the Dark Horse Gets His Roll On

Sean was kind enough to host a poker night tonight. It has been Entirely Too Goddamned Long since such an event occured; my vice-like memory is telling me the last time was over at Aaron's when I met Sean for the first time was before Halloween. Anyway, with Aaron & Team Steve Big Unit Omar in tow we went into Mission Valley to have the game.

For some reason when Sean gets involved the game is quicker than usual--maybe because people get eliminated but instead don't buy back in. Omar gets bounced off of his buy-in in the first half-hour, and Aaron gets it going against both Sean and his roomate the half hour after that. (I don't blame him for being pissed to the nth: he had pocket fives and the board came up like 3-6-7 by the time the turn happened. Guess who kept 4-5? Guess who else?)

Me?

I'm doing very well. Playing the way I want to, and doubling my money off of a flush (a King to another roomie's Jack) sure helps things out. Aaron gets snarky about me raising pre-flop, but people tended to fold and increase my chances of holding a superior hand. I didn't pre-flop raise anything blow-it-out-your-ass ludicrous but enough to make people define "I'm playing this hand because it's good" vs. "I'm playing this hand because it's not costing me shit".

Another roomate busts out and it's down to three-handed. I'm a little more nervous because usually I play against fuller tables. I know I'm not in the lead, so it's another cause for worry. The blinds double, too. (My idea, but they didn't have to say yes!)

This is when it happens.

I get suited muck, but play it 3-handed. a) I've been playing pretty tight even 3-handed because 2) I've been getting a metric shitload of slop I'd never even touch at a fuller table. (I actually ended up getting quad QUEENS on a hand after it played all the way through--because they folded a pre-flop raise. Queen in the flop, and on the river. BAH!) Flop comes with two more clubs, four to the flush. At this point I'm either barely in second or slightly ahead--I wasn't looking at Sean's chipstack probably because it would've depressed me. From the 80 cent big blind I bump up to $3. It's called by G. I'm a little nervous, but then the turn comes Ac. The mother of all flushes. So what do I do?

Bet another $3.

Then put him all-in on the river. And get called.

Aaron said he was waiting around for me to lose? You might want to wait for the Titanic to make the dock, too, son! Two hours (two hours!) after we'd begun, we split up the pot since Sean and I are the sole survivors. He gets $27. I get $43.

Best.

Poker.

Game.

EVER.

Omar and Aaron, who've been sitting around most of the evening watching me take in cash like a bank, aren't as happy as I am when we're gone. It's not even midnight, so I suggest going over the bridge to Mission Beach and I'll buy them some Cold Stone to distribute the wealth of victory. We get there, but no dice--they close at midnight or eleven or some shit. Even with the game breaking up early we were on the road about quarter to midnight. Fingertips away. Aaron calls Merilynn, who's favorite watering hole is in the vicinity, and as I heard a wise woman say in Swingers "you shouldn't leave without getting something for free". Omar, who's been up the last 20 hours less the catnap in the car on the way, comes along with us.

Aaron can't get to Merilynn via cell, so I do what any person of my impressive stature would do at a moment of crisis like this--I close my eyes, clasp my hands together, and make a facial expression like taking a shit to get her outside.

Within 2 minutes.

Omar will back me up.

Just that fast.

Me = 0wns

It turns out (this will not surprise anyone who's heard me talk about Merilynn in the glowing adjectives I have) that she's friends with the bouncers and whatnot so instead of being lumped in with the hoi polloi we get in the VIP line and roll in in about five minutes paying triple 0, Mr. Dufresne, if you please.

Me = 0wns. Merilynn = 0wns th3m a11

So, it being a popular place on Saturday night a bit after midnight, it's wall-to-wall. It's packed with people dancing and somehow my Spidey sense gets me and Omar through the hustle and bustle to where I dimly remembered seeing Merilynn and her cute friend Rica through the window. So I go back for Aaron, who's been in the bathroom, and I knock over a guy's drink.

It could've been a moment.

But me being me and the roll I'm on tonight, I just buy him a new one. Heineken. I'm dimly familiar with that substance.

Omar, tired and dressed down, plays the wall. Aaron...plays the wall. I do a little light dancing and am encouraged to hear both "There It Go" and "Gold Digger". But we're only in an hour before we get Last Called out. WTF? 1:15 is last call in this joint? That'll drop it a letter grade. Cute girls, though. I was trying to hook one up with Aaron, but no dice. Hey, I got my own problems to fry on that front. 99 problems, you know the rest. Made some friends--surprise. Merilynn & Rica had gotten started way before us and ducked out while I was doing the footwork. But I do owe them.

Omar & I swear to chase bitches together in the future. I think it'll be a real team bonding experience. And if Aaron's good, we'll let him get some of our ricochet action.

Since the Giants/Cowboys and Steelers/Bengals games are on early and Clerks is about to do my scene, time to get the seven hours of beauty sleep and...ugh...prepare for work.

See, into every life a little rain must fall...

This post is brought to you BAH: "Walk Of Life" by Dire Straits

AvB: Friday Barometer

ALBA: Three completely different songs that are awesome in their own ways: Franz Ferdinand's "The Fallen", the G-Unit song headed by Yayo "I Know You Don't Love Me"...and Mariah Carey's "Get Your Number". Shut up.

BUSH: So hungry.

ALBA: Dad's cooking, which means it's an early bird dinner before I go coach Team Steve to victory again tonight--chicken, salad, potato. Awright.

ALBA: The New York & Company posters featuring Eva Longoria. If someone could pilfer me one or four of them for Festivus I'd be quite the grateful sideshow freak.

ALBA: I've got my top 25 songs of the year--just wondering when I should post the list.

BUSH: Ms. S is vacationing in Miami this weekend.

ALBA: So I'll try to take her out next weekend. Persistence in all things. Unless they're really hard.

ALBA: I'm about ready to start writing again. Sick and depressed as I was the past few weeks, the clouds've really cleared.

BUSH: They canceled Reunion! I was halfway watching that! And the Curse of Amanda Righetti sadly continues...

ALBA: I found Candyman's "Knockin' Boots". How did I ever live without the Internet!?

ALBA: Oprah on Letterman last night. I'm not a huge Oprah fan or anything, but it was clearly important to Dave to get her back in the chair after almost 17 years and it showed in a really good, insightful interview--of course, this country is overrun with mouthbreathers and it probably got ½ of Leno's ratings. But that's why I'm filled with such vitriolic rage bordering on psychosis! It makes for such entertaining blogs! And would you love me any other way?

BUSH: I still don't know what I'm doing for New Year's. I pray I don't have to work, or at least too late.

BUSH: I'm a little behind on the shopping. Next week's payday, though, so I'll begin rectifying it there.

ALBA: I'm way too excited for next month: Scrubs comes back, and so does 24! Seriously, in '08 I'm writing in a Palmer/Bauer ticket. Terrorists will long for the glory days of Abu Ghreib with that combo.

BUSH: Holy shit, there's a cop chopper moving past the complex with somebody barking out something or other over a loudspeaker. I might could be on the news! Oh, don't let this guy be black don't let this guy be black...ah, fuck.

ALBA: Pardon the Interruption!

This post is brought to you BAH: "Grindin'" by the Clipse

KWBR

ZERO:
"Outta Control (remix)" (11)
"Wake Me Up When September Ends" (15)

15) My Chemcial Romance ¤ Ghost Of You (debut)
14) Common ¤ Testify (8)
13) Weezer ¤ Perfect Situation (debut)
12) Fall Out Boy ¤ Dance, Dance (12)*
11) Coldplay ¤ Fix You (9)

10) Franz Ferdinand ¤ Do You Want To (10)
09) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull ¤ Shake (13)
08) 50 Cent ¤ Hustler's Ambition (4)
07) Chris Brown feat. Juelz Santana ¤ Run It (remix) (14)*
06) the All-American Rejects ¤ Dirty Little Secret (7)*

05) Black Eyed Peas ¤ My Humps (5)
04) the White Stripes ¤ My Doorbell (6)

03) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx ¤ Gold Digger (1)

02) Pharrell feat. Gwen Stefani ¤ Can I Have It Like That (3)*

01) Juelz Santana ¤ There It Go (The Whistle Song) (2) [2w]

This post is brought to you BAH: "I Wish" by Stevie Wonder

AvB: Friday Barometer

BUSH: Guess who's got a one-day weekend? Everybody else in the house is good and off, of course. Hate on my job. Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate.

BUSH: I'm missing Danny's party tomorrow, and the rematch between my alma mater and our inbred moronic pigfucking rivals in the playoffs tonight.

BUSH: Still have to see Walk The Line, and Harry Potter and His Magic Wand or whatever it is. Oh, and Shopgirl, if it's as good as the book. Lousy movie theatres--why can't I wait until next summer and buy the DVDs!?

ALBA: Payday...ish. Time to start chipping away at the Christmas list.

ALBA: That goes for y'all, too.

ALBA: Thanksgiving. Stuffing and pasta and rolls and apple pie a la mode and collard greens and mashed potatoes, oh my!

BUSH: No three-cheese Au Gratin potatoes! Terrorists haven't won, my ass.

ALBA: This Texas/A&M game is real good. I'm sort of rooting for something to fuck up the BCS, of course. I think on my list of things I hate, the BCS is somewhere between Dick Cheney and chicken salad.

BUSH: The stupid drunk nigga who got arrested at Denny's, railing about his order and how his hat got disrespected at 3 in the morning on Thanksgiving. Grandmaster Flash 3:16--don't push me, 'cause I'm close to the edge... and this is why I have to bust my ass at 150%.

ALBA: Partying with my 3 best friends Wednesday night.

BUSH: I thought it would've been a little crazier, to be honest. It was about a 6, 7 tops. I'll make it up to you next time, Amanda, I swears it.

ALBA: My top 25 songs of the year are done--except which one is number one. I may have to split the vote like I did in '03.

ALBA: Tuesday a DJ played "Cool It Now" by New Edition, followed by "Motownphilly" by BIIM. OLD SCHOOL~!

ALBA: The Boondocks has been approved by yours truly, and for my non-colored brothers, you can laugh at the nigger jokes. Not that loud, though. *shakes fist*

BUSH: That reminds me, how the hell is the busiest financial day of the busiest financial time of the year named Black Friday?

ALBA: As Jen & KRS-One have seen and Rob's said, I did meet a girl online this weekend. It's part of the agony and joy of being home Saturday nights when you're sick. Anyway, she's 21, majoring in marine biology, blonde, into hip-hop, loves vodka and Fight Club, and has what has been described as a killer rack. Got the Orangio Seal of Approval and everythang. Anyway, I sent her a message Saturday night, she replied back in a couple hours, and we are what the Biz would call started talkin', getttin' familiar/Spendin' a lot of time so we can build up /A relationship or some understanding. Clearly, she is not a stranger to brothers spitting at her, but they are Poser Mobile and I'm motherfucking Verizon. And as much as I'd like to skip the pretense and propose I know she's gotten burned in the recent past (I paused for 5 seconds to shake my head. Boys are stupid.) so I'm just going to slowly build things up between us. But yeah, on the 1 to 10 she's a certified 20.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, how did we ever get along without the Internet?

ALBA: You'd better look out, because I'm gonna say fuck.

This post is brought to you BAH: "Rockin' The Suburbs" by Ben Folds

See, Now It's Just Getting Ridiculous

You're
already
number
one!

Yeah, she's had a decent year.

This post is brought to you BAH: "Welcome Back" by Mase

Mamacitas: November '05

1. Jessica Alba
2. Trish Stratus (2)
3. Angelina Jolie (3)
4. Shakira (6)*
5. Eva Longoria (4)
6. Jennifer Love Hewitt (9)*
7. Stacy Keibler (8)*
8. Salma Hayek (7)
9. Jessica Biel (15)*
10. Rachel Bilson (20)
11. Brooke Burke (5)
12. Josie Maran (12)
13. Summer Altice (11)
14. Halle Berry (10)
15. Assa Guerass [™ Orangio Productions] (17)
16. Sofia Vergara (13)
17. Katherine Heigl (27)*
18. Shannon Elizabeth (25)
19. Charisma Carpenter (34)*
20. Jennifer Walcott (21)
21. Kim Smith (14)
22. Beyonce (18)
23. Carmen Electra (16)
24. Nikki Cox (30)
25. Sarah Shahi (22)
26. Jessica Simpson-Brungardt (28)*
27. Gabrielle Union (38)*
28. Alyssa Milano (40)
29. Lacey Chabert (35)
30. Elizabeth Hurley (24)
31. Adriana Lima (32)
32. Gail Kim (re-entry)
33. Monica Bellucci (23)
34. K.D. Aubert (26)
35. Jenny McCarthy (36)
36. Ali Landry (37)
37. Kristanna Loken (19)
38. Esther Baxter (33)
39. Kelly Hu (re-entry)
40. Mya (39)

ALSO RECEIVING VOTES:
Grace Park, Kristen Bell, Eliza Dushku, Mariah Carey, Cindy Crawford, Michelle Trachtenberg
DROPPED FROM RANKINGS:
Pam Anderson (29), Rebecca Romijn (31)

This post is brought to you BAH: "Girl" by Beck

The Lost Weekend

• So.
• Thursday the Net was just being uppity, Friday it continued to be this way. Thus, my Barometer post went up around dinner time instead of lunch. But by that time, I was already out of the house.
  I'd been looking forward to seeing Jesus Is Magic ever since I'd seen the trailer during the leadup to the Aristocrats. Part of it is because Sarah Silverman's hot, and part of it is because she seems to be one of the few-standups left who works blue to make a point instead of working blue because Richard broke the door down. So I went to see it, and it was probably the funniest movie I'd seen all year. It's a limited release, so if you can, hurry up and go. I think the birth control line's worth $7 on it's own, and in the hour and a half you should find some other joke or 37 to make up the difference from there. Plus, the hot mirror scene at the end, which went from ha-ha funny to ha-ha-uh-oh real fast.
• Get home. Modem doesn't work at all, apparently. Replacement tomorrow. All right, fine.
• Pay some of my big-ass cell bill with my pissant check. Go to work. Natalie, as I write this, is still a road apple. If I'd known that would've been the result I wouldn't've paid. What good is text if you can't get any? Come home and find out they couldn't change it out, so someone's coming (today). Had I been on on Saturday, you would've seen this at some point:

THANKS, THAT WAS FUN:
"Play" (11)
"Brand New" (13)
"Unbreakable" (15)

15) Green Day ¤ Wake Me Up When September Ends (9)
14) Chris Brown feat. Juelz Santana ¤ Run It (debut)
13) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull ¤ Shake (12)
12) Fall Out Boy ¤ Dance, Dance (debut)
11) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep ¤ Outta Control (4)

10) Franz Ferdinand ¤ Do You Want To (7)
09) Coldplay ¤ Fix You (10)
08) Common ¤ Testify (8)*
07) All-American Rejects ¤ Dirty Little Secret (14)*
06) the White Stripes ¤ My Doorbell (2)

05) Black Eyed Peas ¤ My Humps (5)
04) 50 Cent ¤ Hustler's Ambition (debut)

03) Pharrell feat. Gwen Stefani ¤ Can I Have It Like That (6)*

02) Juelz Santana ¤ There It Go [The Whistle Song] (3)*

01) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx ¤ Gold Digger (1) [3m]

• What's making things more frustrating is between my cold and everybody off for the 3-day weekend, I can't get into a zone where I can write something, anything for the novel. I can't come up with some necessary bridge to get me into February, even though I do have some options. I literally sat here Saturday night for 45 minutes. Thought of stuff, subplot ideas. Chucked the lot.
• Yesterday I walked around, and that actually helped a bit to get ideas. Was able to finish out the month, at any rate. I think one thing I think I like the Internet over TV--especially on weekends--is everything replays forever on TV. I was flipping the dials, looking for something to watch. (It was the hope something seen on TV would spark me to get something else down, but instead it just reaffirmed Eva Longoria is hot and Veronica Mars is a good show. Nice, TV. Nice.) I saw Eddy Guerrero, and thought maybe Telemundo had rerun SmackDown. Since I'd missed it going to see JiM, I was psyched.
  

Then I saw it was the news station.

The last wrestler I saw on the news was Owen Hart.

I've been watching that cursor blink for 3 minutes trying to get my head right. It's why I'm not watching RAW right now--the last time I cried before the terrorists was RAW is OWEN and I'd much rather not have history repeat itself. I keep thinking maybe I can unlearn what I know, that maybe if I don't watch, Eddy will be all right. I know it's wrong. I still hope I'm right.

What it is, is that Eddy Guerrero was a perfect wrestler.

I love watching Samoa Joe hit the shit out of people. I hope I never hear him talk. It'd sort of ruin things for me.

I love watching Monty Brown cut a promo. Oh, sure, it's bingo: Alpha Male Serengeti POOOUUUUUUUNNNNNNCEEEEEEE....period. I don't want to see him wrestle a match longer than 2 minutes.

Eddy...

Eddy was a whole different story. Eddy would make you care about the match. Then he'd go out and put out a good one. If you were lucky, it'd be a great one.

It didn't matter which side of the coin Eddy was on, either. In fact, towards...what's the end. Shit. Jesus. Towards the end he was working with Batista. The plan was originally for Eddy to play babyface and turn even more dickish heel. There was only one problem: nobody wanted to boo Eddy Guerrero. So they remained an Odd Couple tag team. In fact, Eddie might've been set to win the injured Batista's title last night due to the big man's injury.

Who knows. Who can say.

Eddy was so popular he had to pick on the smallest wrestler on the roster and go after his family to get jeered. And that was only by most--people still cheered, anyway. It was Eddy, for god's sakes. What sort of self-respecting fan who thinks independently is going to boo a wrestling god like Eddy Guerrero?

It started with one simple, shirt-friendly motto.

Lie, Cheat, and Steal: It's A Family Tradition.

So he and his cousin Chavo--before he became that thing that he is now--did. They did all 3 of these things. A funny thing happened on the way to heel heaven: the fans began cheering. Both of them deserved credit, but it was usually Eddy leading the charge. Whacking the opponent with the chair, then ditching it and pretending he got hit, too. Throwing them the foreign object and holding his head so they'd get DQed. Fake clap tags. Tight-pulling. Fake injuries, fake illness. It was hilarious. It was brilliant. This is how they evened the odds. And after a while, nobody cared about them being "bad". It was all about what were they going to get away with next. And how? Had we seen it? Was there going to be some new trick out of the bag to knock us all on our ass? It was great.

Jump a couple months. For the first time, Eddy got pushed as a #1 contender. We all thought the same thing. "It'd be cool. But it'd never happen in a million years."

I was busy with my first date that night when I got home and found out.

15 minutes past a million years.

Little Eddie Guerrero was the WWE Champion.

WCW had screwed him over, and the WWE hadn't done much better by him despite the beloved Latino Heat character. But Eddie Guerrero was the WWE Champion?

Anything and everything seemed possible now. A world where I dated and Eddy was allowed to run with the ball--what an age we lived in. It was rumored he'd cracked due to the strees and his daily fight against alcohol and drugs he'd been in since '01, but it didn't stop us from loving Eddy any less, didn't stop us from watching his matches--

--and this is what kills me. I saw Los Guerreros once, against the World's Greatest Tag Team. December '03, if I'm remembering right. They were slowly turning Chavo heel, but as of tonight Eddy was still riding shotgun in the lowrider with him. Chavo started the match.

And everybody--everybody--was chanting for Eddy. Of course we were. We were just a wrestling crowd; that was Eddie Fucking Guerrero standing on that apron, in the heart of the real new Mexico. And Eddy, as he always did, made the crowd work for him. He looked out at us.

He began to chant for Chavo.

What else could we do? Us, wrestling crowd. He, Eddie. We chanted for Chavo. And then, some group came up with an entirely different tactic. I remember it for the innovation. I remember it for the uniqueness, because I never heard another crowd chant it. I remember how perfect it was on both the level of the match and in the long-term storyline.

We chanted...for Guerrero.

In my mind's eye, I see a lot of Eddie right now. I should be crying. It just makes me smile, honestly. I remember the smirk, the evil look he had on his way to the epic Halloween Havoc match against Rey where he was getting nuclear heat--because that's what the news showed last night--, the Scarface-style shirt I got after that date didn't lead to a happy ending (THANK YOU, BEN MORROW), the Guerreros coming down to the ring in the Sports Arena, the slingshot senton bomb...

...and the last thing.

...during Vengeance a few years back ('03?), Rhyno had run down to the ring. Instead of spearing Eddy, he speared his then-partner and longtime friend of Eddy Chris Benoit. Eddy covered up as much as he could, suddenly realized he hadn't been hit. Rhyno roared. Eddy shirked back in fear two steps. Rhyno left. Eddy looked at Rhyno departing, looked down at Benoit (still down), then looked at the center camera and gave a perfect "Fuck it, I'll take it" look complete with shrug. All those little things made Eddy awesome. But even more than that I remember now, is him flying through the air with the frog splash.

Once upon a time, Eddy had partnered with a man named Art Barr. They were the biggest heels in Mexico, quite possibly in lucha history. Eddy turned heel and renounced his heritage. This wasn't America, where our idea of getting back at you is a sign and the word "BOO!"--this is fucking Mexico, where lucha is treated like a sport, and little old ladies swing purses at you when you fall in the front row and their grandsons, if they're feeling particularly vengeful, come at you with a knife.

One day before a show, they called Art Barr's hotel room.

He didn't answer either.

They found him dead, too.

32.

That's obscene.

Enlarged heart, too.

After his death, Eddy changed finishers.

Rob got higher. D'Lo got more air.

But nobody ever, ever, did the frog splash better than Eddy Guerrero.

What happened to his partner happened to him, you could think. But Eddy at least got to taste the fruit of his labor. He got to shine. And we all loved him for it.

All I know, is that if heaven exists, Eddy and Owen are making the most devious tag team in wrestling history in the ring and laughing with the angels outside of it.

I guess what I'm saying is I should pick up Cheating Death, Stealing Life.

Because the obvious is sort of hard. Eddy was one more for playing on subtleties.





So, that's where I was.

Orale.

AvB: Friday Barometer

BUSH: The man himself, for using Veteran's Day to blast anti-war critics. If only the Daily Show was on Fridays.

BUSH: This fucking cold. There's no NyQuil in this house, and I can't sit down and get any major work done going snerk snerk snerk ptooie every 12 seconds. I'm so far behind now, and at the end of last week I was well ahead of pace. I had all this week off to do work, and of course I get sick on Monday. Unbegoddamnlievable.

BUSH: The NFL schedule sucks Sunday.

ALBA: Hopefully by the time I get in from work tomorrow there'll be some cold medicine and instead of vegetating in front of the tube Sunday I can try and make up all this ground I lost. I do have some ideas for the next few diary entries, if my head didn't hurt so much.

BUSH: Poker Room's kicked my ass this week--I'm down to like $50k from $70k in the past week.

ALBA: The Beasties have a best of CD out, for everybody who didn't get the Sounds of Science.

BUSH: My off-again on-again Internet access the past 36 hours.

ALBA: Sarah Silverman's Jesus Is Magic, if I can muster up enough to see it tonight. Godless Sudafed.

BUSH: *snerk* *snnnnnnerk* *ptooie*

BUSH: And, of course, down goes the Internet!

BUSH: No Team Steve game because of the holiday--I hope they don't obsess over last week.

BUSH: Found out the hard way Natalie's off today, and got a voicemail about it. They know I tend to pay every other Friday, and that today's a Friday, and a national holiday--why even bother? And didn't I have you fudge packers stop sending me notices?!

BUSH: *snerk* *snnnnnnerk* *ptooie*

BUSH: I'm so bored and incapable of doing anything good I'm thinking of scuttling together a Festivus wish list. Some good stuff coming out--that new Office Space, season 2 of Scrubs...

BUSH: All my fantasy teams suck this year. I think I broke up the Patriots. Next year I'll just save myself the trouble of a season like this and just call myself the Saints.

BUSH: A check that wouldn't cover my bank and cell bill.

ALBA: 30 hours next week. That should stem the bleeding. Plus, Christmas buying presents time.

BUSH: I dread the second job I'm going to have to take for December. Is there any opening in the Playboy Mansion I could fill in on?

BUSH: Why, of course this is going to take 3½ hours to post!

This post brought to you BAH: "Dream On" by Aerosmith

Post-Teenage Fan Club

1. Post a list of your 10 favorite fandoms.
2. Have your friends guess your favorite character from the fandoms in the comments.
3. When guessed, bold the pick, give said friend a point, and post about why you like that character.

1. Scrubs (Rob: Dr. Cox): Less a man than a god. And I say this knowing I look like, and generally act like Faison.
   
2. Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back/Dogma/Chasing Amy/Mallrats/Clerks (Max: Jay): The man quotes N.W.A., smokes weed, hangs out with guys bigger than him, and never shuts up ever. Plus, he got to kiss Shannon Elizabeth. Nooch.
   
3. Fight Club (Dustin: Tyler Durden): No fear. No distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly side. And in the midst of a near-crippling depression, a new dating philosophy is born that saves my ass.
   
4. Seinfeld (Rob: George): George is my favorite, obviously, because he suffers the most and still lives with his parents, thus leading him to usually have the best rants and quips on the show as he tries to find a painless suicide. This is where I got "I believe in God for the bad things" from.
   
5. Garden State (Dustin: Andrew): But only because I couldn't bring myself to say I wanted to be Natalie Portman instead of I wanted to do Natalie Portman.
   
6. Office Space (Rob: Michael Bolton): The man introduced the phrase "no-talent assclown" to the lexicon! And "federal-pound-me-in-the-ass prison"! This is the least of what I could do for him.
   
7. Kill Bill v.1 & 2 (Rob: the Bride): She kicked everybody's ass. The End.
   
8. Family Guy (Rob: Stewie): I don't exactly think I'm alone in this. Let's just say I don't have a Meg Can Grow Her Fingernails jacket that everybody loves--I have a Victory Is Mine jacket. God help you guys if I ever memorize that you-are-the-weakest-link-goodbye riff from his drama class.
   
9. Veronica Mars
10. Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Jen: Xander): Jesus, you guys--the one guy with a sarcastic quip for everything who hates living at home who doesn't get any for 3 years while surrounded by hot babes--did you all just meet me or something?
    

Rob 5, Dustin 2, Jen 1, Max 1.

This post is brought to you BAH: "Digging In The Dirt" by Peter Gabriel

Opposites Attractive

Honestly, kids, I don't know what the fuck to tell you. Best I can do, far as I figure, is let you know what happened and let you draw your own conclusions.

To begin with: the game. We're short a couple people, so we have somebody come in. Her name is Jennifer, and she used to play for USD's softball team. But since girls can't pitch, we put her in right. I keed, I keed. I'm borderline in love with her anyway, since she's blonde, ridiculously tall (Aaron said 5'10", I thought closer to 6"), and athletic, with a sense of humor. ANYhow, a couple guys come in right under the wire as is our custom, and we're playing the best team in the league. Before the game I was debating my "they got us beat on paper, but last I checked they don't measure heart on paper" speech I'd heard somewhere, but stowed it.

Some math even I know:

Constant fielding errors
+ best team in the league
__________________
19 -4 curbstomp

For Aaron, the speech I would've given if the team hadn't broken up faster than you can say Destiny's Child: we wanted to know where we are, now we know. We're #2 in the league. They beat us as much as we did. When playoff time comes around and we got a full roster, we'll see how it shakes out then.

When a man is depressed, there's only a handful of things to do.

After suffering through the wiggeriest wigger at Trophy's, Aaron and I go to Hooters. And things get out of control. First off, one of the waitresses looks like one of my bosses. Same hair style, same coloration, same fucking initial for her first name. So lucky she didn't work our table--

"Hi, can I help you guys?"

"Yes, you WAUGHHHHHHHHH!"

She's close to the area, though, and every time she goes by I feel a little weird.

Second of all, our waitress recognizes Aaron. She said she's seen him in before, which she has--back in July, the last time he was in any area Hooters. And he's wearing a hat. And he was sitting with me then, too! What am I, glass?

Thirdly, most importantly, most vexingly--wow, this post has a metric shitload of commas. Anyway, the whole point of a place like Hooters is to let the libido go without consequence or afterthought. You go for breasts and hope you don't find anything in the food. They know, you know, and as a result you can all have a laugh about it and dodge the fact you didn't have enough scratch to go to a strip club and really see something.

You're not supposed to go "Aww!" at Hooters.

Of course, it's what Aaron & I end up doing all night. They had a cute brunette with some blonde streaks in there, and she's tiny. So tiny I just italicized. So tiny, me--ME--looked at her and went "WOW, she is tiny." It's very Lacey Chabert, and we end up ignoring our waitress when she's not taking our orders or bringing our food to look at this waitresses because it's cuter than a 3-legged puppy fresh from the pound. She lifts a stool, it looks like one of those guys on ESPN8 throwing a refrigerator. She takes two orders at once and we're afraid she's going to tip over and fall. I mean, it's hard to muster up the proper lust for somebody when all you want to do is make them some cocoa and give them a playful punch on the chin.

So, anyway, due to his height, Aaron gets a picture with her. Sorry it's blurry.

He leaves, and I ask him an obvious question. He didn't get her name. Dumas. But then I ask him, the fucking monolith, how tall she is.

4'8", he says. Maybe even 4'6".

Good. LORD.

I am suddenly, viciously, violently, in love with her all over again. 4'8", maybe? 4'6"? Is that even legal? It's like I say about Shakira--you gotta love it when a girl's 4'11" and 3'7" of it's ass, you really gotta love it when a girl is 4'7" and 4' of it is rack. And then, because it's how I'm wired I spend the rest of the night in Lewis Blackville. Probably my dreams and tomorrow, too.

And I flip back, and she's playing softball and her hair's down, and then I flip back, and she's so small all you can see is her head and the sneakers, and I flip back and she's throwing a rope to 3rd, and I flip back--she's next to our waitress and she barely comes up to the chestline, and I flip back and it's tall blonde and I flip back and it's short brunette and finally I just threw my hands up and went WHICH ONE DO I WANT TO PLOW FIRST?!

And right before I passed out, I thought 'If it weren't for my horse...'

This post is brought to you BAH: "Blown Wide Open" by Big Wreck

AvB: Friday Barometer

ALBA: Elastica. I miss Elastica.

ALBA: So far, the novel is going good. With the minimum to get to 50k in a month 1,700 I decided to really push for getting down 2k a day, and so far have been able to do it. It hasn't come without struggle, or extreme exhaustion when I'm done most nights, but I'm on my pace which is fairly ahead of the minimum pace. Plus, I am apparently doing well and not just shoveling shit from a standing position. I'm frightened given the fact I have a 3:1 major female character to major male character in the story about writing women (the Nicholson Caveat don't work) but that seems to be going fine so far as well.

BUSH: No idea what I'm going to get down tonight. I'm about halfway through January and the next major thing coming up in my mind is early February.

BUSH: I hate having to stay up to 1 a.m. and trying to write so my mom doesn't interrupt my writing mode. I'd much rather write scene(s) in a single session, because I may write something that'll blossom into something else. And I can't do that with her running in here.

BUSH: My brother's sick, and Mom was sick earlier this week. Hand to Jessica, if these fuckers get me sick during NaNo, I'm going to make Carrie White look like a misunderstood waif. Especially given the fact it looks like I have a winning formula this year.

ALBA: Team Steve plays tonight, in their biggest challenge of the Rosser Era. We're missing some people--a couple suspiciously--but I have intristic faith my coaching abilities will lead us to the prize. I actually have a pregame speech ready, too.

BUSH: $3.something over in my checking account--$33 overage charge. Insert McEnroe soundbite here.

ALBA: The block party went well. People loved the costume.

BUSH: Running into Sophia.

ALBA: She apologized.

ALBA: Deleting her number anyway; crazy don't come out in the wash.

BUSH: Because my mom got sick on Halloween, I had to take care of her and my Grandmother, so I missed hanging out with Aaron and Merilynn. GHM. What other explanation is there? Seriously!

BUSH: Must get Christmas job. Otherwise nobody's going to get Christmas, at least from me.

ALBA: It's really sad I've been putting it off a couple days, but the novel's going real well.

BUSH: All my condolences to Danny on Steph's passing. I'd be there tomorrow if I couldn't work. But you know you have all my support, all my time, and anything else from me you need if I can give it.

R.I.P. Stephanie Lynn Womack
4.9.82 - 11.1.05

Contents Under Pressure

The plot is Brian and Holly have been best friends for 6 years who get drunk and screw on New Year's, and how the aftermath of that plays itself out throughout the year.

So, here are a few suggestions on how to handle me during these next few weeks, as my heart is beginning to race despite the fact that I can't start for another four hours.

DO realize I am using our conversations as an effort to take my mind off the fact I'm stupid enough to be doing this.

DO realize anything you say may end up in the novel, modified or not.

DON'T tell me I can't do this, because I've proven conclusively in the past two years that I can't. The whole point of this year is going in with a plan and doing the fucker.

DO offer me constructive criticism, but...

DON'T make me cry for the first time in five years. I's fragile.

DO ask me a bunch of questions. Maybe you've picked up on something I missed, maybe you know better what it's like to be an only child, or work at Starbucks, or start dating your friends (spoiler!)--I can't say I'll use every single last little thing but it's better to get agriculture reports from those who work the soil.

DON'T ask me where that metaphor came from, I don't like it much.

DO remind me stupid people have successfully written novels.

DO mention, every so often, your respect and admiration for me trying this task again despite past failures.

DON'T start laughing until you have gotten out of my hearing range, and in some cases, throwing range.

DO realize this is Priority #1 for me until after Thanksgiving, so if I seem a little meh about going to your Major Social Event or offer up grunts and stinkeyes, that you've caught me on a bad day through the valley of the shadow of death.

DO keep me awake with Big Cups. Sustenance!

DO remember I still care about you, even if the last words out of my mouth were "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! THAT COMMA JUST UNDID 16 PAGES OF WORK!"

And, of course, DO remember to pick better friends next time.

This post is brought to you BAH: "Changes" by Tupac

Dumb & Dumberer/KWBR

It was all so good.

The Rick James outfit? Apparently, a bunch of San Diegans hate their couches. If I got one picture, there were 10, if I got 1 comment, I got 50. AND I had the benefit of being the only Rick James in sight. Napoleon Dynamites? Idiots.

Lest we get too caught up in fun and joy, a point for the discernable reader to debate:

Stupider move: forgetting the glory days of your pants were the Bicentenial and losing about $15 in change as a result of not putting it in your wallet, or, running into your ex, taking her apology (possibly drunk) and readding her to your phone directory?


THE ART OF LOSING:
"Sugar, We're Going Down" (15)

15) Alicia Keys ¤ Unbreakable (13)
14) All-American Rejects ¤ Dirty Little Secret (9)
13) Rhymefest feat. Kanye West ¤ Brand New (debut)
12) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull ¤ Shake (14)*
11) David Banner ¤ Play (4)

10) Coldplay ¤ Fix You (8)
09) Green Day ¤ Wake Me Up When September Ends (7)
08) Common ¤ Testify (11)*
07) Franz Ferdinand ¤ Do You Want To (5)
06) Pharrell feat. Gwen Stefani ¤ Can I Have It Like That (10)*

05) Black Eyed Peas ¤ My Humps (6)
04) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep ¤ Outta Control [remix] (2)

03) Juelz Santana ¤ There It Go [The Whistle Song] (12)*

02) White Stripes ¤ My Doorbell (3)*

01) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx ¤ Gold Digger (1) [10w]

This post is brought to you BAH: "Jungle Love" by the Steve Miller Band

You Got Mud On Your Face, You Big Disgrace

Ah. I do love the smell of fresh-cut grass in the evening.

But does it smell like victory?

So I give Aaron his v2 b-day presents (of course, both of them go over gangbusters. Why? I rule is why.) and we get out there. We don't quite have enough girls for a co-ed team, but the practice period goes good. Everybody's loose--hell, Leslie's singing "Girls Girls Girls" and I'm wondering where all my ones are--and practicing throws and stretching. I stow all my speech.

And then, of course, they give up a homer via error in the first at-bat of the game.

But something awesome happens. The girls play defense, making grabs. And a five-run first.

Soon, we're up 7-2 and I'm clearing off the mantle.

7-3 because a homer off a tree deep. I still say Lizet should've caught it. Damn tree. What good have they ever done for us?

Oh, by the way, our opponents? Despite all the defensive brilliance? Come all the way back to tie.

And yet, I don't worry during this at all. Call it karma, kizmet, fate, et al, but my feeling is "Oh. So we win in the (metaphorical) bottom of the ninth, then."

Three batters in, we do.

Victory party!

Afterparty!

Oh, no, I'm drunk and high again! Good thing I don't have to work in 11 hours, or am going to the block party to...morrow. Whoops.

I'm Butch Rosser, bitch(?)!

This post is brought to you BAH: "Deny" by Default

AvB: Friday Barometer

ALBA: Payday, bitch! Some good money out of it, too, for once.

ALBA: Took my cell bill out back and caught it upside the head with a shovel, thanks to point 1. Then, just to make sure, I hit it a few more times. HA!

ALBA: "Hustler's Ambition", which I've had bumping since this morning when I got it (as evidence by my lyrics mindset box up there). See, this is the 50 who wrote "How To Rob". Has anybody had the dominance this year he's had? Got in on and made Game, then dropped a bunch of singles, now the movie's coming out with this as the lead track off the soundtrack. If it wasn't for him I think the music industry would've officially died this year. Also: Niggerace? HA!

ALBA: "Don't Bother". Shakira. She's hot, the video's funny. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: you got to love it when a woman's 4'11" and 3'7" of it is ass.

ALBA: 31, 536, 000. Fuck the failures of the last two years. I got character bios, two major characters with five secondary characters, a bunch of backstory, how I'm doing the opening 4 scenes and the ending. You want me, NaNo? Fuckin' well come and find me. I'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of samiches.

ALBA: Block party tomorrow! Am I going to party until 4 and crawl into bed at 5:30 again, screaming at 2:15 the subsequent afternoon when the sun finally breaches my eyes a la Barney Gumble? Probably not. But who can say? Also, did I mention? I'M RICK JAMES, BITCH! *cackles*

ALBA: Team Steve takes the field again tonight. It doesn't matter who we're playing. Victory is ours!

ALBA: Fitzuvus! Oh, and he's still coming, just in case any of you friends of Bush Uber Alles thought you were going to get another wink of sleep for the rest of the year. Bye, Scooter! Really, isn't it past time that Cheney had another heart attack?

BUSH: Mom's unexpected off day means I can't celebrate this with my feet up blaring "I Fought The Law" with a cold 40 of Heineken as expected. Drat.

ALBA: Independent music stores, especially ones where I can get Late Registration for $10. I haven't gotten all the way into it yet, but the "Diamonds" remix is Very Necessary (Hov, for the love of Alba, stop teasing us and drop one more album!), "Touch The Sky" is awesome, and have you heard this song called "Gold Digger"? I think it's going to catch on if it gets any exposure. Plus they have a box set of Smokey Robinson & the Miracles for $30, so my Mom's birthday present next month is set.

ALBA: The new birthday presents I got Aaron, since he had the last one.

ALBA: New jeans for $15. And they're grimy-looking, too. But the preplanned sort of grimy that's hot in the streets right now.

ALBA: Got to pick up my daishiki and polyester pants from the cleaners before I go coach. Thank you, yesterday me, for putting the receipt in the keyboard holder so I'd look at it, wonder what the fuck it was, and then go "Oh, yeah! I should go get that." Way to be looking out, playboy.

BUSH: I left my sunglasses at one of the stores I bought stuff from today. Drat.

This post is brought to you BAH: "Tear It Up" by Yung Wun, DMX, Lil' Flip and David Banner

Steve Will Steve Will Rock You

So, Aaron's softball team is 0-2. Their team name is Steve. (Think about it, if you need to.) He begs me to show up to the game tonight and assistant coach. I say, I suppose I can turn your ragtag bunch of misfits into a team.

Being assisstant coach is awesome, by the way. I got to walk on the field pregame and say things like "There's no I in team, but there is one in victory" and "Let's go, let's see some action out there!", look worried, and then spit. Once the game starts, I get to do more fun stuff. I get to yell "Run like hell!" and then "STOP!" with my hand out like a traffic guard. I get fives and fistpounds, and tell them to hit the ball where they ain't, and yell "Heads up!"

And after they get the lead--blow it--get it back--go and blow it again--then regain it with gusto in an inning where their pitcher came apart faster than Judy Miller in the clink--I get to yell "Hey! We win with class around here, go shake their hands!"

18-13.

Number of wins without me: 0
Number of wins with me: 1

The numbers speak for themselves. Aaron triples my salary. We get pizza afterwards, and in some sort of weird commentary on the state of affairs all the minorities (Lizet, Omar & I) end up at one table with Aaron and all the white folk get the big table. Oh, sure, they got there earlier, but even so. So dinner's going fine, and then Leslie whips her shoe at Lizet and about causes me to Ike her. This sets the tone for the victory party.

• Many napkins, mostly wet, are winged between tables.
• And pizza crusts.
• I warn Andrew to keep his bitch in check unless he wants crosseyed kids.
• A truce.
• All the minorities breaking the truce by hitting Andrew Fredo-style with the aforementioned napkins.
• Peter makes racist comments and throws all the pepper in the shaker (the spicy pepper, the pimenta moida) at us.
• Lizet whips him in the kidneys with a piece of ice.
• And then, on the way out, Lizet hits Leslie on the arm so hard you can hear a palpable crack.

The funny thing is we were outnumbered 3:1 and yet I saw palpable fear on some faces, esp. after Lizet about went the Bride on their asses. Lizet rules.

Party went on down the block to the Vivianbury, and I drank a bit of the vodka I denied myself last Saturday. The rap station was blaring, all the guys did a little bit of dancing, and Jen did the reel-em-in dance with me twice, which even now is making me laugh. I'm bringing back all the old dances, y'all. Amanda called a little south of sobriety, and hopefully she'll come back down next weekend.

Anyway, fun night.

And that was before Aaron left by virtually giving Leslie a lapdance. Apparently Kelli taught him the value of working the knee and foot area! Right next to Andrew, no less. Boy reminds me of me at that age. And this one. Soon he will be one with the Dark Side. MUAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!

And I now know which girl from the VBury I want backing me up in a fight. Ghetto peoples rep to the death, son!

Bah. Work in 10 hours.

This post brought to you BAH: Song of the Year contender "Wait" by the Ying Yang Twins

AvB: the Original Friday Barometer

ALBA: Cold soda, Pringles.

BUSH: Had to buy new headphones. I think I've had like 3 portable music modules and something like 37,322 pairs of headphones. I don't know why the modules last for two year clips and the headphones die within the month.

ALBA: Really clear headphones, at least--the bass on the Coldcut remix on "Paid In Full" sounded precise, booming, loud.

BUSH: Nothing worse than going to the laundromat on your off Friday and folding your brother's clothes.

BUSH: Until the moment the fucking Titanic song comes on.

ALBA: Good thing I had that best of Marilyn Manson CD in the player...something told me I was going to need that as I headed out of the house...

BUSH: Missing the Bill Simmons book signing tonight. If it was downtown, I would've gone. He originally said it was, but it's actually in Mission Valley; much farther away and keeping me from the thing I'm actually doing tonight...

ALBA: ...rooting on Aaron's softball team. I am sure with me in attendance, they'll actually win.

ALBA: I'm glad to hear he had a metric shitload (technical term) of fun with his 23 party at the V-Bury. I mean, I had fun, but I was surrounded by Regulation Hotties at every turn, drunk off my ass, and high. (Stop judging me with your eyes! Don't tell me how to party--I don't go down to your sister's corner and slap the dick out of her mouth, do I?!) But apparently the attendance was more than he'd hoped, and everything went well. Very, very glad. To quote the best band that never was, I did everything for him at that party except get him laid.

ALBA: Souped-up Office Space DVD out on the day after Halloween. Discount candy, Drew from Accounting. Good day.

ALBA: Coming up with character outlines for the protagonists in the NaNoWriMo novel. I'm sure at some point next month I'll look back on this comment and ruefully chuckle, but I really feel this is a solid foundation for me to "win" this year and not crap out after a few thousand words.

ALBA: Halloween party options for next Friday. And Saturday. And Sunday. And Halloween itself, if I want to get my full-on balling-out-of-control on at On Broadway. Plus, the Vivianbury might have a Hallow's Eve party. I promise to attend no more than 3 of these events. Girls dress up like sluts, loud music, candy--dear God, Pagans rule!

ALBA: Patrick Fitzgerald. I have a man crush on him. He's going to pull Presodent Squinty's heart out through his ass at some point in the next 168 hours. I will be watching on TV, chugging freely from a bottle of grappa, and dancing to the Clash's immortal cover of "I Fought The Law". Leave it to Bush to piss off a guy who graduated top 10 in Harvard Law, who went after the Gambinos in Chicago, started focusing on terrorists after the original WTC attacks in '93, started naming Osama as someone needed to be stopped in 96, who's last decade and a half has focused on intelligence overseas, and who actually can't be bought. Bye, Bye, Rovey! Bye, bye, Judy! Bye, bye, Dickie! Hope all is well, kiss the plantiff and the wifey!

ALBA: If apperances can be believed, my brother's dating a Latina girl. How sad for my mom, I finally get a black chick she might be able to tolerate and now Quay's going to pull this on her. It makes me smile.

ALBA: Gabrielle Union in the new Maxim. I saw her on Conan last night and was stunned to find out she's from Omaha. Say it with me now: they let black people in Nebraska? Since when?

BUSH: I'm missing a pair of jeans, putting my current count at...1. Hmph.

This post is brought to you BAH: "Light Your Ass On Fire" by Busta feat. Pharrell

Aaron's Birthday Party -- In Two Words

started early
gave gift
already had
felt bad
beer run
with teetotaler
always hilarious
especially when
$260 worth
in truck
multiple handles
one keg
got there
set up
got sign
slash card
see jamie?
NO H
people entered
on time
me shocked
I drank
sign signed
party started
I drank
my friends
showed up
didn't mingle
I drank
started mingling
peeps that
I had
missed seeing
all showed
Said 'sup
I said
Just drinking
Hugs exchanged
Getting drunk
Peter had
Fancy pipe
Quality control
Was exerted
it worked
mmm...oregano
Wait! Not!
Feel edges
Dulled, blurred
Good stuff
Merilynn showed
Red streaks
in hair
My response?
I drank
Now high
Cops showed
Barely 1
Fascist pigs
Hung out
Jen chatted
Andrew gone
Leslie gone
Why this?
...oh, right.
Fucked up
Took shots...
...of scene
I drank
Friends back
Aaron kudos'd (kudoed?)
Friends out
Ass out
Passed out
1 hour
My defense
3:30 a.m.
Plus beer
And weed
Makes sleepy
Aaron nudged
I snore
We thanked
Then left
No Denny's
Got home
5 a.m.
Kicked ground
Hooked to
Surge protector
Too drunk
To fix
Before 6
So slept
4 hours
Had glass
of OJ
Slept again
90 minutes
Realized I
Loosed plug
Hooked up
Monitor, mouse
Surge protector
Raspy voiced
Slight headache
Pics later

Good times.

This post is brought to you BAH: "My Own Worst Enemy" by Lit

Jessica & the Albaettes: October '05

Fun question: what do you think the odds are I'd change the #1 before...let's say the end of the decade?

Spotlight on Donna Feldman.

YOU'LL NEVER BE MY ONLY ONE, TRICK ASS BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!:
Kelly Hu (34), Kitana Baker (37), Leeann Tweeden (39), Maria Menounos (40)

40) Alyssa Milano (last month 30)
39) Mya (36)
38) Gabrielle Union (debut)
37) Ali Landry (re-entry)
36) Jenny McCarthy (debut)
35) Lacey Chabert (32)
34) Charisma Carpenter (debut)
33) Esther Baxter (28)
32) Adriana Lima (23)
31) Rebecca Romijn (35)

30) Nikki Cox (27)
29) Pam Anderson (38)
28) Jessica Simpson-Brungardt (33)
27) Katherine Heigl (24)
26) K.D. Aubert (25)
25) Shannon Elizabeth (18)
24) Elizabeth Hurley (29)
23) Monica Bellucci (31)
22) Sarah Shahi (21)
21) Jennifer Walcott (20)

20) Rachel Bilson (15)
19) Kristanna Loken (22)
18) Beyonce (14)
17) Vida Guerra (10)
16) Carmen Electra (19)
15) Jessica Biel (26)
14) Kim Smith (14)
13) Sofia Vergara (12)
12) Josie Maran (11)
11) Summer Altice (13)

halleBERRY (17)
jenniferloveHEWITT (9)
stacyKEIBLER (6)
salmaHAYEK (8)
SHAKIRA (7)
brookeBURKE (5)
evaLONGORIA (4)
angelinaJOLIE (3)
trishSTRATUS (2)

...

...line?

This post brought to you BAH: "Motivation" by Sum 41

KWBR

UNDERNEATH IT ALL:
"Middle Of Nowhere" (10)
"Don't Cha" (13)

15) Fall Out Boy ¤ Sugar, We're Going Down (11)
14) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull ¤ Shake (12)
13) Alicia Keys ¤ Unbreakable (14)*
12) Juelz Santana ¤ There It Go [The Whistle Song] (9)
11) Common ¤ Testify (15)*

10) Pharrell feat. Gwen Stefani ¤ Can I Have It Like That? (debut)
09) All-American Rejects ¤ Dirty Little Secret (7)
08) Coldplay ¤ Fix You (6)
07) Green Day ¤ Wake Me Up When September Ends (8)*
06) Black Eyed Peas ¤ My Humps (4)

05) Franz Ferdinand ¤ Do You Want To (debut)
04) David Banner ¤ Play (3)

03) the White Stripes ¤ My Doorbell (5)*

02) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep ¤ Outta Control [remix] (2)*

01) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx ¤ Gold Digger (1)[2m]

This post brought to you BAH: "Unpretty" by TLC

AvB: Friday Night State of the Butch Address

ALBA: Peanuts? Caramel? Either the Mars Corporation's picked up my option, or it's Payday!

ALBA: Done with the bank debt, and shaved some off the cell.

ALBA: "Can I Have It Like That" by Pharrell & Gwen, which is probably going to debut in the top 15 tomorrow. One day Pharrell's going to just go straight a capella and that track is going to be #1 for months.

ALBA: I actually heard "Date Rape" twice today, my favorite song in the Sublime catalogue. I'm lucky if I get to hear it once a year.

BUSH: They bleeped behind? WTF?!

ALBA: Off for the weekend, even though I had to call for it by claiming I was going through arthroscopic surgery to replace my torn vulva.

ALBA: 80°, a few clouds, and a breeze. How you livin'?

ALBA: the Complete Calvin & Hobbes is out! It's like 600 pages of Wattersonian goodness! *Homer drool*

BUSH: $150?! $150?! Does Borders have layaway?! Who does a brother have to suck off to get that down to four digits?

ALBA: Aaron's birthday party. He's going to enjoy the present I got him, he's going to enjoy the Vivianbury being kind enough to host this sort of main-event shindig, and more important, he's going to have his choice of any chick in the joint. Assuming they're not into me, and who could blame them, really?

ALBA: Two weeks until I hit the Gaslamp's Block Party for Halloween or go to my friend Dustin's sister's Heidi's gig she's got going on at Galileo 101 across the street from work the night after that and Halloween Eve. Decisions must considered and carefully weighed; they're both a celebration, bitches.

ALBA: NaNoWriMo. I think the idea I had for 31, 536,000--the long-time friends who get drunk and hook up with each other on New Year's and the ensuing year that follows in their relationship--may be the perfect vehicle to do it, and actually finish.

BUSH: My parents are back from their anniversary vacation. I was getting used to running the house (i.e., chatting online while my brother watched the ALCS).

ALBA: Alba. Seriously. "Didn't I post that yesterday"? Butch hears ya. Butch don't care.

This post brought to you BAH: "Snoop Dogg" by...well...

In the Immortal Words of Wile E. Coyote Right After He Went Off the Cliff

Oh
my
dear
sweet
holy
fucking
GOD.

This post brought to you BAH: "Do You Realize?" by the Flaming Lips. I told you this thing's sentient.

You Could Have It So Much Better With...Anybody

Reprinted from Salon:

Just like a woman
Thousands of men are shelling out $6,500 for hyper-realistic dolls that answer all their needs -- and don't talk back.

By Meghan Laslocky

Oct. 11, 2005 | Davecat keeps a picture of his girlfriend in his wallet. She's pretty, with long black hair, an alluring mole under her left eye, and glossy red lipstick. Her sheer tank top shows off her full breasts and the hoop through her left nipple.

Ask Davecat about Sidore -- pronounced She-doh-ray -- and he'll tell you she's everything that turns him on: beautiful, loyal, a great listener. Si-chan, as he affectionately calls her, is half British, half Japanese, which is nice because he's always had a thing for both British and Japanese culture. Even their clothing style and taste in music is simpatico -- they're both Goths.

Like many born in the sun sign Cancer, Sidore is a homebody, but then, she couldn't leave the comfort of the bed she shares with Davecat even if she wanted to because Sidore is a 100-pound solid silicone Real Doll.

Go ahead. Flinch at the notion of a man having sex with an imitation woman and classify him: lonely loser. Pathological creep. Misogynist. Potential rapist. Sicko. True enough, some men who have sex with Real Dolls are creepy, the kind of guys you wouldn't want to be alone with. But not all. Many are simply lonely -- some tragically so. Others are disfigured or infirm. Some are oddly sweet, like Davecat, for whom a Real Doll is a "teddy bear with benefits." And others proclaim their normalcy and defend their Real Dolls as no different than a 3-D version of a Playboy centerfold.

Many doll lovers -- or "iDollators," as some of them call themselves -- participate in a confusing online subculture where the lines between art and pornography, the ludicrous and the tender, and fantasy and fetishism blur like watercolors. Spend time talking to Real Doll aficionados as I have over the past year, and you come to understand that behind every Real Doll is a man with a reason.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Sidore and her plastic sisters are like Barbies dosed with growth hormones and plumbed with orifices (three). While there are other brands of deluxe love dolls, dolls like Sidore are considered head and breasts above their competitors because of their quality and realism. At the Real Doll Web site you can choose among nine body types, 14 faces, five skin tones, six eye colors, a palette of makeup colors, 10 wigs, and three different pubic hair styles. Save your pennies, and for $6,499 plus shipping, you can have your very own synthetic woman sent directly to your home.

......................

Thirty-two-year-old Davecat is no basement perv. Garrulous and imaginative, he affects a British manner that comes across in e-mails, on his Web site, and in the word choices -- "arse," "bloke," "fecking" -- he uses in our many telephone conversations. Davecat is African-American, lives in Detroit, and is studying to become a court reporter.

When Davecat was a child in a department store, his mother emerged from a dressing room to find him talking to a mannequin who was wearing a short tennis skirt. "I was trying to chat her up," he says. "I remember the beauty of her stillness." With Sidore, he's gotten past just chatting: "I like having her in bed beside me, holding her, cuddling her," he tells me. "I like to sleep with my doll. I'll be blunt: She's a girlfriend."
..............
Davecat admits that Si-chan's personality is not without flaws. He thinks she might be manic-depressive because she's "relentlessly perky at times" but also, given the amount of time she spends in bed, prone to narcolepsy and laziness. But generally, she doesn't disappoint. Davecat imagines that she's open-minded, a bit sarcastic, an artistic intellectual who, were she real, would walk around with Sylvia Plath books under her arm and go out drinking and dancing with her girlfriends. In short, Si-chan is a girl who Davecat thinks he could never meet. "If I were to go to a bar and try some pick-up lines, the chances of coming home with someone like her are highly unlikely," he says. "No real woman seems to think I'm good enough for them."

Aside from Sidore, Davecat has never officially dated anyone. He compares his interaction with women to a bodily reaction, something over which he has no control, much as he wishes that he could meet a woman who breathes. "People who are allergic to roses can enjoy artificial roses," he says. "In the same way, artificial women serve the same purpose for men who are, in whatever way, allergic to real women."

Let this be a reminder to my boys out there: being single isn't a kiss of death, providing you keep your dignity and wit at some point.

Besides, once I get those Jolie clones going after my ascension to the Presidency in '16, I'll be running way better software than these guys.

AvB: Friday State of the Rosser Address

ALBA: New haircut. Instead of bouncing from Donovan McNabb to Donald Faison I've sort of got a fade going on. Little love patch on the front, Brazilian on the sides. Just how I like my ladies. [Quagmire]OH![/Quagmire]

BUSH: The notices my bank sent me. I think once they've established that I'm online, and that I frequently check my account (at least weekly), the use of paper--especially considering they're a block away--is sort of counterproductive and stupid. But what do I know?

ALBA: My friend Abby's not too mad at me for crashing out last Sunday and missing her birthday party. I wanted to go--it was in Hillcrest with karoake--but instead of coming home, changing, and going, I fell asleep until quarter to midnight. If it's any consolation to her, I missed Desperate Housewives.

ALBA: Veronica Mars! Yes, I'm still hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hating on all of you for leaving me in the lurch about that. I think it's the new Buffy, and just like Buffy I sort of want to gently cuddle the hell out of the cute blonde lead (some voice in Kentucky: KRISTEN BELL! Her name is KRISTEN BELL, you Willow-girlfriend meeting fucktwat!) and fuck Charisma Carpenter until it's a new year.

ALBA: Got to go downtown tomorrow night. Padres game is at 8, so either way it's an excuse to drink (yay! "we're" still alive! boo! It's all over!) and go check the scene. Besides...

ALBA: Next Saturday's Aaron's birthday party. I don't want to make the young lad blush, but the guest list looks like a bootleg Grotto. And my nickname will be Otto, and I loooooooove to get blotto!

ALBA: "Do You Want To"; I love the first 20 seconds sounds like the Beatles and then all of a sudden the whole thing implodes and you get the Franz Ferdinandy goodness.

BUSH: I'm hungry, but since I had to walk all day I'm quite comfortable sitting in this chair and working a groove into it for a little while longer, rumbles or no.

BUSH: Friday nights are a TV wasteland. And it's too late for me to go watch Aaron's softball team. Lousy Fridays.

This post is brought to you BAH: "Welcome To The Jungle" by Guns N' Roses version 1

The Truth Is Out There

Thanks, Aaron!

You All Suck

Why didn't somebody--anybody--tell me how good Veronica Mars is?

Finks! The lot of you, finks!

This post is brought to you BAH: "Where Is My Mind?" by the Pixies

Jabs.

130 and 142 in the bowling.

Into the Blue was all right. She was in a bikini or Daisy Dukes for all of it, so the Sin City exposure was better but this went on longer. Pick accordingly.

This po is brought to you BAH: "Everlong" by Foo Fighters

KWBR

DRY YOUR EYES:
"All These Things That I've Done" (10)
"Only" (11)
"Pimpin All Over The World" (14)

15) Common ¤ Testify (debut)
14) Alicia Keys ¤ Unbreakable (debut)
13) Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes ¤ Don't Cha (3)
12) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull ¤ Shake (12)
11) Fall Out Boy ¤ Sugar, We're Going Down (6)

10) Hot Hot Heat ¤ Middle Of Nowhere (15)*
09) Juelz Santana ¤ There It Go (The Whistle Song) (debut)
08) Green Day ¤ Wake Me Up When September Ends (9)*
07) All American Rejects ¤ Dirty Little Secret (13)*
06) Coldplay ¤ Fix You (2)

05) White Stripes ¤ My Doorbell (7)*
04) Black Eyed Peas ¤ My Humps (8)*

03) David Banner ¤ Play (4)*

02) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep ¤ Outta Control (remix) (5)*

01) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx ¤ Gold Digger (1) [6w]

This post is brought to you BAH: "Freedom" by Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five

Dark Angel v. Dim Bulb: One Man's Friday Night Smackdown

ALBA: Payday...

BUSH: ...well, it'd feel better if I weren't in what scientists call a quote metric shitload unquote of debt.

ALBA: I should be out with the next check, for the most part.

BUSH: What's worse, a full-length shift or doing it in the deadest part of the building? You know how long I got to think about that? Five hours!

BUSH: My three-day weekend: workworkfunworkfun. Booked. I really need one of those alleged normal jobs where every weekend's just off no matter what--what do I do on Sundays besides watch football?

ALBA: At least I get to see Amanda. And go bowling. And catch this movie called Into the Blue...anybody know anything about that?

BUSH: I couldn't get my parents the anniversary dinner I wanted to buy for them since my dad's working. Maybe I made up for it by getting my dad some nice Steeler paraphrenalia for his b-day tomorrow.

ALBA: My brother's got a job. And somedaaaaaaaay you will ache like I ache...

BUSH: I feel depressed I haven't been able to find the right girl for Aaron yet. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough, or maybe I'm just offering myself up as a martyr. Who can say.

ALBA: I know what I'm going to get everybody for Christmas. This is what happens when you're bored.

ALBA: Common's new video and song, "Testify". It'll be in the top 15 in a few hours.

ALBA: I am 85% sure I'm going to be Rick James for Halloween this year. It's a...well, you know.

BUSH: What should I do, go to the WWE's pay-per-view Taboo Tuesday on November 1st at the Sports Arena or the House of Blues for the Roots November 2nd? I know I got enough to do one or the other, and since I missed them both the last times they were in town I'm amenable to either.

BUSH: They canceled Taradise? One of the five funniest shows on TV?! I don't care if it was unintentional. Things are going so bad for Tara now Vegas puts her odds at 4:1 she'll have gone out with me by the end of the year. Poor bastard.

This post is brought to you BAH: "Celebrity Skin" by Hole

Hey, I Ain't Trippin' Pimp, The Truth Is Really...

From the sister blog...

This is about me. But more about you filling it out about me.

Who you are:

Where I met you:

You think my middle name is ________

How long've you known me?

I smoke, don't I?

Do I drink?

Am I rated R for hard language?

Do I believe in the Lord Almighty?

What was the first impression you had of me after we met?

My eyes are a) green b) blue c) brown d) red...because...

How many siblings do I have? (Bonus points for names and ages.)

Name 3 of my favorite things to do.

Am I funny? Not like Kathy Griffin funny, but funny funny?

Do you remember one of the first things I said to you?

My favorite music genre is _________

Name my best feature. In a haiku.

Extrovert or introvert?

Follow the rules or make my own?

Special talents?

Favorite nicknames?

Your favorite memory of me is the time we...

What's one of my worst habits?

And finally, out of all the friends I have, name the one I would most likely have a relationship with and the one I would most like to haev a one-night stand with.

That's it. You can go pretend you have a life now.

This post is brought to you BAH: "The Boys Of Summer" as awesomely covered by Code 7 (shit on the Ataris!)

1) Phil Ivey 2) David Williams 3) Butch Rosser

No, not really.

Another Poker Night in the ghettos of Ysidro. I played very much to my satisfaction--I feel every time I play I get a little better, and didn't have that moment where I regretted a fold. We actually almost drew a full table when we thought we'd be lucky to get 5, so that was a nice change of pace. Danny was kind enough to buy-in for me on the condition if I reaped he got his own back. No interest, even! Do my friends rule or what?

I did, actually, get his $10 back and then some. So why aren't I happy?

It's the three times I had full houses and didn't get paid off on any of them. Once is bad enough but you can just chalk that up to bad luck; 3 times is like going out with Paris Hilton, getting to the door and all of a sudden she's got work early tomorrow. Absolute suck.

And twice I could've only got beat on my hand by pocket aces. It, of course, happened, especially in the hand of the night when I put two people in below me all-in. Erin had pocket Jacks, I had pocket Queens, and Omar had the WMD, pocket Aces. All I remember is a flop with a Jack and an Ace in it--I win that hand and I clear $25 for the night and maybe even triple the Womack investment.

But I came out ahead, I say to myself.

I guess I think the glass is half-empty.

Of course, this does Aaron no good since I busted him with pocket Queens. But screw him, this is MY blog for MY temporary psuedopain.

So, now to drift off until Monday and get the name of that hot Indian hostess I saw at work last Monday. I'm sorry, I've never heard of the name Ryan or Illusion.

...yes, I'm evil. I blame the winky. These things are usually his idea, damn him.

This post brought to you BAH: "Jack And Diane" by John Cougar Mellencamp