Shit I Likes #1 - The Pancakes Edition with Bonus Haiku

This will be another one of those things that I pretend to update you on every now and then. First things first. Pancakes are some badass shit. Love me some pancakes. Take some butter and smack it up, flip it, rub it down all over them golden brown 'cakes and pour syrup all over it like it was water on a buxom 20 year old co-eds white t-shirt. Yeah, that's the ticket. I will also accept some powdered sugar sprinkled on top for added effect or cinnamon sprinkled into the batter. Hot damn, I'm hungry.

Some people call them flapjacks, some call them hotcakes, but it's all the same to me. The perfect pancake can be the greatest breakfast treat known to mankind. They're even great for "brinner", though, I skip all the sides at night. I go straight pancakes at that point. As long as them badboys ain't overcooked or burnt, you've got money. No wonder they sell like...uh...hotcakes at the wafflehouse.

In fact, I love me some pancakes so much, I wrote a haiku about them. Anyone who knows me knows that anything that's worth being written about or loved can be condensed into a haiku; the Japanese poem consisting of three lines with the first and third line containing five syllables and the second having seven.

Anyway, here's a little haiku I wrote for you my beloved pancakes:

Warm, golden, tasty.
Breakfast, dinner, whenever.
Need pancake love now.

Hell yeah. Pancakes.

How Silver Spoons Ruined My Life

So, I was talking to a friend of mine the other day about arcade video game cabinets, slot machines, etc. and somehow it made me think of the old 80's show, Silver Spoons starring (then) Ricky Schroeder as the spoiled rich kid, Alfonso Ribeiro as the token black friend and Erin Gray as the hot future step-mom. Anyway, if you're not familiar with the show, I'll try to jiggle your memory. It was about a rich kid and his dad, who ran some toy company and thusly had all kinds of badass toys and gadgetry in their home. One of their badass toys was this miniature train that ran through their house that they would ride from one room to the next, if that doesn't tip you off then you just have no clue what I'm talking about. (Here's some Youtube clips) It had an awesome theme song. Anyway, they had this kickass layout in their family room with arcade cabinets and pinball machines along the wall, he had a fucking racecar bed before they were made out of plastic and available at retailers everywhere, and of course the icing on the cake was that damn train.

So, how did that ruin my life you ask? Well, shit imagine a five or six year old me, or any boy for that matter. Who didn't want any of that stuff. Hell, I'm 31 now and I would give your left testicle for the stuff that kid had. So, now I still aspire to have this stuff and it's just not happening. The worst part was that they never (or rarely) even used those things on the show. If you're not going to use them, why even bother having them? Give them to some poor, young, deserving boy whose parents can't afford to buy him a decent pair of pants; someone like me.

So, yeah that show ruined my life because it set up all these false hopes and aspirations that could only be fulfilled by a handful of people. By default, if you ever watched that show and envied little Ricky Schroeder's spoiled lifestyle, you were destined for failure. Maybe it's the reason I am the way I am today. Refusing to grow up, videogame collection in the hundreds, toys all up in the den (in complete packaging mind you to preserve their minty freshness), and the overall maturity of an eleven year old. I mean, I still laugh when I hear people discussing history and how before paper it was all passed down orally. Or how about this inappropriate time, when I used to sit in my Administration of Justice class and they would discuss the penal code. Yeah, eleven year old, might be giving myself too much credit.

Guys and Straws

So, I've got this theory that works two-fold. It involves men and straws.

First off, you can't be a tough guy and keep that tough look while you're sucking down Diet Pepsi through a straw. It's nigh impossible, nay, it is impossible. Imagine the toughest looking guy you know from TV or movies whether that's Mr. T, Charles Bronson, Chuck Norris, or whoever. Now imagine them drinking a soda through a straw. That's pure goofiness, I tell you! No, the tough guy always pops the lid off and drinks straight from the mouth of the cup. Not only that, but when he's done he chews on the ice just to let you know who is the boss. That's manly.

Part two of the theory is that the absolute hunkiest dude you've ever seen looks like a complete dork sucking down a tasty beverage through a straw. I mean, really how cool can a guy look when he's trying to get that last bit of Fanta out of the cup and he's making that slurping sound. Let alone if he's drinking a thick milkshake and he's struggling? Face turning slightly blue, cheeks sunken in, eyes crossing from the suction. Oh, yeah David Beckham, Brad Pitt, and George Clooney would all look like the kids from high school that had classes in an isolated wing at school so they wouldn't mix in with the general population. You know they would, don't you dare deny it.

So, that's the theory. Just think about it, picture it in your minds eye, and get back to me. I'll be waiting drinking a juice box and eating animal crackers.

Wait...Why Am I Apologizing Again?

Maybe I'm a really bitter guy, or maybe I'm just jaded. Hell, maybe I've just been listening to too much Adam Carolla, but why is it that I've got to apologize for every little piece of crap even when it's not my fault. Or how about when I've got to say that whatever you did that might have offended me is "cool" or I say "don't worry about it". Look, if I didn't do anything wrong I ain't gonna apologize. For some reason I think this happens a bunch with significant others. One person gets all butt-hurt because they took something the wrong way and the other person then has to say that they're sorry because they misconstrued whatever it was they said. Why? Screw that, if you didn't understand what I meant when I said it, why should I be sorry? You're the one who should be apologizing to me for flying off the handle and making me go way in depth into what I actually meant and you still didn't get it, until finally half an hour later it took hold. By which time that person had been yelling their head off for quite some time. And oh, by the way, they don't apologize because they don't need to. They did nothing wrong...Well, except for asking for an apology 46 times in twelve minutes.

I Hate Your Phones Ringtone

I do. I really do. No, seriously. I truly do. It's not even for effect or for satire, but because I just think that your ringtone sucks sweaty gorilla sack after he's just mated and smothered feces on it. Yeah, that much. I guess I should explain, I mean, I could technically just leave it at that and in and of itself I guess it would probably be funnier that way, but then what would be the point in it? Look, the truth is that if you're just too lazy to change your factory set ringtone then by extension, I can't stand it. When a phone rings and three or four people have to look down and see whether it's their phone or not then you're not doing a good enough job to distinguish yourself from the other sheep. Look, at the very least change it to one of the other six retarded ringtones that your phone came with. Now, contrary to that if you've got one of those custom ringtones that you clearly paid $2.99 for from your retarded cell phone company then you're annoying me equally. You know, whatever it is that is the rap/pop/country/ranchero hit of the moment. That shit sucks, too. You've clearly not progressed far enough technologically to figure out how to custom make your own ringtones.

I know, this leaves a very fine line for you to select a ringtone, but that's ok. Your shit sucks anyway, you need to realize this, you need to be told the truth. Justin Timberlake's "Bringing Sexy Back" as a ringtone isn't going to do anything, but embarrass you when you're around a group of strangers. I swear it will. So, how about your just put your phone on vibrate and call it a day.

The weird thing is that it's always the crappy free phones and the really high end phones that offend the most. The rest of us fall in between. Now, if you'd excuse me I've got to go make myself some more custom ringtones and no I won't tell you what ringtones I have, I'm way too embarrassed. *sigh* Actually, it's custom for everyone who calls me. Everyone of my contacts who calls me on any sort of consistent basis has their own ringtone, so that I can differentiate who is calling me and whether I even want to pick it up to begin with.

Oh, and I'll almost excuse you if you've got video game music in there, as long as when I look at you I see cool nerd and not just total dumbass douche. The more 8-bit the better. At this point, though, that excludes the Super Mario Bros. theme song because everyone and their mom has used that one up like penicillin after hooking up with Colin Ferrell.

Ok, I'll admit this ain't my best work, but I'll pretend to update this every now and again.

I Want To Be That Liar Guy...

I think at this stage in your life, you've met that one guy (or girl) who just has this thing for being a habitual liar. You know the guy who claims something like Michael Jackson once stopped and used his bathroom, or that he used to date Scarlet Johanssen before she was famous, or that he once made out with the hot French teacher. I think you know that guy. I used to work with one. I'm not sure which comes first whether it's the lying or the job, but they probably end up in sales maybe at used car lots? This guy would tell you a 20 inch TV would bake a potato for you while you showered even if you hadn't bought potatoes in like three months if it meant him making a few bucks out of it.

So, I want to be that guy. I want to tell you about how I grew up in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico and lived there until I was 5, then moved to French Lick, Indiana and went to elementary school while my father a professional wrestler made a name for himself. After that it was a life on the road. From Climax, Colorado to Beaver Lick, Kentucky to Meat Camp, North Carolina I've lived in all kinds of cities with weird names, some even moreso than the last.

Then when I was all grown up and able to go to school and get a job, I majored in Liberal Arts with a minor in Archaeological Digsites of Ancient Mesopotamia. (Of course, what else would I do?) What did that get me? Well, for two years I did research and fact checking for Jeopardy! After that I parlayed that gig into a two year stint on the Cornelia Marie now featured on the Discovery Channel hit show "Deadliest Catch" of course this was all prior to the TV show, so I missed my shot at fame. I did an episode of Blind Date that never aired because I showed up drunk to my dates house and got into a verbal confrontation which then escalated and ended up instead as an episode of Cops. I never served any time, though.

Anyway, I guess that's not really a job. Since then I served as a creative consultant on TLC's "While you were out" where I dated Teresa Strasser, who is now on the Adam Carolla Show and on the TV Guide Channels "TV Water Cooler" or something like that. It was shortly after that when I met her soon to be future boyfriend, Brian Dunkelman, who went on to co-host American Idol. He got me a job as a Production Assistant, but I only lasted one season because I decided to leave with my boy "Dunk" because he thought we could move on to greener pasteurs together. That never happened, so then I became a pitch guy for TV Shows, I had this crazy idea for a giant scavenger hunt that took place across the entire Earth. They said it would never work and then mysteriously came "The Amazing Race". I'm still pissed about that. I also pitched some other ideas that didn't get picked up in any shape for or fashion.

For the last two years I've been living at my parents house. Only coming out when the shadows grow long. On occasion I come out and entertain the parents with a little Truffle Shuffle, but only when I'm in the mood. I'm currently trying to pitch an idea about a baker who makes custom flavored pies for people, but the Food Network is passing on that idea because they've already got something similar to it. A pox on them. Maybe it's time for me to do some archaeological digs in ancient Mesopotamia, you know it's the cradle of life. At least that's what I remember from the Tomb Raider movie.

Yeah, I want to be that guy. Of course everything you just read is all true. Except the part where I did any of this.

-Red

An Open Letter To My Best Friend (Circa 1984-1985)

The following really and truly happened. Seriously.

Dear Bestest Friend from 1984 or 1985 (or whatever year that was when we were best friends),

Hey, I haven't seen you in years. It's been a long time, I don't even know what name you're going by today since you've Americanized yourself. Back then we were a couple of kids running loose around the block. There's something that I need to tell you. For that matter it's something I probably should've told you when it happened, but I was young, I didn't know any better. Heck, I probably still don't know any better, but I'm just going to go ahead and spit it out anyway. There was a day that I was at your house, I wandered around looking for you. You weren't in the living room or the kitchen. You weren't in your bedroom. I then walked down the hallway, mayhaps you were in your parents room? The door was open I figured I'd just look in and see if you were in there, what I saw was definitely unexpected to say the least. Apparently your mom was changing or had just come out of the shower. She had no top on. She was topless. She was wearing no shirt. She was letting it all hang loose. She was throwing caution to the wind. She was a girl gone wild. Look, what I'm trying to say is that I saw your mom's boobs. There I said it. Now, I'm telling you that I'm sorry. Whew. I feel so much better. A heavy weight lifted. By the way I saw your grandma, too. But I think you already knew that one, she always hung out in the backyard letting them babies air out or sunning them or whatever the hell she did when she was back there. *blech* Anyway, sorry about that, I'd apologize to your face, but you moved away long ago. I haven't seen hide nor hair of you in the past two decades, though, I did see your older sister in high school. I heard she really busted out, I almost regret not seeing her the time I walked into her room. So, yeah. I hope you accept my apology, I didn't mean to see your mom topless. She should've closed the door, though. Yup.


Sincerely,
Red