Friday Night Treats

In order to get the picture of my hairy face off the front page, here is a picture of what sidewalk when I left this morning at 5:30am:


That is a growned-ass man passed out in the doorway of the club next to where I work. I halfway wanted to rob him preemptively so I could give his stuff back the next day, but right after I took this picture he barfed everywhere.


I don't know about you people, but I slept on Death Wish for far too long. Charles Bronson is a cinematic genius. He makes us believe he's a bleeding-heart liberal within two minutes of the opening credits! You know how? He tells us, that's how. Anyways. I've also slept on Death Wish II, Death Wish 3, Death Wish 4: The Crackdown (he fights crackheads in that one, natch), and Death Wish V: The Face of Death (the studio couldn't decide on Roman v. Arabic Numerals apparently). They are all awesome, people.



Why do I say this? Because I have also slept on the fact that Stallone is remaking the original. He says it would be volcanic. And he is right.

Bonus Death Wish Facts:

1. Christopher Guest's first credited US cinematic role was as a cop in the first installment. He is not funny.

2. Jeff Goldblum's first credited US cinematic role was as "Freak #1" in the first installment. He watches as his freak buddies (who stake out rich people while trying to steal things from grocery stores and making lewd tongue gestures to strangers) rape and kill Bronson's wife and daughter. THIS WAS A BAD IDEA.

3. Olympia Dukakis plays a cop too.

Bizarro Saturday

Saturday Night Timeline:

5:00pm-2:51am: Normal

2:52am: Girl accuses dude of hitting her at upstairs bar, approx 30 other dudes attempt to beat living hell out of dude. Glass crashing ensues.

2:53am: Me in manager mode, walk upstairs, say the word "cops," 30 other dudes stop attempting to beat living hell, run away.

2:59am: Dude demands police escort out of premises. Demand is not met because police don't live in my back pocket, and because bar is not UN. Dude leaves, everything fine.

3:25am: Glass cleanup finishes.

3:26am: Co-worker informs me his drawer is $660 short. Count, recount, recount, count other money, check numbers, drink beer quickly, put forehead in hands.

3:29am: Evan points out that report being referenced is for the wrong drawer. Money is not missing. Exhale. Adjourn to office, begin closing procedures.

3:51am: Colin asks me if I smell smoke. I don't. Assume bar is burning down on top of me. Hear Colin hollering from down the hall. Sigh. Walk down hall to the walk-in refrigerator.

3:52am: Discover patron who has stowed himself away in walk-in refrigerator for approximately an hour. Claims he was "locked in." Point out that this is impossible.

3:53am: Realize that patron has cut the power to refrigerator, drank a beer, smoked two cigarettes, broken a case of beer, knocked over a bucket of wings, a box of lemons, punched out a piece of plywood holding in exhaust fan, and urinated in an empty bucket.

3:54am: Recognizing that it would be too difficult to dispose of a dead body, take patron upstairs to get his information and figure out what the hell to do with him:


3:55am: Take information, put it on sheet of paper, discuss the fact that we are probably going to call the police and press charges.

3:56am: Patron takes sheet of paper and tries to eat it. Becomes apparent that patron is in fact the drunkest superspy on the planet. Co-worker does puppy jaw thing on patron, procures paper before it gets digested, but not before it gets saliva'd:


4:00am: Walk patron out, stick a note in his pocket reminding him that he's not really welcome here anymore.

4:01am: Laugh hysterically.

4:02am: Begin cleaning.

Santa Crawls and Their Repercussions

People who work in offices all day have a hard time making friends, so they have to work extra-hard to find like-minded people to do the stupid shit they like to do. In December, the stupid shit they like to do is dress up in Santa costumes and go from bar to bar drinking and losing things.* Saturday, Katie got to witness a little of the magic:


It's amazing what 30 drunk Santas will do to destroy one's Christmas spirit, so Joe and I decided to balance things out by playing some non-Christmas holiday sets on the jukebox. He started things off with Halloween (Monster Mash + Nightmare on My Street=Success), and I followed up with Easter. What follows is my set with brief annotations, in case anybody's interested in replicating it:

1. "Easter Flesh" - The Legendary Shack Shakers. Gotta start things off slow, work the crowd into the idea of a themed set; the Shack Shakers aren't what one would call a "religious" band, so nobody's gonna get all weirded out. Plus, the song is pretty good.


2. "Easter" - Patti Smith Group. Kind of a downer, but the name of the song is "Easter," so it made the cut.


3. Now that the set is in full-swing, time to throw a curveball. In nearly every situation in life, "curveball" means: KIDZ BOP. If you don't know about Kidz Bop, do yourself a favor and cure your ignorance. I played some Kidz Bop Easter song that isn't online. But rest assured that it was amazing.


4. "Easter Bunny Hop" - VeggieTales. How better to follow up kidz doing covers of popular and traditional music than with overtly religious animated vegetables singing vaguely religious songs?

5. "Easter March" - Liberace. How better to follow singing vegetables than with a little piano ditty by the master of moderation?


6. "Easter [something]" - Steve Green. Since the room has pretty much gone silent in awe of Liberace's adagios, it is important to take advantage. The best way to do that is to play an Easter song by my mom's favorite Christian Contemporary blond, Steve Green. People at the bar seemed surprised that I was singing all the words. Maybe they should check the status of their souls.


BONUSBONUSBONUS I bought fashionframes! Unfortch they are basically clear versions of Ana's realframes so I'll never be able to wear them. But maybe--just maybe--my vision will decline enough to need glasses within the next forty years. In that case, my fashionframes will be there waiting for me.


Plus! Ana says hello, Jeanne!


* Things they lost which were later found on the floor: Three credit cards, one ID, one wallet, two hats, two sweaters, one book, one scarf, $40 cash.

Sunday Funday Whiskey and Gun Day II: Guns, Gods and Glories

Last year's Sunday Funday Whiskey and Gun Day was pretty awesome, but it was a bare-bones event. We had a table, some stuff to shoot, and some guns. That was it. There were no mascots, no explosions, no vehicles flipping over--aside from some well-framed poses, it was basically just people shooting guns at things. We were determined to change all that with the second incarnation, and we did.

First, we had to bring Dana back from Thailand so she could be at this year's festivity. I don't know how many of you are well-versed in extradition treaties, but drug jails are a real hassle. Red tape as far as the eye can see! But it all worked out and we shoved her in the back seat and tried to take pictures:


We warmed up by shooting "skeet," which I think is how they spell it. It may be "sqeit." You know that gun jargon. Cryptic as hell.



After we had killed all the sqeits, it was time for the real purpose of the whole weekend: to put the stuff we bought on a couch and shoot it over and over again. Here's the whole gang before we got started. A rag-tag bunch, ha ha ha!


Oh wait! Joe decided that since it seems that I can't have a phlog without a lobster in it, he would bring one along and make it the mascot of the day. Meet Lobster Nicole Smith:


Then I took a picture of myself looking tough with a "thirty-eight special," which is named after a band. The only thing I hit after taking this picture was the side of the hill. Darned close-range killing machines. No good for target practice. Unless you're targeting something from one foot away, execution-style.


Looking at what you've just shot is alot more fun than you might think.


And yes, that is a tub of Country Crock. I was raised on that shit.

Two hours later, the couch was dirty and shotten!


And I laid down in front of it even though it was totes gross. Continuity comes at a price, people.


Part two of the evening involved drinking fancy beer and sitting around a fire trying to be funny. In short, what America was made for. Greg's pretty good at it.


A smart thing to do at this point in time is to take some four-wheelers out for a spin in the woods. Joe and Dana put on "helmets" (I'm spelling it phonetically) before going out for what they said was a safety precaution. Your insurers thank you, Joe and Dana!


Anyway, Joe has been tempting fate and laughing at God for way too long, so Jesus decided that it was time to give him a wake-up call! By "wake-up call" I mean "ATV rolling over on top of you and your life hanging in the balance," of course. It didn't totally wake him up, though, because he could still walk, kind of.


That's our Joe. Last year: setting face on fire. This year: risking spinal injury. Next year: coma. FOR OUR AMUSEMENT.

Later, Ana got suited up for a spin around the rink:


And then the next day Katie bought a Kitten from the Kountry Store.




BONUS BONUS BONUS WE BLEW UP A TV AND IT'S ON VIDEO


Joe and Matt running away might be the best part of the thing.

PS: My camera died right after I got back.

PPS: Katie got this great one of me practicing perfect gun safety after I executed a can of whipped cream:

PPPS: Katie sent a video of me shooting a jug of soda and then dancing. It's probably the best thing ever.

Party Tymerzs

Naomi's birthday (she turned 14) was yesterday, and natch we threw her a birthday party. She decided on an appropriately alliterative theme, posted the invitation to the world wide web, and shit happened.

The ladies looked all fine and wore gold jurry


Then like five hours later Joe showed up and was all, I'm gonna spell out myspace in sign language just cuz I can, and I was all nuh uh and he was all watch me, this is street sign language son and I was all DAMM


an then he did it for real he spelled it out without concern for his personal safety seriously click to enlarge


Then Chad America showed up and got all lolchad on our asses or whatever or maybe he just said hello


and then later Ana started pourin booze in Naomi's mouth in a crazed fashion on purpose


the strohs made her dance like a crunk zombie



then I went to sleep


BONUSBONUSBONUS

Allen Iverson playing football!!! (For Anne Mostly)

Cookout, Darkest Hour, Ocean City Reduxed

In this omnibus edition of DeffoTotes!, you will find:

1) That sailor hats make people look either awesome or scary, depending on the situation;
2) Things are not always as they seem;
3) Old people don't always act old; and
4) The beach escaped certain death.

So let's get started! On Sunday we had a barbecue before the Darkest Hour concert. T-Bone (pictured) read somewhere that rock stars wear sailor hats, so he wore his to fit in. It totally worked:


We have started a new tradition at our barbecues, wherein vegetarians eat meat. It's amazing! Look!


Darkest Hour rulz, people.


Thing learned: kids do this thing now where they jump off the stage INTO THE CROWD, which catches them.


Later on, we learn how menacing sailors can be! The menacingness is made less so by the creepy hovering dude in the background, but it's menacing nonetheless.


Then we go back to Ocean City, where we took our chances a few months ago and got burned. NEVER AGAIN.


We stayed with Chaz, our friend/manchild who is turning into a beach bum.


Funcade Casino: you were on notice, and you got lucky.



Shenanigans: Ditto.


Shirt with half-naked lady posing alongside wolf: no problem.


Chaz making straw-sword to fight with 8-year-old at the next table while at dinner: good idea.


Heading to the bar after taking photobooth pictures: the best part of the beach.