle of piss someone farted in"

2005-09-26T21:09:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago, I swore I would never eat Subway again. It was not because of a specific instance-- I know plenty of people with horror stories regarding their food-- it is more because their food just straight up sucks. It doesn't matter what kind of Subway sandwich you end up selecting, because for some reason they all taste the same. You could go for the fancy "Italian" bread and the Steak and Cheese, but odds are it will taste just like the plain ol' ham and cheese on white. They recently entered the wondrous world of toasted subs, which makes their sandwiches taste less like they were built yeasty ass bread and more like they were built on yeasty ass cardboard.

Which leads me to the following theory I am going to dub the Subway Phenomenon (AKA Hot Pockets Phenomenon):

Have you ever gone somewhere to eat, had a terrible lunch, and vowed not to eat there anymore, only to go a few week or months later because it "sounded good?" It happens all the time. I get cravings for a bean burrito at Taco Bell every few months, regardless of the fact that every time I eat one it is a slimy glop of shit wrapped in a steamed tortilla. I will probably get one again real soon, thinking "Boy, does that sound good or what?" Does fast food have no memory, or is it just that their subliminal advertising is just that good? It is the Subway Phenomenon. It sounds great until you actually eat it, you wonder aloud why you are eating it, and in a couple weeks or months you will eat it again, thinking the exact same thing.

Well, it happened to me again today. I am sitting at work having a relatively crappy day thus far, and lunchtime comes around. I don't have a whole lot of time to go get lunch, so I am limited to the only 3 places within a short walking distance: Subway, Edelweiss, and Milwaukie Teriyaki. Edelweiss is a sausage kitchen which has fantastic sausages, and wonderful deli meats. The bread, in fine german tradition, is hard as a rock. Once I got a sandwich from there, and the rye was moldy. Nonetheless, it is a great family owned business. Milwaukie Teriyaki has exactly what you would think it would have-- Teriyaki stuff. Their food is good, but I always find myself with a headache an hour or two after eating it, especially if you use extra teriyaki sauce. The food is actually surprisingly decent, but you can only eat so much teriyaki.

The wheels were turning, and I decided Subway over the other two selections. Why not? It wasn't that bad last time. So I strolled in the door, and ordered myself up the "Subway Melt" on the "Italian Herb & Cheese" Bread. It was apparently turkey, ham, cheese, and bacon melted with some sort of heating device, although the Subway staffer asked me if I wanted it toasted. I chose yes, toast that bitch, and had them throw on some of their signature lettuce on top. It was good to go. They even sold me on the value meal, which was not that much of a value. I was all up in it, ready to sink my teeth into my sandwich creation...

It was terrible, just like always. Memories flashed before me of the countless times I had eaten Subway and felt the same exact way. The taste was as familiar as last time I had one of their sandwiches (the Subway Club, 2 months ago), which was oddly reminiscent of the sandwich I had before that (steak & cheese, 3.5 months ago). The conclusion? It tasted like open ass, and I will never, ever, ever eat it again. Or so I say.

***

I know Napoleon Dynamite has been totally played out. Regardless, I still loved the hell out of the movie, and quote it more often than I would care to admit. For those of you who just have not had your fill, this link is for you:

http://jakehilton.com/2005/09/02/napoleon-dynamite-videos/

We all know the actors involved in Napoleon were mormon, which is the only explanation I can think of for why they would be doing ads for the Utah State fair. Regardless, these spots are funny as hell.

***

Speaking of funny as hell, check out these pictures of less than successful bands in the aptly titled "Hall of Douchebags."

http://www.rockandrollconfidential.com/hall/index.php?page=1

***

Could it be over between Paris and Paris? It is so sad to see such a great couple on the outs. I will be praying for them.

http://www.radaronline.com/fresh-intelligence/index.php#report_003194

***

If you can name the quote in the title of today's blog, you are cooler than I probably thought you were. Either way, I will give the answer in my next blog.

Sixty Seven Years Ago

2005-09-23T19:00:00.000-07:00

September 23, 1938.

It used to be surreal for me when this day would come. As the years have passed, the date has lost some of it's strange factor, but has not become any less significant. Years ago on this day we would celebrate, eat cake and be merry. Now it is a day that reminds me of what once was.

My dad was born Clark Lawrence Franklin. He was named after two suave actors of that day, Lawrence Olivier and Clark Gable. He was not fond of the name, so he went by Larry Clark Franklin. He was raised in the Los Angeles area. I don't know much about the childhood he led, other than the fact that it was some tough living. He went into the Air Force at a relatively young age to become a DJ in Guam, playing music for the armed forces radio. I have heard he was a pretty popular DJ, one who was recognized by soldiers all over the place.

He went on to work in some radio and television, making an appearance in a bit part in the TV series Dragnet. In the 60's he and my mother were hippies in SF, selling anti-government and pro-peace propoganda along with an assortment of pot smoking accessories from the side of a milkvan they travelled in. He went on to design jewelry, traveling up and down the California coast selling his wares. He was profiled in the LA Times and the San Francisco Chronicle for his unique jewelry design. In the 70's they had the three kids-- My two sisters and me. In the early 80's they turned their attention to selling handmade leather belts with an assortment of belt buckles at street fairs, craft shows, and other events all up and down the West Coast. This went on until the late 80's, when my parents decided they wanted more stability for us than the traveling circus we had been raised on. They decided to scrap the leather and belt buckles and move on to open a series of Poster stores in Colorado, providing us a solid home and a whole lot less traveling.

My father's body was always an issue. It was an entity upon itself. He was a gigantic man, 6'5 and around 400 lbs. He tried every diet in the book, and nothing freed him from the confines of his own body. His health was a constant issue as long as I can remember. In my childhood, rarely a year went by that he was not admitted to a hospital for some sort of visit. He had issues with poor circulation in his legs, skin irritations, and a host of other medical type issues. In his last 5 years he always used a cane, and was on oxygen all the time. He could not move properly-- we had to put his shoes on in the morning and take them off each night. He was also losing his eyesight. He had to go in once a month and have a painful laser procedure that shot the surface of his eye thousands of times.

The constant medical problems made my dad an incredible angry person as I would guess many people would be if their body had betrayed them like his body did to him. He yelled at everyone. A lot. He was a verbally abusive person. A lot of my later life was spent behind the door of my room hearing him yell at my mother, hiding in the shadows hoping I would not be the next target. I think his anger was bred from shame, although I cannot make excuses for him, nor will I try.

I will say he was still a loving, incredibly intelligent wonderful man at times, almost like a Jekyll and Hyde scenario. He could be the most sensitive tender person in the world, openly weeping in when we did something to make him proud. He had a great deep belly laugh, the kind you could hear for miles. He could school anyone at Trivial Pursuit-- to him, it was not even a contest. He won awards for his photography, and loved to draw.

One time we were sitting in the kitchen and he pulled out some fireworks, snakes to be exact, flipped the kitchen fan on and started lighting them off in a pie pan. He did it because he knew I would laugh and get that feeling kids get when they are doing something they should not have been.

Other times he would ask us if we wanted to see an imitation of a lighthouse. He would proceed to turn his head over his shoulder with his eyes shut, and as his head was beginning to face forward he would open his mouth and his eyes as wide as he could, only to slowly shut them as his chin hit his other shoulder. We loved that. Life with him was truly the best of times and the worst of times.

In June of 1990, I heard him and my mom talking in the room next door. He couldn't feel his legs. He couldn't all morning. Couldn't move. He had to relieve himself in bed-- he had no other choice. The ambulance came, and it took six men and me to carry him down the stairs on the gurney. We followed the ambulance to the hospital, where we were called into a room to hear he had a brain aneurism. A blood vessel had burst in his brain, and the pressure was building in his skull. We went to see him, and he told us he loved us. We were told he chose to try the natural route to healing rather than try surgery to fix it. Either way was 50-50.

He regressed quickly over the next week and a half. My family and I basically lived in the intensive care waiting room, subsiding on hospital food and dated magazines. We slept in the waiting room or at home, but were never away for very long. We would take turns going in to see him, to tell him our thoughts and read to him as his body faded away from him. After it was decided he was brain dead, we chose turned off the respirator. It only took a few minutes for his body to stop. We were all bedside when it happened.

It is funny how little it affected me. Maybe because we had already prepared ourselves for what lied ahead in his countless other visits to the hospital in our youth, or maybe it was the time we had already spent together over the past week and a half where I was able to say everything I was able to say. I was disappointed to have him gone, but happy he was free from the shackles of his body.

It's funny that you get what you get from your parents, and a lot of what you get you don't have a choice in. All I know is in the end, my father will always be there, and I thank him for giving me the open mind, for hurting me so I know how not to hurt someone else, and for giving me the hereditary gift to kick ass at trivial pursuit.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

America's Next Top Model

2005-09-21T22:48:00.000-07:00

Tonight is the world premiere of the new season of America's Next Top Model, my wife's favorite show. If you have never seen it, here is the lowdown:

A bunch of undiscovered girls, some fixer-uppers and some already model-ish, all try out to become a model complete with a modeling contract. They live together in the same house in all of their catty glory and hilarity ensues. A typical epsiode consists of the models being schooled in the art of conversation, walking, or putting on makeup really really fast. The models then have a competition to see who is best at whatever skill they just learned. The winner gets to pick a friend, and they win prizes like necklaces and dinner with fancy industry people. Later in the episode, there is a photo shoot which usually takes place in some strange setting like underwater or suspended upside down-- this is done to see how the potential models can deal with adverse set conditions. Throughout the show, the cameras follow the models and show them interacting, forming friendships, and living their wacky lives. At the end of the show, the models stand before a panel of b-list fashionistas along with the host, Tyra Banks, who slam the models on everything from foot placement to the way their lips are positioned. The tension is so thick at this point you can cut it with a knife, and after an intense deliberation by the judges, one of the models is sent home. Cue dramatic music, girls crying, and cut. That's a wrap.

The winners of the model show have moved on to fame and obscurity. The season 1 champ, Adrienne Curry, did the Surreal Life and is now dating an ex-Brady and has achieved the reality show trifecta by starring in a reality show called "My Fair Brady" where she is dating an ex- Brady. The season 2 champ, Yoanna House, disappeared off the planet for a couple years, only to turn up on some fashion show on the world famous "Style Channel". The season 3 champ, Eva Pigford, went on to a rousing career starring in commercials that only aired during the 4th season of America's Next Top Model. Her most recent claim to fame? Dispensing advice to the newly babied Britney Spears. Season 4 champ, Naima Mora, won the crown a few months ago but has virtually disappeared since winning, with her only news blurb saying she is participating in the glamourous Fash Bash in the fashion mecca of Detroit. Ouch.

Regardless, it is a silly, mindless show girls love and guys secretly like, if for no other reason that to watch scantily clad model wannabees. If you read US Weekly magazine, this if the show for you.

***

In other news, A couple shoutouts:

Happy Birthday to Jeri (tomorrow)- I hope you have a lovely one.

Congratulations Mikey for moving forward into the rest of your life, quitting your job and following your dreams. You rule.

***
Last but not least, I must say this is the most intriguing product I have seen in quite some time. Who wouldn't want it? I particularly like the t-shirts...

http://www.smokintire.com/product.htm#Candles

Random Thoughts

2005-09-19T22:48:00.000-07:00

I started eating bananas recently. I really don't like bananas. You know you are getting older when you start eating things you really don't like because they are good for you.

When I was younger, I was the pickiest eater in the world. I was all about happy meals, hot dogs, and pizza (light or no sauce only). if we went to taco bell, my parents would order me tacos minus the meat and tomatoes because the only things I would eat were the cheese and the tortilla (and the lettuce sometimes, if it was a good day).

When I was about to turn 19, I decided to become a vegetarian, despite the fact that I practically lived in fast food type places. It definitely expanded my range of eating, and helped me learn there were beautiful, wonderful foods out there that you didn't need to microwave. I was still pretty picky. One of my favorite dinners was garlic bread, with some sauce of some sort to dip it in. I would eat this a couple times a week. If it was bread or bread based, I was probably eating it. I didn't eat bananas or zucchini, but make a bread out of them and I would eat the shit out of it.

As of late, I have become gung-ho on vitamins. I don't really notice a marked improvement in the way I feel, but I do appreciate the technicolor pee that comes a couple hours after eating my multi-vitamins. The neon vitamin pee still catches me by surprise every now and again, but it is always satisfying. From what I have read, and I could be dead wrong, the vitamins that are not absorbed by your body pass through, causing the bathroom sensation an hour or two later.

***

This happened when my wife and I woke up this morning:

The scene- Chaz and his wife in bed.

Wife: Watch where you step this morning, I heard one of the cats barfing last night.

Chaz: Do you know which one yacked?

Wife: No, but I heard it a few times.

Wife gets out of bed, takes one step.

Wife: Shit!

***

Alert to everyone in the Portland area:

We might be having a yard sale this weekend. All proceeds will go to a Katrina related charity. I say "might" because I am not sure we have enough stuff to sell. We are hoping our friends and neighbors will donate stuff to the cause, so I will keep everyone posted. (all 5 of you)

***

Yeearrr! Today is National Talk Like A Pirate Day.

http://www.talklikeapirate.com/piratehome.html

***

This might be the best website ever:

http://catsinsinks.com/

My days at the 7-Eleven

2005-09-16T22:24:00.000-07:00

The 7/11 was like home for me back in the day. I could always count on their neon lit halls loaded with all bright colored snacks that lent to my husky frame as a child. The snack and drink selection was always cutting edge-- you were always going to see something new and exciting and better than the candy or drink you picked up before. That was part of the allure.

It all started in Loveland, CO when I was in 7th grade. My parents decided they were going to open a poster shop in a strip mall. The strip mall was anchored on one side by a 7/11 and on the other side was a video arcade with a gleaming air hockey table in the window. At that age, it was like Christmas and my birthday put together. Could I be so lucky? All the snacks and slurpees I could ever want while playing the newest and greatest video games? I was beside myself with joy.

Days were spent that summer going to the poster shop all day to help out. Typically "helping out" consisted of going to the store with my mom or dad, maybe vacuuming, then asking for cash and going to the video arcade. After a while, the guy who ran the place knew I was related to the people who owned the poster store, so he would give me an assload of tokens and I would use the money my parents gave me for candy and slurpees.

One of the benefits of helping out at the poster store was a 7/11 lunch. Usually around lunchtime my parent on duty would hand me some cash and tell me to pick up lunch. That was all I needed to know. 15 minutes later I would return with a couple coke slurpees and a couple trays of nachos.

My family perfected the tao of nacho. We could spot the tray with the most chips from across the store. We figured out the best chili to cheese ratio, and how to keep the chips from not sogging up. (put the cheese and chili in the lid and dip the chips into it) We were true conniseurs, soaking up our delicacy with the same aplomb aristocrats reserve for fois gras. We would hang out and talk about our nacho creations, laughing and enjoying ourselves. It was probably some of the best times I spent with my parents.

The store didn't last more than a year. Apparently, poster stores in strip malls in Loveland, CO don't fare too well. Who knew? We really didn't do the nachos too much after that, although we never gave up our love for the coke slurpee. In fact, my relationship for the coke slurpee was just beginning...

Part II of the 7-eleven diaries coming soon. Until then, here is the reading that inspired it:

http://slate.msn.com/id/2126309/

Floating Poo Mythology

2005-09-16T21:59:00.000-07:00

So I did a little investigative journalism to find scientific proof that fat content in one's diet can lead to floaty poos, as talked about in my blog a few days ago. I was totally wrong.

http://www.pennhealth.com/ency/article/003128.htm

The specifics:

"Similarly, acute gastrointestinal (GI) infections can result in increased gas content in the intestines due to rapid movement of food through the GI tract. One misconception is that floating stools are caused by an increase in the fat content of the stool. In fact, it is increased gas levels in the stool that make it less dense and allow it to float."

A floaty poo is a gassy poo. This is one of those "Now I've heard everything!" moments.

Shit only floats after eating junk food

2005-09-14T21:57:00.000-07:00

Apparently the fat content you ingest is directly responsible for floaty poos.

All my many fans will read that thinking "Damn!"

I know, I am a genius.

But wait...

Who is this masked man anyhow? And who is reading his crappy blog anyway?
In other words, why the hell is he writing this when clearly there is no one reading?

That will be my little secret. Well, kinda. You can ask Katie who I am, and she will be happy to tell you.

"So Chazfresh, What do you do?"

I work.

"No, I didn't mean work, I meant everything else... Hobbies, pastimes, you know. What do you do?"

The million dollar question, and I cannot think of a good answer for it. I have no discernable hobbies, unless you count eating and drinking with my friends, which I do in abundance. Back in the days when I was a teenager, before I had status and before I had a pager, I had many things going on in my life. There was no stone left unturned. I played games in parks and rode bikes. I went dancing and collected music. I played guitar and wrote poems and music. Ahh, the good old days. Nowadays my life has been relegated to TV and internet, but that's all going to change- I am not going to turn into a typical lazy American. Not yet anyway.

***

Britney Spears had a baby boy today.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20050914/en_nm/spears_dc

The reason I put this in my blog is the following excerpt of the above linked article:

"Spears, who married Federline in September last year, had been previously reported as saying she planned to have the baby by Caesarean section to avoid the pain of a natural birth."

Now don't get me wrong-- I am not having babies anytime soon. Actually not at all. So why does that line make me feel semi-uneasy? Something about it just doesn't seem right.

Speaking of uneasy:
http://www3.contactmusic.com/news/index22.htm

Imagine having a conversation with Michael Jackson wearing the suit described in the article. What would you talk about? Think about the shit you would get from your friends if you showed up to a pool party wearing some shit like that. What I wouldn't give for a picture of that.

Yeah yeah yeah

2005-07-06T20:26:00.000-07:00

I created this blog to chat with Katie about Cheese balls. Word to god, sons and daughters.