A couple things

Props to Cody and Troy and whoever else has been going to root for the Horns basketball team so far this year. I've watched all the televised games this season, and the Drum has looked mighty empty up in the Mezzanine. Everyone else in Austin, get your asses in gear and show this team the love a #2 ranked squad deserves. They're playing here at the Toyota Center on Monday, so I'll be there if anyone feels like taking a road trip. Giz - you have to go cheer them on against Duke, December 10 in East Rutherford.

My mission this morning is to start and finish all my Christmas shopping before lunch. I'm halfway there, so it is a very attainable goal. I'll keep you updated.

Since long before she broke up with Nick, I have been obsessed with Jessica Simpson. Actually, not so obsessed with her as I have been with her gadonzas. Those things are amazing. Someday, someday...

First Impressions of Earth - My First Impressions of the New Album

Ok, so I have to give it up to my great friend Cole for turning me onto The Strokes back in 2001, right after their album came out. Since that very day, I have held them in the highest regard. I have given tickets to their shows as gifts (Vince), I have turned other people onto them completely (Richard), and I have placed them in the upper Echelon of bands that I have had the privilege of hearing, let alone seeing live. Suffice to say, The Strokes were a big part of my move to New York City, with exposure to them leading to my discovery(not exactly MY discovery) of the music that comes out of here. With these thoughts in mind, I wish to present my first review, of many, of their new album, which has yet to come out, "First Impressions of Earth." Now, bear in mind that I only have 5 songs off of 14 song L.P., but I just cannot wait to start the hype, as they have dealt with many times before.

I wish to present the five tracks that I have had the pleasure of listening to, in no particular order, since the track order has not been released yet.

"Juicebox": This is the one that I am sure that all of you have heard. NME touts this one as the song that will change rock, as the first Strokes album did. This is heavier than any other strokes song that I have ever heard, and Nikolai shines on bass more than he has ever done before. This acts as the perfect opener to the album, as well as the best choice of the tunes that I have heard so far as the first single. The ending of the song, including the false ones, lead perfectly into the rest of what should be a fantastic album.

"You Only Live Once": This is the song that I have been waiting for The Strokes to come out with since, well....forever. To tell the truth, I did not even know that this was what I wanted until I heard it. Many people may disagree with me, but to me, this may be the strongest song that they have ever put out. The Strokes have never been ones to hide their influences, and on this one, I hear one that I never really considered before. The Cars come out so beautifully in this song, but it maintains the lo-fi quality that have come to be The Strokes' raison d'etre. I have never heard Julian's voice do what it does here...sound clear and actually hit something that could be considered a note. This also is one of the first times that I have ever heard them make an entrance into what can be called meaningful lyrics, whicomplimenttnt what may be the strongest melody that they have put out to date. This song has been on repeat on my iPOD, as well as in my head, for weeks (considering that I started drunkenly writing this post on Nov. 11, this is a good thing), and may be my favorite single, if it is released as such, of the year. True greatness.

"On the Other Side": This really isn't very strong. The lyrics are pretty inane, and the "I hate them all" lines are worthless. Once again the bass comes out in this song more than on the 2 previous albums. This song ends well though, with Jules hitting melodies again. Nothing really special here.

"Razor Blade": OK, this one really not that amazing either, but I can see this song definitely growing on me after a while. This song kind of starts out like a New Pornographers song, until the singing comes in that is. Then they go right back to the old style Television type of song that made them popular in the first place, but something is different. It could be the John Mellancamp type lyrics that kind of make themselves evident in the song, kind of Jack and Diane-ish at one point. Jules does something cool at the end, singing exactly along with the guitar riff, kind of unexpected. Over all an OK song.

"15 Minutes of Pain": This song definitely starts out like it should be the last track of the album, it sounds like something that could progress into an anthem of sorts, a sing-along. After about two minutes or so, one can see this as a recapitulation of the album, speeding up through a transition that one knows will lead to a huge finish, kind of like a coda. This assumes that the album is ordered following sonata form. This song fits right into any groups album, just perfectly done. The lyrics seem to have some sort of questioning in them, whether or not this album and the group will be accepted after this album, after so much prior success.

That is the real question, will this album add to the legacy that they seem to have already cemented? Does it hold up against "Last Nite" and "Someday?" I don't want to say yet, especially after only hearing 5 songs. I was one of few who liked "Room on Fire" better than "Is this It" anyways, so what do I know? All I do know is that I can't wait to hear the rest, and to see them live again. I feel like a giddy 8-year old.

Who needs a woman? Me... maybe?

That man feels a natural affinity toward the fairer sex is a given. In light of the recent termination of Frankie's engagement, I feel the need to explore the nature of our committed relationships a bit further.

I've never believed in romantic "love." It definitely has its place and time, but I think that too often it is confused as being the end-all, rather than the means that it actually is. The sweaty palms, flittering stomach, head-spinning, and overwhelming abandon associated with eros is not meant to be ceaseless. Rather, those wonderful feelings serve simply and beautifully as a gateway to agape: a deeper, more involved and more labor intensive love - one in which giving becomes absolutely more important than taking.

Why then, does man feel the need to commit himself to one woman for the rest of his life? What's in it for him?

In a word: companionship.

The bonds of brotherhood are strong. Of this fact, there is no doubt. Still, is there anything more consoling in this life than a woman's shoulder on which to lay your head? Is there a more satisfying moment of the day than the one in which you divulge your mundanities to the only person in the world who cares enough to listen? What could make a man so strong, as a woman by his side, offering her undying support and building his confidence as only she can? What greater intimacy can man feel with another human being than that experienced in the conjugal act, when two are joined perectly, and as one?

Companionship, my friends.

It could possibly be one of the worst move lines ever, but ol' Jerry had it right: "You complete me."

These words ring true. It should be no secret to any rational human being that male and female are created as complementary - physically, psychologically, and emotionally. Indeed, to accept this truism and convert it to an act of commitment and pure love between two people is nothing short of fully embracing the Divine Plan and becoming an image of God's undying love - one of the reasons marriage is elevated to the level of Sacrament.

I'm not sure which direction to go, so I think I'll cut it off there for now. Expect more in the series later.

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Now, since you've all had Giz's take on the 2001 Big XII debacle, make sure you check out that of the Burnt Orange Nation.

Welcome Back, Blogger

Welcome back everyone, I hope everybody had a good Thanksgiving, I know I did. Aside from the Cowboys losing, which I guess was anticipated, all went well. I went to Pennsylvania to hang out with my roomate on the set of the movie he is shooting, starring this guy, and this chick. It was cool, ate a lot of of turkey and crap. The best part was definitely Thanksgiving-eve, when we got our first snow of the year, it was 10 freaking degrees outside, but I had booze to keep me warm.

But I do not write today to wax poetic about my weekend, but rather to act like we have to update this blog everyday, so this is my attempt. What I really wanted to show you is something that may be THE FUNNIEST THING EVER DONE, period. Many of you may remember my post a LONG time ago where I posted a link to a dude who made a video to Adam Sandler's "I Trim My Bush." Waste your time with that if you want, but this officially takes the gay cake. Let me introduce you to "Pluma Gay," two spanish dudes, who, by all appearances, are truly happy with their life choices. This just made my month, if not my entire year. I love how, in Europe, they can play what ever shit they want on television.

I think some southerners heads may explode if they see this, so feel free to show everyone, and take a picture if their head truly does explode.

Short and bittersweet

Back from a great weekend with my family. It sure is tough to get back in the swing of things, though...

If you ask me about Friday's game, I won't be able to tell you much, because I attempted to kill myself during halftime via alcohol poisoning. I don't really remember much of the second half, except that we won. The only insight I have is that I think we were far too aggressive with the passing game. It must've been too tempting for Greg, especially given the way Vince has thrown the ball this year, to go vertical two out of every three plays against the lowly A&M pass defense. Unfortunately, the passing game was out of sync all day, and adjustments were never made. Look for us to go back to the bread and butter zone read, and subsequent play action, on Saturday, and dominate in more typical fashion.

So, did VY lose the Heisman on Friday? As I've repeated ad nauseum, his play has been far more consistent and far more central to the team's wellbeing as a whole than that of Bush on the USC squad. If Vince squanders another chance this weekend on the national stage, I'll drop him, but I think he's still got the edge for now.

P.S. Billy fucking Cundiff

P.S.S. I promise something substantial this week.

Now iss zee time on Schprockets when we dahnce!

Good gravy, I love our basketball team. Guardians title, check. And someone else, please tell me you also saw the Gonzaga-MSU instant classic that was on before our game. It was potentially the game of the year - college, high school, or NBA.

Since I now know for certain that I'll be attending, I've refined my set list for karaoke at the company Christmas party:

Skynyrd - "Free Bird" (yes, I will spend seven minutes air guitaring)
Elton John/Kiki Dee - "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart" (I need to find a duet partner)
Night Ranger - "Sister Christian" (or possibly "You Can Still Rock in America," it really depends on how coked up I am at that point in the night)
Los Del Rio - "Macarena" (with obligatory dance moves)
Bloodhound Gang - "The Bad Touch" (to keep the juices really flowing)
Weezer - the entire Blue Album
Tom Petty - "Free Falling" (because that's what I hope to be doing by the time I make it to this one)

And I have been warned informed that they WILL have David Allen Coe on hand and ready, so you know what that means: "Circle UP! What the hell is wrong with you people? I said CIRCLE THE FUCK UP!"

It's going to rule.

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I am thankful for my family, my job, my liver, life in general, and all of you guys. Group hug!

I'm off to San Angelo until Saturday. Hook 'em, and I hope you all have a Happy Thanksgiving.

High hopes and indecision

First, a round of snaps is in order for the young runnin' Horns, for pulling off the one-point squeaker last night against WVA. Even though they looked like an inexperienced team (amd they are, 24 turnovers!), they showed true grit in the face of impending doom. More importantly, their talent level is disgusting, and won't get anything but more refined with time. Tonight's grudge match against Iowa should be another doozy - make sure you check 'em out on ESPN2 at 9 Central.

I forget with whom I already discussed this, but this is the first time since 1968 that a school has had simultaneous #2 rankings for its basketball and football programs. Hook 'em. Of course, because we already won the CWS, and the Rose Bowl is all but in the bag, the Trifecta is looking more attainable than ever. I'm not sure if any school has ever won all three championships in the same year, but I think we've got as good a shot as any. That big Duke game December 10 sure does loom large, though...

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So I've got a major dilemma. December 3 is the Big XII Championship game, here at Reliant. I've got two tickets if I want them. It is also the day of the company Christmas party, which I have been informed by Maegan that I am attending. The game is from 7-10, the party from 7-Midnight. The game is a local showcase of the greatest Texas football team ever assembled. The party has free beer, wine, margaritas, and a cash bar. The game is the last stop before Pasadena and a national championship, and probably the last time I will get to see the team play live this season. The party has drunk bosses and KARAOKE. The game will be a blowout. The party will be a blow-up.

I'm stumped - what do you guys think?

This is Officially the Quote of the Week

This is from yahoo news, I love how the people at news agencies make little jokes that not everyone should get. This happens on headline news LATE at night, watch it and you will see what I mean. This is from an excerpt where the main story was about Jerry Seinfeld getting a comedy award.

"After audience members were treated to clips of his 2002 documentary Comedian, he was joined onstage by Chris Rock, Garry Shandling and Robert Klein for a panel discussion musing on the art of comedy (CNN's Anderson Cooper played the straight man/moderator). "

With gems like this, I think we could make this a weekly thing, Vince? Tentative Title for new section: "Fun With Copywriting."

Let's kill Saturday night

I watched the USC-FS game on Saturday night. Wow. Now, I've already caught a lot of people saying things like "Man, USC is way overrated, how could they cut it close with Fresno State?" These people obviously haven't seen this team in action. I had 25 smackers and a round of drinks on this one with one of my work buddies - the first, and only bet I have made/will make this year. I was absolutely convinced that this was THE team to best the USC juggernaut.

It's not hyperbole to say that Fresno State this season has been one of the best mid-major teams of the past 15 years. I've caught them earlier in the season against Oregon, against Boise State, and now for this game... and I will testify that they are for real. I think Dellach, Adrian, and J-Bizzle - the only other people in the world I know who were watching - would agree. Tell me five other teams that could go toe-to-toe with the men of Troy at the Coliseum, trade licks, and nearly come away with a win. I dare you.

Now, 500+ yards for a single player is not only unprecedented, it is ungodly. I guarantee you that Reggie Bush sold his soul to the devil for this game, because if he had played along his season average lines, this would've been a straight ass-kicking, and the 'Dogs would be making their BCS charge. If this was his final campaign for the Heisman, fuck him, because his average numbers aren't near as substantial as VY's.

So, on to the relevant aspect... how did FS do it? Not with flash, not with glamour, but like a true-blue football team. They did it off tackle. They did it with a precision mid-range passing game. They did it by blowing back USC's defensive line, time and again. They did it by playing outstanding secondary coverage, and shutting down anyone not named Bush.

In other words, they did it how WE do it all the time.

Countdown to January 4, the clock is ticking...

White people, brown people

This weekend, Maegan and I took Elliot to a birthday party. It was at 1, right smack, dab in the middle of Michigan-Ohio State, so of course it was against my will, but I had to sacrifice for the sake of familial unity. It was this kid's first birthday, and he had over all his little one and two and three year old friends and their parents. I know, the lows to which I have stooped.

All the parents were 26-29 and had exactly 1.5 children. Do you know how weird it is to sit there and watch 12 or 15 couples with children all the exact same age interact? It was damn near one of the eeriest things I've ever seen. How did they all follow an identical life track?

They were all so, so white. Even though Elliot was obviously the cutest baby there, no one told him so, because he had brown hair and brown eyes. They feared him.

Anyway, this is all secondary to what I really wanted to talk about. They had a piñata there. It was a cool little football one. "THAT's what I'm talking about," I whispered to Elliot as we headed outside for the action. I should've known I would be disappointed.

The first thing that was wrong was the air of positive encouragement. "Good try" and "You'll get it next time" are not things you tell a kid when he's going for the kill. He needs to be negatively reinforced: "If you don't quit swinging like a girl, so help me...." Also, the kids didn't even have blindfolds! Where is the sport in that? It's like setting up the feeder 10 yards from your blind, and then shooting the only crippled deer that comes to eat. Sure they were little, but if you don't teach them how to be hardcore now, they'll never learn...

When I was young, my family would get a piñata for any and every celebration. Birthdays, First Communions, Baptisms, Quinces, Easter, graduations... everything. We were piñata pros. When we knew it was game time, all the cousins would run over to the tree and line up, wimpiest to biggest. When it was your turn, you got blindfolded, spun around 10 times, and were given the broom handle. Your parents would yell things like "Pretend it's Juanito's head!" or "It's time to man up!" and off you would go.

The younger kids, of course, did superficial damage, at best. The middle cousins, always having something to prove, would do just enough structural damage to set up us big kids for the kill. Little Frank, who went just before me, would whale his heart out, giving me or cousin Vic the money shot.

POP!

As candy erupted from the eviscerated ninja turtle (or whatever we had that day), the real free for all began. Snatching up candy was a no holds barred affair. You were free to wrestle, push, punch, bite, tear, and claw your way to any free piece - the only rule was that you couldn't steal from someone if they already had it in their hands.

Although the rules sound a bit rough, it really wasn't that efficient to fight someone. Unless you were going for one of the three or four sets of wax lips (the golden fleece of piñata-land), it wasn't worth your energy to initiate physical contact with someone else. Scanning for chick-o-sticks was a much more practical plan of action.

At the end of the day, the rich were richer, and the poor were crying. The big cousins had more candy than we could ever eat, and the younger ones were left with a handful of shitty sweet tarts. Unfair? Probably, but you can't argue with the natural order. At the birthday party on Saturday, we left before they broke the thing (20 minutes, and counting...), but I can only imagine that after it did break, they divided the candy evenly.

Ay, Dios mío...

Yeah, boiiii

Like I've said before, the CFN guys keep it fucking real.

Read it and weep.

In Memorium

Even though I am not an aggie, and am probably the antithesis of one, going to the University of Texas and all, I felt it necessary to bring to mind that it is 6 years ago today that the bonfire collapsed in College Station. This is just in rememberance of the 12 that died.



Now, let me just say this, we are going to kick some aggy ass this year, but we will respectfully kick ass.

Two quick questions, and the obligatory anecdote

1) Is a fly technically a fly if it is buttoned and not zipped?

2) I know everyone's already take note of this, but did they really start the Christmas season earlier than ever this year, or is it just me?

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You know how after we get back from Salt Lick, everyone is MIA for about half an hour while nature calls? (I know that was a THIRD question, but it was more rhetorical than anything.) Okay, keep that in mind.

Yesterday, we had our Thanksgiving feast at work. They set up tables in the open space near the elevators, lined up the food next to the cube farm, and let everyone loose. It really was a feast, too. Needless to say, I went for thirds, and tore through a stacked dessert plate. Free shit at work? Hell yes, I take full advantage.

About the time I took that last bite of pumpkin pie, I had a rare moment of clarity. Here were no less than 50 old men, eating their fill, all at the same time.

We only have four stalls on this floor.

I panicked, ran to the bathroom, and pinched one off real fast.

About half an hour later, I woke up from the nap I was taking in my office, and decided to check out the battle zone. Combat was in close quarters. The pat-pat-pat of ass-fire, explosive sounds of colon-blow, and nauseating smell of mustard gas overwhelmed me. Shell-shocked, I stumbled from the bathroom, the taste of bile in my mouth.

This is another thing, as a bit of a lengthy aside. My shits are surgical strikes. I'm in, I take care of business quickly and quietly, like a ninja, and I'm out. My average time is probably about 45 seconds, and only that long because I always have fun wiping. So what's up with these diarrhea sounding, wet ass, shits I always hear everyone else taking?

I mean, seriously, what is wrong with your digestive systems? Sure, I expect to hear something wet and nasty every now and then. But these old guys come in, and every time, without fail, it sounds like the Apocalypse ripping out of their assholes and into the toilet bowl. It's disgusting.

Back to the story, so yeah, I had to take a piss a couple hours later, and guess what? Yup, still full, still awful.

Thank God for the uniquely human gift of foresight.

Myspace.com pays off for something

Having a delayed response to most things social, except music I guess, I just got on myspace.com last week. I know that most have been on there for ages, but what can I say, I missed the boat, but I have swam (swum?) and caught up to it. Anyways, I took the liberty of getting myself on the filter magazine friend list, among other things. I did not know exactly what this would bring me, if anything. To my surprise today, I get an email from filter saying that I am on their list to get into The Sounds record release party here in NYC tonight.This came as quite a shock, but the lesson I learned is this...free shit is the greatest thing on the planet. I get to see Ultragrrrl spin, as well as James Iha from the Smashing Pumpkins, as well as some dude from Good (Bad) Charlotte, who I could give a crap about, but who the hell cares? ITS FREE. So I finally accomplished something up here. The day started out well, and then, the dude got 2 interviews for next week. One is at a film production company, the other is at a music video post-production company. It looks like a month of sitting on my ass has paid off. I rule.


Oh, by the way, Giz got a bed. I rule again.


This is for Dell'accio, who wanted at least one thing memorable about this post:

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

Holy shit! December 6! You bet your sweet, sweet ass I'll be there!

What is it?

The debut of "Junior! The Wendy's Guy."

Watch the trailer now.

This man defined my college experience. I love him.

Today's matchup:

PS3 vs. XBOX 360?

Discuss amongst yourselves.

I Don't Know Why I Posted This

It's pretty good for using windowspaint program though.
Enjoy.

I love them

I love boobies.

In high school, I was a man slut for about half a second. One of the chicks that I hooked up with a few times I knew from elementary school. That was kinda cool, I guess. It lasted about two weeks. Maybe three.

Anyway, after the first or second time we made out, we had an interesting conversation. It went something like this:

Me: Man, I love boobies. And making out.
Her: This is so refreshing.
Me: What is?
Her: I've been dating men for too long now. I was so ready for a boy.
Me: Sweet. So can I touch your boobies?

The story of my life on so many levels.

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How 'bout them Cowboys?

If there's anything I hate more than the Eagles, it's Philadelphia itself. Brotherly love, my ass. I wish they would've shown more of those asshole fans looking completely dumbfounded after Roy's interception return - I was eating that shit up.

Fuck you, Philly!

And Bledsoe... yeah, I'd probably do him.

P.S. Can we stop talking about Terrell Owens? Please?

The Temporary Return from Diaspora

A night out. A quiet day. A night out. Wallop Kansas' boo-tay. A night out. Where's Vince?

As is the norm, Vince arose at an ungodly hour Sunday morning to ensure that I would wake up feeling cheated and used. After a sobbing shower soak, I compiled a few pictures in remembrance of love lost to New York and El Paso Oil.

One of Giz's last trips to Austin, note how he is already distancing himself from his friends and fellow members of the Triumvirate. Que tool.

Friday. Arun (underaged), Bass (deployment....wtf), Vince (needs mother's milk) and Richard (so cool....but just too damn short). Somehow, we end up spending the most time of the night at the seediest bar. The veneer of sophistication wears away.

Saturday. The day takes its toll on our fair leader. I insist on homoeroticism. We consciously and unconsciously miss Giz.

This one's for me. *gulp* And, this one's for my homies. *pour*

Very nice....

In the words of Cole Presnell, "I dare anyone to [read this post] and not feel happy at it's conclusion. I defy you." Pure greatness.

This one, as well.

We win at life

First, I have to make a confession. I've been sleeping on the floor for the last 2 weeks because I'm too lazy to put sheets on the bed. Which reminds me of my old dorm roommate, who used to sleep on a faux-bear rug pallet on our floor. That was awesome.

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Giz and I talked about this after the game, and reached consensus: the Horns have never looked so brilliant. EVERYTHING is working this season, and Saturday was simply the condensed version. That our players are phenomenal goes without saying, and they are deserving of every bit of media attention they get.

Still, something that really still has yet to be publicly lauded is the job that Greg Davis has done this year. It cannot be denied: the OC we all love to hate is calling the season of his life. I can't remember more than a couple series all season where we've looked truly stagnant or where the playcalling became unimaginative. It's time that he whose head we have demanded for years in a row receive the love he deserves.

Take yesterday, for example, against the much-touted "nation's #1 rush defense." After a weak three and out to start the game, the offense never looked back en route to 618 total yards - 336 rush. Davis called the perfect mix of pass/rush and spread the field beautifully, making that poor Jayhawk D look like a high school squad. How does eight offensive touchdowns to seven different players sound? Like a fucking Rose Bowl.

The Game Ball goes to Aaron Ross for being an all-around badass (with special props to Vince as the new school record holder for career yardage), but let's make sure Greg gets his as well. Hear, hear.

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Last night I watched some "SNL in the 80s" special. Can you say propaganda? The whole 2 hour show was basically SNL recording its own version of its own history. What the hell? See if this sounds familiar: "The old cast is gone, we're not funny, the press hates us." Wow, if I didn't know they were talking about 1981-1985, I would think that it sounds exactly like the LAST FIVE YEARS.

Message to NBC: you can't trick us. Play your special. Show us how the show emerged from the Dark Ages of the early 80s and eventually experienced a Renaissance. I'm still not buying it. The crap you play on Saturday nights is one of the least entertaining things on television, and has been for years. I would rather watch a Next! marathon on MTV than be forced to watch something from the new season. The writing is ATROCIOUS.

Do the world a favor and just let the damn thing die.

UPDATE: I love the CollegeFootballNews.com guys. They have an uncanny ability to remain unbiased, levelheaded, and truly analytical, while the rest of the media runs around like chickens with their dicks cut off. Far and away, they offer the best college football coverage anywhere. Anyway, Rich saw what we saw (nearly word-for-word, no less!), and gave Greg his props as Offensive Coordinator of the Week. w00t w00t.

GET THE MESSAGE!!---EYES TO EYES MY FRIENDS

Now, I know Vince (the one on this blog, not the player) stayed the whole game, but when players start to notice the empty stands, ON SENIOR DAY NO LESS, something is wrong. I don't care how much of a blowout it is, and 52-0 at the half is pretty fucking bad, on senior day, when your team is undefeated and headed to the bigXII and possibly national championship, you stay at the game, and you show these guys some love. What I heard about and read today is appalling. Here is an article that is going to appear in the statesman tomorrow, and I hope all longhorn fans read it.

from the Austin American Statesman:
In fact, next year if the fans leave this quickly, they may have to consider renaming the celebration Senior Couple of Hours Give or Take.

Let's face it. Mack Brown's football team was just too good, and Longhorn fans were just too fickle or too bored. As a result, about a third of the crowd of 83,696 seemed to disappear early from Royal-Memorial Stadium.

At this rate, Mack may have to change his slogan. Come early. Wear orange. Be loud. Stay at least until the band marches at halftime.

The Texas head coach won't lose any sleep over a few empty seats in a game his team easily won 66-14. It beats having a team with empty uniforms.

"I guess that's a good problem to have," Brown said. "But when Kansas scored in the first two plays after the half, I thought we may have left, too."

Small lapse, that. You want suspense in Austin, wait for the next anti-KKK rally.

The 31 Longhorn seniors were lucky there was anyone left in the stands at all to serenade them with "The Eyes of Texas." Entire sections were almost vacant after the nation's unbeaten, second-ranked team erupted for 52 first-half points against what we were led to believe was an excellent Kansas defense.

We were led wrong. This game was so lopsided that had it been a boxing match, it would have been a lousy one.

Saturday's blowout was yet another example that Texas is a giant in a league of dwarves. That shouldn't be held against the Longhorns because they've also beaten an 8-2 Ohio State, a 7-3 Colorado, an 8-2 Texas Tech and an Oklahoma team that could go 8-3.

Texas may well be the best team in school history. That it is having to prove it against some of the worst teams in the Big 12's decade-long existence shouldn't detract from the Longhorns' greatness.

It was a shame so few fans remained to soak that up in the final home game. In fairness, we salute those who did stay because they were appropriately loud and enthused and helped the second-team defense thwart the Jayhawks with a late goal-line stand.

"I guess the rowdy fans are the ones that are staying," senior guard Will Allen said.

What should have been a long celebration of a team that I believe is the best in America was slightly subdued. Texas deserved a louder sendoff.

Granted, fans who plunk down their hard-earned 55 bucks can stay as long or short as they wish. Some, we're sure, had valid reasons for leaving early. Cabela's doesn't stay open all night.

"It's pathetic," one Texas school official said of the early departures. "But it's always been that way. People come to party. It's sad, really. And I think everybody's more worried about Rose Bowl tickets than they are the Big 12 championship game in Houston."

Yeah, who in their right mind would give Colorado a chance to knock off a heavily favored Longhorn team in a league championship game played in the state of Texas for a chance to go to the Rose Bowl? Oh, right. Sorry.

In truth, the best team in the nation deserves the best support in the nation unless this is more of a football lukewarm-bed. We're not sure where most of those exiting early were headed for, but we know it wasn't to a Texas basketball game. (Hoops season starts Tuesday. Come early. Be loud. Aw, forget it.)

Does ESPN's "GameDay" really need to be on campus to incite the locals into a frenzy? National sportscasters whisper — some of them louder than others — about how lacking the Longhorn atmosphere is.

Ramonce Taylor was shocked when he emerged from the locker room after intermission and took a gander at the stands.

"I was wondering why at the end of the half everybody was leaving," the Longhorn running back said. "After the half, I saw where one whole section was empty. I thought everybody was supposed to come early, be loud and stay late. Somebody's not getting the message."

Maybe those flocks of fans who left early wanted an early start before the city instituted toll roads. Those who did missed plenty.

They didn't get to see senior Matt Nordgren's first career interception. Wasn't all his fault. Got tipped.

They failed to witness the stirring, first career touchdown by third-string tight end Peter Ullman.

They won't get to tell their grandkids that they were there when senior walk-on Kyle Phillips kicked the first and last extra point of his career.

But as senior cornerback Cedric Griffin pointed out, they could brag about one thing.

"Hey," he said, "they beat the traffic."

Celebrations abound

Congrats, Aud, on winning yesterday's contest. Giz is ready and waiting. If you want to play the whole game, right click and "save as" here.

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Today is my baby momma's birthday. Happy birthday, Maegan.

This time last year she was seven months pregnant, and obviously in no shape to celebrate her 21st in proper fashion. Besides, my kid already got enough of a dispensation toward alcoholism from my genetic contribution to need any booze whilst in the womb. I don't remember what we did to celebrate last year, but I'm sure it was lame when compared to getting shitcanned legally and free for the first time in your life.

Anyway, point of the story being that we get to take her out tonight. Now, this is the same chick whose tolerance has plummeted to the point of being tanked after one measly house margarita. Suffice it to say it doesn't take much these days. Still, I'm glad she gets to finally celebrate a birthday on Sixth, and her lousy tolerance should serve to make the experience that much better.

Cheers.

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This makes me want to vomit.

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Today is also the birthday of "Hook 'em."

I think that speaks for itself.

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Off to Austin now. If you catch the game tomorrow (Senior day, *sniff sniff*), make sure you look for the crew. We'll be wearing orange.

Guess that movie

(Sorry to knock you back down a slot Rich, but this is critical.)

If you are the first person to correctly guess what movie this is from, Giz will give you a reacharound.

Obviously, the face has been "erased (....from exisitence!") to make it tough.

I'll explain later. For now, you have your mission. Good luck.

Like sand through the hourglass...

This might be the second time I've made a hokey daytime soap allusion, but oh how I adore them. In an effort to add even more levity to this epic clash of gender-specific triumvirates, I'll be compiling pictures (especially from this weekend. Vince, be on your A--is-for-asshole-game) to undermine our stance that men are intelligent. However, if possible, we should attempt to get some stills of women willingly including themselves in our idiocy. Well, "willing" is a tertiary goal after actually meeting women (primary) and talking to them (secondary).

As the Id, I by no means want to induce the ire of the fairer sex, because, hell, angry pants don't come undone. So, to show that I stand firmly behind an equitable distribution of respect and power between those with XY's and those with XX's, here's a shot that epitomizes the mutual respect my girlfriend, Sarah, and I have for each other and how this manifests itself in our daily interactions:



Love that cowlick. More to come, but those of the Triumvirate together are at home.

Amazing, Kreskin!

Most of you probably remember the infamous "Fan mail" we received a few weeks back. As you may recall, the comments section on it exploded once a few gals decided to take offense to an obviously tongue in cheek couple of remarks, the end result being an unjustified enmity between both parties involved (us and them). Or so we thought...

In reality, the comments made by said females constituted a "coming out" of sorts. Shannon hinted at things to come via her self-annointed title, "Triumvirate of Sass." At the time, I was wondering why any singularity would choose to employ such ridiculous nomenclature, but just recently the truth has come to light and I am now "in the know," if you will.

I have discovered this.

Yes. They really call themselves the Triumvirate of Sass. Yes. Their first post was really the day after "Fan mail" was made public. Yes. I know.

I have since conversed with two thirds of this imposter trio. Of course, it was in an attempt to score a threesome, or at the very least head, but in lieu of sex I was simply informed that, in fact, we "do not own the patent on the word triumvirate." While this IS true, I believe that we did steal it fair and square.

Message to TOS: Giz, Rich, and I are all minorities. At least steal from someone who's white.

Enough talk. Here they are:

Now, onto more important things.

I would definitely bang two of them, the other if I was REALLY drunk. While my initial requests for a threesome were emphatically denied, I think I still have an outside shot if enough alcohol is involved. Giz has requested that pink come visit him in NYC, so Pink: consider this your formal invite. Richard, you have a girlfriend. Sorry.

Okay, I gotta go. Bryan Adams just came on and I have to slow dance with myself, but make sure you get your laugh for the day over at the TOS.

Good gravy, I love my life.

I Knew That I moved to the Right City

Ok, being broke really sucks, but with some of the events that went on here in NYC over the past week, I know that I came to the right place. A list of bands that played here, just in the last 7 days: Spoon, The Go! Team, The Fiery Furnaces, Bell Orchestre (arcade fire folk), Say Hi To Your Mom, Gratitude, just to name some. Now, I know this is a big city, and this shit happens all of the time, but for god sakes, this is ridiculous. And to top it all off, The Arcade Fire played a show, at 2AM, on a street corner. Union Square to be exact. That's right, they had just lost some award, I think it was the mtvU awards, and they felt like playing, so they did. Where do I sign up to be part of this so called "scene," because i am willing to pay my dues right now. I changed the video a little early this week in their honor. You can also watch a video of them performing Cure classic "Boys Don't Cry" on said street corner. Thanks to my new favorite blog brooklynvegan.com for the pic, you all need to go over and read it, I know that it's one that I am going to hit up everyday.

Oh, by the way, Robert Earl Keen played on thursday as well, and Pat Greene is coming in a couple of weeks, so if I need a taste of Texas, I will have my chances.

"Emphatic?"

That's the word from the rumor mill...

My take:

Vince's mom wants him to finish school.

Vince will finish school.

Texas wins back-to-back national championships in the process.

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Oh yeah, also, it's time to kick the Heisman campaign into high gear.

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And ONE more thing... Friday the 11th marks the 50th anniversary of "Hook 'em." They're going all retro for this one. DRIVE IN MOVIE ON THE SOUTH MALL! Creature of the Black Lagoon!! 55 cent burgers at the dining halls! Orange Tower with "50" in the windows! Recreation of the 1955 birth of Hook 'em in Gregory! And of course, yet another foam hook 'em hand to add to your collection if you're at the game on Saturday. Also, Austin HEB's are giving away some sort of free shwag starting today. Make sure you stock up, and for God's sake, someone FedEx Giz a tshirt.

Deuce Discussion #6: Welcome to Narkea

Today, join Arfeo on his magical journey into the heart of the beast.

If you wish to traverse the mythical lands of Narnia, look no further than your local friendly Swedish furniture peddler, Ikea. My fiancé and I began looking for furniture for our new household on Saturday but what we found was much more than just a store. No, much like Narnia and the wardrobe the Ikea store did not seem that large from the outside, but the vast expanse on the inside was belied by its exterior.

You walk in and suddenly you’re hit with a dizzying maze of potpourri and futons. They herd you like cattle quickly along a path marked with arrows, your ears bombarded with children, cheap store radio music and whistles. You’re disoriented and you catch a glimpse of a particle board wardrobe, a stuffed lion and a blue and yellow clad woman that looks strangely like a witch. Wait, was that a minotaur? No, just a gaudy floor piece with an elk’s head.

Just like Narnia, they speak many foreign tongues in Ikea. To order a piece, you must know its name and its color. I found myself requesting pieces of furniture whose names reminded me of the nonsensical babbling of the old Swedish Chef Muppet. I would like a “wirbly wirbly” in the “wirbly” color with the “wirbly wirbly wirbly” finish. Finally, daylight and sense make its way back into your world when you approach the end.

And in the end of your journey, much like Narnia, you feel as if you have been gone forever, but in the world of humans you have been gone only an hour. Your hair is grey and ragged, your beard grizzled like an old man, but your watch says 4:45. Only you know the adventures you have had in the distant, far away lands.

A no-brainer....

... but now it's official.

Huston Street, representin'. AL Rookie of the Year.

If only all men were so lucky

So I'm going through all the pictures on my computer when I come across a very special set. No, not the "Come on baby, you look sexy and I'd NEVER show them to anyone" set, although those are always fun to peruse. No, this set has much more sentimental value. I was busy reminiscing, getting all emotional and shit, when Rick James' "Mary Jane" came on the Itunes. An omen, for sure. I was to share the love with the rest of you. Here goes....

To set the scene (a la Giz), the year was 2003. (OH SHIT, Jackson Five "I Want You Back" just came on... it really IS a sign from God!) Okay, so 2003. Probably the greatest year of my life. Especially the summer. We drank every night, were stoned nearly every hour of the day, and I had lots of unprotected sex. A criminal amount. Oh yeah, this was also the year that Frankie intoduced the great sport of beer die to the great University of Texas (Maine rules, of course). Life was a blur of plunking, NCAA 2004, and bong hits.

Throughout it all, we dreamt ceaselessly about growing. Dude, how fucking cool would that be... We could so do it... My bathroom is the perfect size... Lots of talk, little action. Actually, I take it back. We did pick up an issue of High Times to check out how much they were selling seeds for in the ads. They were pretty damn expensive. Our dream was to remain one of the "pipe" variety - or so it seemed...

Our skeezy buddy and sometimes supplier hooked us big time. For some reason someone had sold him some special KB loaded with seeds. I think we eventually determined it was a Blueberry-Lemon cross. I don't remember if he knew that we wanted to grow or not, but he offered to sell us some, and of course we snatched up a good quarter.

So there they were, in our hands.

Little seeds.

Our future.

Things rolled quickly forward from that point. After researching, we settled on this place as our equipment supplier, and water farm as the system of choice. I'm pretty sure I chopped up a scholarship check to afford the five or six hundred bucks we each threw in to get started. It's actually pretty interesting to think about what percentage of my scholarship money went to drugs and beer throughout my college career. I'd say about 110.

Okay, all set. Got the hydro system. Got the light, hood, and ballast. Got the timer. Most importantly, got the seeds. We started them off in a moist paper towel on top of the fridge. In a week they had sprouted and were ready for transplant to a potting tray. We had already set up that big fucking light in my bathroom. The timer was set from 5 pm to 5 am, and in they went. Two weeks later, we moved them into the hydro setup. We only had enough room for four, so we picked the four that showed the most potential.

They were in a state of plant euphoria. The hydro system is a really cool setup when you stop and think about it - I always wanted to do tomatos next but never got around to it. It's just plant, support, and sweet, nourishing, supplemented water. As my grandpa would say, "¿que mas quieres, Vicente?"

We made some sort of semi-educated guess as to what the time frame should be. If memory serves correctly, I think we were looking to harvest in about 4 months. I think. This was in October. Needless to say, we did not harvest in four months. 2 months into it, I couldn't see my bathroom mirror anymore. We knew fuck-all about how they should be pruned and trimmed and all that jazz. We made a few calculated chops here and there, but for the most part those things just grew like they were in the Panamanian wild.

We did have a grower's bible that we went by that had some pretty good pics, so we were able to tell that two of our four were males. This would not stand. Pollination jacks up everyone's world. We chopped them down with scissors and used the leaves as bong fodder.

Big and bushy, the females grew. And bigger. And bushier. Our babies, as we affectionately referred to them, were becoming as pleasing aesthetically as anything else. They really were things of beauty. Eventually, early March (right?) rolled around, and the little fuzzy-ass buds that had sprung up everywhere were crystallized to fruition. We harvested.

The rest is history. My only regret is that we didn't take more pictures. The whole thing should've been a detailed photo-doc, but alack. There's always next time I guess.

Okay, as I write these last words, Keith Sweat's "Nobody" is playing. This is probably a counter-sign from God, telling me not to publish what I have written, but I'm going for it anyway.

Here's to 2003, our glory year:



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And now for the "Told You SO!" moment of the day: What did I say? I believe something to the effect of "Va Tech is more overrated than The Da Vinci Code." Perennially! Never, ever, EVER put any of your eggs in the Va Tech basket.

Call George! Call Wheezy!

Movin' on up...

We used to be worth a measly 500 smackers. Now, read it and weep:

My blog is worth $3,387.24.
How much is your blog worth?

I attribute this increase in value to the return of Giz.

Don't Say We Didn't Warn You

To set the scene: Dec. 1st, 2001, Texas had inexplicably earned a shot at the BigXII championship, and even more inexplicably a certain birth in the national championship. The planets had aligned for the first time since 1969, and we were ready. Here is the chain of events that led up to this scenario. Click on the link above to see who was being predicted to go to the BCS bowls, as well as the conference championship games just 3 weeks earlier. It began with our usual loss to Oklahoma in the Red River Shootout. That usually takes us out of BigXII title contention. The BigXII matchup was expected to be this: Nebraska vs. OU, with the winner going to play Miami in the Rose Bowl. Then Colorado ROLLED Nebraska, with Chris Brown running for 6 TD's, taking the 'Huskers out of the picture. Then, a week or so later, OSU ROLLED OU, thus taking OU out of national title contention because of an earlier loss to Texas A&M. This puts a 1 loss Texas team in the Big XII title game.
Now, on the SEC side, we had a 1 loss Florida team, by way of all of the previously mentioned upsets, sitting comfortably at No. 2 in the BCS standings, needing just 2 wins to cement their place in the Rose Bowl. Enter 1 loss Tennessee, facing off against Florida in their annual meeting. Tennessee had been getting dominated since the Peyton years, and was a heavy underdog in this game, and guess what? They win. This gives Florida 2 losses, and drops them out of the national title game. This happened just 30 minutes before the kickoff of the Big XII title game. Florida losing placed Texas right where we prayed we would be, poised to beat a Colorado team whom we had dominated41-7 earlier in the year. That was all that we had to do, beat Colorado again.
Enter Chris Simms. Chris started ok, taking us 85 yards in 2 minutes on the first possession. It could have been on 4 plays, but he underthrew a wide open Sloan Thomas, which should have been a touchdown. Enter the Colorado zone blitz. Chris proceeded to have 2 interceptions lead to Colorado scores in the first half. Then he fumbled. That is 3 turnovers in 1 half. This is the killer. We hold after his fumble, and 3 plays later, he throws another pick. But on this one, while he is on the ground, presumably crying, as I would, Cedric Benson and Mike Williams are chasing down the guy that made the interception, and both combining on the tackle. They injure each other, and there go our all-american offensive lineman, as well as our stud running back, on the same play, which they had nothing to do with. Mind you that they are both in the pros now. Chris Simms just did not know what to do when the pressure was on, so he folded. The smartest thing he did that game was get injured, allowing Major Applewhite to come into the game, and rally us to what looked like a victory, but the sad truth was that we blew it, and lost by 2 points. My rant right now is not about that particular game, or the roughing the punter call, or any of that, it is about Chris Simms.
Somehow, Chris was drafted by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Now, there is some logic behind this. Chris has more natural ability at the QB position than anyone I have seen in a while, barring a certain VY. His passes, even if to the other team, were always beautiful, and boy could that guy have a great practice. That made most of the longhorn nation question Mack Brown's ability to coach a team, or develop players. Everyone could just say, "Well look what he did with Chris Simms." I said it, and so did everyone else, even up to Adrian Peterson about 18 months ago. Peterson said he wanted to go somewhere where he would get a shot to develop, win a national championship, and go pro, and Texas just did not make its players better. How could we blame him? He had a point, just look at Chris Simms. To borrow a phrase from the not-so-great Lee Corso, "Not so fast my friend!"
I bring you this gem of a quote from none other than bucs head coach Jon Gruden:

-Oct 31 Although Buccaneers coach Jon Gruden was clearly unhappy with Chris Simms' performance Sunday, he said Simms will start next week's game against the Panthers, according to the Tampa Tribune. "He has to understand our protections better; he has to know where our hot receivers are [on blitzes] and he has to know when it's best to just throw the ball away," Gruden said.

As much as I hate to say it, this is somehow pleasing to me. Was Mack really that bad at developing Simms, or was he unteachable, just the type who will fold under pressure at any time, under any coach? It seems like Chris Simms is the overacheiving kid who takes his PSAT's and gets a 1400, and then when it comes to SAT time, won't even spell his own name correctly. For everything that I said, Mack, I am sorry, you don't suck as a coach, you should just have had the balls to take him out of that game. It sure would have made the last 4 years a lot easier.

To close, I just want to post this picture that I found, its priceless.



Have a good day, and Hook 'em.

Just for you, dearest Frankie

I just had the biggest scare of the year. I tried to get on facebook, but the "blocked by the Corporate Network" page came up instead. Once I pulled my stomach out of my asshole, I managed to gain enough composure to figure out a way to work around it. So I'm on, but the page formatting is all fucked up. The sacrifices we make.

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So, speaking of tolerance... Only in the SF Gate would you actually see something like this published for mass consumption. A family has their 16th child, and a man deems it necessary to devote an entire column space to the contempt and disgust we should feel toward such ignorant behavior. You've gotta read it to believe it. They sure do look like a scab on the face of planet Earth, don't they:

Bergin sums it up nicely:

In a column laced with stereotypical invective and sophomoric perversity, Mr. Morford lobs scathing moral condemnations of the Duggars’ selfish disregard for “the dire effects of overpopulation,” suggesting that those on the left avoid having children out of pure environmental altruism. So to be clear: A mother of 16 is selfish while middle-aged professionals with no kids, no spouse and $40,000 hybrids are a picture of self-sacrifice? Pah-lease!

Of course, what the author fails to mention is that after his breed has euthanized itself into non-existence, only those idiot pro-lifers and needy third-worlders will be left, still pumping out babies like there's no tomorrow. Oh, the horror! You gotta love elitists.

Dude, don't be gay

Fuck, man.

I'm still hungover like a bitch. My lack of desire to live is eclipsed only by my lack of desire to discourse. Here's the gist, though.

Marriage is not now, and never has been, simply a mutual attraction or emotional connection protected by law. It is a public vocation, and as such has a lasting and very real effect on society as a whole. I would venture so far as to say that as an institution, it is a pillar of society. Therefore, "proposals that could harm the institution of marriage must be subjected to the same sort of objective analysis that we give any public policy question."

The quote is from this, which says everything I ever wanted to say on the subject, only better than I ever would've been able to.

No, I'm not trying to proselytize. I am chellenging you, however, to practice the tolerance you preach, and read the above piece with an open mind. Sure, it's framing is Catholic, but, contrary to popular belief, that doesn't automatically nullify any truths contained therein.

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you why I bring this up. Prop 2 is up for vote next Tuesday. I've never voted in my life and don't really plan on doing it that often, but I'll probably hit the polls next week and fill out a scantron or whatever the fuck it entails. It really is that important.

I believe the immortal Virgil put it best. Nay, not he of Aeneid fame, but the Virgil of the Richmond variety. He spaketh, and I quote:

C'mon Beav.... don't be gay, man.

Timeless words, Virg.

Happy reading. May the comments flow like wine. May your wife be like a fruitful vine. May your children flourish like olive plants. May the blessings of.... fuck man. This whole killing off of the brain cells thing is starting to take its toll.

It's Poll Time

OK, since I was a lame-o this year, I did no decorating for halloween. Not that I am really sure how to decorate a 2nd floor walkup, but thats beyond the point. I have decided to make a poll, this second day after halloween, for you guys to choose which jack-o-lantern I will use. I promise to actually do this, so choose wisely. Here are the choices:
Option 1: The Sumo-lantern
Option 2: The Mooner
Option 3: The Gameday Lantern
Option 4: The Jacko-o-lantern

















Now, I will accept other suggestions as well, but these 4 just really stuck out.

Do you see what happens, Larry, when you fuck a stranger in the ass?

I was all pumped up this morning to write you a big, bad Vote Prop 2 piece this morning, but alack, I am swamped today at work. Expect it tomorrow, for sure.

I offer this instead: Street Art! Very slick. Someday, when I grow up, I want to be a street artist. Check it out.

The Phantastic Phighting Phallus

This is basically a meaningless post, I just phelt that all of you deserved to see this headline from ESPN.COM today. I know how this was supposed to be taken, but all of you who have the minds of 8 year old, as I do, should find this slightly humorous.



Pheel phree to resume your daily browsing.

Trend analysis

You've probably all heard the stat that Texas has outscored Oklahoma State 118-0 in the second half the past three years, to overcome halftime deficits and take the wins. Well, I've got one for you that I know you haven't heard. During the last three OSU games, I have been, for all practical purposes, unconscious during said second halves. How's that for a handicap?

2003: Down 16-7 near halftime, the South comforted me, and calmed all nerves, en route to a blackout second half. All I remember about this one is that we watched it in my apartment. Texas wins 55-16.

2004: Trailing 35-14 at the half, the SoCo was once again the drink of choice, this time in flask form. This one wasn't a total blackout, as we were actually at the game, but it was as close to one as you can get, what with the booze and euphoria and all. We stumble out of the stadium, after Texas wins 56-35.

2005: Noticing a trend, I got to drinking early on Saturday. Three quarters of a bottle of Cuervo later, Texas is still down 28-12 at the break. I slip it into overdrive, finish the bottle and put a dent in another: Longhorns win, 56-35. Needless to say, I remember nothing of the second half.

I think that come this time next year, I should probably start drinking the Thursday before the game, slip into a coma, and have them air-vac my lifeless body into Memorial Stadium during halftime. Set me right next to Bevo in the South endzone. As long as I'm unconscious, we have a sure shot at victory against the Cowboys, especially if we're down. You can take that one to the bank.

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One more kinda funny story, which I got second-hand the day after. So I watched the game over at Tito's house. We desperately needed more limes and tonic water, so at halftime we made the mad dash. On the way back, we caught Craig Way calling VY's 80 yard TD rush. All was well in the world. When we made it back to the house, I called Giz to celebrate. Here's a recap of my end of the conversation, according to Tito:

Me: Dude, I'm shhhooooo fucking nervoush if we fucking loshe thish game... fuck man.... HOLYSHITTHEREGOESVINCE! DUDE ARE YOU FUCKING WATCHING THIS, THIS IS AWESOME! ALL THE WAY BABY!! TOUCHDOWN!!!!

(pause)

Me: Oh shit, it did?

(pause)

Me: Yeah, Tito's got DVR.