A veritable smorgasbord of posting

Lots of random stuff today:

I don't normally link directly to my friend's blogs. I find them to be either way too emo (Jacob), incredibly nerdy (Emeric), or just plain worthless (Rob). But Scotty has had some particularly good stuff up lately, and his account of flying over the weekend is not to be missed.

I got a haircut on Monday. I have a big presentation next week, so I needed to look professional. It's shorter than it has been for a long time. I might admit it looked decent if I wasn't such a sellout.

Webcomics have increasingly become my addiction of choice, including a couple that are just too bizarre to not mention: White Ninja Comics and Dinosaur Comics. I've particularly enjoyed White Ninja Makes a Home Video and the Dinosaur Comic where the devil talked to T-Rex about the waning popularity of adventure games. Seriously, just check them out.

Call me crazy, but if I was picking the Pope, I would have gone with someone a tad younger than 78, considering the one who just passed was only 84. The newly christened Pope Benedict by all accounts seems to be in good health, but he suffered a brain hemorrhage in 1991 and seems to suffer from extreme pessimism. Apparently, one of the reasons he chose the name Benedict was because "Benedict XV, the last pope to have that name, had one of the shortest pontificates of the 20th century." Sources say, "I think he has a very keen sense that this may not be a very long pontificate and there's an awful lot to do." I give him 6 months.

Of course, if I was picking the Pope, I probably wouldn't have gone with an ultra-conservative, but I guess that's why I'm not a cardinal.

If you injured yourself while walking, it probably wouldn't be good advice to walk it off.

DuckFever is still sweeping the campus, except for a couple notable naysayers. (You have my permission and in fact my request to give them what for.) In fact, Keri and I have already decided to start The New Church of the Mighty Ducks. We don't really know what the church stands for besides having Connie Moreau and Julie "The Cat" Gaffney as symbols of the sacred feminine. We do have self-appointed positions, though. She's the High Priestess and I'm Keeper of the Cake. We told Andy to make one up and he had to go and best us all.

He's the Triple Deacon.

Brilliant.

Finally, ROBOT JOCKEYS!

Take the fall! Act hurt! Get indignant!

The Mighty Ducks series is the greatest sports trilogy of all time.

There, I said it.

You may ask, "Tim, what other sports trilogies are there?" To which I reply, "Uh...shut up."

Sometimes my college friends and I get on weird kicks where we really just want to do random stuff. We've been talking about a Mighty Ducks marathon for some time now and this past weekend, it finally happened.

I dubbed it "DuckFest '05."

The main reason it's taken us this long to get around to watching the movies is that they're pretty hard to find. Guess there's not a huge demand for them at Blockbuster, because we couldn't find them there. I bet they're not even released on DVD. I should start a petition... Anyway, Keri finally had to go to this HUGE place called Video Warehouse and get them. We watched the original on Friday night and the next two on Saturday.

I'm sure it's mainly because the movies are so ingrained in my upbringing, but I find them endlessly entertaining. Seriously guys, I love The Mighty Ducks. I love Averman and Goldberg and Jessie Hall and even the dudes from the first movie that didn't make it to the second, like Karp and Tommy and Terrie and that little New York punk with the leather jacket and sheriff's badge. And don't even get me started on how much I love Kenan Thompson. Finest comedy cast ever assembled, in my opinion.

And then there's the debate as to whether you're a "Connie guy" or a "Julie 'The Cat' Gaffney guy." As for me and my house, we are squarely behind Connie Moreau, but The Meez swears by The Cat, to the point of vocally berating Coach Bombay for leaving Goldberg in the game for so long. However, it should be noted that The Meez prefers the D2-era emotionally distant Cat as opposed to the out-of-her-shell D3 Cat.

This is the greatest post I have ever made. Mostly because only 4 people can understand it. And they were all at DuckFest '05.

Finally, I've determined that Ducks terminology needs to come back. The subject of this post was the battle cry for the Ducks' second game, when Bombay taught them to cheat. Hilarious. Also, I'm probably going to start calling a lot more people "cake-eaters." Turns out that phrase actually has a logical meaning, because it refers to those of the upper crust, stemming from the "Let them eat cake" phrase. Also, people in Minnesota still use it. Anyone from Edina, Minnesota is referred to as a cake-eater.

We were trying to think if we knew anyone from Edina. I thought, "Hmm...let me think of all the cake-eaters I know."

DuckFest '05. It was awesome.

Take that, big business guy

Hey, good news! Apparently, the strike is over. I assume this is true because I no longer see the old dudes sitting in their tent with signs on my way to work. The signs, the tent, and the old dudes are all gone. I suppose this could mean that someone was hired to bump them off, but I don't like to think about that. I prefer to think that their solidarity, combined with my daily "Fist Raise of Affirmation" truly brought down the corrupt bigwigs of wherever the heck they worked. Way to go, guys.

Did you know that Popes can name themselves? Seriously, after they become Pope they get to choose their name. It makes me wonder if Pope John Paul was a Beatles fan. But everyone picks such boring names. If I were Pope, I'd be Pope Batman the Destructor.

My Last Comic Standing win got a HUGE amount of Drake press. You can check it out here. Be sure to listen to my amazingly eloquent sound bite on gathering material.

Fate strikes again

So I just had maybe one of the best weekends ever.

I've already told you about winning Drake's Last Comic Standing, so I'll skip that. I got up early on Saturday to go to a Youth Ministry Seminar being conducted by my youth pastor. Well, not so much got up as awoken by a cell phone call from the people I was supposed to carpool with. Yeah, I've been pretty bogus about getting up on time recently. Anyway, the seminar was great, but I'm not to the really cool part yet.

Then I came back, took a much needed nap and met up with some friends for a senior BBQ. An old high school friend was in town and joined us. That was nice. Still not to the cool part.

After that came the big part of my night: opening for Kyle Cease. I was a little nervous because I hadn't had time to practice my act nearly as much as I wanted to (darn that nap!). But I went with what I consider my "tried-and-true" material (meaning I've done it maybe twice before), so I felt pretty comfortable with it. I made fun of the Relays theme (R.U.N. - Relays Uniting the Nation), talked about how I don't fit in cars, people who are against highway safety, why we still have a blind spot, and why cowboys ride off into the sunset. Maybe one day I'll transcribe all this stuff if you're really interested, but you probably get the idea.

Bottom line: it went really well. The audience, although somewhat stacked and sympathetic to one of their own, really ate up what I was giving. I don't want to say I killed, but...okay yeah, I killed. But here's the really cool part: Kyle, the headliner, was very impressed and complimentary. Right as I got offstage, he said I did a really great job. He assumed from my one-liners that I must be a fan of Mitch Hedberg, who was actually a close friend of his before his untimely passing recently. He said my libraries line actually had him in tears, and he doesn't laugh at anything. He also said, and this was the best part, if I wanted to do this and stuck with it, I could definitely "make it."

So I'm all aglow because this professional comedian thinks I'm good. I sit down to watch his set, which was really great. Apparently, he's been doing this since he was 12, and he's 27 now, so he knows his stuff. It's great because he can talk about generational stuff, like blowing in Nintendo cartridges and Sunny D commercials. Good stuff.

I went to talk to him after the show and get a picture with him and he had more good stuff to say. I kept trying to compliment his set, but he just wanted to compliment me. He asked me if this is what I want to do, and I replied yes, in a way. I want to be professionally funny, but I don't know exactly which route I want to take. So then he tells me that if I ever make it out to L.A., I should give him a call and he'll get me set up in some clubs. He said he's gotten a few people started out there and that I should think about it. We exchanged numbers and he said to give him a call next week to talk about my material and the life of a stand-up.

With my head swimming, I went to DICEfire, a bonfire for DICEY and DICEY-related peeps. There, I enjoyed great company, great S'mores, and smoke that made my clothes smelly. But I was floating, so I didn't even mind.

I really hate to sound like I'm bragging about how awesome I am, but it just meant a lot to hear from a professional that I've got potential. Now, am I going to drop out of school 4 weeks before graduation and go to L.A. to hang around seedy comedy clubs and wait for my big break? No. I'm going to wait until after I graduate. No, just kidding. Calm down, Dad. Second City's been my dream for a while and I'm not ready to jump off that ship before I even start. Not yet, anyway.

But did this weekend prove to me that my dream of being professionally funny is a reality? That I was created and put on this earth to bring joy to people through comedy?

Without a doubt.

It's official.

I'm the funniest guy ever.

Tonight at Drake, there was a stand-up comedy competition: Last Drake Comic Standing. About 8 students went up and did 5-minute acts and there was some pretty stiff competition. Some pretty funny stuff was said. The audience voted and 3 were picked to move on. Then those 3 did 3-minute bits and the audience picked a winner, who would be given the opportunity to open for Kyle Cease, the professional comedian performing tomorrow.

Well, I won.

For the first act, I came out and did some one-liners, then talked about NASCAR for a while. My second act was all about how I'm tall and don't fit in showers. I'd transcribe it, but it's really late and I have to get up wicked early tomorrow. Anyway, it was a great night. Lots of fun. Now I just have to get my act ready to open for a real comedian tomorrow night. It's kind of comforting because I know he's going to destroy me, but that's his job and he gets paid for it. I'm just there to have a little fun, warm up the audience, then get the heck out of the way. Pretty sweet deal if you ask me.

Man, I love making people laugh. I've got to find a way to get paid for it so I can do it forever.

Be strong, my eskimo friends

Every day on my way to work, I pass a big mail processing place. I think that's what it is - it's something to do with the Postal Service. I think. Whatever, it's a big building. Lately, there have been a group of employees on strike. They sit around outside the place with signs that read "Unfair Labor" and "Scabs Go Home." I have no idea what their beef is, but every time I drive by, I throw up a fist and nod as if to say, "Be strong, brothers." I doubt they see me and I doubt even more that they would care, but hey, solidarity.

In other news, the NESkimos are a great band that does metal-esque covers of old Nintendo songs. They're awesome if you're into that sort of thing, but don't play them on your radio show and expect vocals to come in. You'll be sorely disappointed.

Lastly, do you think book publishers are ever like, "LIBRARIES!!!" (shakes fist at sky)

A DICEY to remember

Monday night was an unusual, but memorable night at DICEY. The national champeenship game was going on (stupid Tar Heels...grr...) so our normal rehearsal space was abuzz with activity. A bunch of guys sitting around playing pool and watching the game, girls feigning interest but really gossiping with other girls who are not even pretending to be interested, and people studying (who DOES that?!) made the stage not a good choice for DICEY. So we did what any good improv troupe would do - we moved outside.

In the renovation of our quad that took place a few years ago, they put in a reflecting pool (which is still conspicuously empty) and this thing called an agora. It's very Greek in nature and has nice columns and whatnot. It's basically an outdoor stage that is very rarely used. Not once have I seen someone orate there. And that's a shame.

Anyway, it was really nice, so we went to DICEY in the agora, which was pretty fun. And after our performance on Thursday (in which we played pretty much every game we know), I felt pretty gamed out, so I thought the night was right for experimentation. Wait....what? Oh, no! Not that kind of experimentation! IMPROV experimentation, you perverts. We tried our hand at long-form and it was a great time. I taught the troops the basics of Harold-like editing and we just went at it. Nothing I would ever consider putting up for public display, but a fun experiment nonetheless. We got an inside look at a papal campagin that promised every mythological holiday creature their own place in Catholic canon, the true feud between robins and sparrows, and what happens when a character gets written out of reality TV. I think a few more nights at the agora will be in order before the semester comes to an end.

Here's the best news I've heard for a while:

Stryper signed to BIG3 RECORDS

The multi-platinum and Billboard charting legendary rock band Stryper have signed a multi-album deal with Big3 Records. The band will release their first full-length studio record since 1991 this year. The official release date will follow soon.

To hell with the devil, kids...

Get those scrolling fingers ready

I seem to recall promising a new sketch in my last post, so here we go. This is a longer one - not a blackout, but an actual, fully developed sketch, which gives the scene time to develop. This scene satirizes our beloved Sodexho, the food provider on our campus. Students love to complain about Sodexho and the unfair meal plans. One of their favorite complaints is that Sodexho doesn't let people use their board meals for anyone except themselves, so they can't share their meals with a friend. They also get mad because unused meals don't rollover to the next week and that the food generally sucks. This is a look at what would happen if Sodexho extended their tyranny to other areas of life...

(WARNING: POSSIBLY OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE AND YELLING AT SMALL CHILDREN FOLLOWS)

“Sodexho Preschool”

Setting: CrossBlocks, the Ultimate Preschool Experience

Characters: Sodexho Rep

Mother, Father

Two small children

(The Rep guides the two parents into the scene from upstage left. He is a master salesman, but not smarmy or arrogant. Just sincere and confident. The two children are playing with blocks downstage right)

Rep: And here we have the play area, where the children are allowed access to our many toy-related activities, which are both enjoyable and intellectually stimulating. And that about wraps up the tour. Can I answer any questions you may have about CrossBlocks, the Ultimate Preschool Experience?

(Mom and Dad are both hopelessly suburban and optimistic, still flushed with the excitement of being able to provide the best preschool money can buy for their first-born.)

Mom: Oh, I don’t think I have any. Everything just looks great. I can’t wait for little Dakota to see all this. She’s just going to love the finger painting area. I never knew there were so many colors of finger paint, did you, honey?

Dad: It boggles the mind, sweetheart. Say, I have a question. Have I heard that slogan somewhere before? It sounds awfully familiar.

Rep: Oh, you mean Ultimate Preschool Experience? You’re probably thinking of CrossRoads: the Ultimate Dining Experience.

Dad: Yeah, that’s it! CrossRoads! That was our dining hall back in college! Remember, honey? Say, this place isn’t owned by Sodexho, is it?

Rep: Guilty as charged! Our management system for college food service was so effective, we’ve branched off into many other areas with similar success. Sodexho owns paper manufacturers, steel mills, temp agencies, French prisons…

(alarmed)

Mom: French prisons?

Rep: Joking! Just a little inside joke!

(laughter from all three)

(laughter dies down)

We really do, though.

Dad: Oh, I see it now! Look honey, the play area is set up in stations, just like our old dining hall!

Rep: You are correct, sir! We’ve got a block station, a painting station, a doll station…stations to complement every style of learning and play. As we say around here, ‘If your child can’t find something they like, they’re probably autistic!”

(silence, shocked expressions)

That was inappropriate. I apologize.

Dad: Okay…let’s talk about payment plans, shall we?

Rep: Great idea, Mr. Schell. Let me just go get some paperwork…

(looks at kids playing, trails off)

Dad: What is it?

Rep: It’s nothing…just…just let me take care of something really fast.

(goes over to kids and whispers something. It’s stern, but quiet enough so that the audience doesn’t hear anything except maybe the word “sharing.” Returns to parents)

Sorry about that, just a little discipline to ensure the proper protocols are being followed.

Mom: What was that all about? Are those children doing something wrong?

Rep: No, not really. Well, yes…it’s just…oh, come on…

(goes back to kids and whispers again, louder this time. We can make out most of what he’s saying.)

No, look. These are your blocks. These are yours. No sharing.

(returns to parents)

I apologize again. You know kids! Never listen to a word you say! Ha ha!

Mom: I don’t understand, they just look like they’re playing. That boy is making a great block castle! Are block castles not allowed? Is there a ban on medieval architecture?

Rep: No, that’s not it at all. I assure you that all styles and eras of architecture are encouraged here at the Ultimate Preschool Experience. It’s just that…oh, SON OF A BITCH!

(storms over to children)

Mercedes, stop giving Quentin your blocks! Those are your blocks and he may not use them! NO SHARING!

Mercedes: But he needs them for his…med…medee…med-ee-val castle.

Rep: I don’t care about his stupid medieval castle! Nice vocabulary though. Gold star for that. But you know the rule about sharing!

Dad: What’s the rule about sharing?

(returns to parents)

Rep: There is none. No sharing allowed.

Mom: What do you mean, no sharing allowed? That’s important for kids to learn!

Rep: (becoming irate) Oh, who told you that? Some doctor? Dr. Spock, maybe? Bull crap. That’s what you get for taking child rearing advice from a Vulcan. What kids need to learn is a sense of ownership. We provide that. Your fees provide a weekly block allotment for the children. They get so many blocks per week and that’s it. If they were allowed to share, it would throw off the whole system.

Mom: Well, why don’t you let him have more blocks from the bin? There’s plenty in there!

Rep: OH, you people just don’t get it! Along with having so many blocks per week, they also have a limit on how many blocks they can use per day! Quentin has already removed his limit from the bin, so he’ll just have to make do with his incomplete medieval castle. Maybe he’ll have to make it a shanty. That’s life.

Dad: That seems like an awful lot for little kids to handle.

Rep: Yeah, well so is pooping in something other than their pants, but they get the hang of that eventually.

Mom: They’re not even good blocks! The brightly-colored letters are backward, they’re not even level and that one’s got sharp metal spikes coming out of it!

Rep: Quentin’s going to need that for the ramparts – helps keep away invaders. Look, I can assure you that our blocks are of the highest quality and besides, the children always have options.

Dad: But if your options are crap, crap, and crap, any way you go, you’re getting crap.

Rep: Well, that’s very clever, sir…OH, YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

(returns to the kids)

MERCEDES, YOU STUPID WHORE!! STOP TRYING TO GIVE QUENTIN YOUR BLOCKS! HE DOESN’T LIKE YOU! YOU’RE NOT GOING TO WIN HIS IGNORANT THREE-YEAR-OLD HEART BY GIVING HIM AN EXTRA BLOCK, SO JUST GET OVER IT!! THESE ARE YOUR BLOCKS AND THESE ARE HIS BLOCKS AND NE’ER THE TWAIN SHALL MEET!!

Dad: Jesus, who talks like that? This guy’s crazy!

Mom: Yeah, let’s get out of here.

(but they don’t. And the guy continues yelling.)

Rep: I WILL PUT YOUR HEAD ON A SPIKE! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I WILL TWIST OFF YOUR PRETTY LITTLE HEAD AND I WILL JAM IT ON A HALBERD! WE CAN PUT IT OUTSIDE QUENTIN’S CASTLE TO REPEL POTENTIAL INVADERS! HOW ABOUT THAT?! YOU’LL BE HELPING HIM THEN!! ALL BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T GET THE IDEA OF “NO BLOCK SHARING” THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL!!

Dad: Okay, that is it. We’re leaving! There is no way we’re sending Dakota to an environment like this. I don’t care how many finger paint colors you have.

Rep: (instantly calm and composed) Sir, wait. I’m sorry you feel that way about our policies, but the fact is that they’ve been working for many years. But I tell you what. We’ve been having a lot of complaints about our block plan policy, so I’ll have someone look into it.

Dad: (strangely placated) Oh, did you hear that, honey? He’s going to have someone look into it.

Mom: Oh…okay. But only because someone’s looking into it.

Rep: Great, let’s talk payment plans. We’re on a per week basis here, so your fees will get Dakota five days per week.

Dad: If we don’t use all of the days in one week, do the extra days transfer to the next week?

Rep: (pause) That’s ridiculous. We’re only open five days a week. Where would you use the extra days?

Dad: (pause) That makes perfect sense.

Rep: (takes a deep breath in order to launch into another loud tirade, but stops.) Oh, fantastic.

(blackout)

Josh, we forgot to name this one.

I thought it would be a funny April Fool's joke if I didn't post. But that wouldn't be so much of a joke as the continuation of a pattern. So I thought I'd break the pattern of the last week and actually post. Now that's a great joke. On you all. HA!

Anyway, I haven't recapped a vacation for a while, so without further adieu, I present:

WHAT I LEARNED ON MY SPRING BREAK

• Shark Valley features neither sharks nor is it a valley, making it the most inappropriately named Florida attraction since The Hooker Store. (It was for fishermen. Such a disappointment.) Shark Valley should be called Alligator Path, as it is literally a path through the Everglades where you ride bikes past gators that are 10 feet away. The lack of guardrails or precautionary measures of any kind make me wonder how it isn't called Lawsuit Lane.
  
  
• Look, someone has to teach your two younger cousins the rules of street fighting. It might as well be you. If you know the rules before your first street fight, you're miles ahead of the other gang. The rules, if you're curious, are:
• Keep your head on a swivel.
• Use your environment.
• Circle up and watch your mates' backs.
• Don't do drugs. They cloud your reflexes. Plus, they're bad. (When I got to this rule, my 12-year-old cousin said, "That's the first thing you've ever told me that has a positive influence." He's probably right.)
• Make sure your shoes are double-knotted. (Josh's contribution.)
  
  
• 5 airports in one day is far too many airports. But then, four flights is far too many flights for one day. The first two were fine. By the last one, I was starting to get delirious and actually started thinking about buying something out of SkyMall.
  
  
• When arriving in Atlanta, the flight attendant will not say "Welcome to Hotlanta, ladies and gentlemen," no matter how many times you ask. Neither will Ludacris greet you at the gate. This was a massive disappointment.
  
  
• If was a flight attendant last week, I would have said that the new Sony PSPs are very dangerous and I would have to confiscate them for the remainder of the flight. Then I'd play Lumines so much that I'd forget to serve drinks.
  
  
• People look at you funny when you pull a gamepad out of your emo purse to play Final Fantasy VII at the airport gate. Honestly people, it's one of the greatest RPGs of all time. Show a little respect.
  
  
• When you interview at a PR agency in a big office building in downtown Chicago, you have to get a visitor's pass to use the elevator. They misspelled my first name and put my last name first, so my pass said (I'm not making this up) "Ryder Time." I thought it was so funny, I walked right out the door. Didn't even go to the interview. No, I'm kidding.
  
  
• Leo Burnett, an ad agency in Chicago, has its own giant building. Seriously, it's huge and it's all for this one company. I want to have my own giant building one day, but I'll probably have to settle for just a house. I'll probably get a receptionist anyway.
  
  
• My brother's fiance loves holding hands with my foot. LOVES it. Wants to do it all the time. Seriously, it's annoying how much she asks me to do it. Josh gets jealous because his toes aren't like fingers.

All in all, a great spring break. A solid dose of Chicago comedy and South Florida opulence is a pretty good combination in my book. The next post will be quicker. I've got some sketches to throw at you.

Finally, I've got to say: Rest in peace, Mitch Hedberg. You were a funny guy and you'll be missed.

"Rice is great when you are hungry and want 2000 of something."

This is all I care to update.

Second City was hilarious, my interviews all went well, Chicago was frigid, the show I caught at ImprovOlympic was great, I flew to Florida, it's much warmer here.

Hope you're all enjoying your break.

Hey, I think I've finally sold out!

I'm writing this entry from a Starbucks.

I shall now pause while my street cred, dignity and wallet all simultaneously shrivel away.

They say that necessity is the mother of invention, but in this case, necessity is the mother of selling-out. I'm currently in Chicago for the first few days of my spring break and I have limited options for Internet access. I'm crashing at a friend's place, so I suppose I could use his, but that involves a lengthy process of installing SBC Connection Manager software. And once you get that thing on your computer, it starts getting all uppity and thinks it should manage every connection you try to make. Honestly. So pretentious.

And it seems that everywhere I go, these places that promise wireless Internet make you pay for it. Stupid T-mobile hotspots. That was the only way I could get on at my hotel last night and now it's the only way you can use connect at Starbucks. So I finally caved and paid money. Stupid free-market economy. It's not a bad deal though - only $6 for a 60 minute session. Cheap way to kill time before I catch the Second City etc show tonight with a couple Drake friends.

I have a couple "interviews" this week. I guess that's what you would call them. Can't believe I'm doing "real world" stuff all of a sudden. Looking for jobs, thinking about apartments. So bogus. I feel like I'm definitely done with this whole "going to class" thing, but I don't know if I want to leave college. Pres. Maxwell has threatened to not sign my diploma. That doesn't sound so bad these days. I could hang out, take all the classes I've always wanted to take. Eh, probably time for a change of scene anyway. New mountains to climb and all that.

I caught a little of Fight Club on TV today and nodded along with Tyler Durden as he ranted about material possesions and consumerism. Then I bundled up my laptop, flipped on my iPod, and went to the El station. So now I'm a sellout and a hypocrite. But I'm a sellout and a hypocrite that's going to Florida in a couple days. I'm okay with that.

The Vandals. No, not the band. The bad kind.

I love living in a college residence hall. The atmosphere of having a bunch of crazy kids living on their own for the first time in their lives is often intoxicating, both literally and otherwise. I love that I can go visit friends without going outside, because I'm both lazy and thin-skinned. Also, having someone fix my meals and clean my bathroom is awesome.

Unfortunately, that last perk only applies if you're allowed to get in your bathroom, which, for the last week, I have not been able to. I got back from a Saturday night of rabble-rousing (which for my circle of friends usually implies board games. We're a wild bunch.) to find a sign on my bathroom that read "Due to excessive vandalism, this bathroom will be closed until further notice." Apparently some jerk just went in there and tore up EVERYTHING, which is quite an accomplishment.

I responded with a note on my white board that everyone walks by on their way outside. I thought I tempered my bitter rankor with self-deprecation quite well:

"To the idiot(s) who vandalized the bathroom,

Congratulations! Your childish exploits have inconvenienced an entire floor. You should be very proud. Not that I couldn't use the exercise, but I prefer floor hockey to walking downstairs to use the shower. Now even more people will be forced to see me without a shirt on. Trust me, this is not pleasant for anyone involved. But hey, thanks for the good times. Hope you had fun.

Now feel free to grow the hell up."

I felt better after that, but I really do have to go downstairs to shower, which sucks. What's weird is that the bathroom I'm now forced to use has a symmetrically opposite floor plan as my usual one. So I feel like I've stepped into some bizarro, alternate universe. Which I guess would mean that instead of tearing up the bathroom, people actually deposit their paper towels in the trash and actually pee IN the toilet. Ah, a guy can dream...

"Hit Me, Mike - I'm Open! Come On! Pass the Ball, Mike!"

Saw the Drake Theater Production of "Pippin" this past weekend. It was a 60's-influenced musical documenting the life of one of the sons of Charlemagne. This surprised me, as I went in with the impression that it was about the former Chicago Bulls power forward. But it turns out he spells his name Pippen, which should have tipped me off. But I was really looking forward to some of the musical numbers I imagined. Here's the song order, in my mind:

"Man, Pro Basketball is Hard."
"Living In Michael's Shadow."
"Three-peat, Foo!"
"Come Back, Michael. You Suck at Baseball."
"Three-peat Again, Foo!"
"You're Letting Kukoc Take the Last Shot? Forget It, I'm Out."
"Forever the Wingman."
"Trade Me, For the Love of God"
"I Play for Who Now? The Trailblazers?"
"I Miss Michael."
"Geez, the End of My Career Sucks."
"Come On, ESPN! I'd Be a Good Analyst!"
"Whatever Happened to Me?"
"Man, Pro Basketball is Hard (reprise)"

I smell Tony...

Or maybe a Tony...

An existential crisis

My pocket watch has stopped ticking. This upsets me greatly. I'm sure it's just an issue with the battery and easily fixable, but I love my pocket watch. I love it to the point that I think I have some sort of symbiotic relationship with it, which makes me worry that now 1 of 2 things will happen:

1) I will stop aging completely, much like Dorian Gray.
2) I will die.

I'll keep you updated.

Chanting Cherry Coke

Okay, great. Glad to see the fake tribute album issue makes you as mad as it does me. No no, I don't want your pity comments. Save them for some otha sucka.

I was shopping for groceries this weekend at SuperTarget and was in the juice aisle looking for Gatorade, because that's the only thing that sustains me sometimes. I looked up at the huge hangy sign they use to tell you what's in each aisle. I've loved these signs in the past because they use code words for sensitive items. You know, like "Incontinence" for adult diapers and "College Drinks" for alcohol and "Feminine Hygiene" for those terrible items that exist just to gross me out.

Okay, so "College Drinks" was invented by Strong Bad, but I needed a second beat to make the rhythm of the joke work out.

But on this day, I saw a category I had never seen before. Right in the mix with "Sports Drinks" and "Juice Boxes" and "Pure Sugar Drinks for 5-year-olds" was (and I'm not making this up)

"New Age Drinks"

What the crap are New Age Drinks? Is it like "Meditation Dew"? Do you drink it and suddenly ethereal, tranquil music begins to play? If it was Orbital's "Halchyon & On & On," I'd buy the entire lot, but I highly doubt that's the case. (The Hackers soundtrack is still awesome, I don't care if they use Macs to hack.)

I looked in the aisle, expecting to see those huge cans of Sobe tea or something, but didn't really see much of anything, except for some weird drink called "Izze," which I just assumed was Snoop Dogg's new energy drink.

In other news, I may be going crazy. I'm talking to myself a lot more these days. When I got to the Gatorade, I literally had this conversation aloud. With myself:

"Geez, this is their Gatorade section? There's like one six-pack of Glacier Freeze! Oh, you know what it is? The girl's state basketball champeenship is in town. They probably took it all...my God, I'm so lonely."

Then I laughed in the New Age Drinks aisle for two minutes straight.

A tribute to this post...by Flickerstick

My life has been so much better ever since I bought Kidz Bop 7.

Okay, I'm lying. It's actually been going steeply downhill. Okay, I'm lying again. I didn't really buy Kidz Bop 7. But I could have, which bothers me. It seems there are quite a few stupid trends in music right now, and I'm not even going to waste my time with the obvious ones like Clear Channel and the NOW series.

I've been really confused with the recent rash of tribute albums. Now, I'm not complaining about the traditional view of a tribute album: a bunch of bands each covering a track by a well-known artists. That's cool. I hear the Police tribute album is amazing. I'm even cool with alternate versions of entire albums. I'm particularly fond of the Strung Out series, where a string quartet plays arrangements of popular songs. I enjoy studying to Strung Out on Jagged Little Pill, and my brother swears he's going to use songs from Songs You Have Come to Love the Most in his wedding.

What bothers me are these new-fangled tribute albums where an unknown band covers every song off an album that was released less than a year ago. Have you seen these? They're usually stocked in the same section as the artist they're covering and they say, "A Tribute to Sum 41." And it's the exact same order of songs as the Sum 41 album, only the band playing IS NOT SUM 41! I'm not making this up, people! Look, some dude made a whole list of them. 3 Doors Down is on there, Justin Timberlake, even Ludacris! I didn't even know you could cover rap songs. How do you put your own stamp on rhythmic talking?

I have a few questions:
1) How is this even legal? Don't the artists own the rights to their songs and who can cover them for a profit? Or do the tribute people get around it because they record in Canada?
2) Who the crap buys this?! Is there really someone out there who thinks, "I simply can't get enough of the adorable pop-punk stylings of Sum 41. I really think I'd enjoy hearing their entire album covered by someone OTHER THAN THEM." I have to assume people are buying, because there's a lot of them. I'm so freaking confused.

I want some unknown blogger to cut and paste this entry to make a tribute to me. That would be rad, but they would have to be from Canada.

Got Legalism?

I got kicked out of a function this weekend.

Let's pause for a moment. Okay, now read that sentence again.

I don't think I've ever been kicked out of anything in my entire life, but it happened this weekend in grand fashion. Let's flashback to Friday night.

This year, I've been fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of a couple of nice girls who go to Drake. Both of these girls were homeschooled, yet surprisingly social and well-adjusted. (They break a lot of the normal stereotypes.) And apparently in Des Moines, there is this consortium of homeschoolers called The Network, which plans social events and brings in teachers to teach chemistry so the parents won't have to blow up stuff in their own kitchens. You know, cool stuff like that. I've been obsessed about this organization for a while, mostly because of the cool name. The Network. So cool.

At any rate, last Friday The Network held its annual formal. This is an excuse for high school-aged Networkers to get all dressed up and have a prom-like event of their very own. (Albeit under very strict rules. I heard the girls' dress straps had to be at least three finger widths wide. Those are some wicked wide straps.) So they go have a nice, formal dinner. But there's no dancing. Because dancing is "like having sex standing up," according to one local pastor. (Actually, the way our generation dances, he's not that far off.) But they do have an afterparty, which we crashed.

My friend Keri (the former Networker) convinced Raph and I to go visit her sister at the afterparty, so we drive out to a local church to see what we can see. What we can see is the church's gym, stocked with food and soda and fun afterparty-type events. (Apparently, Dance Dance Revolution is not a sin, whereas for-real dancing is. A strange distinction that I suppose comes from a lack of pelvis-on-pelvis contact.)

We see her sister and are talking to her for about 30 seconds before we attract the attention of a chaperone who comes right over and asks, "Are you in The Network?" like it's a Freemasons meeting or something. Right away, Raph says no, I say yes, and Keri says, "We're her ride." So right off the bat, we've screwed up. (We're the worst party-crashers ever.) So this lady won't leave us alone, telling us we can either take her with us now or come back later, but making it pretty darn clear that we're not welcome.

It should be noted that I knew this lady. I didn't know her personally, but I knew the type. If you've ever known a mom that goes around calling neighborhood kids heathens, you know the type too. (Josh, you know who I'm talking about specifically.)

At this point we've pretty much attracted the attention of every chaperone in the place, due to our extreme tallness and our obvious age. (In retrospect, my plan of claiming to be in The Network was seriously flawed.) So we make our retreat to the hallway outside the gym and continue talking to Keri's sister, but they follow us out there. So we finally admit defeat and head to the car, only to be followed THE ENTIRE WAY OUTSIDE by a dad who tucked his tie into his shirt. We laughed all the way home.

Now, I can understand that this was a closed event and they didn't want us crashing their party. That's fine. But you should have seen this lady's face when we walked in. She was nervous beyond belief, like we were going to pull knives or secular rock music from our pockets. Or maybe deal drugs and impregnate their daughters just by looking at them. And trust me, the three of us were about the least threatening characters that could have tried to crash the party. I can't imagine what her reaction would have been if I had anything pierced. Probably would have passed out in shock. It's this kind of Christian-bubble, shut-out-the-world-and-shelter-your-kids, praise-the-Lord-and-pass-the-ammunition attitude that gives homeschooling a bad name. Which is really too bad, because, if done for the right reasons and done correctly, is not that bad of a thing.

Anyway, that's my story for the weekend. Hope you slogged through it. Read it through Gizzogle - it's probably funnier that way. Everything is. Sorry, I just can't stop doing that.

Other people are much funnier than me.

Thanks for all the kind words about the speech, everyone. I'm glad a lot of you thought it was funny. Trust me, it's even funnier when viewed through Gizoogle, which is quite possibly the funniest and most ingenius site I've seen on the Internet for a long, long time. How they figured out how to do what they do is absolutely beyond me, but I try not to question what is obviously a miracle of Internet comedy.

Here are some of my other favorite sites filtered through Gizoogle:
(Warning: may contain language that some find offensive, but many others will find hilarious.)

CNN Headline News

Internet Movie Database

Josh and Allyn's website

Oh, that's good. I would also like to briefly take this time to introduce you to the greatest trend in music today: Kidz Bop. It seems that there is a huge market in this country for the NOW hits, resung by some studio singer who kind of sounds like the original artist, backed by a large group of kids. I don't know why we haven't thought of this before. Listen to their cover of Modest Mouse's Float On, then if you have iTunes, listen to a bunch of samples from their new album. This stuff is gold, people.

I made a speech!

Hey everybody. Sorry for the lapse in posting. I've been pouring most of my creativity into this big speech I had to give on Saturday. It's the time of year when we invite a ton of smart kids on campus and have them compete for big scholarships. I say we make them fight to the death, but they just do essays and interviews and crap. BO-RING!!

Anyway, after all that rigmarole, they go to a nice luncheon, listen to some speeches from the president and a current scholar, and get a medal. Yippee. Well, this luncheon would be different, because I was asked to speak. It was my goal to, as they say, drop a train on 'em. And, I may announce modestly, a train was indeed dropped. It was very well-received, so I thought I'd post the text of the speech, in case there are some of you that just can't get enough of my writing. Some of it is blatantly promotional, but there's some good jokes intermingled throughout. The text is posted in the replies, because it would take up way too much space on the main page.

Hope you like it blah blah blah.

I'm prolific at writing short things

Here's another blackout for you. Again, a little Drake-centric, but since the last one was so universal, I thought maybe the collegiate lust for diversity would be as well. This one might ruffle a few liberal feathers, which I'm totally okay with. I'm an equal opportunity offender. This one employs the tried-and-true comedy tool of "bait-and-switch." Ah, the old bait 'n' switch...

“Freak Show”

Setting: On campus

Characters: Two Drake students: Becca and Steve

(The two students are walking on campus, but they initially give no impression in the scene as to their location. They enter excitedly, pointing at stuff.)

Becca: Ohmigosh Steve, hurry up! Can you believe this?

Steve: Wow, is that a sword swallower? I didn’t even think people did that anymore!

Becca: Yeah, and look at that! A real-live flame-eater!

Steve: A snake charmer…

Becca: A Bat-Boy…

Both: AND A BEARDED LADY!! *laughter*

(pause)

Becca: Man, Drake sure is taking this diversity initiative seriously.

(blackout)

First sketch, best sketch

Well, I finally made myself sit down and commit some of the thoughts in my head for my sketch comedy show to paper. I thought I'd let you in on the process and see what you think. This first sketch is just a blackout, which means it's a short, one-joke scene used to break up the action between longer sketches or for pacing purposes. Again, I don't know if this will be funny to non-Drake people (or even to Drake people, for that matter), but I'll just say it deals with our Health Center's tendency to come to the same diagnosis for every presented symptom. Enjoy, and let me know what you think. And remember, this is meant to be performed, not read, so try to visualize it onstage.

“Health Center”

Setting: American Republic Health Center

Characters: Receptionist/Registered Nurse Practitioner/Not-a-doctor, Female Student

(Nurse is standing behind reception desk. The waiting room is empty.)

Nurse: American Republic Health Center, how may I help you? Yes, you’ll need to schedule an appointment. Okay, thank you.

(Female student enters frantically. She is limping from some injury, but still trying desperately to run. She is very scared and panicked.)

Female student: OH MY GOD, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP ME!! It’s the squirrels…the squirrels have banded together and they’re hunting in packs! My God, they’ve turned against us! They’ve developed a taste for human flesh!! I thought I could get away, but they got me! There…there was just too many of them! My God, they chewed right through my leg! I think I can see the bone! PLEASE GOD, HELP ME!!

Nurse: Okay, just calm down, young lady. I think I’ve seen something like this before. Now please just be honest…is there any chance you might be pregnant?

(blackout)

This is huge.

Possibly the proudest moment of my entire life happened last night. First, let's rewind to last semester. As the MDCRSTNOLT, I get a lot of cool indie music sent to me in hopes that I'll play it on the station. One such CD was by a band called Sunday Runners. I gave it a listen and really dug the CD, but one track in particular entitled "Memories Left at Sea" stuck out. It was a groovy, quirky track with a great upbeat organ part. I pushed for KDCS to add it, and it spent a couple months on our playlist last semester. I think we just dumped it last week to make room for some new stuff. I kept the CD and still listen to it.

Fast forward to last night. I'm in my room, watching my tape of Thursday's "O.C." A scene comes up with Marissa and Summer talking in their room. Then the opening strains of a very familiar organ part begin to waft through the background. The moment I heard the vocals come in, I paused the tape, leapt up out of my seat, raised my hands over my head, and took a celebratory lap around my single. "The O.C." used Sunday Runners' "Memories Left at Sea." Do you have any idea what that means?

I scooped "The O.C."

The TV show with THE hippest, most indie soundtrack today, the show that has raised the bar in terms of cool TV soundtracks, the show that has received as much press for introducing kids to Death Cab and The Thrills as any storyline...and I scooped them. By a good three months.

I have achieved Music Director nirvana.

I may not have changed the radio station all the much in my time there, but I can say that I scooped "The O.C." (Last semester, I scooped "One Tree Hill," but who really cares about them?) And that is all I need. I may retire satisfied.

Thank you very much. Good night.

The chick and rhino must die

Hey, anyone see Bright Eyes play on The Late Late Show the other week? He smashed a really expensive guitar and the trumpet player smashed his instrument too. Way to represent, band geek. After the break, Craig Ferguson surprisingly sat Conor Oberst down at the desk for a brief interview. Not surprisingly, Conor gave the WORST INTERVIEW EVER. It was funny though. Check out the link to it here.

As someone who watches cable when most of the world is sleeping, I feel an obligation to report on certain things that go on, just so you (the world) can be aware. And I've noticed a disturbing trend. But not just in the amount of spoiled rich kids having riDONKulous parties and having MTV tape them for posterity. That's just "Super Sweet 16," a show I hate in ways I can't even begin to express in The King's English.

No, the trend I am speaking of is the recent increase in the amount of commercials for stupid ringtones and other cell phone add-ons. We're talking a SHARP increase here, people. Two months ago, there were none. Now I swear there's at least one every break. Are people that attached to their cell phones? Do they really watch these commercials and think, "You know, I just haven't been happy with my cell phone, or really my life for that matter, but I think having a shadowy animation of some dude playing basketball in the background of my cell will help. Yes, I will pay five dollars for it."

But the worst are these freaking commercials with singing creatures. Spike the Rhino or Squeaky the Chick or Sparky the Anemic Elephant pops onscreen and starts to sing the most annoying song you can imagine. It's as if some skeezy ad exec was trying to imitate a Top 40 song but inexplicably made it worse, wrote terribly cheesy lyrics about how you REALLY SHOULD ANSWER THIS CALL SERIOUSLY, I'M NOT JOKING YOU SHOULD ANSWER IT, and then had it recorded by Theodore from Alvin and the Chipmunks. Just Theodore, mind you, because he's the least talented and therefore the cheapest.

So we have the most annoying song in the world, sung by the most annoying animated character ever created. You would think this is just some clever ploy by a rival network to get you to change the channel to their station, but no. THEY ACTUALLY WANT YOU TO PAY MONEY TO HEAR THE SONG AGAIN. AND AGAIN AND AGAIN. In fact, they would love it if you had this song play every freaking time your cell phone rings. Unfortunately, not all of us can actually have the character sing to us when it rings. For those of you with less advanced cell phones, you can get the same basic song in mono or poly tones, so the most annoying song ever is played in tones reminiscent of early Nintendo. Think "Bad Dudes" era and you're close. The sad thing is that reducing the song to boops and beeps actually improves it.

But the saddest thing of all is that people actually buy them. People have to buy them, right? Otherwise they wouldn't be on the air anymore. Although the makers have shown so little sense up to the airing of the ad, the results of the campaign are probably far from their concern. I get the sense that these are people who are disappointed that they missed the Hale-Bopp Comet the first time around.

Wait, I think one of the spoiled rich kids on MTV just had their cell phone ring and it was the "Spotty the Leprous Zebra" ringtone. I really despise my generation sometimes. By the way, boys of America, please stop popping the collars of your Izod polo shirts. You look stupid. You really do.

Hello Facebook, goodbye productivity

My life as I know it is over. My free time has all been filled. Any thoughts I might have had about being productive or making something of myself this semester have long been banished.

I've joined Facebook.

For those of you who might not know what Facebook is, you're probably not in college. Or at least not at my school. Because here...good Lord. You can't get away from it. The day Drake was added to the offical Facebook server was as if God Himself came down and said, "Behold, I have given you the ultimate procrastination tool!" Everybody started talking about it and they haven't stopped since. Some of you might be looking at this thing for the first time because you followed a link from my profile. If so, um...hi. Take your shoes off at the door and don't feed the robots, okay?

Oh right. Some of you still might not know what the crap I'm talking about. For you blessedly ignorant souls, you can check out the site here and read a very helpful article about the phenomenon here. That should get you up to speed on the most addictive college fad since Snood.

I actually held out for almost two weeks after Drake was added to join the F-Book. (Sometimes I call it the F-Book because we're cool like that now. Sometimes I call it the devil incarnate. But that's only when I want to use its true name.) Sadly, one of the main reasons was because I didn't have a good picture to use. And your face is, coincidentally, a fairly integral part of the Facebook. Finally, I had my friend scan in a picture and I cropped it so it was just me. I even used my new free photo editor to edit out my redeye because, as is the case in most pictures and in most of my waking life, I looked freaking high. (The editor is made by Google, by the way. They're taking over the world. And I love it...)

Hence, the new picture to the right of these words. Probably up a little too, by this point. If you could see the rest of the picture, you would see the amazingly talented and strikingly handsome boys of Copeland from when I saw them open for Switchfoot last year in Ames. Switchfoot probably doesn't need their own link at this point. You should know who they are. Those sell-outs.

So anyway, I have a new great way to waste time. Because...that's just what I needed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to confirm 428 people as my new friends and also ask to be in the "Drake Students Advocating the Construction of Underground Heated Passages Between Campus Buildings" group. Because they wouldn't let me into the Drake Chapter of "I Just Tried To Ford a River and My F#@%ng Oxen Died."

And yes, that is a reference to Oregon Trail. 'Tis the glory that is Facebook.

Rock 'n' poker

Upon This Rock

Check out this article from GQ, of all places. Probably the most honest appraisal of Christian rock and Christian music festivals I've read for a long time. It's somewhat long and the font is small, but it's worth the read.

So I won at poker at last night. For those of you keeping track, that brings my poker record for the year to 2-0. Four of us at the table to start, playing mostly draw and Hold 'Em, but straight Hold 'Em at the end. Raph got screwed on two good calls when Jim made a flush, then a straight. I think Emeric just got bored because you can't conquer countries in poker, so went all-in and got knocked out. Then it was down to me and Jim, who had a substantial chip lead. I won a few good pots, as did he. Then we both went all in with four diamonds on the table. He had a King-high flush. I had an Ace-high. It. was. freaking. sweet.

Telling that story made me feel like a pale imitation of Wil Wheaton. I also fear I am developing a mild gambling addiction. I've only played poker twice this year, so it's still obviously mild. But I fear one more victory will send me over the brink.

So...wanna play? We can throw out terms like "gut-shot straight draw" and "sailboats." And also, I'll win your money.

Master Ninja Theme Song!

Hey kids. Sorry I haven't talked at you in a few days. Been busy and all that. Let's see if we can catch up with a series of well-organized, bulleted talking points:

• The Powers That Be have approved my thesis proposal. I am officially writing a comedy show for my senior Honors thesis. My dad has already dubbed the project "the greatest scam I've ever pulled." I couldn't be more proud. I'm going to try to work on a couple sketches over the weekend. If I come up with anything worthwhile, I'll post them for you guys to check out. I still can't believe how awesome this is.
  
  
• Speaking of awesome, I saw Bill Cosby live in concert last Saturday night. Man, that guy is amazing. Just stood on stage and told stories for two hours - had the audience in the palm of his hand the entire time. And without swearing or resorting to toilet humor, the guy just killed. That's why he's one of my comedic heroes. I think we could all take a lesson from him. *looks in Scott's direction*
  
  
• Being the music director of a college radio station that no one listens to does have occasional perks, like meeting HUGE celebrities. Yes, I have met Mo Rocca, who is hilarious and quite possibly the smartest guy I've ever met. Or at least has the biggest vocabulary. The guy was throwing out words like "endomorph" like it was nothing. I also did a telephone interview with Joan Jett during the Iowa primaries when she was stumping for Howard Dean...and we all know how that turned out. You can check out my brushes with fame here.
  
  
• Speaking of the radio station, I'm doing a radio show again this semester. Our refurbished studio is simply too sweet to not get my hands on, so I'm going on Sunday afternoons from 3-5. I'm calling it "The X Factor - the best of what you're not hearing and the good stuff you don't hear enough." Basically two hours of what I think the station should sound like all the time, had I my druthers. You can listen (and watch me, thanks to our new in-studio camera) online, but the Drake network has been sucky lately and the stream has been choppy. So don't complain if it's bad, but do try to check it out here.
  
  
• I am vehomently opposed to the production of The Mighty Ducks 4. The Mighty Ducks is the greatest sports trilogy ever made - why mess with a good thing? Come on, Disney. I mean, if you want to make another Witch Mountain to finish up that trilogy, fine. But leave the Ducks alone. This has nothing to do with any event in the last few days, but I just felt I needed to express that opinion.
  

Okay, I'm out. Be excellent to each other.

Like sand through an hourglass...so goes water through a dam

So...my brother's getting married....that's crazy.

Can't say as I didn't see it coming. He and his girlie have been hurl-inducingly cute for each other for a while now. But it's still kind of a crazy thing to think about. Don't get me wrong, I'm beyond happy for them, hella happy in fact. (My minute-long episode of fake vomiting was just my way of dealing with the news. Plus, I promised them I would.) It's just that big news like this makes you step back and take stock in your own life. And I hate doing that. So thanks a lot, kids. I mean, congratulations and all, but seriously, thanks a lot.

I thought I'd take a cue from my blog friend Rob (he's my real friend too) and wax poetic on the passage of time.

A few weeks ago, I made a fort.

No, not some sort of metaphorical fort to shield me from the rapid onset of adulthood. I'm not that deep. A real fort, made from couch cushions and sheets. I really don't know how it happened. I was hanging out with a few friends after an apartment party. The theme was a hipster dance party, so The Shins and John Vanderslice were on heavy rotation. There was fondue and fruitshi (fruit sushi) and people were having college drinks. It was a great time, and quite the adult-ish party.

After everyone cleared out, I was going to help the ladies move their furniture back to its original positions when it happened. I don't know who brought it up, but someone half-jokingly suggested that we make a fort. The four of us immediately latched onto the idea and spontaneously reverted back to little kids. We moved the couches, draped some sheets, and got a couple candles for light (our one adult exception. We weren't trusted with fire when we were 4. Probably a good idea.) We probably spent an hour in that fort, telling stories and being ridiculous. Eventually, we had to leave and return to our near-adult lives and do near-adult things, but for a brief time, we were kids again. It was one of the best times I've had in a while and it was a memory that I'll remember for a long time.

So I guess the moral is this...spend some time in a fort soon. This one can be metaphorical, I guess, but it's better if it's real. Life is too short to be adult all the time. Getting married is a very adult thing to do, but it's cool because then you always have someone to build a fort with.

Well, I should get started on writing my best man toast, because I'm already under a lot of pressure to deliver the most hilarious toast ever. I hope the happy couple is okay with Robert Goulet delivering their toast...

GOULET!