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Monday, February 28, 2005

The First Long Run

Let's take a ride to the seaside
We can go out swimming in the high tide
Just wear your shorts and your long hair
Don't forget the lawn chair

I’m quickly finding out that the second marathon seems to be the hardest. Training for the first marathon was exciting. Every week I would be amazed at how much I could run without using much energy. I could run for 45 minutes and barely break a sweat.

I started training for the second marathon last week with the “long run” scheduled for Saturday. That week didn’t exactly go according to plan.
Tuesday I went to the gym and ran for a half hour.
The rest of the week I slept in.
The hardest part of training for your second marathon is that you’ve already completed one so the dream has already been proven and now you’re just plain stupid. Whenever you miss a vital run you figure, “eh, I’ve already ran a marathon.”

However, Friday night I was planning out my route and trying to figure out where I could run that would get me back home in a six-mile stretch. I had everything planned out.

I woke up Saturday morning, looked at the current weather, and said
“Fuck this” because there was a wind chill of seven. It was too cold for me so I went to Burger King instead.

I woke up yesterday with the intention of running that six-mile stretch at the indoor track at the gym--which I really hate. I feel like a damn hamster with the endless running and not going anywhere.

I woke up early, arrived to the gym, and started running for 45 minutes (which is about six-miles).
Great.

At the half hour point I’m still doing pretty good-I’m a little fatigued and my calves are starting to ache a bit, but I’m doing all right. That’s when the porn star arrived.

Great, now I can start daydreaming! I figured.
She got her stuff together and started her normal routine of stretching. I came around the corner when time went into slow motion.

As turned the corner and ran in her direction, she was in the middle of some amazing hamstring stretches. **These are like male fantasy stretches**
Ever so slowly she looks up at me in mid stretch, smiles, and greets me with, “How are you?”

I reacted naturally by smiling and greeting her back.

Then,

Go-Go gadget dick

One of the greatest difficulties in life has to be the loss of a one’s son or daughter. I can’t even imagine how hard it would be to have the flesh and blood you produced only to pass away before you do.

The second greatest difficulty in life has to be running with a big fat, fuckin boner. I swear I was like a galloping tripod out there--Maybe even a dog with a severed leg. I was even thinking of going about it Tigger style.

All right, the self-flattery is over.
It was a nice little moment.

While running on the track, I even went as far as innocently asking, “How've you been?” To which she smiled and said, “Great!”

Do you know what this means?

This is the first step. This is where it all begins.
That smile and greet is the tinder of future conversations and the wild, sexy parties.

Not to mention that this is what I needed to kick start my training! A flirty little porn star!

It’s just that “porn star” isn’t the right word. With “porn star” you think of the stilettos, awful makeup, and a sexual experience that can only be described as “throwing a hot dog down a hallway”.

Not that I know how often she-whatever. The nickname just doesn’t do “The Betty” justice.
I mean she makes Shania Twain look like a sloppy bag of garbage
She makes Cameron Diaz look like Sarah Jessica Parker and
Makes Sarah Jessica Parker look like-- **BEEEPPPPPP**______________________^___^___^___^

I just passed out. I can’t register anything so ugly without “resetting” myself

Like I alluded to earlier, she’s going to be called “The Betty” or “The Betty at the gym” from now on.

She erased my damn mind with that simple hello because I forgot half of my gym clothes at the gym, parked my car backwards, and nearly fell off my balcony while pointing and laughing at minorities.

Maybe this second marathon wont be so bad after all.

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Two Scoops of Poop

Well, it's a marvelous night for a Moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies

Raymond Jennings is a good friend of mine that I’ve known for a long time. He’s known for his dignified and reserved manner and last weekend he went up north with a couple others.
This one Friday night they had a whole crap load of this greasy ass, cheese pizza and then went to bed. Raymond woke up early the next morning with giant tremors, epicenter coming from his gurgling stomach.
At this point Raymond was frantically looking for the thunderbucket to keep all his lava from burning a hole in his underwear. He found it and It was a good ride until his brother Pedro stopped him,
“Did you just take a crap in that toilet?”
“Yeah” replied Raymond.
“The toilet has already been winterized and we can’t have solids in the tank, so you’re gonna have to get rid of whatever you just deposited.”

At this point Alejandro, Raymond’s cousin, caught wind of this terrible job and reacted by laughing his ass off.

Raymond now had the long journey of, like a pet owner, finding a plastic bag and scooping his shit out of the toilet.

[CUE Moondance]
With each reach, Raymond would hum Moondance to keep his mind from thinking about what he was trying to clean up. Also with each reach, Alejandro would laugh even louder. It came to the point where Raymond would start the dry heaves and with each heave, Alejandro would just laugh harder and louder. Finally this mild mannered, dignified person had just scooped “Two scoops O’ poop” to clean the toilet.

This story will immortalize Raymond because we’ll never let this go. This story is like a bottomless pit of jokes. It’s better than the longest, loudest fart you’ve ever heard.

It’s god damn priceless!

Crap List

1. Me for my damn big mouth
I’m a total douche bag. If you tell me a secret, I’m probably going to tell every damn person in a four-mile radius. I’m pretty sure it’s heredity too because my parents have told everyone everything about me. I’ve givin up on hiding anything from anyone. I could and would tell a complete stranger how I took a piss during a soccer match. Then there was this time in 2nd grade where I pissed my pants because the teacher wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom.
Hey, I asked and she wouldn’t let me. I’ll just piss all over myself then.

If I ever was in charge of some top-secret military mission in Iraq and I was a POW. Instead of torture, they could just sit me down with a newspaper and some doughnuts and I’d be like,

“Dude, you guys gotta check this out, GW
sent us here because they found some mother fuckin oil just past that hill! I guess there’s enough for everyone in the world to bathe in the shit! (long pause) Oh shit, but don’t tell anyone though!”
Yeah, I suck.

2. “Here we go”
Whenever I’m at a restaurant and the waitress arrives with our food, I always feel the need to blurt this piece of trash statement. I hate this because it reminds me of all those assholes that blurt out “…and many more” after the Happy Birthday song. That rants for another day though.
The problem is that I feel the need to blurt something out. I should just come up with something like,
“Foosy doosy!” or “This is what happens when you find a stranger in the Alps”

3. Antonie Walker, Carmelo Anthony, Allen Iverson, Kobe Bryant, and any other over-hyped player who doesn’t pass.
If these guys were on a team it would be the butt ugliest basketball in the history of mankind. They would have to have reinforced rims due to tall the bricks these guys would be laying.
Antonie Walker is the worst. Never you mind about last night. For some reason teams trade for this guy and yet he’ll hit 30% of his shots and turn the ball over four or five times a game. Walker would be like me playing basketball where I just shoot and hope. I would also be the worst cocky player in the league. I’d pump my fists after every free throw!

4. People with passion
…because I’m jealous.
I was watching this documentary on the Mars rover landing. The day the rover landed on Mars, all the scientists were walking on eggshells because no one knew how everything would work givin the amount of time and money that was spent on the project. When the rover landed everyone waited with bated breath. Then came the pictures and the hundreds of scientists were ooh-ing and aww=ing over pictures. They would even burst out into applause.
I was watching this like,
“Nerds. Total nerds” Which isn’t the most appropriate statement, but I wish I could care so much for a job. I pretty much feel that a job has to suck in order to make everything else in life to be better. I mean if you have a great job, why would you ever want to leave it? And then, why would you make the people, like me, hate you even more for such passion. It’s like the people that work in cubicles until 10pm. WHY? Yeah I know it’s a dog eat dog world but good god!

5. Microsoft word
What you are reading is the 2nd typed entry because the first one was erased just after I completed it. I felt like Bill Gates raped me with a cork screw.
It's a lot better than two scoops of poop though.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

An Excuse to Be A Prick

Falling into the tall grass
Melting into the tall grass
Spilling out over the lip
and Into the ocean

89.3, I absolutely love it! I donated, I called up the station, and I’m even volunteering this weekend. One of the sweet benefits of 89.3 is that it’s Minnesota Public Radio (MPR) and thus, you can act like a prick.

Joe: So what station do you listen too?
Berg: Oh I listen to MPR. See, you can tell by the turtleneck sweater that I’m wearing and bottled water that I’m drinking. I’m going to go off in my Jetta now because you’re presence is making me stupid.

Actually, it’s the new station that I listen to at work because-where else can you discover bands like the fiery furnaces and hear the music of Robert Johnson? One night last week at work while I was working as hard as I possibly could, I noticed a sweet, country-ish, mellow type of heavy folk music. It was awesome! The only way I could describe the experience is with a couple hit-or-miss analogies;

-The music was like Sara Evans accidentally calling me up, us having a great hap-hazard conversation, and finally making plans for a nice, sweet little sex date for the weekend.
Or
-…A dildo of music instantly and consistently penetrating my ears
or
-…finding Barry Bonds in a gutter, severely ill from taking all those friggen ‘roids, and struggling to find his way out of the gutter. That’s when you kick his ass back in. What power!
Or
-One sunny day sitting in a lawn chair on the side of the road when Jennifer Love Hewitt comes walking along. She trips over a stone and ends up accidentally “going down” on me for a good half hour. OOOPS!

Take your pick

The song was “One Big Love” by Patty Griffin who is an artist that none of y’all would enjoy (probably anyway).
I went to perform some research on the artist because the last thing I need is some hardcore Christian artist peaking my interest.

I went to Best Buy to buy two of her albums: Living with Ghosts and Flaming Red.
I started on Flaming Red and I haven’t taken the cd out of my case.

Griffin even writes and performs her own music, which seems to be hard to find in this age of music.
After listening to a record for the first time have you ever had that one great instant classic come jump out at you? Flaming Red has bout six of those instant classics and they all have different styles.
After about two good listens I had to, again, make sure that Patty wasn’t some hardcore Christian. It’s not that I’m against Christians but more about the music they make. How can one be that creative when writing a Christian song? “Praise God, I love the gift of life, I love animals, I don’t worship Satan, and I’ve steered my life in the right direction!”.
The song, “Wiggley Fingers” put a stop to that thinking due to her crystal clear thoughts on Pope John Paul and masturbation.

Griffin has the music backbone of true country artist without being obnoxiously twangy and the writing styles of a genuine folk artist. In Flaming Red, she throws in some rock, pop, and a little progressive with “Big Daddy”.

Griffin has a beautiful voice and it doesn’t get wasted in thirteen, highly produced, formula drivin’ songs. Just when you’ve heard enough of her country songs comes the poppy “Blue Sky” then the folky “ Change” followed by the beautiful song called “Mary” that is-if you put your player on random. Throw in the spicy title track and here is one great road trip album.

If anything, you gotta check out Griffin’s frustration in “Tony”. It’s eye opening!

As I was listening, I was just waiting for some bitchin’ slide guitar to blow this album wide open. The style of the album screams for some hardcore slide guitar, but there was NONE! Talk about a tease! I did get my share of great song writing and a beautiful voice.

All that, and I have an excuse to be a prick!

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

That Trade...

I don't know where we are
And I don't care
And now we're out of gas
And riding on air
And one big love

OH MY FREAKING GOD, OUR TEAM IS THOUROUGHLY DONE, I’M GONNA BLOW MY BRAINS OUT!

Is that what you were expecting to hear?

The sad part is that some people are on the brink of that sort of thinking.

I think it’s because everyone has this image of Randy Moss from 1998 when he was the major factor of our “video game” offense. Seriously, it was like playing Tecmo Super Bowl except that all the plays worked. The Vikings of 1998 could name their score against anyone, anyone except—nevermind, too painful. The Monday Night game of 1998 is what is currently being replayed by everyone’s mind because Moss was Green Bays worst nightmare. Green Bay even drafted four defensive backs the next year because they were so freaked out by Moss.

Not me though, I’m actually optimistic about this trade. Yes, it would’ve been nice to get say, three first round picks, and three immediate defensive impact players and to finally be on the other end of a devastating Herschel Walker trade. However, it is wishful thinking because Terrell Owens was traded for one, single 2nd round pick last year.

I will admit at first I was kind of frustrated of the trade. Then I thought about all those forced passes to Moss and the games we played without Moss this past season. I then began imagining an offense with perfect balance and two solid receivers with Burleson and…Mushin Mohammed or Derrick Mason or Laverneous Coles. At this point I was curious about the future Vikings. The Vikings have a new owner, an awesome quarterback, and an actual pro-bowl defensive lineman. Not to mention 30 million dollars underneath the cap. 30 MILLION DOLLARS!

We’re getting the 7th overall draft pick, an okay linebacker, and a 7th round pick for Moss. The Vikings could do a number of things with this extra pick. They could package the 7th and 18th pick for an even higher pick or they could simply use their picks as is. That is, if they could manage to draft in correct order like any capable team, which has actually been a struggle for them in recent years.

The only thing that could change my opinion of this trade is if they don’t find one of those free agent wide receivers I was talking about earlier.

Then-I-will-bust-a-nut! The entire state of Minnesota may end up creating a torch lit, single file line down to San Antonio for a friendly visit to Red McCombs, if he is behind this trade in effort to save another million.

It wouldn’t be pretty.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Berg's Shaun of the Dead Review (hint: it sucks)

And I wonder where you are
And if the pain ends when you die
And I wonder if there was
Some better way to say goodbye


In the past six months I have been ranting and raving about the movie, Harold and Kumar being one of the funniest movies of 2004. Whenever I said this a response of,

“If you like that movie, you should definitely see Shaun of the Dead! It’s awesome!”

I waited until last Saturday to view this movie.

Before I go into my review I want to ask ya’ll,


What do the movies, “Dazed and Confused, The Majestic, Speed, The Perfect Storm, Boondock Saints, and Meet the Parents all have in common?


Well they were all critically acclaimed by large audiences.


Also, they all sucked colossal dick too. (IMO)


Some of those movies I even saw twice just to be sure I wasn’t facing the wrong direction in the movie theatre.


I might have to watch Shaun of the Dead again as well because it wasn’t horrible but pretty bad nonetheless. The movie did have its moments when Shaun accidentally sends his gf his mother’s flowers. Also when he tried to climb up to his gf’s apartment only to end up calling for her assistance was alright too.


The problem I had with this movie was that there wasn’t anything too it. All the jokes and bits seemed predictable and ineffective.


I think the underlying reason why I didn’t care for this movie is because I don’t give a rats ass about ghouls, ghosts (cept the live-able kind), zombies, Scare Crows, vampires, Tin Men, mummies, Bat Man, Spider Man, or Sarah Jessica Parker. They don’t do ANYTHING for me.


Those movies are about as predictable and stupid as they get (IMO).


What I can’t believe is that this movie is about to enter into the IMDB top 250! The same movie that had this extremely boring bar scene that would never end. The same movie that had such stupid scenes where Shaun is walking through the streets and he’s oblivious to zombies all around him.


Good god.


For the people who liked this movie I would like to suggest two movies that completely blow this movie away.



SOTD seemed like a poor man’s hybrid of these two movies. Both these movies alone blow SOTD out of the water. Then take another comparable comedy that came out the same year, Harold and Kumar, and even that blows Shaun out of the water.

I wouldn’t give this movie a 7.9 but a 2.5 seems appropriate.

Monday, February 21, 2005

Michael Jackson & Chimp

I don't know what's going to happen to you, baby
But I do know that I love you
You walk around this town with your head
All up in the sky And I do know that I want you

At night when I get home from work the only thing on tv is usually VH1 classic where they play 80’s videos. I usually grab a beer, point and laugh at the homeless Hispanic man with AIDS outside my balcony for 15 minutes, and watch whatever 80’s videos come up.

The past week I’ve seen some really stupid videos by U2, Wang Chung, Patty LaBelle, and Journey. By far the stupidest video has to go to Peter Cetera’s “Glory of Love”.

Wow, this guy really needed a clue. Not only did he puss out Chicago, but he went solo and continued on with his “soft rock sounds of hell”.

At some point I saw a clip of the Jackson 5 performing Dancing Machine. The music, the afros, and the MOVES! I just about shatted myself watching Jacko do these inhuman dance moves. This is when living by yourself comes in handy because you can get away with trying to attempt such dancing in your living room. As much and as long as I tried, I just couldn’t do the music justice.

I also figured that the recent Michael Jackson child molestation case is just a propaganda ploy to introduce demented people to the wonderful music of Michael Jackson and the Jackson 5.

It worked for me.

Now I was really thinking about purchasing a “greatest hits” CD of the Jackson 5 or a retrospective CD chronicling Michael Jackson’s early career. I figured, here’s a guy who surrounded himself with people like Quincy Jones and Stevie Wonder. He also royally fucked Paul McCartney, which enough to don a gold star on his lapel.

I purchased “The Jackson’s story” which contains the essential Jackson 5, The Jackson’s, and Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean.

As I listened to this CD I was thanking my lucky stars that Joe Jackson beat the shit out of all these fantastic kids. It’s probably close to manslaughter in many cases, but if it weren’t for good ‘ole Joe, we wouldn’t have this wonderful music.

Have you honestly ever put ‘Billie Jean’ in your car’s stereo before? You gotta try it! It starts off with this tricky beat and then—THEN the bass line hits!

You have to turn this stuff up!

The one thing that does pop into my mind is what the curious children of today think about Michael Jackson.

I mean I can just imagine some family taking a long road trip when lil' Billy starts snooping around his parent’s CD collection. Lil’ Billy sees a Jackson 5 CD with Michael Jackson fronting the band.

Lil’ Billy: Look, it’s another Michael Jackson
Mom: Nah, it’s the same Michael. He was just really young.

At this point Lil’ Billy is remembering this mug shot of Michael and comparing it to this pic of the band.

Lil’ Billy: Mom, there’s no way this is the same person!
Mom: It is, what makes you think otherwise?
Lil’ Billy: This guy is black and the other guy is white.

Then throw in the chimp, Emmanuel Lewis, and climbing trees scenarios and lil’ Billy is about ready to spontaneously combust.

Maybe Joe Jackson isn’t all that great?

Either way, it’s still gotta piss off Paul McCartney.

A Day Watching NASCAR

Billie Jean Is Not My Lover
She's Just A Girl Who Claims That I Am The One
But The Kid Is Not My Son
She Says I Am The One, But The Kid Is Not My Son

*Announcer voice*
BEAMING TO YOU LIVE FROM MY APARTMENT! Therefore, I will more likely keep my job a little longer and I can now start freely bitching about work
I'm also on instant messenger under the name "grotesktom".

I must admit that I am slowly getting addicted to the music by the Jackson 5/The Jacksons/early work by Michael Jackson. I’ve listened to ‘Dancing Machine’ about twenty times over the weekend.

More on that tomorrow because I got a lot of crap today.

Saturday, 12:45pm, The apartment

I just woke up because I didn’t have any plans as of yet. Wearing a decent 48-hour shadow, I quietly walked across my room in my tattered shorts to the kitchen and grabbed some bottled water. Outside it was really damn bright and I was all against opening up the shades because I was still in my “morning” mode and the slightest shock would send me into a twelve-hour bender. I melted on the couch and turned on the tv. I didn’t even turn on the sound because I was so lazy to walk across the room and pick up the remote, so I watched muted 80’s videos for about ten minutes.

That’s when I had an urge….

In my tattered shorts and baby beard, I stepped out on my balcony and yelled,

“TODAY, I’M GETTING MUTHERFUCKIN TIVO!!!!!!” When this old woman replied
“OK, but you might want to do something about those ugly ass herpes on your mouth!”.

Like a cockroach, I scurried out from the balcony and ran my ass to the bathroom to check out my herpes. Luckily it wasn’t herpes but a nice cute zit on the corner of my mouth.

Splat went that muthafucka

After I took my shower, I got in my car, busted out the Jackson 5, and was on my way to Best Buy.

Dancin’, Dancin’, Dancin’,…

Now I’ve done some research on the Tivo. I guess you need a phone line initially but then you can take it back to you home and hook it up to the broadband.

Cool, I got all that, so I bought it. I carried that nice orange box (insert fire-crotch joke here) and everyone was looking at me in awe. This punk-ass kid exclaimed,

“That guy over there with the herpes got Tivo!”

“You shut your god damn mouth!” I fired back.

Dancin’, Dancin’, Dancin’
back to my land lined parents house to set up my Tivo.

Hook up was easy enough, phone worked, and everything seemed to be working out great until…”Please call us up to engage your Tivo system”.

As I started to dial the phone, my parents decided to stop everything and watch me as I call up Tivo *sigh*.

Tivo has just about the most frustrating customer service, automated line with it’s voice activated service crap. Instead of “pressing 1 for English” you have to SAY “English”. As my parents are watching over me like a hawk; they’re hearing me say,

“COSTOMER SERVICE”
“ACTIVATE MY TIVO”
“MAIN MENU”
“GO BACK”
“NO-MPHHDSDREDUR-NO-IDIOTS”
“GO BACK”
“GUH-NEH-FMMPH-ASSHOLE!”

I finally got it working and it came time to set up the “cable box”, which was still at my place and I still needed the phone line.

This is where I got really frustrated and started guessing.

After everything was done at the parents place, I still needed to go to Best Buy again for a USB cable. So…

Dancin’, Dancin’, Dancin’,…
once again. Bought the cable and came back to set up the Tivo at my place.

I hooked up all the cables and got everything looking perfect until the mad fucker wouldn’t-god-damn work right. The link from my router to Tivo was NFG and I couldn’t’ even get live tv because…for all I know I fucked it up back at my place.

After mulling over it for a good 15 minutes, I finally resorted to calling Tivo customer service.

“ONE”
“CUSTOMER SERVICE”
“NO”
“EH-IGNH-NO-UGH”
“MAIN MENU!”
“I FUCKIN HATE TIVO”
“I JUST WANNA DANCH AND GO HOME”

So I hung up and went online and figured I needed an adaptor. Which means…

Dancin’, Dancin’, Dancin’…
to Best Buy AGAIN FOR THE THIRD FUCKIN TIME THAT DAY.

By now that zit has scabbed over into a nice, big, red bulge and my face was unusually dry. I was now looking like an all American meth-head frantically looking over computer parts with a 48-hour shadow.

When I got back to my place I pretty much gave up on the Tivo. I’ve heard by a lot of people that Tivo is the best invention ever and it was a piece of cake to set up.

You know, it’s probably the easiest damn thing to install if you have

  1. A land line
  2. A wireless network in your home
  3. A cable box WITHOUT HD capabilities.

The HD box doesn’t just have the red/white audio and yellow blue hookups. It’s got like three video hookups and they’re all completely different colors.

I don’t apply to any of the three examples. I have my cell phone, a “Wired” connection, and a HD box.

Yes, I could’ve bought a router and went that way, but fuck that! I’m done walking around Best Buy like a pushy meth-head.

So that was my Tivo experience.

2. Zits on the edge of your mouth
These are the most painful/ugly zits around. You have to pop these because the white head is *shudders* ugly and how is Kristen Davis supposed to lick my face with a fat white head on my lip?

So you then pop these beotches and crying like a manly man in the bathroom. Now, like I referred to earlier, you have this “meth” scar on the side of your lip. It’s at this point where you empathize with that herpes chick in that recent commercial.

3. NASCAR
I invited my Dad over on Sunday to watch the Daytona 500 because it was in HD. I don’t care for racing at all but my Dad, he loves that shit. Now I can’t mention my Dad and racing without mentioning that Dick Trickle is my Dad’s favorite racecar driver and it’s not because of his name. Also, “racecar” spelled backwards is “racecar” (the more you know).

So I was stuck watching stockcars making endless left-hand turns for about four hours. The thing that pisses me most of NASCAR is that most of the drivers don’t know dick about the car they drive.

REPORTER: So what happened to your car that it hit the wall?
CLEDUS: Er well, I think it might have something to do with der tires, blinker fluid, er maybe it was the vibrator belt that snapped.

If you grow up driving these vehicles and drinking Natural Light, you should know a little bit about the cars you drive. I mean COME ON!

Also, at the end of the race: Dale Jr. was in the lead and he pulls in front of this other hick and my Dad says,

“WHOOAAA, What a move!!!”

All he did was cut this other guy off? Big freakin deal!

Then there’s the drivers cam, which is nothing but the upcoming left-hand turn ahead. NASCAR has this pay-per-view deal that allows fans to see the driver’s cameras on 15 drivers…because…people want to watch 500 miles of track???

I don’t thing I’ll ever figure the NASCAR rubes out.

4. The NBA All Star Game
(I haven’t watched the game yet, but I know it will suck.)
With apologies to Lycradog, I actually am not a basketball fan. To me, basketball is a lot like Fig Newtons: I dont love them but if they're around, I'll eat 'em. Same thing with basketball, if it's on, I may eat it--er watch it.
I pretty much hate all all-star games because they’re supposed to showcase the best talent in the game. All the NBA All-star game is the damn “And 1” street ball tournament between over paid, dysfunctional pituitary glanded, whiners. This is the ugliest basketball game ever and it shouldn’t even be played. Even the slam-dunk and three-point contest the previous night are painfully boring. Are there any more dunks that haven’t been done yet? Actually I have one. It involves my asshole, a stick of chewing gum, and a bag of Doritoes—I call it “The MacGyver”.

Friday, February 18, 2005

Words

Dancin’, dancin’, dancin’
She’s a dancin’ machine
Oh babe
Move it baby

Yesterdays talk of cool names made me really happy today. All day I would drive around in my announcer voice and say,
“ZHOLTOK!” and “RON TUGGNUT!”
I was so loud that pedestrians could hear me.

But it got me thinking about all the words that I really like for instance,
-Threshold
-Defecate
-Micturate
-Energize
-shitbrick
-Kowalska
-Premium
-Gasahol

and then the words I really don’t like
-Meal
-Either (pronounced with the “I” sound)
-Gleek
-Pantyhose
-Saltwater taffy
-cunt
-frick
-Phone (used as a verb)
-Sensible


Yeah all those words can be thrown out for all I care. I hate saying them and I’m pretty sure life would be much better without them.

I got a headache. I’m out

Good weekends all around.

(Man, what a blockbuster post this was.)

Thursday, February 17, 2005

The Great Apple Pie Strike of '79

Sara, you're the poet in my heart
Never change, never stop
And now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
When you build your house
I'll come by

Good news…
I went to this new dentist and had no cavities. They had me fill out all this paperwork with questions like,

"Have you ever suffered from the following conditions?"
And it would list Heart disease, asthma, and the sort. The list was like full of about fifty conditions includeing nervousness and hives. I'm a Vikings fan and a chronic nail biter so-yeah, I get nervous and I have had the Hives before.

Later on in the dentist's room,

Dentist: Okay Tom, it says here you suffer from nervousness and Hives?
Berg: Yeah I checked that because everyone gets nervous. I thought it was a trick question.
Dentist: And when did you get Hives?
Berg: Oh, when i was about 11. I came home from school and I opened up a big bag of Happy's chips when I started breaking out all over my body.
Dentist: So what did you do about that?
Berg: I just finished the bag and continued watching Duck Tales for a half hour when the Hives were over.
Dentist looking confused: Okaaayyyyyyy


Also,
The pornstar is back!!! I saw her the other day and we exchanged glances and phone numbers!!! Well, she was there anyways.

Also, the NHL regular season has been officially cancelled.

No matter who’s at fault over this strike, Gary Bettman is going to come out a loser no matter what happens. Bettman is a thorough dumbass and he can easily be considered the main culprit for such a strike.

I must admit out of the four major sports, hockey has always been the sport that I never fully got into. One of the major reasons why I started liking the NHL is because the names were (and are) so cool to say--Bombadir, Pronger, Zholtok(RIP), Tkachuk, Zyuzin, Tugnutt, Taco, Roman Turek, and Klatt. I find myself saying those names whenever I can because it’s so fun to say "Zyuzin" or to imagine yourself being named Roman Turek.
If I were named Roman Turek, I’d never leave the house!

The names are a lot better than the nerdy names Golf has with: Love, Marsh, Peoples, Mickelson, Woods, Lehman, Triplett, and Parnevik ugh.

I remember when I was on the cusp of breaking into the hockey world when the North Stars made it to the Stanley Cup and learning about icing, cross checking, and off sides. The learning process was getting to be as natural as my understanding of football just a few years before that. I respected the tradition of the game. I respected the die-hard fans. I was even considering buying a Jon Casey jersey or that other Taco guy.

I was slowly turning into a hockey fan.

Then the unthinkable happened.

I thought it was a joke at first because…how can a hockey team from Minnesota move to Dallas? It didn’t seem moral, let alone, ethical. We then spent about seven years without an NHL team while cities like Miami, Atlanta, Tampa Bay, Charlotte, and Nashville were already engaged in NHL goodness because Gary Bettman is a natural douche bag.

So it was after the North Stars moved when I said,
“Fuck this league” and paid more attention to basketball and watching whatever Transformers episodes I could find.

Then the Wild came about and started and it was all starting again.
Until today….


Sometime while the NHL was adopting all these cities and moving all these teams from Canada, there must have been a meeting where everyone involved was a complete dumbass except one person with common sense who everyone else would ignore.

Bettman: Is there any discussion about moving Canadian teams to the southern US?
Everyone looks at each other dumbfounded

Grimes: YES I AM! Are you guys that fucking stupid? It’s pretty much common sense that if you take hockey away from the cold areas and place them in the confederate flag-waving ones, it wont work! This is the stupidest fuckin idea ever!

Bettman ignoring Grimey: Okay, no one? Guys, were crossing the Mason/Dixon line!

Grimeys dies in his chair due to a severe overdose of ignorance.

Lets say the NHL does come back in time for next year. Are the fans really going to come back?

They sure as hell didn’t for baseball after the summer of ’94. I loved baseball at that time and even I took the 1995-year off of baseball because I couldn’t understand the strike--the strike that solved NOTHING by the way. America’s pastime was gone for a month of the ’94 season and a portion of the ’95 season (I think).

It took historic-steroid induced years by Sosa and McGuire to bring the fans back and some would argue that attendances still haven’t recovered from the ’94 strike.

Before the baseball strike, America suffered through another hardship with The Great Apple Pie strike during the Winter of ’79 where bakers everywhere were sick and tired of being overlooked and unfairly treated by the policies of Jimmy Carter. The strike lasted a total of two weeks and the result was thousands of people celebrating and procreating in the streets in heaping helpings of apple pie filling; hence my conception.

It was tough but we can manage to stay patriotic even when we’re without baseball and apple pie. Take away both, and the US would clearly be devastated to the point where terrible bands like Maroon 5 would top the charts.

When the NHL comes back, they’re seriously going to have to think about contraction. It’s not like the fans are going to welcome everyone with--*busts into a creed pose* ARMS WIDE OPEN.
Then, even if they agree on a 40-something million dollar salary cap would teams like the Red Wings (and their 80million+ payroll) have to drop kick half their roster? Talk about layoffs!

I think they should just can or move the teams south of the Mason/Dixon line because it’s just wrong to have hockey down that far except for that college team in Alabama—that’s just weird! I would say about four to eight teams should be relocated or shitcanned. For all those teams that were annihilated, there’d be a really cool contraction draft for all the legit teams!

That would be awesome.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Pixie Sticks and Pop Rocks

Christ! You know it ain’t easy,
You know how hard it can be.
The way things are going,
They’re going to crucify me.

I must say, I enjoy all of the links in “my bloggin buddies” and I look at them daily. We should all get together and make a car sometime!

I find that looking for other blogs is tough and frustrating because they all flat-out suck. Seriously, blogging may be some cutting edge, new wave, fuck-the-columnist-type revelation but 95% of them are completely stupid.

Lycradog has a blog called Lycrablog and it’s quite refreshing…and I never ever use that term. I especially get a kick out of that picture of Vince Carter and his balls and then this post really got my shoulders rolling.

Check out Lycrablog so I don’t have to type ‘lycra’ anymore.


Story Time,
Theme: Growing up and Dentists

Throughout my childhood my family had this “All American family dentist” that we trusted and knew somewhat well. Everytime he’d dig into your mouth, he knew what kinda sports you played, how you did in school, and how crappy the rest of your family’s teeth are.

It was great, I’d sit down and we’d just talk smack about my family!
Family Dentist (FM): Man, your Dad’s teeth are down right nasty!
Berg: Yeah well, I don’t think I have ever seen him brush and he sure as hell never made me brush.
FM: Yeah, it took about two hours of putzing around in his mouth.
Berg: I should probably tell him to cool it with the Pixie Sticks and Pop Rocks.

And this is how it went for about 19 years of my life. No cavities, no problems, and plenty of Archie comics that he’d give us for being good.

All these people at school would whine and complain about the dentist and I had no idea where it was coming from.

It went so far (and this is where I stand proudly and gloat) that he’d praise me everytime I came in because…

I never got any wisdom teeth.

Call me evolved, but I never ever had to have a tooth yanked out of my mouth. It was a good tidbit to get people pissed off.

Then in 2001 our family dentist decided to move with some other, younger dental surgeon taking his place. All of a sudden dentistry technology was up to date and the practice was objective compared to “what we wanted to hear” from the previous dentist.

They used this laser and would find the most, smallest looking "maybe cavities" they could find. My bro was the first to get checked up,
Bro=a butt load of cavities
Then my dad went
Dad=wrote the fucking text book in dental repair
Then my mom who has exceptionally good teeth
Mom=more than enough cavities

At this point everyone in my family was bitching up a storm on this new dentists. I was getting a little nervous, but since I never had a cavity, I figured everything would be alright.

I came in and everyone was expecting the worst teeth they’d ever seen after dealing with my family. When I sat down in the room the assistant asked me when the last time I had X-rays. I couldn’t remember to save my life. So she looked in some file and pulled out a manila envelope with the date, 4/90 on it and proceeded to look at X-rays of my teeth from when I was ten years old. AKA: eleven years ago.

Assistant: Well, this doesn’t tell me a goddamn thing.

Got the X-Rays and now it was time for the dentist to come in. Fine. Everything is cool until she whips out this laser and starts scanning my teeth. There was a certain sound this laser would emit and whenever the sound would change a bit, BAM-cavity. “BAM” happened about four times and I stormed out of that place completely pissed off because I never had any problems before and I didn’t get my fuckin Archie comic book. My teeth never hurt, and I didn’t trust this new dentist one damn bit.

We got the hell away from that dentist and went to another guy who practices dentistry subjectively, just the way we want it.

Since I have my own dental plan and need to pick a certain dentist, I have to visit some new dentist and I’ve got a bad feeling. My teeth feel fine and I brush twice a day, so I don’t think there will be any problems. Unless of course, he starts pulling cavities out of his ass.

The sad part is it seems like nowadays you can’t trust doctors anymore because it seems like they just try and milk everything out of insurance. The old eye doctor obviously did that and I can’t help but think that the old dental surgeon did the same.

Whatever happens, I’m fairly certain that…

I DON’T HAVE ANY WISDOM TEETH….bitches

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

I'm Riotch Beotch!

Before you accuse me, take a look at yourself.
Before you accuse me, take a look at yourself.
You say I've been buyin' another woman clothes,
But you've been talkin' to someone else.

Time to pimp.
Today’s newest blogger is again from from St. Paul and the thing that drew me to his site was the fact that he could find the Arbitron ratings for the local radio stations (this was when I was bitching about Green Day the other week). ES.com has a great style of prose and, a link for fat chicks in party hats (that’s awesome!). He’s got a forum too! Since I’m addicted to forums, I’m gonna add his to the list,

Rubechat
Cowboy junkies.com
Pinkfloyd-co.com
Led-zeppelin.com
And ES.com

It’s a damn good site. Definitely worth the readin’.

That ghost and me are separated as of NOW.

I was getting sick of standing in four inches of my own swassy water when I decided to figure out why the hell my shower drain was being a bitch. I took my needle nose pliers and stuck it in the drain, squeezed, and pulled out this huge, awful clump of light colored hair.
Now, I don't consider myself to be the extreme squeamish type. After all, I’ve had just about everything sprayed in my face after five years at the yacht club and working on the Mississippi River. That clump of hair though… *shudders*
I’m thinking this lady was a “fire crotch”.

Today is one of those days where there is just so god damn much to talk about. Johan Santana just signed on for four years, the T-wolves are in the midst of trading away their beotches, and the Vikings got a potential new owner in Reggie Fowler.

THANK YOU GOD!!!

Not only a new owner, but also the first minority owner in NFL history.

Why do I care so much? For one, I’m getting really sick of seeing rich, old, white dudes (especially from Texas). The second reason is that our neighbors to the east will have another excuse for whenever the Vikings beat the Packers.
Last month plenty of Viking fans that made the trip to Green Bay heard comments like,
“Yeah, you guys may have won, but you still have a n**** as a quarterback”
and instead we’ll get
“Yeah, but you guys still have a n**** as an owner.”
Good god!
Sad thing is, you know it’s true!

I think everyone in Minnesota wanted Glen Taylor to own this team because he’s “one of us” and has proven to spend money with his ownership of the Timberwolves. Taylor did have his chance however. His price was twenty five million less than Reggie Fowler’s and if he really wanted the Vikings he could’ve just made a call to KG because, TAYLOR SIGNS HIS CHECKS!
Taylor calling KG
KG: word?
Taylor: Hey diggity, diggity D-o-douba-g! How ya chillin?
KG: Good boss, what can I do for yas?
Taylor: Can I’s borrow a good twenty five blingaroos?
KG: wah for?
Taylor: Because--you just nevermind and pay your boss!

I don’t know- “the bit” had promise.

But no, maybe, just MAYBE the Vikings will spend some freaking cash!
Just to tell you how tight Red McCombs asshole was, take into account that in his seven years of owning the Vikings,
-he bought the team for around $240 million
-he receive two checks for around $20 million for the expansion teams
-money up the ass every year with the television contracts in that period
-paying his staff just about nothing. The Gopher’s football coach was making more than Tice!
-Red even had a damn garage sale-type-deal a couple years ago where he would sell used office equipment and old Vikings merchandise


Today the tentative deal is that he’s receiving about $635 million for the team.

Yet throughout the past six years we’ve heard how the Vikings can’t compete and how he wants Minnesota to pay for a stadium that would increase his team’s value even more so. If he did that, his team’s value probably would’ve increased by another, at least, $200 million.

It must be rough to be filty fuckin rich!

My parents have been telling me that the best investment is in real estate.
Fuck that! The best damn investment is owning a mother fuckin football team (just listen to the song, Money).
Over $300 million in sheer profit from the team!

Jesus! I’m gonna call up that Fowler and see if I can get a piece of that action.

Tomorrow, I’m gonna pimp another Canadian blogger.

Monday, February 14, 2005

A Care Package? For Me?

Another door to peek into
The floor is filthy but the couch is clean
At the end of the day another day gone
But life is short


Some of the funniest material I have ever heard has come from extreme rightists, the band Creed, and women. For most people, just the sight of monkeys will, at the very least, put a grin on their face or make someone break out in knee slapping laughter.

I don’t know if my three examples come from direct moral differences or the fact that they simply are funny.

For example, Hog’s gf Danielle, throughout the week was so worried about my living conditions that she was trying to set up a care package complete with pots, pans, and measuring cups. It took some reassurance from Hog to get Dani to drop the whole idea because, it’s not like I’m living in a Doritos bag…yet. When I saw her this last weekend she pleaded her case with,


“But what if you ever decide to cook dinner for a girl at your place?”


*shakes head and grins* hehe it’s funny on a couple different levels.

Even if I were in that sort of quandary I would hire a contractor. Back in the Hizzy days, H was kicking around the idea of being this “self-help cooking guru-consultant” and making food for a romantic night in while dishing out pointers for the upcoming night. His brilliant idea was, take some dimwitted, average guy (me) and make food for him and his discount hooker for that evening all while giving advice on where to “stick it in”.

Lets say the dinner would start at 7pm, H would come over at 4 or 5 (depending on the meal) and proceed to cook whatever lovely and delicious idea you’d have right up until the date arrives. Then H would simply leave out the back door. When the date steps in and sees everything simmering, she’s gonna wanna eat and then be all over you. Success!

Result:
-great food
-great sex
-used up saran wrap
-no burnt pans or smoke filled kitchens
-H gets paid
-illegitimate twins in nine months

Of course, for long trips there would be per diem and I don’t know if H would be willing to come back and clean the dishes for an added bump in pay, but the idea is there!
I would have this done for free since I’m giving him all this advertising pro bono (or whatever)—to four people.

Of course if it turns out H gave bad advice, his services would be free, right?


Crap List

1. That stupid Verison Wireless “Can you hear me now?” crap.
Whenever I see that asshole in the glasses I want to throw my one beer glass at him. That stupid fuckin grin, that three step march to his next destination, and that “Good!” at the end. I can’t stand this guy. He reminds me of that Bare Naked Ladies guy who thinks he’s funny.

By far the worst part of these commercials is the sheer “catchiness”. I use a Nextel phone for work and I can be on top of the third highest point in Minnesota and STILL have ‘on and off’ coverage, which results in,

“Hey! Are ya there?” Walk five steps,
“Hello, can you hear me?” Turn 360 degrees
“Can you hear me now?”. At that point, there’s always someone that comes out of the woodwork and starts laughing and repeating,
“Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now?” And laughs for about twenty seconds

2. The ongoing use of the word “poo”
I don’t like it one bit! I am old fashioned when it comes to subjects like this. Whatever happened to the word, “poop”? The word “poo” is just kinda sickening and really gross. Poo, it’s like the worst poop you’ve ever seen! Poo, it’s like a sick substance instead of something abstract the way you think of “poop”.

Message boards and blogs everywhere will have you think that the current paradigm in fecal naming is poo, but lets all make a stand and keep the extra P at the end.

3. Employees at Best Buy
Walking in to Best Buy,
“Hi sir, how are you?” Then when you give your response, they’re already looking elsewhere or talking to someone else. Fine. Later on in the music aisle,
“Can I help you with anything?”
“Nah, just looking around, thanks.” Then later on in the home audio department,
“Find everything you need?” ugh, shut up!
“Yeah, just looking around. Thanks.”

These multi billion dollar stores don’t have a clue as to how to help people. I wish Best Buy could just have their employees shut the hell up so I can shop and not have to be bugged by endless reassurance by dumb shits who drive Cavaliers with ugly, obnoxious spoilers attached.

4. Culvers cakes
Remember when Hog and I were running against each other for president? One of his major contentions was that Culvers cakes were much better than Dairy Queen cakes. We had a Culver’s cake this last weekend. They suck. They’re more expensive and they don’t even have that awesome fudge layer in the middle like the Dairy Queen cakes have. I mean yeah, we could have Culver’s cakes everywhere, but why when you can have Dairy Queen cakes?
Just doesn’t make a lick of sense to me!

5. People who complain about the Pro Bowl
Why the hell is Michael Vick in the Pro Bowl? He doesn’t deserve that?
WHO. CARES????? It’s the Pro Bowl for god’s sake! Does anyone actually watch this along with all the other horrible All Star games? The baseball one is ok, but it’s still an exhibition. People who complain about the Pro Bowl are just idiots who need to complain!

Til tomorrow

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Quick Bits

Oh ballbreaking moon and ridiculing stars
The older I get, the closer you are
Don't you have somewhere that you need to be
Instead of hanging here making a fool of me


“…And all night I’ve been receiving requests for Pink Floyd and this is Jugband
Blues by their first singer Syd Barrett who actually wrote this for their second
album….Their new book “A Closer Look” which is written by their guitarist,
Richard Wright,e is already in stores now”


When I heard this I was ecstatic because I never thought I would hear the Jugband Blues on the radio. However; with the excitement came the need to correct the major errors in his “ramp”. Half of the content was dead on correct, but the obvious info was wrong. So I called the DJ because I wanted to praise and correct him. We had a nice conversation for a couple minutes and I corrected him on his errors and he asked me some questions about the band. Wow! I’ve never been asked legit questions about the Floyd before so it was damn cool. He had to cue up another disc and thus had to go, but it was a rather nice, informative conversation.
After the music set he comes on…

“…And I should make the correction from my previous statement...”
And he went on to say…

“Currently Nick Mason and Dave Walters are not on speaking terms and haven’t
played together in years”


dhdk-guh-widgi- NO!!!

It’s ROGER WATERS and they HAVE been on speaking terms in recent years. In fact Mason would play drums for one song during Waters’ US tour in 2000.

The guy was really knowledgeable on music (being a legit dj and all), but damn he butchered that last sentence.
I digress though because the more I think about the errors, the more I start to worry about my own Pink Floyd rube-ness. After all, who and why would anyone care about the details on the band? If this guy doesn’t, noone else does or should give a damn anyway.

I think I am the only thing close to a Pink Floyd groupie around. Ugh.

-The pornstar hasn’t been to the gym for at least two weeks! I was waiting, counting down the days for when I approach and talk Pink Floyd and the ghost I live with to her. Then if the “ice breaking conversation” didn’t work, I would bend down on my knee and pull out my acoustic guitar and sing,
So give a little bit
Give a little bit of your heart to me
So give a little bit
Give a little bit of your love to me

It’s amazing what one can fit into spandex!
What woman could resist that at the gym?

-The other night at work, I had work on the side of our huge ass building that overlooks the major freeway into town. Like I said, it was at night so we had a halogen light aimed at the building, which is damn powerful.

Anway, the worker stepped into the light and his shadow was spread over a HUGE portion of this high rise building.

That’s when the light bulb hit. I looked at the cars on the freeway. Then I looked at the building. Then I said,
“GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY!!”
And no, I didn’t perform shadow puppets for 15 minutes. It was actually 10 minutes and it was a good time. I made this 50 foot dog and it was one of the coolest things ever.

OOOH OOH THEN, I made a really big bird!

Yeah it’s childish but how does one pass up that opportunity?

-Also, the other night at work my worker says,

Worker:“Dude, I’m going to Topeka so I’ll probably be a little late for work tomorrow”
Berg: What? You’re going to freakin Kansas?
Worker: Yup, It’s just below South Dakota.
Berg: NO!!! IT’S JUST BELOW NEBRASKA, WHICH IS JUST BELOW SOUTH DAKOTA! Why the fuck are you going there and why do you want to come to work so bad tomorrow?
Worker: I’m getting a truck and I don’t want to miss any work hours
Berg: BUT THAT’S CRAZY!
Worker: What’s so crazy about that?

That’s when my head exploded.

You’d have to supply me a pallet load of Doritos in order to get me to do anything like that.

I just find that completely crazy.

-Rumors are flying around at work about my White Castle eating contest. Reactions vary from look-downs and head shakes to people doubled over and clenching their stomachs. I played the Price is Right game with one person and she would give a number and I’d say higher or lower. She started at 7 and when I said higher to “ten” she was shocked.

I’m becoming a legend.

Oh and Sasquach, no one cares about you eating 26. It’s my blog and I’m the star.
Plus technically, I won anyway (but not without losing in the long run).

-Last night they had some bikini show on one of the HD channels.
That. Was. Amazing!
I then changed the channel to ESPN Sportcenter and made out with Linda Cohn.
We exchanged numbers.

-Pro Bowl is on this weekend…for anyone who cares about retarded things like that.
That’s it… good weekends all around.

Serious Ball-Kicking!

I went down to the crossroad
fell down on my knees
I went down to the crossroad
fell down on my knees
Asked the lord above
"Have mercy now
save poor Bob if you please"Y
eeooo, standin at the crossroad
tried to flag a ride

The stars aligned and Boston even won another championship.

I also just finished a book, which is a grand achievement for me. In fact, in the last year I have read at least three books. At this rate, next year at this time, I’ll read another three!!!

Remember back in high school or even those stupid generals you needed to take in college where you had to take some sort of a science class? I remember those times because I don’t think I ever had one decent teacher ever teaching me any of that sort. Actually I had a pretty good astronomy professor, but it ended up being the only class I ever scored a D in, so nevermind.

The book I read was “A Short History of Nearly Everything” by Bill Bryson. I figured, I wanna know the history of almost everything, so I picked it up. I also got a recommendation a couple years ago by one of my old crazy-ass female roommates whom also likes the author. I actually read “A Walk in the Woods” a long time ago because it was about Bryson and his dumbass friend attempting to hike the Appalachian Trail (2,100 miles from Georgia to Maine). It was a damn funny book!

Anyway, History is probably one the best books of it’s kind because it doesn’t drown anyone in a sea of statistics and three syllable words.

It actually jumps from astronomy to chemistry to physics to biology in short and stays in depth along with keeping the content interesting.

After reading this book, I wanted to go back to Tartan High School and kick my science teacher in the balls for being a fucktard (remember drunk-ass Mr. Carlson?). I KNEW this crap was interesting somehow. It’s just that it wasn’t taught anywhere near where it should be. Geology can be interesting if someone didn’t show us boring ass filmstrips of sedimentary rocks! Astronomy could be interesting if we didn’t have the big fucking numbers associated with it (after 1 billion, does any number even matter?)

This was one of my major scabs with the U of M profs, high school science teachers, and even those fatwads at SSU; the damn profs were just too consumed in their research to even convey a decent, interesting lecture (for the most part). I’m not asking for entertainment, but if the theory of Yellowstone of blowing up at any given day is out there, give me a hint because I might want to know more. At the very least I might have second thoughts of taking a trip there.
If there was a meteorite in northwestern Iowa that was once considered the comet that caused the extinction of the dinosaurs, at the very least WRITE IT DOWN IN A NAPKIN SO I CAN SEE or open a god damn atlas for once in your life and point where it’s at.

Bryson is not even a science writer either therefore; there is probably enough errors in the book. Still, he really keeps it interesting with the backstabbing by chemists and the perverted nomenclature a certain botanists would give his specimens.

I especially liked the chapter when he was talking about plate tectonics. In the olden days in order to explain the fossils of European animals in America, scientists would draw a huge fucking land bridge over the Atlantic Ocean in order to solve that problem quickly. Sounds like that scientist is related to me!

One of the most interesting bits was the notion that Earth has had quite a few near misses by large meteoroids in the last thirty years. Now-don’t-stop thinking about that fucking stupid DEEP IMPACT movie or that two hour waste of time known as Armegeddon, and imagine this large dark object just passing in front of Earth as it continues revolving around the Sun.

It’s kinda crazy and Bryson also mentions in extensive detail, the play-by-play on what would actually happen if a large ass meteor hit the Earth. Again, stop thinking about Ben Affleck!

I totally recommend this book and I also open this time up for any other recommendations for my next conquest.

And to save time, I’ve already read Angels and Demons and The DaVinci code (loved em).

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

State of the Apartment Address

you were full and fully capable
you were self sufficient and needless
your house was fully decorated in that sense


Today I “rescued” a guy from a broken elevator.
*stands up and puts hands on hips*

Just another day working at the ole MMM.

Sunday was not only the day of the Superbowl, white castle eating contest, and imaginary sex. It was also the day I ended up showing off my apartment.

I believe it was three years ago that I vowed I would never live alone after cleaning up my dorm room in Marshall, MN. Um… yeah that room was dirty even in my terms. If I can remember right, I couldn’t even see the floor. In fact, as I was cleaning the room, I found a drumstick in some corner. I didn’t even remember eating chicken in that room either.

I’ll let that sink in again.

I FOUND AN OLD DRUMSTICK IN MY ROOM. Who knows how long that thing was there?

My parents came in a couple days later and were horrified at the site of my room. I thought it looked really clean compared to the poultry ridden site a couple days earlier.

This Sunday, I had all the guys at my place; Hog, dumbass, shithead, ratboy, asshole, and dickhead all at my place. With a couple of them came their girlfriend/wife, which are indeed women, and human…I think.

Anyway football, beer, and white castles consumed the environment and with that, the women needed something to do.

As we were playing Madden 05, these women decided to act like raccoons in an open dumpster and rummage through my kitchen (which is where they should be!).

Mary: Tom, do you have a knife so I could cut these rice crispie bars?
I did and as I opened up my leatherman, Mary stopped me and asked if had a regular knife.
Berg: This is a regular knife. Hey, it’s all I got.
Danielle: You mean you don’t have any silverware?
Berg: Nah, I’m just going to take the stuff from the cafeteria at work.
Danielle & and Mary both look at me in shock

Then later on,
Danielle: Hey, where are your glasses?
Berg: Actually I only have one glass, it’s in my medicine cabinet.
Danielle: What? Where is your medicine cabinet?
I then open up this near empty cupboard that contained a beer glass and a small capsule of Tylenol.

Again, surprise…

Mary: What do you have in your fridge?
Berg: Look and see.
Mary opens up the fridge and finds nothing but beer.

Mary: When are you going to go grocery shopping?
Berg: I don’t know, when I get hungry maybe? I have a granola bar somewhere in that kitchen.

Later on in my bedroom, (haven’t heard that in awhile)

Women: You don’t even have a frame for this waterbed!
Berg: What the hell do I need one for? So I can sleep five more inches off the ground?

I actually reveled in all that bashing by the women because they can’t do anything about it. I know they had the urge to try and decorate it, but there's no women to boss me around (not yet anyway). Like I said before, I don’t know a damn thing about knick-knacks.

Man, I tell ya what. This place isn’t nearly as ghetto as my first dorm room where we had the tv propped up on boxes. Or the first apartment I live in where my cousin and me had boxes for end tables.

I’m actually trying like mad to keep this place civil and clean.

There are flashes of my old decoration style with a lot of pink floyd artwork here and there (which the women didn’t get), but the posters are nowhere to be found and the LP’s are put away (that’s what I’m going to decorate my laundry room with).

I have a dishwasher, which probably wont be needed and a microwave that I haven’t used yet either. Actually the only things I have consumed in that apartment are the white castles and a bag of Doritos (again, seriously!).

My place has all the essentials: Cable, beer, and a bed. What more does anyone need?

Actually, maybe I should hide a drumstick somewhere…

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Berg's Dynasty

He dreamed of a big star
He played a mean guitar
He always ate at the steak bar
He loved to drive in his Jaguar
So welcome to the machine

Yeah, I know I’m a day late (and a dollar short) but last night was pretty rough on the ole bergbody.

Instead of the boring way food is consumed, I like to think of a surly laborer working in my stomach. Whenever fruits and vegetables come down the esophagus, this laborer ends up having a good day with such easy digestable food and doesn’t end up beating the shit out of his wife and kids when he comes home for the day.

Yesterday, when this surly fellow saw endless amounts of white castle hamburgers coming down the shoot, I can only imagine that he said something like,
“Ah, okay Berg. You fuck we me, I’ll fuck you!” And proceeded to summon all the enzymes to ‘go to town’ all while waving the finger at my brain.

the bad times started like this…

…I then started to slow up. I couldn’t eat anymore and my body had enough of what I was doing to it. I immediately stood up hoping that my stomach filled to the brim of white castles would feel just a little better, but it didn’t work. Dizziness started to set in with a shivering cold sweat. People were talking, but I couldn’t hear anything because I was way beyond the point of beef headaches and the subtle uncomfortable feeling that comes over anyone when they ate a little too much.

I went for the bathroom and preceded to let go of something, anything that would leave my body to make room for my stomach jammed with White Castles. I sat down and as the bathroom was spinning, I had second thoughts about this “White Castle eating contest”.

“What was I thinking?”

After all, this is what generally happens after you eat 24.5 White Castle hamburgers in a span of about twenty minutes.

It started out perfectly; the Whities were on time, everyone was really damn hungry, and we had a good ten people at the apt. Once the first commercial aired we all started chomping down. I started out fairly decent eating burgers with finesse. Surprisingly, Hog’s girlfriend kept a pace of one burger ahead of me for much of the beginning stages. Marc and Shaun immediately bowed out by sharing a crave case. SHARING!

Nick decided that he wouldn’t compete because he wanted to savor the burgers. Hog’s girlfriend decided that 12 would be plenty. Tony ended up almost beating me at the very end because I was in the bathroom moaning on the toilet when he was frantically stuffing his face before the second half kickoff. However; he ended up with a total of 23 sliders before the second half kickoff.

The champion of the White Castle eating contest went to me, BERG!!!!

[CUE: One Shining Moment]

Nah, It was really surprising how my body just threw in the towel all of a sudden. It was like a tractor pull in that the end rapidly came about.

The media talks about the DYNASTY that is the New England Patriots but I had my own dynasty that I flushed down the toilet by means of a courtesy flush earlier today.

With all this dynasty talk, I think this would be an appropriate time to talk about my retirement to eating competitions. Ah, it’s just not worth it anymore to me. I mean I don’t have anywhere to go but down from here. Might as well leave on top.



Crap list

1. Those stupid Pepsi ads.
Maybe it’s because I’m a devout Coke drinker or maybe it’s just because I haven’t seen a decent Pepsi commercial in a long time, but these ads suck ass! First off, they’re spending 2.5 million on these garbage, stupid, happy commercials. Then, they got P-Diddy staring in one and then they have Carson Daly appearing later. Talk about crap! Whenever the Superbowl heads into commercials, everyone leans forward in their chairs just to see something good. When you see the Pepsi symbol right away, it makes you want to lean back and fast forward because their commercials appeal as much as the Ashley Simpson’s voice.
All their commercials rank from stupid to okay and I can’t remember one funny ad.

2. NFL’s reaction to censor everything
Part of the reason why Pepsi and other ads weren’t all that great is because they had to appeal to the NFL’s conservative yet hypocritical standards. Nah, I don’t want to see Andy Rooney’s butt, I would like to see that godaddy.com commercial that was supposed to air at the end of the game. I mean what’s next? Cheerleaders? Women shouldn’t expose their ankles? Man, those ultra conservative people that bend over backwards over Janet Jackson’s nipple just need to watch a porno movie sometime and get it out of their system.

3. The morning after the competition.
The morning after was somewhat equivalent to a beef induced hangover. I woke up with this god-awful onion breath and flatulence that seems to double the size of the ozone layer. I drank water and I brushed my teeth but that terrible onion taste would never leave the mouth. I then took a wazzer and the smell of the wazzer completely overcame me. Everything that was leaving my body had the awful stench of white castles.
It was awful!

I then went to the nearest grocery store looking for these old cherry Certs containers that I once had six years ago. Clearly I am out dated in my breath mints because I couldn’t find any Certs to save my slider filled life! I’m running around the grocery store waving my arms in the air until I found Jolly Ranchers.

4. The nice surprise that was left in my apt after the Superbowl party.
At around 11pm or so the last couple people were leaving my apartment. After I closed the door I found the most horrifying sight for my eyes at that time.

A-FULL-CRAVE-CASE-OF-WHITE-CASTLES!!!!!

ARGGHHHH!!!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Friday, February 04, 2005

God vs. The Patriots

Oh I am young but I have aged.
Waited long to seize the day.
All things said and plenty done,
Oh I am young but I have a past.
Traveled far to find the start.
Yes I am scared and I've been burnt.
But life is short.

(email from Hog)

First Rule: Everyone buys a crave case of hamburgers or cheeseburgers

Second Rule: There will be an actual time limit for the first time.

Third Rule: The eating will begin as soon as the first commercial starts after the second quarter expires.

Fourth Rule: The competition aspect of the eating will end as soon as the ball is kicked off for the third quarter.

At least we have some definite rules this time. The last couple times we’ve had eating contests, we’ve had varying degrees of the definition of a “sitting’. When I won that triple cheeseburger eating contest there was actually another person that ate five triple cheeseburgers only he ate the fifth one TWO HOURS LATER! To this day he thinks he tied me!

That’s BS!

Last weekend we were talking about who has the best chance of winning and I think I’ll set the odds as follows,

Marc: 20:1 (no way)
Nick: 5:2 (the person who beat me, but threw up afterwords!)
Tony: 7:1 (a big talker for such a prissy punk-ass bitch)
Hog: 8:1 (I’m not a believer however; he did pitch the contest.)
Shaun: 10,000:1 (there’s no way his wife will let him eat 20 sliders let alone one. If he even shows up. He might end up having a nice little Sunday shopping at Home Depot and Bed Bath and Beyond—if’s he’s got time.)
Berg: 5:1 (It’s like when Babe Ruth played with the Braves or how Sammy Sosa will be as an Oriole, a shade of their former self)

I’m wondering about Hog though. To make the proposition of a Whities eating contest one has to be training for such an event.
What kinda shit are you up to in St. Peter?

Then again, if I win, I’ll have something to write about in the ole Bergblog. We’ll see if I can harness the power.

So take your bets, I’m not going to furnish any prizes unless anyone wants any biscuit beer.

As for the game…
I was thinking today and I’m just going to flat out say that the 2004/05 Patriots are the best team ever.

I know, I know it’s an extremely bold statement, but who would beat them? The 49er’s of the 80’s sure had a damn good team. Better offense, better defense, Joe Montana, Jerry Rice, and Ronnie Lott, but the Patriots seem to have the power of God behind them or even more so.

In fact, not even God can stop these Patriots. I doubt it! Why would anyone think otherwise? I mean the same thing was said about Titanic but little did they know that the steel wasn’t heated properly and buckled under the weight and temperature. God obviously won that battle (and why not?).

If God played the Colts in Indianapolis, I’m pretty sure that it would be a close game with Brandon Stokely making a couple crucial 4th down catches (like any other annoying white receiver does) but God would probably come out with the win in the end.
The Colts playing at God’s field don’t stand a chance!

Don’t worry Tony Dungy, not too many people can compete with God the way you’re Colts would have.

I mean God’s got the experience and the means necessary (with lightning bolts and natural phenomena) but the Patriots have Tom Brady. Let me break it down further

God<------------------> Patriots
________________QB-->
________________RB-->
________________WR-->
________________TE-->
________________K-->
_________________D-->
______________Punter-->
______________<--Fan support (because of those crazy Christians)
________________Coaching-->
________________<--Experience [umm lets see, a team that's been around for 40 years or someone/something..(you get the picture) that has been around for eternity]


But we’ll see because that’s why they play the games.
Any given Sunday anything can happen!

Patriots 31 The other team 16

Yeah congrats Boston, you’re years of whining have brought you (potentially) four championships in the last four years.
(clap: clap) YAY
I hope you guys have another long ass drought

I’m starting to really get sick of the Pats!

Go Deer!
Go Me (for the eating contest)

Go God!