Here are two related tales that I like to call, "Half Tie" and "Beer Leg" which both hold hands with our good friend, friction. Enjoy.
Half Tie
Handsome Joe and I used to wear ties out on the town at Ohio University. It seemed like a good way to pick up classy chicks. I had an awesome flowered tie that was obnoxious and suave. I wore it out one snowy night in Athens.
The ties didn't work and Handsome Joe and I headed home alone together. On the way, we ran into a number of students who were sliding down Jeff Hill on stolen cafeteria trays and cardboard boxes. Half drunk kids would slide down the frozen, brick street, screaming the whole way. At the bottom, they would generously hand off their makeshift sleds, giving guys in ties a chance to sled down.
We ran up the stairs that paralleled the street with drunken stamina. At the top of the brick street I took a running dive and flew down the hill. It was exhilarating.
At the bottom, I handed off the tray to another student. Handsome Joe almost took me out as he flew by. He handed off his sled and noticed that my tie was sticking half out of my jacket. Actually it was all sticking out of my jacket, just that half of it was missing.
My tie got caught under the tray. The brick street, though nicely iced, caused a bit of friction. The tie was frayed. It was destroyed. I still wonder why I didn't choke to death. God bless the Double Windsor.
Beer Leg
One beautiful snowy Athens evening, Joe, Knitter and I were stealing beer out of a friend’s screened porch. It wasn’t really stealing because it was rightfully ours. Had we been inside the house at the party, we would have polished the entire case of beer. Since we didn’t like anyone at the party, we took our beer to go.
The porch was locked, but the window was not. I crawled through the narrow, screened window, flopped on the porch floor and passed the case of beer out to Knitter and Handsome Joe. Someone from the inside started to come outside so I dove out the window and we ran laughing through the back yards.
At Mill Street Hill, I took the case of beer from Knitter and did a running dive down the icy sidewalk on top the case of beer. It was just like a sled! I made it about half way down the hill before I ran out of ice. Knitter and Joe caught up and we continued home.
Once we got back to 19 Palmer Street, I made two observations and one conclusion: 1. My right pants leg was wet. 2. Eight beers had holes in the bottom of them. Conclusion: The cardboard was eaten through in half circles by the ice and sidewalk and the little smiling faces were drooling beer. The case somehow retained structural integrity so that the beer could leak out and on to my jeans. 16 beers is not as good as 24, but always better than zero.
Friction is a bitch.
Ask HolyJuan: How to Build a Mancave?
Dear Holy Juan,
In a few short months I will be getting married. This means my future wife and I will be moving into a new home soon. You've given advice on moving, keeping your wife happy, even parenting lessons (which I will undoubtedly need someday). One topic I have yet to see addressed? The home oasis of every American male. I'm talking about the Man-cave.
Holy Juan, I will need a Man-cave in my new home. Since I've never been married or a proud home-owner before I am at a loss. Does a finished basement automatically become the Man-cave, or will I have to flip a coin with my wife to see who gets dibs? If the basement is unfinished, but I use my considerable talent to change that, is it automatically mine? Will a shed in the backyard suffice as a Man-cave? Can I even hook up satellite TV to a shed?
My only solace in our current condo is the computer room/ office which I share with my fiancé and there's a goddamn poster sized picture of Marilyn Monroe on the wall. It's not even a sexy or seductive one either. This trend cannot carry over to the new house.
Help me, Holy Juan. You're my only hope.
Sincerely,
Mr. Phip
Dear Mr. Phip,
Buying a home can be a very stressful… wait… you are getting married? Married? Have you thought about the repercussions of this? You realize that when you are married, you lose the right to say “man.” Everything after that is “us.” What you are asking me is how to build an “Us-Cave.”
How To Build An Us-Cave
Step One: Buy a house
Make sure your house has a basement or second bedroom. This way you can fill those large, unused spaces with the boxes of sports memorabilia and man crap that you will not be allowed to unpack.
Step Two: Watch Home Improvement Shows
By watching home improvement shows, you will start to begin to gain confidence in your abilities to think about how great it would be to have an Us-Cave. Please note, you will have to record the Home Improvement shows and sneak out of bed in the middle of the night to watch them.
Step Three: Reminisce
Soon the DVR will be filled with other shows like “The Biggest Loser” and “The Real Housewives of Atlanta” and “16 and Pregnant” and there will be no more room for DIY shows. This will give you plenty of time to sneak into the spare bedroom and sort through the boxes with your old Xbox, baseball cards and baseball gear. Weep quietly to yourself now. Do it in the baseball glove so that with every sob, you inhale the sweet , sweet smell of bachelorhood.
Step Four: Construction!
Surprise! Your wife sold all your man crap and now the spare bedroom is empty (actually she threw the shit out and the guy with the trash truck just made a cool $1,500 off your collectibles.) Time to think about filling this now empty room with stuff! You repaint. You re-carpet. You buy a bed and an end table and a set of drawers. What’s this? A recliner! And your wife allows you to buy a 44” LCD, wifi enabled flatscreen. Your Us-Cave is almost a reality.
Step Five: Mother-in-law moves into the Us-Cave
Now all that is left is to await death. I’d suggest eating two pounds of bacon a day to quicken your inevitable end, but now that your wife is vegan, so are you. You’ll live to be 100. Until then, mother-in-law needs her colostomy bag emptied. Get to work, Mr. Phip.
Congratulations on your pending nuptials!
In a few short months I will be getting married. This means my future wife and I will be moving into a new home soon. You've given advice on moving, keeping your wife happy, even parenting lessons (which I will undoubtedly need someday). One topic I have yet to see addressed? The home oasis of every American male. I'm talking about the Man-cave.
Holy Juan, I will need a Man-cave in my new home. Since I've never been married or a proud home-owner before I am at a loss. Does a finished basement automatically become the Man-cave, or will I have to flip a coin with my wife to see who gets dibs? If the basement is unfinished, but I use my considerable talent to change that, is it automatically mine? Will a shed in the backyard suffice as a Man-cave? Can I even hook up satellite TV to a shed?
My only solace in our current condo is the computer room/ office which I share with my fiancé and there's a goddamn poster sized picture of Marilyn Monroe on the wall. It's not even a sexy or seductive one either. This trend cannot carry over to the new house.
Help me, Holy Juan. You're my only hope.
Sincerely,
Mr. Phip
Dear Mr. Phip,
Buying a home can be a very stressful… wait… you are getting married? Married? Have you thought about the repercussions of this? You realize that when you are married, you lose the right to say “man.” Everything after that is “us.” What you are asking me is how to build an “Us-Cave.”
How To Build An Us-Cave
Step One: Buy a house
Make sure your house has a basement or second bedroom. This way you can fill those large, unused spaces with the boxes of sports memorabilia and man crap that you will not be allowed to unpack.
Step Two: Watch Home Improvement Shows
By watching home improvement shows, you will start to begin to gain confidence in your abilities to think about how great it would be to have an Us-Cave. Please note, you will have to record the Home Improvement shows and sneak out of bed in the middle of the night to watch them.
Step Three: Reminisce
Soon the DVR will be filled with other shows like “The Biggest Loser” and “The Real Housewives of Atlanta” and “16 and Pregnant” and there will be no more room for DIY shows. This will give you plenty of time to sneak into the spare bedroom and sort through the boxes with your old Xbox, baseball cards and baseball gear. Weep quietly to yourself now. Do it in the baseball glove so that with every sob, you inhale the sweet , sweet smell of bachelorhood.
Step Four: Construction!
Surprise! Your wife sold all your man crap and now the spare bedroom is empty (actually she threw the shit out and the guy with the trash truck just made a cool $1,500 off your collectibles.) Time to think about filling this now empty room with stuff! You repaint. You re-carpet. You buy a bed and an end table and a set of drawers. What’s this? A recliner! And your wife allows you to buy a 44” LCD, wifi enabled flatscreen. Your Us-Cave is almost a reality.
Step Five: Mother-in-law moves into the Us-Cave
Now all that is left is to await death. I’d suggest eating two pounds of bacon a day to quicken your inevitable end, but now that your wife is vegan, so are you. You’ll live to be 100. Until then, mother-in-law needs her colostomy bag emptied. Get to work, Mr. Phip.
Congratulations on your pending nuptials!
REVIEW - Skully’s: The Retro Party
We’ve been going to Skully’s Ladies 80s night for the past eight years. It used to be that we would go twice a month. Then once every month. Then once every two months. After Dave left, we wondered if we’d ever go again. We got over that bullshit pretty quick and now we are back to once every six weeks.
For those of you who are unaware, Ladies 80s is held on Thursday nights at Skully’s in Columbus, OH. Girls get in free. Boys pay five bucks. They play 80s dance music. Most the time the DJ does a great job putting together the right mix of great dance songs with only a scrunchie’s worth of overplayed Madonna/Love Shack crap.
Our modus operandi is to go out to a nearby bar beforehand at 8:00pm get our drink on and chit chat. At 10:00pm or so, we’ll head over to Skully’s. At that time, the place is just starting to awaken. Usually there are six or seven teachers’ conference attendees that have been drinking since 5:00pm getting their 80s dance on. These folks will be gone by 11:00pm to make the mistakes that people at conferences make. We usually sit up front and drink beers, waiting on anyone who said they would catch up with us later. At some unspoken time, Aha’s “Take on Me” or something by INXS will come on and we will make our way back to our spot. You can see that spot marked here with an “X”.
We usually dance for a few songs and inevitably someone will show up with a handful of beers. We’ll dance some more and if a crappy song comes on, we will step out side and those that smoke will smoke and those that don’t will think about why they quit. Then back inside. Repeat as necessary.
By about midnight, Skully’s is packed. In the past three years, people have begun to dress the part, wearing pink leggings and jelly bracelets and sunglasses that weren’t even popular in the 80s.
We still play the guessing game: one person leans over and says to another, “I think X band will play next.” Person two will think for a moment and say, “I think band Y will play.” And then we wait to see who is right. If you are brave, you can guess song and artist. Saying Madonna’s Borderline will get you kicked in the pants.
At 2:15am, you cannot believe it is 2:15am and we all stumble out into the night, ears ringing with the memory of a keytar and reverb.
So a few weeks ago, Freckled Jen sent me a photo of Skully’s door:
No more Ladies 80s? We were aghast! How could they fuck with the formula!
But we are getting old. Really old at this point. I was old the first day I stepped into Skully's. We knew things would change over time. It's just no one wanted to admit it.
Recently it was Jenn’s birthday weekend and she wanted to get a group of folks together. When she called to ask about Friday, I had to decline as Miss Sally was going to be heading out of town. Jenn asked about Thursday and I said sure!
It was a few hours later that we both realized that we could check out Skully’s new Retro Party. We agreed that we would do a little light recon and see what was up.
We met friends after work at Surly Girl. We drank and bought Jen shots.
At 10:15pm, we headed over.
It was still free for ladies and still $5 for dudes.
Once inside, we expected to hear a mix of 80s and 90s. But it was still all 80s music.
So we danced.
And an odd thing happened. I’m not sure if it was the DJ or the new format, but the DJ started playing really good songs, back to back. Really good ones. Usually the DJ will choreograph the evening by playing a mix of good old dance songs and then pulling out a dead ringer that everyone likes. On this night, it seemed like the DJ was pulling out all the stops and playing back to back to back great songs.
And I was a bit disappointed. Call me a hypocrite, but I like the build up. I like a few good songs topped off by an ELO or Cure or Depeche Mode song that can’t go wrong. And then I like when the DJ plays a (what I consider to be) a crappy, stereotypical 80s song, so that I can take a break for three minutes and twenty seconds.
When we did finally step outside, we chatted with one of the bartenders. He seemed to help us do the math. The DJs will play the standard 80s music early on. As the night goes on and all those 30 somethings leave at midnight to go home and take Advil, the young kids start showing up. Then the 90s music starts to mix in.
And wouldn’t you know it. Around midnight, the 90s songs started kicking in.
Sadly, the 90s songs they played were not all that good. I know there are some danceable 90s songs, but we really didn’t hear to many. Especially since we left right after midnight to go home and take Advil. I guess we will have to go back and do some more testing.
Fear not, friends. Skully’s is still the same. It was inevitable that the 90s were going to creep in to 80s dance night. They had been already. Every so often we’d turn an ear to the music and say, “Was that is the 80s?” and then continue with said dancing. There aren't bookends on the 80s demarking where good music starts and stops. I’m not sure there was good 80s dance music until late 1983 anyways.
So do not let the new name fool you. It is still the same fun. Still the same fun, dance music.
Still the same Terminator Guy.
Still the same Shake Weight Guy.
And the Old Guy.
The same Converse.
All and these fuckers:
And when a really good song comes on, we call Dave and leave a message on his phone to piss him off and remind him that even though The Retro Party is the same as Ladies 80s, it's never the same without him.
For those of you who are unaware, Ladies 80s is held on Thursday nights at Skully’s in Columbus, OH. Girls get in free. Boys pay five bucks. They play 80s dance music. Most the time the DJ does a great job putting together the right mix of great dance songs with only a scrunchie’s worth of overplayed Madonna/Love Shack crap.
Our modus operandi is to go out to a nearby bar beforehand at 8:00pm get our drink on and chit chat. At 10:00pm or so, we’ll head over to Skully’s. At that time, the place is just starting to awaken. Usually there are six or seven teachers’ conference attendees that have been drinking since 5:00pm getting their 80s dance on. These folks will be gone by 11:00pm to make the mistakes that people at conferences make. We usually sit up front and drink beers, waiting on anyone who said they would catch up with us later. At some unspoken time, Aha’s “Take on Me” or something by INXS will come on and we will make our way back to our spot. You can see that spot marked here with an “X”.
We usually dance for a few songs and inevitably someone will show up with a handful of beers. We’ll dance some more and if a crappy song comes on, we will step out side and those that smoke will smoke and those that don’t will think about why they quit. Then back inside. Repeat as necessary.
By about midnight, Skully’s is packed. In the past three years, people have begun to dress the part, wearing pink leggings and jelly bracelets and sunglasses that weren’t even popular in the 80s.
We still play the guessing game: one person leans over and says to another, “I think X band will play next.” Person two will think for a moment and say, “I think band Y will play.” And then we wait to see who is right. If you are brave, you can guess song and artist. Saying Madonna’s Borderline will get you kicked in the pants.
At 2:15am, you cannot believe it is 2:15am and we all stumble out into the night, ears ringing with the memory of a keytar and reverb.
So a few weeks ago, Freckled Jen sent me a photo of Skully’s door:
No more Ladies 80s? We were aghast! How could they fuck with the formula!
But we are getting old. Really old at this point. I was old the first day I stepped into Skully's. We knew things would change over time. It's just no one wanted to admit it.
Recently it was Jenn’s birthday weekend and she wanted to get a group of folks together. When she called to ask about Friday, I had to decline as Miss Sally was going to be heading out of town. Jenn asked about Thursday and I said sure!
It was a few hours later that we both realized that we could check out Skully’s new Retro Party. We agreed that we would do a little light recon and see what was up.
We met friends after work at Surly Girl. We drank and bought Jen shots.
At 10:15pm, we headed over.
It was still free for ladies and still $5 for dudes.
Once inside, we expected to hear a mix of 80s and 90s. But it was still all 80s music.
So we danced.
And an odd thing happened. I’m not sure if it was the DJ or the new format, but the DJ started playing really good songs, back to back. Really good ones. Usually the DJ will choreograph the evening by playing a mix of good old dance songs and then pulling out a dead ringer that everyone likes. On this night, it seemed like the DJ was pulling out all the stops and playing back to back to back great songs.
And I was a bit disappointed. Call me a hypocrite, but I like the build up. I like a few good songs topped off by an ELO or Cure or Depeche Mode song that can’t go wrong. And then I like when the DJ plays a (what I consider to be) a crappy, stereotypical 80s song, so that I can take a break for three minutes and twenty seconds.
When we did finally step outside, we chatted with one of the bartenders. He seemed to help us do the math. The DJs will play the standard 80s music early on. As the night goes on and all those 30 somethings leave at midnight to go home and take Advil, the young kids start showing up. Then the 90s music starts to mix in.
And wouldn’t you know it. Around midnight, the 90s songs started kicking in.
Sadly, the 90s songs they played were not all that good. I know there are some danceable 90s songs, but we really didn’t hear to many. Especially since we left right after midnight to go home and take Advil. I guess we will have to go back and do some more testing.
Fear not, friends. Skully’s is still the same. It was inevitable that the 90s were going to creep in to 80s dance night. They had been already. Every so often we’d turn an ear to the music and say, “Was that is the 80s?” and then continue with said dancing. There aren't bookends on the 80s demarking where good music starts and stops. I’m not sure there was good 80s dance music until late 1983 anyways.
So do not let the new name fool you. It is still the same fun. Still the same fun, dance music.
Still the same Terminator Guy.
Still the same Shake Weight Guy.
And the Old Guy.
The same Converse.
All and these fuckers:
And when a really good song comes on, we call Dave and leave a message on his phone to piss him off and remind him that even though The Retro Party is the same as Ladies 80s, it's never the same without him.
A Great Advertising Scheme
These lighters are handed out for free at a local bar. I assume they are paid for by the Law Firm on the lighter.
Freelance Whales
Stu and I were supposed to see the Freelace Whales when they were in Columbus. He had something else come up and I neglected to go. I soon forgot about them.
Luckily I remembered.
You should also check out this one:
And now I am missing Stu.
Luckily I remembered.
You should also check out this one:
And now I am missing Stu.
Peas!
Greg asked for more peas at dinner. I gave him more peas.
He said that was too many. I said, "How many is too many?"
So how many is too many?
I guessed 172.
Greg guessed 174.
How many do you guess? Don't count! Just guess.
Answer below!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Keep going!
.
.
.
I counted full peas and then went back and counted the bits that may or may not have been full peas.
He said that was too many. I said, "How many is too many?"
So how many is too many?
I guessed 172.
Greg guessed 174.
How many do you guess? Don't count! Just guess.
Answer below!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Keep going!
.
.
.
I counted full peas and then went back and counted the bits that may or may not have been full peas.
Creepy and Gross
I'm not sure what the back story to this is, but I assume it's pretty creepy and gross.
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