Thursday, June 30, 2005
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,
year after year,
running over the same old ground. What have we found?
The same old fears,
wish you were here.
You’re all very lucky. Really, you have no idea.
Back in my Marshall days I dedicated 3 hours of college radio toward The Wall. My roommate and friends were getting sick of me listening to Delicate Sound of Thunder all the god damn time.
Since then there has been nothing. No new albums, concerts, set lists, bootlegs, or even anything that’s been remastered except the SACD of Dark Side and the Greatest Hits…and David Gilmour in Concert… and Roger Waters in Concert…and Nick Mason’s book.
Other than that, nothing.
So at around 2pm tomorrow afternoon, I’m going to turn off all phones, shut all windows, and sit three feet away from my TV in anticipation for the Floyd. Don’t even try emailing me either because even that gives a chime.
My whole 3-day weekend centers around 15 minutes of 60 year old’s playing tunes from over 30 years ago….and I’m 25 years old.
If I had it my way I would’ve spent these last couple weeks writing heavily biased reviews of each and every album, song interpretations, and even chord sequences of my favorite songs because I am such a Floyd rube.
The disturbing thing about all that--as if it weren’t disturbing enough-- is that I would love to do that! I could write hours and hours on these guys because they’re so fucking cool and interesting.
I could even tell you about the time my dad caught me dancing in the kitchen to Shine On You Crazy Diamond (the funky riff near the end). He got home from work and saw his teenage son dancing like Elaine Benes on a good day. I think he told all his buddies at work and vowed never to relive that moment ever again.
Then there was the time I was working the night shift at Marshall’s radio station. The morning guy came in at 5am to me almost unconscious with Animals pumped up all the way.
“Have you been listening to this all night?”
Then when I worked for the Forest Service last year we were on our way to Cody, Wyoming.
J: Dude, play some music with a fast beat. I don’t want to listen to that Pink Floyd shit, it puts me to sleep.
Later on he fell asleep and I carefully placed David Gilmour’s meltdown concert in the player.
J waking up: Dude, I told you!
Boof: I uh…pfff…you were sleeping, man.
THEN, there was the first time I ever listened to Dark Side of the Moon at the ripe old age of 16.
my response: Who could ever like this stuff?
Little did I know that I was inserting heroin in my ears because you can’t listen to Dark Side only once.
Realistically tomorrow’s performance probably wont be all that decent. Roger Waters WILL be out of tune and possibly Gilmour’s *shudder* with it.
Nick Mason will play drums, but he may have some “backup” drummer going crazy on his 80 piece drum set.
Gilmour may be forced to perform brief, brief guitar solos.
If you’re expecting to get your cock rocked off then you may want to watch something else because these geezers from the Floyd never moved around in their 20’s so why would they start now that they’ve reached their 60’s?
The main reason why I can’t wait for this performance is Water finally playing with the Floyd. I’ve always been a fan of Water’s solo stuff and I have been waiting patiently for Gilmour’s solo stuff.
Gilmour is a great musician but he can’t write decent lyrics without help.
Waters is a weak musician but is one of the best music writers of our time.
Together they rank up there with anyone, but ‘together’ has always been a problem.
Monday, I’ll have a review of this 15 minute performance.
Because I can.
Again, y’all are lucky!
We had a friggin shitstorm hit us and I had to clean up some crap.
Here is an emal that I sent out last year....
I was feeling the effects of three months of Sodak so bare with it.
|Subject:||The official platform!|
First things first, for those keeping score, I am through making fun of the lead singer of Creed. It's just too damn easy now. In his place I will focus my efforts on Joe Namath.
Lead singer of Creed, Joe Namath.
And now with the email
Well, I found Jesus this summer. He was kickin’ it in Hill City by the gas station.
We shot the shit for a good two hours. It was fun.
Anyway, now that Sodak is far, far behind me, I will now focus a whole 10% of my energy towards our campaign.
Berg/Deiren…whatever the fuck it is in 2004
“Shit’s gonna change!”
I hear that people want ‘anyone but Bush’ in 2004. I am here to say that I am ‘anyone but Bush’. So elect me!
Here is my list of my promises.
“Hey man I still need to file those reports!”
“Hey fuck it man, it’s fuck it Thursday, a national holiday!”
Long lines at target
Dumb ass people
Bad drivers and
‘The Bob and Tom show’ (it’s a terrible syndicated morning radio program!)
But don’t worry; we’re simply helping Darwinism out a little bit. Giving it a nudge if you will. For example,
Well have people sit at a desk with a clock showing correct local time. A midget wearing a choice basketball uniform will walk in and ask one question.
WHAT IS THE CURRENT LOCAL TIME?
If the person gets that question wrong, they die. It’s easy enough. Basically if you have common sense, you’re in!
If someone passes on the right for no apparent reason, they die
If someone survives a car wreak that was caused by the driver watching his DVD player, he’s gonna die
If someone brings in a whiney kid to the movie theatre, they both die.
If someone drives a hummer two blocks because they didn’t want to walk, they die!
Joe Namath for wearing his stupid ass fur coat on the sidelines in the 70’s… well after he finishes his 12th step, he’ll die too.
Also, one anonymous day, we’ll take away all safety road signs and make all stoplights flash green constantly. It will cause chaos and whoever lives from that, will deserve to live.
Believe me folks; after everything is said and done, we’ll live in paradise!!!
Oh and we’ll also cure the social security problem by wiping out a lot of old people!
Good times eh?!
Of course nothing really applies to me because I’d be the damn President! The country needs a president right? And Sean’s not an option!
8. Berg and Sean will also change Sean’s last name to something spell able unlike Deirenslkjdfederov…or whatever to something like Lee or Bryant or Melosavic.
“HEY TONY, WE’RE NOT DONE RIPPIN’ AND DIPPIN' YET!”
11. Announce a ‘point and laugh at Wisconsin day’. No different than any Sunday when the Packers play.
Some people may be concerned about my lack of military experience, but I have been in the trenches. I just spent the summer in Sodak for Christ’s sake! I saw Loverboy LIVE. That’s like 15 fuckin’ purple hearts right there!!!
When election night ’04 hits in November, my color is going to be that pukey yellowish-green color, the color of Pus if you will.
So there it is, my platform. Shit’s indeed gonna change when I’m elected!
No bullshit. No mudslingin’.
And I’m not some rich bastard.
In fact, I plan on paying for my campaign through sex.
And if that doesn’t work, I have two cases of Fat Tire beer that I’ll sell too (Seriously)
God Bless America and Iowa
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
And where are they
And how can they possibly
know all this
When we last left you our Milwaukee adventure had already resulted in hearing loss from listening to Dio too loud, witnessing cows having sex, and one broken bed frame.
Now it was time to go and explore true Milwaukee by perusing the bars and watching the current came at the bars on Water St. In order to get to Water St. we had to pass by Milwaukee’s theatre district during peak performance times.
Everywhere were women with beautiful dresses and their hair all done up for the nights performance. Next to the women was their mate all dressed up in khakis, ties, and expensive shoes.
Then there was the six of us walking amongst them with the stench of Wendy’s with a five hour long car ride and loud laughing to garner additive attention.
So the night started…
Four hours and $300 later we were on our way walking back to the hotel in the driving rain without any raingear or umbrellas or anything close to sobriety. Ratboy and I decided to bother some people in the local Coffee shop on our way back for giggles and that set off T-Bone.
Everyone made their way back to the room and T-Bone was yelling at everyone like a drill instructor.
One by one we all fell into unconsciousness except Bob Wells and Rat-boy who wanted to explore more of the hotel. They stopped by the game room when they saw some other guys (bizzaro Rat-Boy and Bob Wells possibly? and they teamed up on a quest to look for Combos.
We woke up with Rat-boy and Bob Wells on opposite sides of the room sharing a blanket somehow, Rat-boy using the phone book as a pillow, and the door being propped open the whole time.
We went to the game and had some burgers and saw the Twins win. One thing I don’t understand is how everyone goes all crazy for the sausage race. Top of the 7th everyone starts standing up and it’s like, ‘what the hell, 7th inning stretch is three more outs away’ but no, it’s adults in sausage costumes.
We made our way back to the parking lot where we blasted Dio loud on the jambox and started to attempt to play catch. T-Bone throws like a girl so we naturally Hog had to run his ass across the parking lot and try to prevent the ball hitting any cars. One ball managed to hit a car and apparently one of the seagulls were watching T-Bone’s sorry attempt to throw and managed to take a dump onto T-Bone.
T-Bone got shatted on! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
We all ended up driving back home all loopy ready for bed. Car Ramrod exchanged pleasantries and went their separate ways.
Tears were shed.
We didn’t manage to capture Milwaukee but we learned all about their ways and culture.
We also broke a bed frame in our wake.
Ok, ok I know part II wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be but what the hell.
…freakin over hyped my own entry. Dammit!
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
When you're lyin' here in my arms
I'm findin' it hard to believe
We're in heaven
[CUE: Braveheart theme]
Where reality becomes dreams
Where the beer flows like wine through the streets
The promise land
Where 40 monkeys in the hand is worth 100 in the bush.
Where the streets have no name
Last weekend was the annual weekend where the Twins play the Brewers thus giving many Minnesotans the opportunity to take the city over.
That’s pretty much what us, Minnesotans, did too.
A thing about Minnesotans
There are very few states like Minnesota in terms of the environment and all the resources we have. We’ve got 12,000 lakes, plenty of forested areas, and three--count ‘em--three biomes. No other place has such resources as Minnesota…except Wisconsin.
Wisconsin has a lot of the biomes, more great lakes to their disposal, and they have a lot of ‘regular’ lakes.
Yet they don’t play or appreciate hockey. At least not to the extent that we do.
Minnesota also tries to make it hard for its’ citizens to buy alcohol
-We can only buy alcohol in actual liquor stores, not in gas stations or grocery stores.
-One cannot buy beer on Sundays.
-They do sell beer in grocery stores but it’s “3:2” beer, which confuses the hell out of anyone not from here.
-There’s also a 12% tax on alcohol (depending on the county).
Wisconsin pretty much gives everyone a beer just by entering the state with all the breweries they have.
Then you count all the micro breweries and Minnesotans get kinda mad and want to break things when they enter Wisconsin--subconsciously anyway.
Naturally, Minnesotans want to take over that area called Wisconsin and if we can’t take it over, we try to destroy it through Viking wins (domestic abuse rises 40% the day of every packer loss), sending all the college kids to Madison every Halloween (Madison has one of the biggest Halloween parties in the country and the mayor blamed all the rioting on the Minnesota students), and whenever the Twins play the Brewers in Miller Park (we friggen own the city)
CAST OF CHARACTERS
I was a little worried about driving T-Bone and Rat-boy to Milwaukee because they are completely comfortable with their manhood to the point of trying to freak people out through nipple tweaks and forearm strokes. That and they like to bounce off the wall sometimes.
Now we’re starting with the trek and after about ten miles of driving,
Ratboy: “Dude, I’m so fuckin bored. I gotta stop at a Wal-Mart to buy a PSP.”
After a couple hours of driving, T-Bone finds one of my Bryan Adams CD’s and he cranked that thing all the way up.
We listened to Heaven four times in a row with the stereo up all the way.
2050 Berg talking to his grandson
Lil’ Billy: Grandpa what happened to your hearing?
Berg: I ah… I was listening to Bryan Adams’ Heaven way too loud on a road trip to Milwaukee back in aut 5.
Lil’ Billy: WTF?
While Car Ramrod was singing Bryan Adams and Dio at full blast, Car 1 observed some cows having sexual relations.
The car ride into Milwaukee was beautiful with all the Minnesota fans passing by and how each car load exchanges nods and devil horns as if we all know the plan.
Plan being: CAPTURING MILWAUKEE!!!
We finally head into Milwaukee and into the hotel room. I only told the Hojo that we’d have four people (instead of the six we had), so we could save a little money. I registered our crew and we made our way into our room.
0min 0sec (mark): We open the door to our hotel room.
0min 5sec: Hog plops himself onto the bed and starts to stretch out after such a long drive.
0min 6sec: T-Bone sees Hog sprawled onto the bed and tries to bug him by laying down with him and humping his leg.
0min 7sec: Ratboy sees Hog struggling to get T-Bone off of him and immediately dives on top of the commotion
CREAK, SNAP, POP, BREAK, PLOP,
And there went the frame of the bed. Not even ten seconds into the room.
We took the mattress off and looked at this completely shot bed frame. Every single side had a noticeable snap in it.
Naturally we all tried fixing this hopeless piece of shit like the junior retarded MacGyvers we are. We ended up piecing the thing together and thinking that maybe, just maybe we could get away with breaking the bed.
We finally placed the mattress back on top of the shattered-pieced-together‘ed-frame and looked at each other. Who was going to try this bed out?
I volunteered and sat on the end. Nothing, but it didn’t feel safe, so I moved back and I the thing just took me on a crazy ride down to the floor.
We ended up telling the receptionist some other BS that we came to the room with the bed screwed up--and they bought it!
Next we decided to hit the bars…..
Join Boof’s Bergblog tomorrow as I talk about strangers eating Combos in our room, sleeping with phonebooks, and getting shat on by birds.
(to be continued…)
Sunday, June 26, 2005
You're the star of the masquerade
No need to look so afraid
Jump on the tiger
You can feel his heart but you know he's mean
Some light can never be seen
Oh lord, Milwaukee.
We were kamikazes from Minnesota hoping to take over Wisconsin this weekend and I think we came close.
That’s a good two day post right there and that’s starting tomorrow.
Today is crap.
1. ‘Next Thursday’
Not that there’s anything going on that day but what the hell does ‘next whatever day’ mean anyway.
So today is Monday and when you say ‘next Wednesday’ that means a week from Wednesday…
But the next Wednesday is happening in two days. But they mean the Wednesday after that.
No…no…no I don’t care if it’s been that way forever. Next Friday should be this week because it’s the ‘next Friday’. And the Friday after that is week from Friday.
God, I just confused myself.
2. MTV broadcasting Live 8
Saturday, July 2: 5pm
I’m waiting patiently for the 15 minute Pink Floyd set. Roger Waters and David Gilmour will be on stage for the first time since The Wall concerts. The same four--yadda yadda yadda.
I’ve already got my phones turned off and the windows and balcony doors shut. I’ve just had to endure an hour of Velvet Revolver, Madonna, Coldplay, and Mariah Carey just so I wouldn’t miss PF.
Now was their time. All the lights dim down low and you can hear the first notes of Shine On. I’m afraid to blink with such anticipation.
Kurt Loder: …and ok. Pink Floyd is going to take the stage now and we’ll leave you with a recap of this memorable concert. I would like to personally thank all the crew here and encourage everyone to donate by calling the number at the bottom of the screen.
Coming up next is Road Rulez/Real World Challenge.
Berg: *twitch, twitch* I uh. I didn’t just see that did I?
*twitch, twitch* They didn’t ah… No, they wouldn’t have-they couldn’t have.
And it would be like that for at least a couple days. I would be a total basket case.
What’s arguably worse though…
**interview with Bob Geldof**
Q:... How long will their performance be?
GELDOF:... Around 15 minutes…
So that makes it just under four minutes per song.
So what the hell are they going to play that will put them under fifteen minutes? They could just play a medley, but a Pink Floyd medley sounds just wrong. The do actually have some songs under four minutes, but unfortunately they are the worst Floyd songs.
This isn’t CCR or the Rolling Stones playing their early sixties stuff , where songs were just two minutes. This is the Floyd in which the album, Animals probably has an average song length of nine minutes.
One of their best songs is actually 27 minutes and most of their hits performed live take at least 6 minutes.
Don’t get me wrong, 15 minutes is 15 minutes more than I ever thought I’d hear from these guys but 4 songs: 15 minutes? Let’s be real and say two songs: 15 minutes or 4 songs: 30 minutes.
Tomorrow will be a recap of our excursion into the city of dreams.
Friday, June 24, 2005
It's raining in the park but meantime
South of the river you stop and you hold everything
A band is blowing Dixie double four time
You feel alright when you hear that music ring
I’m thinking of potential stories for my new movie. So far I’m thinking that my main character will be a ‘down-on-his-luck’ laborer apprentice whose always had potential being an accountant. He’s had bad luck throughout his life starting at the age of six when his Dog was accidentally hit by a Vespa.
This lead character, Dirk, also didn’t graduate high school because after one incident involving copious amounts of DDT in his turkey and gravy he vowed never to come back again.
The night before he was living in a ‘Super Doritoes’ sized bag until it was stolen by Chuck Knoblauch, another homeless vagrant.
His one talent was eating competitions and if he was to just focus on eating and pacing himself, he could’ve been the worlds best eating champion.
Ah… then he meets a girl… somehow.
And one day his laborer buddy challenges him to a mashed potato eating contest where he dazzles all the onlookers (foreman and the bastard construction consultant) by inhaling them.
He’s then automatically entered into the International Federation of Competitive Eating… somehow.
Next will be a montage with Dirk eating and shitting behind the music of Van Halen's Dreams.
Then eventually Dirk’s gf is pleading with him,
“Oh Dirk, you’re killing yourself with all this eating! How can you eat like this when you’re going to be a fath-ooops”
“You mean, I’m going to be a father?”
And he ends up being the world eating champion.
Add some minorities, a couple Iraqis with some sort of Middle East subplot, and a forced sense of patriotism through strategically placed flags and phrases and BAM! That’s my movie.
At least it’s better than most Sylvester Stallone movies.
Sylvester Stallone’s one decent movie, Rocky, in my opinion, has now been overtaken. For years Stallone has been clenching with dear life to the ‘Rocky’ series that he’s written and directed.
Cinderella Man totally blows Rocky out of the water. The Actors and story are all better than Rocky and I even liked Rocky. Russell Crowe actually pulls off the depression era boxer fantastically and his Australian accent doesn’t even get in the way of the movie.
Renee Zellweger even gave that pissed off/crying look, which usually bugs the hell out of me, and even that didn’t stain this movie. In fact, this movie doesn't waste that much time with Zellweger’s dumb acting and stayed with the family’s struggles throughout the depression era.
This was the most suspenseful movie I have seen since Spellbound (seriously, it’s suspenseful!) and it’s the best thing out there except for maybe that new Batman movie.
The best part of this movie is the setting and how Ron Howard gives people more of a distinct accent from where they descended upon.
And yes Ron Howard’s brother, Clint, made an apperarence as he does in-what seems like all-of Howard’s movies.
The setting was great especially the Hooverville in Central Park was even more overwhelming as to the conditions back in the 30’s.
So over all I give this movie about five head nods and three thumbs up.
Good weekends all around
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Bring the boys back home
Don’t leave the children on their own no, no
Bring the boys back home
Tuesday, 11am: Boof taking a shower
“Tropical the island breeze, all of nature wild and free, this is where I long to be, la isla bonita. cha-cha!
And when the samba-HOLY HELL!!”
I looked at my left bicep (or gun or python, if you will) and I had a bruise. Not the ‘oh it’s a bruise’ type bruise.
This was ugly.
*looking at the bruise* it’s about five inches across and three inches wide. Most of the skin looks yellowish/green and the center looks like blood that wants to break through the skin. It looks like a balloon filled with blood and I could prick my skin with a needle and a neat trickle of blood would come out.
Yeah it’s pretty fucking cool!
Later that day I was showing my co-workers my badge of honor.
“Whoa what happened there?”
“I don’t know” as I have proud smile ear to ear.
I went out running on Tuesday and was showing off this natural tat off at the gym. “Betty” wasn’t there. Actually I haven’t seen her in a month or so.
I’m sure (and I don’t mean to be discriminatory…but I am) that 95% of women would look at this and go, “EEEEWWWWWWW GROSS!” and forbid to look at it anymore.
For instance if I worked in an office setting and if I was talking to a female, I would -in the duration of my babbling- roll up my sleeve and purposely try to scare this female.
Man, life would be great then!
Seriously though, it looks like I have AIDs on my arm.
I’ve given this impressive bruise the name of Samantha and I know I only have so much time before Samantha is deported and turned into regular skin.
Therefore, I need to savor this time with Samantha…by scaring women…and rabbits.
Movie review tomorrow...hopefully
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
I got a headache and I feel like I'm gonna throw up.
If was was to try to put something down it would be like this:
jslkjfaslufdyffwsefgshf. 8weh7tfhfo93j3, so I lskdfewifihewfiwefsnfskdfks, or dhfweoifwe.
I'll leave it at that.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
that this angel should have at her back.
And although he can't find them
he really don't mind
because he knows they'll grow back.
Throughout the week I was told the itinerary for Father's Day 2005.
We were going to meet at 3:30pm Sunday, at my parents house to celebrate Fathers day.
I arrive a little later and no one is home. So I sit and look for food and other things I could steal/acquire until the fam arrives in the driveway. Eventually my Dad comes up-sporting his usual NASCAR cap- and we begin with making Father’s Day supper.
I step outside to help out with the cooking and when turned to head back inside when I was staring face-to-face with my dad. My instant reaction was,
(blink:blink) ‘AAAHHH!! I’ve GOT to move far away from this place!’ because Dad wasn’t looking like Dad. He didn’t have the usual silver headed comb over that he usually dons.
His hair was 95% shaven off with the extra five percent in numerous clumps around his head. These ‘clumps’ were not small. Let’s say that if my dad was standing 100 yards away you’d notice his head and say,
“Damn, someone really fucked up that haircut job!”
A cartoon couldn’t portray such a hair cut.
Apparently he was spiting my mom because she would--for weeks--keep nagging my dad about his ugly comb over. Now he was going to ‘one up’ her by completely fucking up his hair.
I mean it happens in all families, right? Dad get’s mad at Mom and says,
“Well, how would you like if I just screw up my hair? What are you going to complain about then?” Meanwhile, my brother and I would be praying that we were switched at birth.
I couldn’t look at him without completely cracking up even though I was in a terrible mood! I was snapping at everyone that day, but just one look at my dad would just have me in unstable laughter.
So as we’re eating I’m talking to him about work stuff and I have to look away because I can’t wreak a serious conversation with sporadic laughter.
The sad thing is, it could’ve been my mom giving him a hair cut.
First tangent in awhile
Once upon a time I needed a buzz cut, so my mom volunteered to cut my hair. Great! How can she possibly screw up a buzz cut?
A drunken monkey could do it!
The haircut went well, I then asked her to ‘clean up’ that hair behind the ears because you get that uneven stuff surrounding the back part of the ear lobe.
I’m now getting ready for a gentile touch behind the ear to clean up the loose hairs. Instead I feel the full two inches of the hair clippers behind my ear and my mom decides to give a 2” diameter clear cut around my ear. The full two inches!
I looked in the mirror in shock and it was a good thing that I was even more of a goofball then because instead of intense rage, I was just plain irritated by such a move.
So now I’m looking in the mirror with the hair around one ear totally shaved off and I was reading something about how important a face’s symmetry is. Naturally I told my mom to do the same to the other ear.
It was a fantastic train wreak of a hair cut!
It’s like that Simpson's episode where Burns constantly asks Boggs to ‘Shave those sideburns!’.
Anyways tomorrow I’ll tell you about a great movie.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
that she had when she first caught his eye.
Although his hand came back empty
he's really not worried
because he knows it still shines.
1. Me and my great Grandmas Marathon run
I had high hopes back in March about running G’mas marathon and I struggled my way through one long run--the first one. After that I had a endless number of excuses to stop me from running.
I have been kicking myself in the ass for not running the marathon and I would appreciated some emails saying,
“OH, GOOD JOB ON THE MARATHON” in the most sarcastic way possible.
Yay for me!
2. Twins fans
I don’t know if it’s a Minnesota thing or people are just stupid, but there are way too many people jumping ship as a result of the Twins terrible play as of late.
For those of you that haven’t been paying attention to the Twins, they have been playing like complete crap. They can’t pitch, their bullpen sucks, they swing at EVERY GOD DAMN PITCH, their defense sucks, and their base running is horrible…BECAUSE THEY NEVER GET ON BASE!
Still there are twins fans that are throwing up their arms and relegating to the popular ‘that’s it, I’m done with this team!’
The worst part is that you try and tell them that the season isn’t even halfway over and they mock and ridicule you! I mean it’s not the most unlikely story if the Twins come back and win the division after being 7 back on June 20.
I think I might run for the next commissioner of baseball and start ‘picking people off’’ for being stupid. For instace, anyone that votes for Jason Giambi as the AL DH--shot.
Anyone who blindly votes for players on their own team (and I understand there are many)--shot.
Leaving good games earlier-dead.
It would make it so much easier
However, the source of this crap is due to…
3. The twins sucking like complete crap!
Right now the Twins are playing absolute horseshit baseball. If you want a good example of how NOT to bat, just watch a twins game and observe how the hitters walk up to the plate and swings at nearly everything.
A decent pitcher will be up to 80 pitches in the 5th inning and all three Twins hitters will hack at the first pitch. Sometimes they’ll make contact on this first pitch and give this opposing pitcher a healthy THREE PITCH FUCKING INNING!
My favorite moment in yesterday’s game was when Cuddyer walked up to the plate and waved at the first pitch. If he was to make contact with such a swing, the ball wouldn’t’ even make it to the pitchers mound.
Which brings me to our horseshit defense.
(blink:blink) IT’S THE OPPONENT THAT IS SUPPOSED TO DROP DOME POP UPS! THE AWAY TEAM. NOT THE HOME TEAM. THE HOME TEAM KNOWS BETTER THAN TO DROP THAT CRAP.
Yet, we were getting schooled by teams that have never been in the dome before.
Alright, I’m tired.
Tomorrow I’ll have a damn good story of my family’s fathers day.
Friday, June 17, 2005
But now I'm feeling it even more
Because it came from you
Berg: Hey can I have a raise for once?
V: Well, when was the last time you got a raise?
Berg: Never, you guys have never given me a raise and ever since I signed on for heath insurance my pay has steadily gone down.
V: Hmmm, well let me ask the big boss.
Couple days later,
V: Well, I got bad news for you. We can’t give you that raise because money is really tight around here at this time. We can’t even afford more help.
Berg: Well, then I’m gonna join the union.
V in a ‘walking on eggshells’ way: Weeeellll, if you do that we’ll have to fire you.
Berg stares back in a repressed, angry manor: What?
V: ah yeah, it’s going to cost too much for us to keep you if you join the union. We just gotta wait until after this quarter and once we know more about the economy and this thing in Iraq hopefully things will ease up.
Yesterday’s letter in the mail
Your pay will increase $.65 after July 1st. Thank you for all your help!
Then look at this weather we can expect the next 10 days,
Then there was that music news earlier this week.
And today is Friday!!!
Next week is gonna suck!
Good weekends all.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
worry calling all your true loves home
that's no way no way to spend your time
you can catch that lightning on your own
A couple weekends ago a very interesting moment happened.
I have discovered a parallel to liberal and conservatism in relation to pornography.
The story starts out with a group of guys wanting to have a good night playing poker, drinking beers, and watching some quality porno when the time comes. So we’re playing poker until a couple guys fall out and get bored.
They play the porno and then poker is officially interrupted and time stops. All the drunks stare at this woman doing… you know.
It wasn’t just a two-bit ‘do something in front of a camera’ thing, this was great stuff!
Near the end of the scene someone blurts out,
“Alright, lets stop it and save the scenes for later.”
Others were like, “WTF?” and couldn’t understand it.
Then the three who wanted this DVD paused were also like ‘WTF’.
Right there, right there, we have discovered the individuals who are porno conservative and porno liberal.
Me, being porno conservative, felt that the porno pallet was already whet and reached it’s maximum potential whereas the others wanted more.
In my view, saving the porno makes the 2nd and 3rd scenes that much better based on perspective. To me anyways, but it wouldn’t have the same effect for liberals.
Let me explain.
So say you watch the best scene ever and next is the 2nd scene. This next scene could be the next best scene ever, but it would be ruined because you’ve already immediately finished that first fantastic scene and you‘re not starting from scratch. The full porno potential is lost! The 2nd scene is partially lost from the after effects of the 1st scene.
Whereas if you watch the first amazing scene then go out and, I don’t know--mow the lawn, eat some chicken, change the oil in your car, continue playing poker--you can come back and start the second scene from scratch and catch the full glory of this 2nd scene based on perspective.
After a hard days work you can actually sit down and think,
“That’s RIGHT! I still have another excellent scene to watch!” Bringing endless amounts of euphoria.
In other words: YOU GOTTA SAVE THAT SHIT!
I’m not so bare with me.
Porn never gets old or depreciated. Why save a scene if it has the same effect?
Go out and watch it and enjoy because it’s fun!
A good scene is a good scene!
I think that’s what porno liberals think like, but I don’t know.
There’s nothing wrong with the two because they’re two different mindsets and there’s no use in arguing because people are either born porn liberal or conservative.
You follow me?
MASTERS THESIS HERE I COME!
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Today I’m going to talk about Canadian politics.
OK, OK, I CAN’T! You got me.
Every since Sunday I have been in a weird mood. I have been wide awake with a ‘butterflies in the stomach’ feeling. Kinda like 'being fed cheese bread by Marisa Tomei kinda an uneasy happy' feeling.
This is the suppressed me.
If I were to let everything go I would be running from point A to point B waving my arms wildly above my head and screaming in sheer joy. I would be picking everyone’s ear off with banter centering around a certain topic. I would have a jambox tied onto a bungee cord with the other end tied onto my waist, dragging behind me wherever I go.
When tired out I would be playing serenity induced air guitar off my balcony and eating jo-jos til I drop.
When it comes to music, I don’t have the same interests like my peers have. I don’t know anyone else who likes the Cowboy Junkies or Patty Griffin.
At least, I don’t know anyone who shares the passion of this music like I do.
I never talk about my musical interests because I don’t want to be one of those people that drowns out and bores someone else by blah, blah, blah-ing about a topic they don’t know or care about.
When big news like say, Pink Floyd reuniting, is announced, the suppression gets to be a bit much.
Like today for instance I immediately came over to my coworkers cubical to discuss this new nugget of info.
Berg: HEY, didja hear the BIG news!?
V in a surprised maner: nah what?
Berg dancing around and loudly says: PINK FLOYD IS BACK TOGETHER!!!!
V who is simply just ‘happy for me’: Wow I bet you’re stoked.
Berg running in circles with a dumb smile and his tongue hanging out: Yeah I’m a bit happy.
That’s what it’s like.
Even the people that appreciate the music are like, “hmm, cool!”
Roger Waters is getting back with Pink Floyd and they all are going to play together. They have not played anything off of Dark Side together for OVER 30 YEARS!!!!
Some of the usual responses are:
1. Well, they obviously need the money
Well this doesn’t have anything to do with money other than to help give relief to Africa. The artists are not being paid and, not to mention, Gilmour already has hundreds of millions in the bank already. Waters is making a killing off of royalties from anyone that buys ‘The Wall’, so he’s not living check to check either.
2. Pfff give me a call once they bring back Syd Barret comes back.
See, the person that says this is completely stupid as all fucking hell. The obviously know enough about the first lead singer, but fail to realize that ‘one of the most fascinating/tragic stories in music’ will not be making an appearance. EVER.
These people deserve tragic beatings.
This isn’t like Fleetwood Mac or The Eagles grudgingly admitting that they need money, this is the actual foursome that created arguably the greatest four sequential albums ever in Dark Side, Wish You Were Here, Animals, and The Wall.
The same band management that, a couple months ago, clearly stated that they would NOT reunite, if ever.
Fans of the band, including myself, figured this band was dead and every year that passed when the members were heading into their 60’s would solidify that notion.
I was looking at the lineup of live 8 when it was just rumored that PF would attend and they had names like: Paul McCartney, Madonna, Coldplay, U2, Elton John, Sting, Crosby, Stills & Nash, The Who, Snoop-a-loop, and Stevie Wonder.
In other words, top tier acts.
Since PF made the announcement, all those acts seem so 2nd tier to me, obviously.
The reuniting news is the music news equivalent to the Twins winning the World Series!
It’s simply amazing to me that such a cause would have the power to unite this band after all those years and after all that bickering.
I never thought anything would. Even if it is for 20 minutes.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Of the big lake they called 'Gitche Gumee'
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
Yesterday was ‘blog night’ at the Saints game and before yesterday I was watching the weather reports like a geezer.
Thunderstorms starting in the morning and stopping in the afternoon for extremely strong thunderstorms, which should end at 5pm. After 5pm expect super duper thunderstorms to hit just about anywhere you may want to go.
If you have outdoor plans you are up shit’s creek!
I’m Jim Joes from your Weathereye Forcast Center wishing you a happy hellacius Monday! :)
So I hoping that they would be wrong once again.
The day started out with minor showers and lots of cloud cover.
“Ah crap, here we go.” I thought as I started getting ready for tailgating because I’m not letting mother nature get in the way of tail gating.
At around 2pm the clouds parted and the sun was shining in my apartment.
I was elated! I looked at the radar and it looked as though this sun may stick around for a bit.
I got ready to go and as I was driving to the grocery store with my sun roof open and my shades on I hollered,
“Mother Nature can suck my balls! HA!”
And I was livin’ it up.
We started tailgating at 5:30pm or so and it was still nice outside. Sun shining down and the grill was hot and ready for food.
We were right beside a wide building where you could only see about 60% of the sky
I had these Angus cut burgers with Colby-Jack cheese and others had Swisswarsts or something.
Jambox was booming and you could hear the band from across the parking lot.
I got to meet Ron and we talked about baseball and old time parks and the Jacko case and it was a fun conversation. Ron’s a damn good guy!
After the last hot dog was off the grill we started having a friendly summer shower. It was nothing major, nothing that one would change their plans for. It was pleasant--for about three mintues.
Then it rained harder.
‘Ok, start packing it up and get the rain gear on.’
‘Alright, a little quicker now’
Now the small sized hale and the full down pour.
Uh get the shit in the car!
Now we had golf ball sized hail and the rain was starting to turn the parking lot into a huge swimming pool.
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUTHUMP went the huge hail.
I was still stuck outside in my rain gear next to a tree hoping the hail wouldn’t get any bigger.
I loved every second of it though! I was dry, in some of the worst sudden weather I’ve seen for awhile. I mean if a game is going to get rained out, might as well throw some huge hail, wind, and rain in it.
I’m actually not frustrated one bit because I got some quality ogling time and some damn good burgers. Plus, I get to return my ticket for another game.
Not too damn bad I say!
Monday, June 13, 2005
I think I’m going to cry.
Pink Floyd actually playing a concert (SQUEEEEEEEEEE!)
WITH ROGER WATERS (WAHBHABHAHBALBHAHBALBHALHB)
I gotta go throw up now.
Friday, June 10, 2005
I guess my race is run
Well, she's the best girl ... I've ever had
I Fought the Law and the ... law won
I Fought the Law and the ... law won
At one point Ron pointed out on his blog that on blog night ‘one lucky blogger would throw out the first pitch’. Apparently that’s not true anymore since I can’t find that line anywhere, or maybe I dreamt it?
When I first saw it/dreamt it, I have been constantly daydreaming me throwing out the first pitch.
Me, in front of a thousand people taking the ball, bringing my torso ever so close to the ground, and totally submarine-ing the ball somewhere near the vicinity of home plate.
That would be awesome
Of course IF I was to throw the first pitch I couldn’t just stand at the pitcher’s mound and simply throw it.
You have to make the most out of chances like that!
I remember attending a game at Wrigley Field where two lucky fans were lucky enough to play catch out in the outfield of The Friendly Confines of Wrigley Field, right in front of the bleachers…
Those two fans weren’t that lucky in fact they were very much Unlucky because these guys threw like girls and couldn’t catch a ball (these two were well into their 20’s btw).
The crowd in left and left center field ripped them a new asshole! Every dropped catch would merit laughs and heckling that even I would cringe too.
These guys were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Then they would “throw” the ball.
The first Sally throws like the worst preying mantis I’ve ever seen--everyone in the bleachers laughs their ass off. Then the second Sally throws by making a running start and trying to turn his body into it. By this time all of left field (including the rooftop seats) were in a full roar over these “lucky” fans, who couldn’t even throw a baseball twenty feet and were just making asses out of themselves to some hardcore Cubs fans (it was a Saturday Cubs/Cards game with beautiful weather).
Then at the dome they had a “celebrity” home run hitting contest where the celebrities try to hit meatball pitches (from center field) into the seats. On this particular game they had the FOX 9 staff participating (two promanent anchors, weatherman, and sports anchor).
The weatherman hits like 4 homers-ok, not bad but lets see the jockeyed up sports anchor.
And that’s it. The guy should’ve got fired right on the spot. The fucking mascot even hit three homers.
So if I had the chance to throw out the first pitch at any game, I would have to do something different.
I was thinking I should take the delivery of a famous pitcher like Warren Spahn or Nolan Ryan since I somewhat know their delivery.
Then there’s Hideo Nomo and that might end up hurting me before I get the pitch underway, but it would be cool!
Here’s my idea though, the submarine! It’s very unexpected, it might make the catcher pissed at you, and it’s a little surprising.
Who would submarine the first pitch?
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
get on your high horse out of here
if they catch me i am dead
get on your high horse out of here
I completely have baseball fever. I try to listen/watch every Twins game, every White sox game, every Yankees game, any game with a dominant closer, and any game with runners in scoring position in late innings.
Not to mention the games that are in HD on the weekends and NOT the phony FOX game of the week, which is in standard widescreen instead of High Def.
*shakes head* What a bunch of crap that is! Screw those cheap FOX deceiving bastards!
It’s not even the midway point yet and I am completely engulfed in baseball and it’s stories.
Dontrell Willis already has 10 wins and the kids are just leaving school.
-White Sox are getting unbelievably lucky (the stats show it) with the best record in baseball
-The Twins are trailing the White Sox with the third best record in baseball
-And the Yankees suck ASS!
The road trips are coming in fruition as well. I already purchased Twins/Brewers Tix (decent seats btw) and I am in the process of purchasing Twins/Royals tix (damn good seats available so far!).
Last night Santana pitched a complete game shutout and he just might be in that groove again where he constantly flirts with no hitters and finds the power of Sandy Koufax.
Last year at this time Santana had a 2-4 record with a 5.50 ERA…..and he managed to win the Cy Young with a 20-6 record and a 2.61 ERA.
*Jumps up and down acting like a monkey*
He currently has a 7-2 3.31 ERA and it’s not even his favorite part of the season yet. Also, that win total could/should be higher if he would get some run support. Not that a pitcher’s win total really means that much.
It’s gotten to the point where I have my Twins jersey hung up in my living room so I can bask in all its glory when I wake up. I almost want to cry sometimes because IT’S SO MUTHAFUCKING AUTHENTIC!
The NBA Finals are on and I would rather watch a Rockies/Royals game.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
The day Aldous Huxley died
And her mama believed
That every man could be free
So her mama got high, high, high
Just to go back to something really quick,
It’s so sticky outside your skin feels like flypaper as I lay the sleeping bag across my balcony. I fluff my pillow, take a quick look at my neighborhood, and throw my head against my pillow for a decent nights sleep.
After five minutes of closed eyes it’s apparent that a decent nights sleep wont happen with the mosquitoes buzzing by --and landing on--my ears causing me to murmur,
“God--dammit!” as I wildly throw my arms around my wooden cage-like balcony. Then,
”OWWWW OOOOOOOH ggggggghhhhhhhhh FUCK!” I just blindingly hit my fist against my rail and now my fist is throbbing. ‘Fuck’ quickly echoed off the pond across the street and into the numerous rooms in the neighborhood. A couple bedroom lights flickered on and I held my ground by scurrying in my sleeping bad and pulling the bag over my head as quickly and quietly as possible.
I wake up shirtless because at some point in my slumber I was too hot to wear a t-shirt and, forgetting I’m sleeping on my balcony, I threw it away (and off my balcony). I sit up confused of my surroundings and notice the multiple mosquito bites on my shoulder and neck.
I stand up (still unaware of my surroundings) and pull my arms over my head and thrust my chest out above the morning traffic below for a quality stretch. This goes on for about a minute before I look around steely eyed at the parking lot and throw both hands down my shorts to “reconfigure” my junk for a good two minutes. At that time a school bus full of middle school students pull up and pick up a couple kids in front of my building. I just ignore them until the bus pulls away and I finally wake up wide eyed murmuring,
“Oh shit, what the hell am I doing?”
I immediately get very embarrassed and the need to get inside fast is flashing red in my head. I open the screen door and hop inside only to create another disaster.
My hop wasn’t high enough and tripped over the threshold and onto the side of my coffee table beating the hell out of my shin.
At this point I sit down rubbing my shin, holding back the tears of being so stupid.
Just then I looked at the clock and realized that it’s 8am.
I can still sleep for another hour.
Okay, I had to get that off my chest…. (Pardon the terrible pun.)
Next Monday is ‘blog night’ at the Saint Paul Saints game. I believe you can still purchase tickets by clicking on Ron’s blog and following the directions on his sidebar.
Tickets are $8 and include a beverage, hot dog, and a cap and it’ll be fun as shit!
plumes of smoke rise and merge into the leaden sky:
a man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers
but awakes to a morning with no reason for waking
I made the trek, once again, to that dreaded store where you dodge middle aged zombies in the biggest retail maze ever: Ikea. Not only that but I was searching for an item that I have no clue about: beds.
Since that *rolls eyes* waterbed fiasco, I have been sleeping on my couch and it’s actually been pleasant. I feel productive when I'm laying down in "bed" and watching TV while listening to the stereo. Some would call it 'multitasking'. Therefore, I need to find a bed fast before I decide that the couch will be my permanent bed.
After all, ya can’t fit four beautiful women and myself onto a couch!
When it comes to beds and bedding and bedroom stuff, I am completely out of my element. My best nights sleeping have been outside on camping trips, so I have no frame of reference when it comes to beds. My first bed was with this flimsey mattress that had a thick scent of urine and it was really bouncy. The thing probably could’ve really screwed up my back but since I was used to it, it didn’t make any difference to me. Then my parents finally conferred with each other and bought me and my bro a new mattresses because… well they wouldn’t tell us. It probably has something to do with chronic back problems that begin at age 26.
All I know about beds is: ‘oooh comfy’, lay down, and sleep.
I remember looking for mattresses before I got a waterbed. I’m thinking, ‘Really, how much can a mattress cost?’
Good God! I saw a mattress for $1200 and I nearly pooped my pants. I saw that the cheapest was like $200 and I said, “fuck dat” and left in a loud swearing tirade.
If you could only imagine me perusing a mattress shop/ bed shop. I'm like a Wisconsinite immediately after a Packers loss wandering around a dry county without a car.
At that point, I swear to god, I was thinking of sleeping out on my balcony with my sleeping bag. Just doing some sort of suburban cowboy thing out on the balcony.
Then I thought, ‘Let’s not get stupid now.’
I’ve never looked and really studied a bed. I’ve never used sheets (other than the elastic one that separates you and the mattress) in over ten years. I nixed the idea of finding a bed frame because what the hell does a bed frame do otherwise? I also don’t know what the hell a box spring does or have ever utilized one.
I know a bed is not a microwave, but Jesus, shopping for one is a pain in the urethra.
Fuckin frames, slats, head boards, midbeams, footboards, boxsprings, and sleep numbers