Friday, April 21

Lost Friday - Mediocre Edition.

Call now!

Another Lost Friday is upon us. We have nothing to discuss.

Seriously, this post has almost nothing to do with Lost; I'm just cashing in on the brand, so to speak. Feel free to hang around, though. I did, however, find out that the name of the season two finale will be called, 'Live Together, Die Alone,' so don't say that I didn't give you any news today. Next week's Lost Friday will get you all set with everything you need to know about the remaining episodes of the season.

For those of you who show up solely for Lost Friday, you should know that six days out of the week, I'm talking about other stuff on here. Usually better stuff. Who knows? You might just find another reason to come here besides hunting for shirtless photos of Jin and Sawyer. The things that people search for never cease to amaze me. If you want to catch up on the CDP, click on the 'First Time Here?' link at the top of the sidebar. You'll thank me later.

Call now!

So, what did everyone do with their Lost-free Wednesday this week? Me? Well, I got a lot done. There was a new Mythbusters on, along with the American Idol results show. I wanted to use yesterday to catch up on a slew of TiVo'ed Supernatural episodes I've been meaning to watch, but to no avail. Then I watched the Brewers game and fell asleep on the floor. It was really something special; I can cross a lot of things out of my day planner.

Call now!

In car accident news, the Missus is able to rent a car on the dime of the dude that hit her, so she's currently speeding around the city in a new Chevy Cobalt. As you would naturally assume, she hates the damn thing with a passion. The early projection is that her '99 Taurus is totaled, so I guess we're going to have to start looking for a new car. As I've said before, if we could afford a new car, we would have bought one by now, so if anyone wants to go ahead and purchase a new car for the Missus, shoot me an e-mail and we'll talk. Her neck is feeling a little better.

Call now!

Let's talk about beer for a second. In the beautiful city of New Glarus, the New Glarus Brewery manufactures my absolute favorite beer in the history of mankind, the Tail Wagger Barley Wine. For those out of the loop, Barley Wines are viciously strong beers, about 12% in some cases (read the article in the link). If you prefer wine over beer, a good Barley Wine is a gateway to enjoying brews just as much. Also, it will floor you after one bottle.

Anyways, the folks at the brewery apparently had a problem with the bottling of their last batch of Barley Wines. From what I can gather, the distributor sold a 6-pack for the cost of a 4-pack, and when the stampede was over, the New Glarus folks barely broke even on the sales (Barley Wines are a bit pricey). This caused a shutdown of the manufacturing of the Tail Wagger, and the rumor is that it might never be made again. This hurt me deeply.

Quickly, I got in touch with a beer expert I know who has connections. The plan was to buy out every remaining bottle of Barley Wine in the state. With New Glarus being a local brewery, Wisconsin is the only place where this brew exists, and we were running out of time. After weeks of phone calls and writing checks, we each got hooked up with a case of what could be the last bottles of Tail Wagger ever made.

Call now!

My goal is to ration out these bottles over the course of a lifetime. Only certain special events and circumstances will be 'Barley-worthy,' and I'm not sharing with anyone, ever. My plan is to drink 14 bottles tonight, and when I wake up from the coma it will be 20 years in the future, when they will have found a way to clone the precious Tail Wagger for worldwide consumption. I've got it all figured out, and nobody's stopping me.

This weekend; not entirely sure what's going on. Post a comment or send an e-mail, and if I'm not busy I'll show up at your party. My rates are reasonable and I'm always open to new things.

Call now!

I feel like I'm forgetting to say something. Oh yes, Evangeline Lilly was in a sex line commercial from years ago that still airs on late night TV. This is incredibly funny to me; I actually saw it for myself a few weeks ago. I can hear the phone calls now, "I want to talk to Kate! I want carte blanche!"

It goes without saying (and I don't want to ruin your fantasy), but if you expect to talk to anyone even vaguely resembling Kate (who's no prize pig, to be quite honest), you will be sorely mistaken. I do bet that the company gets a lot of calls from guys who want the ladies to act out Lost fantasies with them, and that helps me sleep a little better at night.

Call now!

Maybe we'll find out on Lost that the phone sex lady Locke was talking to in season one was Evangeline Lilly, pretending to be Kate, whom Locke wanted to be addressed as Helen, the woman he lost at the hands of a con with his father. Man, this show has so many twists and turns! I'm going to pitch that to the writers; maybe they'll buy my wife a new car.

Not only is next week the last week of April, but it's another '5 posts in 5 days' stretch here at the CDP. I'll be kicking next week off with an essay that rocks so hard I had to roundhouse kick it into quarters. It is an all-true quadrilogy that I'd turn into a movie if I had the good sense to make some serious cash. Come on back; you don't want to miss 'oot:

Monday - Love Tha' Player, Hate Tha' Game (Part 1).
Tuesday - J. Crew & The Mystery Girl (Part 2).
Wednesday - Brace For Impact (Part 3).
Thursday - Three Strikes, You're In (Part 4).
Friday - Lost Friday - Clip Show Edition.

Thursday, April 20

Katharine McPhee Watch - Volume 6.

Katharine McPhee and 5 losers.

92,000 people auditioned for American Idol this year.

There are now 6 singers left, and Katharine McPhee is one of them.

Just thought you might want to know. Here's some quick thoughts concerning this week's installment:

Rod Stewart seemed like a nice enough bloke, but I still cannot stand most of his music. It looked as if he spent more time trying to be funny than actually helping the contestants nail the songs. In his defense, he really had nothing to teach the contestants, and he said that himself, which was quite introspective and humorous. I'm glad that Taylor Hicks got a kick out of his SNL sketch; it was pretty hilarious. If I ever become a flash in the pan popular enough to be spoofed on SNL, that will basically allow me to die in peace. Since I was 6, I've wanted nothing more than to host that show. Chris Daughtry and Katharine McPhee are two of the best contestants AI has ever had; if they end up in the finals together, the earth might finally fall into a constant state of peace and unity...until we nuke Iran and subsequently get vaporized. Paris Bennett had a good night, but the act is wearing thin and she's up against two other women who snag more votes. Singing standards is in her wheelhouse, but everything else makes her look like an amateur. Kellie "I can't believe these fools keep voting for me" Pickler should be sent packing next week, if we're lucky. Every week, I cringe on the couch each time she opens her craw, certain that anything and everything she says will be idiotic and embarrassing. Elliott Yamin is still the best technical singer on the show; I hope he sticks around as long as possible. His overall look and appearance, although just fine with me, might stunt his progress in the show. Hopefully he can keep picking good songs that showcase his prowess over the rest of the pack. Ace Young looked like a greasy small claims lawyer ('Have you been injured in an automobile accident? call Ace!'). When you lose the hair, you lose the fans who like you for your looks and are willing to overlook your shortcomings. He's like a modern-day Samson.

Happy 4-20, duuuuude! Lost Friday arrives tomorrow...or does it?

Wednesday, April 19

My Last Day On Earth.


Sometimes, I'll have an idea for an essay that bores me about halfway in. I'll do a decent job on the opening act, but get sick of the concept and scrap it right then and there. This happens to me all the time, leaving me with a Word file brimming with half-finished ideas and rubbish.

This is one such unfinished story. Actually, it's a direct plagarism of an episode of The Simpsons, but what isn't?

For April fool's day, I wanted to write an essay about my last day on earth; what I'd do, so on and so forth (see? I'm bored already). In thinking of a circumstance that would give me 24 hours to live on relatively healthy terms, I used the old Fugu trick, immortalized by The Simpsons many a year ago. It was because of this blatant rip-off that I chose not to continue with the story, but still wanted to share the introduction with you. I don't like to give up on posts, no matter how uninspired and weak. Consider this post the Blogger equivalent of a B-side or rarity.

Here then, enjoy the first and only act of 'My Last Day On Earth.'



I should have known better than to prepare the Fugu myself.

According to the doctors, I ingested a lethal amount of toxins when I ate the poisonous fish for dinner last night. I went straight to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do. They say that by 9pm tonight, all my muscles will atrophy and paralyze, and I'll eventually suffocate. They told me to go home and enjoy what little time I had left, and have my wife contact them once I keeled over for documentation purposes.

I was so proud of myself when I caught the fish, considering that Fugu isn't remotely native to this part of the world. I wasn't really even fishing; I hit it with my car on the way home from work. I considered this a sign from above, so despite my oath of vegetarianism and eating poison, I made an exception for this miracle Pufferfish. The Missus did not partake is this venture, and chose to eat rice and beans instead. For that, we are both grateful.

I had never prepared a fish to eat before. I remembered watching my Dad do it when I was younger, and it all seemed so effortless and second-nature. The Fugu's scales are rock-like in nature, and after dulling all of my knives in the process, I opted to swing it around by the tail and beat its head against the refrigerator for several minutes. After my arms got tired, I threw the whole thing into a pot of boiling water, stirring in a stick of butter and a tablespoon of Mrs. Dash.

It tasted like heaven.

My wife kept looking up at me, shaking her head in clear disgust. "I can't believe you're eating that crap," she would say. "If it doesn't kill you, I will."

"You don't understand!" I fired back. "This is a sign! I was meant to eat this fish. You just wait and see."

10 minutes later, she drove me to the emergency room. We took her car, and I threw up four times on the way; once into her air conditioning vent by accident. Long after I'm gone, she'll think of me every time she turns on the heat.

After some embarrassing tests and an unnecessarily stern lecture, the news was broken to us. We were too shocked to cry or be angry, so we just drove home and didn't say much to each other along the way. We got home at 11pm, and finally sat down to talk about the situation. We worked out all of the depressing details, and I got to work making a list of all the things I wanted to do over the next 22 hours.

I fell asleep making the list, and we both woke up at 10am the next day.

(As a closing to this post, do a Google image search for 'delorted' and see what pops up. Fantastic.)

Tuesday, April 18

It Ain't Fiction.

Screw you, Roger Rabbit.

In February of 1990, the pop music world was shaken, or at the very least, uncomfortably altered, when 'Opposites Attract' by Paula Abdul rocketed to the top the charts for three straight glorious weeks. 'Opposites Attract' was Abdul's 4th top 10 hit from her debut album, solidifying her as a pop music sensation for the remainder of the 1990's and to this very day. She has since won 18 Grammys, been nominated for 3 Oscars, donated over 100 million dollars to the ASPCA and once delivered a baby in a taxi cab.

Perhaps more importantly, 'Opposites Attract' was remembered mostly due to its groundbreaking and trendsetting music video, where Abdul dances and interacts with an animated MC Skat Kat. Not at all ripping off Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, one of the greatest movies ever made, the Gene Kelly-esque number wowed the MTV generation and set couches ablaze with the obvious sexual tension between Abdul and Mr. Kat.

More like MC Sex Cat.

Rumors surrounding their relationship reached a fever pitch when Kat was spotted engaged in a fistfight with John Stamos outside of the Viper Room in June of '91. After photographers snapped the two in combat, Stamos was suspended from the set of Full House for three days without pay. From that episode of Full House forward, Paula Abdul's poster was no longer displayed in the bedroom of Stephanie and DJ Tanner.

Everywhere you look!

As we all know, Abdul went on to release two more hit albums, before landing her current gig on American Idol. MC Skat Kat, however, started hitting the inhalants pretty hard, and can now be seen working the door for a Chuck-E-Cheese in downtown Beverton, Oregon. John Stamos went on to marry Rebecca Romijn, only to have her leave him for the fat kid from Stand By Me.

Here then, the reason for this post.

As a bit of a wordsmith and a stickler for consistency, I've always had a problem with the famous chorus to 'Opposites Attract.' Particularly, the following lines:

Ms. Abdul - 'I take two steps forward,'
Mr. Kat - 'I take two steps back,'
Both - 'We come together, 'cuz opposites attract.'

Think about that for a second. Assuming that they were facing each other, if person A (Abdul) steps forward and person B (Kat) steps back, how do they come together? In reality, they would end up the same distance apart from where they started. Let's go to the chart for this one, shall we?

It's all coming together now.

Now, the only way these chorus lines could be correct, is if MC Skat Kat wasn't facing Paula, essentially stepping backwards into her arms. This is not only a ridiculous concept, but it's far too gay and submissive to even be considered by someone as egomaniacal and misogynistic as Mr. Kat.

That way, after taking their aforementioned steps forward and back, they would indeed end up together. They really should have thought about this more when her and Mr. Kat were writing the song together.

After 16 years, I'm finally able to speak my case about this and let it go. I hope you're singing this song to yourself for the rest of the day.

Monday, April 17

Lonely Crashing Lonely.

Rear Ended.

This is the Missus' car.

Well, at least it used to be. Allow me to explain.

First off, I want to let everyone know that she's okay. I took her to the hospital immediately afterwards, and although she has whiplash, the doctors say it should heal by the end of the week. She's laying very still on the couch as I speak, popping Advil and icing the back of her neck. I guess with whiplash, tomorrow's going to be hell, but if it's a normal neck injury it will get back to normal soon thereafter.

Now, here's what happened.

We both had today (Monday) off; she was headed to an allergist appointment at 8am and I was sleeping on the floor of the living room. Easter ran a little late last night and we were both a bit exhausted. The plan for the day was to clean the house and check out some homes for sale in the area when she came back from the doctor.

On the way to the allergist, the Missus exited the highway and stopped at a red light in the left turn lane. When the signal changed, she was looking around to see if anyone was coming so she could turn. She heard a squeak and looked into the rearview mirror just in time to see a Jeep Liberty's grill smash into her back end at 35 miles an hour. Microseconds before the crash, she had the amazing sense to put her hands behind her head, arrest-style, which probably spared her from a much worse neck injury.

When the Jeep hit the back end, her head snapped back and went forward into the steering wheel; her car rear-ending the one in front of her and so on. The Jeep that hit her didn't break at all; there were no skids anywhere near the site of the accident.


The Missus, upon assembling her bearings, got out of the car with the full intention of killing whomever was behind her. Full of adrenaline, she made her way back to the Jeep to see a frail, handicapped man, not a day under 80 years old. This fool actually told her that not only did he see her and not even think to hit the brakes, but that it was his third accident in the last 3000 miles with this newly-leased Jeep. "This time, they'll take my license," he mumbled; she tells me that she could barely understand what he was saying.

The Missus called the cops and then called me. I arrived on the scene a few minutes after the police, who had actually dealt with this man in the past. They exchanged insurance information and all that wonderful stuff, before getting a tow truck on the scene. The Jeep smacked the fuel pump on the Missus' car, essentially totaling it for the time being. Considering the damage to the trunk and body, the early reports state that this car is totaled, period.

Old Jeep Guy got a ticket, and will most likely lose his license; which should have probably happened years ago. He was properly insured, so here's hoping we won't have to pay a dime. They'll even cover the medical bills, towing costs and whatever else has to happen with the car. Sadly though, the Missus is in a lot of pain, we're short one car that we'll probably never get back, and buying a new one isn't really something we wanted to do anytime soon. That all being said, with all the things that could have gone wrong today, we're focusing on all the things that went right.

For example, we get to drive to work together for a while. I always like that.


The car's at the impound lot right now, waiting to be checked out by a claims adjuster. We're going back and forth with the insurance agency right now, making sure we're doing everything we can to settle this as soon as possible. I'll keep you updated.

If you have any questions, comments or concerns about this, sound off in the comments section. Send any well-wishings to the Missus in there, too. Thanks.