First bite taken indicated possible problem.
Upon further examination…
…I was cheated. And Subway reaped the benefits of Tina’s Burrito Betrayal.
In a related story, Google reports Limp Bizkit before the Who when doing a search for “Behind Blue Eyes.” Not Google’s fault, of course. It’s yours.
Yes! After paying $250 in parking tickets just this month, I wouldn’t be surprised if they only accepted ancient Egyptian money from now on, either. Civil liability, my ass…
Also, more from OnMilwaukee: The Buhgina Monologues.
Thanks to the ever-resourceful Czelt-filter.
If by someone’s work shall you know them, then I know Mitch Hedberg as a deceptively brilliant and utterly hilarious man. I have to credit him with bringing MHG and I together and his passing is sadder than I ever thought it would be. Some people at Metafilter had good things to say and a few great quotes to share.
I want to say more about this, but I’ve honestly never been so sad about the passing of a “celebrity.” I’m glad someone who knew him could say the things we’re all thinking. [road diary entry about Mitch]
I’m going to go home and listen to some Mitch. I miss him already.
Mitch Hedberg’s Official Website: currently down from too many hits: irony, perhaps.
Don Hertzfeldt has his own site, finally, after being an internet and animation legend for some time.
..in German.
Stapler Fahrer Klaus [.wmv]
Thanks to Alfalfa Martini for the heads up and 15% Prettier for finding it first. Well, kind of first. Apparently, it’s OFN.
The reservation casino which hosted the reception was vast and Vegas-like. Due to our misplacing of the invitation, MHG and I were not staying in the casino hotel with the rest of the wedding party. And so, we milled about the reception hall after dropping off the exceedingly heavy place settings we had bought for a gift.
The set-up of the hall was like being backstage. The bride’s younger brother is part of a successful high school jazz ensemble, owing considerable skills with multiple instruments to his father and my old junior high band teacher. I once had some skill in Le Jazz Hot, myself under that instructor’s tutelage, but there simply isn’t room, even in the most modern and experimental jazz hearts, for jazz baritone. But, with some appreciation for the musical form, I felt a little undeserved rush of excitement and pride at their warm-up and eventual dinner performance.
After proving my distinction with the open-bar, lime-saddled Corona cooling my cufflinked hands and making the best witty conversation I could manage in the presence of such unknowns, I was subjected to a delicious and mildly uncomfortable dinner. As ushers, the cousin and I were seated at opposite ends of a table on a sort of sacrificial dias. This meant that MHG sat with the bride’s parents and explained away her hair color choice while I attempted mild introductions with the groom’s obviously-intimidated, sweet but shy sister.
As if sensing my need, the grey-haired gazelle of a server kept my champagne glass at overflowing for the duration of the dinner. She had ulterior motives, I’m sure, as I found an unidentified room key in my pocket later. What can I say? Every girl’s crazy ’bout a sharp-dressed man.
Whether from simple drunkenness, confidence, or extreme desire to be loved by all around me, I was drawn to the dance floor. Drawn by the persistent pushing at my back from MHG, that is. I performed some stereotype-disintegrating dance moves inthe center of a circle that formed but held no real purpose. It wasn’t long before the young jazz combo endeared themselves to me. Everyone loves a fool.
But the DJ beat me to that punch (other than the “everyone loves” part.) As the DJ started his schtick, his assistant unrolled a banner which prominently displayed the number for the company. Smart marketing, perhaps, but certainly tacky; the name would be sufficient, many of us thought. But then we realized that this DJ was going to be much more than a silent installation providing entertainment via proper mixes. Before the first notes emanated from the over-loud speakers, he was already talking like a 50s radio star, warbling his voice into the microphone, welcoming us to an event we had been celebrating all day and to which he was a minor part at best.
And the music did not help. Not only did the DJ dance manically behind the turntables, much in the way that an injured octopus flails about after being shot with a poison made from PCP, but he also joined us (and by us, I mean other people) on the dance floor for an overly enthusiastic and dubiously announced Macarena. Also, when the moment called for special and sentimental music, the DJ called for simply the most criminal modern pop-country music ever known to man. When dancing with the appropriate parent, the bride and groom seemed less tormented than the audience as some forgettable twang-ridden redneck drunkenly sang through his nose over steel guitar fumblingly played by an orangutan with fingers the size of sausages.
MHG and I slowly turned our faces toward one another and noticed that our expressions were like mirror images of one another. Our brows were furrowed, our mouths formed in a partial “o.” As MHG then pointed out, this expression is the perfect retort to such horror, as it silently communicates precisely what the wearer has in mind. “It’s like your face is beginning to form the question ‘What?’ but simultaneously beginning to form the question, ‘Why?'”
* – he stole it, too. Relax.
High School for Steelbuddha
What year was it?
1992-1995
What were your three favorite bands (performers)?
Tori Amos, Nine Inch Nails, Red Hot Chili Peppers
What was your favorite outfit?
I had an off-white T-shirt that I wore with some cargo shorts in the summer as often as possible. It made me feel like a surfer.
What was up with your hair?
It was exactly the opposite of it is now. Long locks of blonde tied samurai-style on top, shaved around the sides and back. I began going bald when I was 17, though, so I decided to cut it short, then eventually, cut it to 1/4 inch all round.
What did you do after school?
A lot of Shadowrun (cyberpunk D&D), played video games at the arcade or at home, “worked” on the yearbook, movies, diners, the usual.
Where did you work?
A video rental place developing photos in the instamat machine, a grocery store as a bagger and then a dairy stocker, a hardware store, and finally the Kenosha News as a pre-press clerk. It seemed cushy at the time.
Did you take the bus?
I walked or drove, as I recall. I was lazy; the school was less than ten blocks away from my house.
Who did you have a crush on?
A lot of girls, really, and apparently a lot had crushes on me, but both sides were too inscure to make any moves. My junior year I let my best friend take my girlfriend to the prom, because I was being a dork about not going to something so lame. She probably made out with him. She was very attracted to him, but he would have been using her in that high school kind of way, and she knew that. I don’t think it was a use-me-to-get-to-him scenario exactly. The next year we weren’t boyriend and girlfriend anymore. I asked probably 20 girls that I didn’t really care about to the prom, but the only one who accepted was the tuxedo shop girl.
Did you fight with your parents?
They were too busy fighting with each other. They divorced when I was 17.
Who did you have a celebrity crush on?
Claire Danes, among others.
Did you smoke cigarettes?
No.
Did you lug all of your books around in your backpack all day because you were too nervous to find your locker?
I had a locker and a file drawer in the yearbook office, but I lugged around RPG books to read during class.
Did you have a ‘clique’?
Yeah, I suppose, but almost everyone was invited. They just didn’t ask to be included.
Did you have “The Max” like Zach, Kelly, and Slater?
We hung out in the yearbook office, mostly, or at the advisor’s house since her son was our friend and they had a huge house with a pool.
Admit it, were you popular?
I was well-liked and well-known but it wasn’t like people admitted that. I’ll likely be remembered by more people than most at my high school reunion.
Who did you want to be just like?
Neil Gaiman.
What did you want to be when you grew up?
A professional writer or professor. Maybe a famous actor. Certainly famous.
Where did you think you’d be at the age you are now?
Living in a huge house in Vancouver with a wife who supported me as I wrote my next masterpiece.
My translation isn’t perfect, but I’m pretty certain that the announcers are saying, “OMG WTF is the monkey doing??!?!11”
I ush.
Surprisingly, my duties as usher were more nerve-wracking than my time as best man in September. Apart from the possibility of a crasher, there were monumental tasks, colossal feats such as seating people, lighting candles, and … seating people.
All right, from the forced perspective of actually writing it down, it seems easy, I’ll give you that. But not having seen the bride face-to-face in three years and knowing close to no one else, having to tell them where to sit and having the entire ceremony in mind made me nervous at the time. The other bouncer was the bride’s cousin, and together we looked quite a pair. Apart from our jokes about forming some sort of tag team wrestling duo, we had little in common. Still, like everyone involved or attending, he was good people.
The groom’s family were all short people, which made it a little awkward for either of us beefy Wisconsin boys to escort his mother, who was the tiniest of them all. When all was said and done, however, we had only missed one cue and it was at the wedding planner’s insistence to “leave the runner.” It turned out to be good advice, as releasing the pews into the receiving line took long enough as it was, even with the attendance whittled down by inclement weather.
I was early to everything this weekend, a fact that would no doubt shock most people who know me. MHG and I stayed at the church, as I was in a few photos, then attempted to hang around long enough to not be too early to the reception. Unfortunately, we had nothing to do, and so ended up at the reception as early as we were to everything else.
To be continued…
The Czelt in her wisdom, pointed me toward this. I think I love him.
Wooster Collective : Stickers / Posters / Graf / Culture Jamming
