Cleveland's A Plum

Top 5 reasons why Alexa from Cleveland's a Plum rules Cleveland:

5. She is a trendsetter: in Cleveland, black is the new black

4. When she yells "HELLO, CLEVELAND!" - it answers.

3. Her blog is the city's only exported good.

2. By winning Cleveland Magazines "Best Blog" she has won more than Lebron James.

1. Her only competition is Drew Carey.

I will rule this town one day - or I will host the Price is Right. Whichever comes first. Watch your back, Alexa.

Oh, Canada

America - we have a problem.

Not only are Canadians smart, polite and cultured -

They're cool.

I know - I know. We thought we could get away with being simple-minded, unintelligent fatsos because Guns N' Roses was born here.

So did I.

But after this past weekend's trip to Montreal - they are all cool. Every single one of them. Even Canadian Nerds could be Mayor of Cleveland in like a week due to sheer coolness.

Walking down the street is like walking through an episode of any show on the CW - just pretty people dressed in crazy clothing everywhere.

And they're smart.

They speak somewhere between 14-72 languages. I am pretty sure they just make up languages when they get bored and then speak those. I barely speak English. The next closest thing I speak is Ebonics - but I only took two semesters of it and used freetranslations.com for all the tests.

All I'm saying is that as long as Bill Murray is alive, we will still be the coolest country in the world. But when he's gone - watch out.

Next thing you know we'll be the U.S.Eh?

Moody Blues

Man was I in a bad mood last week.

Like horrible bad.

Like El Nino was going to ask to borrow my stapler, saw the look on my face and went and destroyed South America instead.

I was in a bad mood -

And it was...AWESOME.

Bad moods might be one of my favorite things ever. Just hating everything. Cursing people for no apparent reason. Over-the-top uses of sarcasm. It all rules.

I actually prefer to be annoyed when I am in a bad mood just so I can say Fuck that guy!

Did he breathe too heavy in a room adjacent to mine? Fuck that guy!

Did that girl just roll her eyes at me? Fuck that guy!

Is that wall not looking at me right? Fuck that guy!

But while I'm cursing people, I need a soundtrack.

I know most people go for death-metal; but I think that is too obvious. Sometimes I have a little Appetite for Destruction - but even that doesn't do the trick.

So what do I listen to?

Marvin Gaye.

I get in my truck, hit the road and blare "Let's Get It On".

Then I sing, oh do I sing. And dance - with moves you've never even seen before.

Because I'm in a bad mood - so I don't care that I sign like Britney and dance like...well...Britney.

I know what you are thinking - what if Britney reads this and get upset?

Well...Fuck that guy!

America's Hat

The Lady Friend and I randomly decided on Tuesday that we were flying to Montreal on Saturday. I wouldn't even really call it a vacation - vacations are planned for. This is like a field trip. We are the equivalent of a 6th grade class learning the ins and outs of a far away and foreign culture.

I've been to Windsor (the strip club capital of the US) and Toronto recently, but this will be my first trip back to Montreal since I was but a wee lad.

I wonder what these strange and exotic people will be like. Will they have funny accents and strange clothes? Will they have ever seen 'the White Man' before? Will their women walk around sans clothes, unaware of Western Civilization's shame in nudity?

Or will it just be a lot of denim and maple syrup?

Either way I am excited, lets just hope they didn't find a way to screw up bacon.

Bon Voyage (see, I'm already learning their language)

Side Note - I need your best Canada jokes to fend off all the politeness and hospitality. These colors don't run!

Leave A Message

Girls - here is a free lesson:

Guys hate phones.

We hate phones like girls hate following movie plots.

We hate phones more than girls hate punctuality.

We hate phones more than girls hate passing up a rest stop without testing its bathroom facilities.

If you have something important to talk about, I would rather you send me an actual letter - in the mail - than call me about it. Maybe even just use smoke signals - or see if you can do it telepathically.

Every time a girl flavored friend calls they ask some form of the question, "So, what's new?" Oh, great, just what I needed - a pop quiz.

I have to pull some crazy Sherlock Holmes shenanigans to remember what I had for lunch yesterday, now you want me to entertain you with tales of my everyday?

If that is the case, then girls need to start being more entertained with my stories - I don't want to talk about my job or my house - lets talk about that time last month when I saw a bird fly into a window! It twitched for like 5 minutes!

So, to combat having to give my verbal memoirs every time a girl calls, I've started lying.

What did I do yesterday? I fought through the restraints of a group of firefighters and ran into the fire at the old tire plant to save a box of kittens. Sure it was scary, but you should have seen the looks on the faces of those kids from the children's hospital that just happened to be there for a field trip.

How is my job? Sometimes the stress gets to be too much, with so much riding on my every decision. I know most men would crumble under such life-and-death circumstances but if not me, then who? THEN WHO!

What's new? Scientists have discovered that talking on the phone kills dolphins. Yeah, I know, crazy. We better hang up right now. Save the animals!

Click.

Running Down a Dream

Running a marathon isn't that impressive to me.

Why?

Because my body can't even fathom what running 26.2 miles would be like. It is an unrealistic number. It is like when the gov't talks about money in billions. I have no idea what a billion is - I assume there are a gazillion zeros because gazillions are actually more realistic to me.

Telling me you ran 26.2 miles is like telling me you rode a dinosaur to work. I'm just going to ask if there was a lot of traffic because you are obviously making things up.

My body can run MAYBE one mile before exploding. If you put the finish line 1.1 mile away, I would be so close, you would see me coming and I'd have my arms raised in a triumphant V and then BAM. Gone. A puff of smoke and a pair of shoes would be all that was left.

Plus, no one ever wins marathons. I'm a winner, damnit. I'm not going to run in something and know I am going to finish in the back. I might as well sign up to be on that team that plays against the Harlem Globetrotters - or hell, even tryout for the Knicks. People say it is just one of their goals to finish a marathon. Your goal is to lose? I won't even play my 5 yr old nephew in Checkers because I don't want to lose.

So this past weekend the Lady Friend ran a half marathon. What did I do? I ordered and finished two full entrees at brunch.

We both accomplished our goals.

But mine had bacon.

I'd say I'm the winner.

Zombiefest 2009

So, as you know (because I brought it up 300 times between here and Twitter), I attended the Zombiefest in Pittsburgh over this past weekend. And since I know you were just DYING for pictures (if you think the zombie puns are going to stop there you got another thing coming), I thought i would share some pictures that will warm your still beating heart.

Myself, in full zombie gear, holding my iPhone. Have you come down with a virus that seizes control of the brain and makes you thirst for human flesh? There's an app for that.


My buddy BloggingJason, unliving proof that I have friends -


Most everyone who knows I attended said the same thing, "God you are a freak." Well, your face smells - so shut up!

Zombie lovers aren't all weirdos - they come from all shuffling gates of life -

Young Zombies



Thirsty Zombies

Frisky Zombies

AberZombie and Fitch

Self-Righteous Zombies

Sports Fan Zombies

Republican Zombies (That's a Rush Limbaugh Zombie with a bottle of Oxycontin)

Even Bad Bathroom Etiquette Zombies.

God I hope he washed his hands - I wouldn't want to come down with anything.

Ben's Vlog on Sharks vs Bears

Ben over at No Ordinary Rollercoaster offered to answer ANY question, on camera, and provide for my reader's entertainment. Of course, I have never entertained my readers before, so I am not sure why I would try to start now, but what the hell.



Based on his answer I may have a video rebuttal for next week - but mine will be much less thought out, without props and if you think my hair is going to look that good you got another thing coming.

Would Ya Wednesday on Tuesday - Mass Debate Edition

Ok. I need your help.

You've seen my roommate and I argue over women before, mainly Queen Latifah, but we argue over most any girl on TV. Or the internet. Or that girl that might be missing a chromosome that works at Target. I so would.

But for all of these "Would Ya?" arguments, no one has divided our personal moral standards like...

Serena Williams

With her inclusion on the cover of ESPN The Magazine's "Body Issue", the argument has come to a head.

Which is where you come in (thats what she said). Here is the cover of the magazine; no fancy jokes, no innuendos, I just want to know if you would get jiggy with it.

Nana na na nana na na.



The ball's in your court (Ok, I couldn't resist ONE lame joke).

(Side note - tomorrow will be the unveiling of Ben from No Ordinary Rollercoaster's video entry for a question I submitted to him last week. I'll warn you...it's epic. He totally Michael Jackson'd the Farrah Fawcett that is my blog on this one. Stay tuned.)

Folk You

Everyday Enemies - The Road To Nowhere

Quick note - I'll be in Pittsburgh partaking in the Zombiewalk this Sunday at the Monroeville Mall. Any of you wonderful Pittsblurgers that are in the area should come out in join in. It's for charity - and for awesome.

Today marks the second installment of Everyday Enemies. It is more or less replacing "Would Ya Wednesday" - instead of focusing on if you would screw someone, we look at people who are screwing my will to live. Think of it as my stress release - some people have yoga, I scream on the internet.

For those of you knew to Everyday Enemies, it focuses on the people and situations that interfere with my ability to make it through everyday. The people that make me question whether this rat race is worth the cheese at the end. The people who ask, "Hot enough for ya?"

Today's Everyday Enemy - Anticlimactic Storyteller

When I tell a story I have a goal - I want you to crap your pants. I want to grab your attention, and I want to tickle it. I want to caress your attention and hold it and sing little lullabies to it. Just went you think you are in a safe place I want to drop the anvil from the window that is the punchline. I want laughing. I want crying. I want defecation.

So when you are telling ME a story - all I am asking is to make my eyebrows move a little. Maybe they nuzzle together in puzzlement. Maybe they raise in shock. Maybe they furrow in anger. No matter what you make them do - make them work. They are thick, luscious and get this little wrinkle between them that just drives the ladies crazy.

I don't have time for stories that don't go anywhere. You went to the mall looking for shoes but you couldn't find the ones you wanted so you asked someone and sure enough they were right there the entire time?

BOOM! Shotgun to my own face. Only reasonable response to your horrible story. I would rather chew on tin foil and bath in hot dog water than listen to a story that goes no where.

How Anticlimactic Storytellers have survived this long baffles me. The only acceptable reason is that their stories are SO boring, normal people would rather off themselves than chance having to hear another horrible story. Reverse Darwinism. The strong have met their match - and their match is slide show of Hawaiian vacation pictures.

You know what? Lie to me next time. Tell me you rode a dinosaur to France and beat Elvis in Scrabble. Awesome, dude. At least your story went somewhere. Only Anticlimactic Storytellers would probably even fuck that up and spend 15 minutes laying out why they couldn't use the triple word score.

And maybe it is a little mean for me to daydream about the them falling off a cliff as they recap their trip to Sam's Club -

But damn, can you imagine what a great story that would be?

Prettiest Belle at the Ball

Me: My parents thought I was going to be a girl when I was born - they even had a name picked out.

Friend: I bet you'd be a hot girl. I would have dated you.

Me: Thanks?

Mug Shot

This is my coffee mug -


Cute, eh? It took me 6 months and a lot of stained teeth to get her just right.

That's right, I haven't washed that mug, ever, in my 6 months of being its father.

Inside is 6 months worth of late nights, early mornings and rush projects. Inside that cup is any chance of me saying "Good morning!" as I pass a coworker in the hall.

Inside that cup are the hopes and dreams of a 26 year old who just wants to make it home in time to watch reruns of Seinfeld.

Those coffee stained rings represent mornings that have come and gone - like tiny, disgusting trophies for surviving timesheets and spreadsheets and empty bedsheets.

Unsanitary? Unprofessional? How about Undeniable - nothing will stop me from my morning cup of coffee - not dried coffee rings, not grounds stuck to the bottom for the last 3 weeks, not...

...wait, is that a hair? Oh that is fucking gross, man. I gotta wash this thing.

In The Back of Your Mind

Ok. I admit it. Every now and then a Taylor Swift or Jason Aldean song makes it into my workday. I can't help it, you can take the boy out of the country but you can't take the country out of the boy. It's like herpes.

Well last week I made the mistake of listening to this Kellie Pickler song -

Kellie Pickler - Best Days Of Your Life (Official Music Video) - A funny movie is a click away

AND NOW IT WON'T GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

I've tried listening to equally annoying but catchy songs - "Breakfast at Tiffany's" and "Take My Breath Away". I'm about 5 seconds from downloading "It's A Small World" and just ending it all.

At this point I would rather dump Draino down my earballs than have to hear this song in my head. I have contemplated playing Russian Roulette with a drill bit to the forehead.

IT. WON'T. GO. AWAY.

What do I do? I tried to have an indie-rock intervention with myself but it went no where. All the skinny jeans in the world couldn't help me now.

I turn to you, dear Readers. Help cure me of this affliction. What is a fool proof song that will be like a pry bar to this damn Kellie Pickler song?

If you could help me out it would be the "best day....the best day of my liiiiiiife..."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!