A Whole Year

At some point last week, I heard OutKast's ♫ Hey Ya ♫ on Pandora or Spotify or something. Like a hot tub time machine, I was transported back to dancing ridiculously to that song in my dorm room. Shaking it like a Polaroid picture. 10 years ago. I've never really been sentimental about anything. Or emotional, really. So, I was struck at how much I missed those college days. They were the best days of my life.

I came on here to tell y'all that. Then I was struck by an entirely different sentimentality.

It's been a whole year since I last blogged. Over a whole year. That feels crazy to me.
And now that I've returned to see how things are going (almost 55,000 page views), there's one obnoxious page sticking its tongue out at me. My 30 by 30.

Over this past weekend, I turned 30. It was a wonderful weekend planned by explannie. I've been having big issues with turning 30. It just feels like the best is behind me. Hell, I shouldn't even have that '20 something bloggers' button over there on the right side of the page any more->
I'm not going to get skinnier. I'm not going to get my PhD. I'm not going to start singing or playing piano. My 30 by 30 only makes that more devastating. I made that list when I was 26. I only did 8 of the 30.

Before clicking on the list, I started formulating my 40 by 40. I was sad to see that so many of them were left unaccomplished on my 30 by 30.

Regardless, I am the person I am today because of my 20s. It will be a decade with my greatest moments, and my lowest moments. Blogging effectively got me through a nervous breakdown (remember those days at the beginning?). I partied at Mary J. Blige's house, then went home and slept on the floor in my roach-infested room. I was in the middle of Michael Jackson's death, and I played my trumpet as late President Ford was unloaded from Air Force One in Grand Rapids. I was a Michigander, Jersey trash, a Californian, a Kentuckian, and a Washingtonian. I was depressed. I got engaged. I went into crazy credit card debt. I got an impressive job. I broke a bone and had major surgery. I ran a 10k. I learned how to cook. I learned how to live on my own. I started heart disease meds. I got comfortable with nudity. I started dancing for money. I got out of my comfort zone, and I dragged you all with me.

I'm still not 100% sold on this whole turning 30 thing, but I guess there's no turning back. This moment right now, it's as young as I'll ever be again. So here's to finishing that 30 by 40, and then some. I make absolutely no commitments to blogging again. I loved it, but now that I'm in a different place, it just doesn't have the same appeal. I don't feel like I'm nearly as interesting, but I'm also not nearly as bipolar.

Blogging helped me find my voice. I love telling stories. Now maybe I'll finally focus on writing short stories. That'd be awesome, but ain't nobody got time for that right now.

To 30!
~RoB

Jack Didley's VIP Ouroboros

Though a few people 'liked' my Facebook status that was akin to the title of this post, I fear that not many of you are familiar with the ouroboros. It's the ancient snake-eats-tail symbol that's been interpreted as everything from the Wheel of Time to the phoenix to the cyclic nature of existence. I became most familiar with it via the [Title of Show] show, or t[ToS]s. By the end of this post, you'll understand our current relationship with the great ouroboros.

The only "nightclub" that we've experienced since moving to Eastern Washington is a local gem known as Jack Didley's. While locals have a hard time NOT hearing about how cheap drinks are at JD's on the radio (seriously, most specials are $1), our very first experience at the club was when Annie insisted that we go enter their Halloween costume contest. I won the male division. Annie won the female division. For winning, each of us were given $25 cash and a certificate for a free VIP party for 18 people at JD's in the following 90 days. So, we had 2 VIP parties to use. Had it not been for them forcing us to come back with these VIP party passes, I'm not sure that we would have ever returned. We're just too old to club in a 'small city'...

Though it took a few weeks to actually contact them, I was able to snag the heavily sought-after Ultra VIP seating area for last Friday, the 13th, in order to celebrate Annie's upcoming First Annual 29th Birthday Party. Since we depart for Tahoe this Friday, this past weekend was our last weekend in WA in 2013. I made a Facebook event, invited everyone who's profile said they were near 'Richland, WA', and said that the first 16 people that RSVP would get wristbands, while the rest that want to come would have to hang out on the dance floor with the other peasants. (We ended up bringing everybody we knew in the VIP area, because nobody gives a fuck at JD's.)

The very-classy Ultra VIP lounge's center-piece was, fittingly, a stripper pole. Nothing like eating a fancy Frost Me 'fetti cupcake-cake off of a stripper pole (with Woodford Reserve horse racing napkins):

Merry Birthday, Annie!

Well, some time around 1am, the mic guy (he's not the DJ, he's really just worthless and walks around yelling inaudible things into the mic all night) cleared the dance floor (and the elevated levels of stripper poles) for a dance-off. As the current King of JD's, I felt obligated to participate. I climbed to the top, danced the shit out of that place, and was asked to come back for the Finals, an epic battle of the sexes.

Then, it was the ladies' turn. Let's be real, for a minute. This was the saddest group of dancing ladies I've ever seen collected on a small stage. They all looked either roofie'd or rolling on E, humping the stage or the mirrors or the poles like a pack of horny chihuahuas. A few looked like they had itchy butts and were trying to drag them across the stage in order to scratch themselves. I cheered loudly for a particularly rhythm-deficient chubby girl, knowing she would be easy pickin' when it came to the final. Through a sad chorus of cricket chirps, a female finalist was selected. (Seriously, if you're the guy that came with a lady dancing on stage, it's your responsibility to cheer for her. Don't leave her up there in shame at an awkward silence.)

Then, it was time for me to shine. Rob vs Didley's Skank. Though she tried to woo the audience with her stripper moves, she had no chance against my ability to gyrate and shimmy every part of my body. She even tried to get up on me (slapping me in the face with her desperate flailing), but she was no match. The crowd voted, and the noise level made the decision quite clear. The King shall remain in his throne. I've heard that I looked very similar to this:

Annie made sure to point out afterward that it was not just our VIP section going crazy, the whole club loved it. One of the girls in our party even commented, "Even our boyfriends are cheering for Rob." Never underestimate my ability to not care at all how I look in public.

And what did they have for the winner? A VIP party for 18 people at Jack Didley's! (Where was the $25 this time?)

So, every time I go to Jack Didley's now, it's for a VIP Party. Also, every time I go to Jack Didley's, I win a VIP Party.

...and the snake eats its tail,
~RoB

P.S. The bartender at Didley's was the second person I've spoken to since meeting them as Miley Cyrus, and both people had no clue who I was, dressed in boy clothes and looking all normal...

National Anthem

I love singers. That should be clear. However, I don't feel like the National Anthem is the time for a solo singer to shine. It should be a time for all of us to sing, in camaraderie. Much to Annie's chagrin, I (at least softly, or lip-sync) sing it every time we're at a sporting event.

Don't get me wrong, Mariah's Super Bowl Anthem was amazing:

"free" was so high that my TV didn't make a sound back then

And even that wasn't as good as Whitney's:

This was the first time that a recording of our Anthem made the Top 10 singles charts and went Platinum.

It's re-release in 2001 became Whitney's last Top 10 hit.

Regardless, I find this to be way more inspiring:

It should be about America. It should not be about riffs, runs, and jazz. Also, it's pregame. We want to give the Anthem a little fanfare, but we paid to watch the sport. An old Navy singer did the whole Anthem in under a minute before a volleyball game once. Now, that's an American!

On a side note, I have two extremely memorable SSB incidents. The first: I was conducted by John Williams as a member of the Michigan Marching Band when we performed his version of the Anthem at the 2004 Rose Bowl. The real cannons almost caused me to shit my pants. Secondly: upon walking into a Michigan soccer game, I immediately dodged into a port-a-potty to relieve myself. As I was in there, the Anthem started. In front of a growing group of people who were entering, who had all stopped to pay their respects, I had to step out of the john and stand in front of it in order to participate in the group's nationalism. Trust me, it was aw-w-w-wkward.

'merica,
~RoB

I Hate Movember

I've always cracked jokes about Movember, but it's always been to hide my true feelings. I'm finally gonna come out and say it. I hate No Shave November. There's never a period that I feel more like a pre-pubescent child than when everybody's out wagging around the freshly-grown Chia pets above their lips.

Why does it get to me so much? Well, here's the best that I can do after a full month of growing the 'stache out:

Am I naked? Probably. 'stache is still grosser.

Annie was gone for almost the full month of March, so all I had to tend to were math and Zumba classes in KY. It was my first chance to actually give facial hair a shot (since she'll shave it in my sleep when it starts to look anything like this). As I look at this pic, I think, why didn't they fire me for being a dirty creeper? The truth:  it's so little facial hair that you can only see it when you're as close to me as this phone was. Close enough to see how buck my teeth are. Yet, you'll never, ever be that close to me. Ever. Unless I'm drunk. Then all bets are off.

That one pic not good enough for you? Check out all of this glory:

I shaved it all off in steps, so you could see me with just the creeper 'stache. However, I apparently grow a wiry goatee that couldn't actually be more goat-like. I'm very proud that my face is generally acne free. I have no complaints there, but trying to grow that bird's nest outta my face kept causing big breakouts. Keep in mind that there was NO SHAVING here. That's the splotchy hair problem that plagues my face (aside from it's lack of growth).

Want more info (but less pictures)? I don't really grow hair anywhere. I have armpit hair. I have... ummm... cabbage patch hair? More like kiwi patch. Amirite? Other than that, not much. I have literally 3 hairs on my chest, which make the vertices of an almost perfect right triangle. If I was positive that I was never going to grow any more chest hair, I'd probably get a tattoo connecting them. I have a little peach fuzz around my belly button, but my arms look shaved, and my legs have sporadic, short wiry hair in splotches, not unlike my face (especially my milky-white upper thighs). It also feels like I have three or four hairs sprouting from my butthole, but that's only been confirmed by touch.

Now that you've seen my personal reasons for hating the celebration of body hair this month, we can go on to the more universal problem. Why does facial (or body) hair have to be some sort of symbol for manliness? I can get you pregnant just as easily as some Billy Gibbons impersonator. I can lift things. I like meat.

I'd like to believe that it's just in the name of prostate cancer awareness. If that were the truth, then I'd be happy to confirm with everybody that I'll be getting my butthole diddled by a professional once I get into my upper-30s. However, if you think that everyone is growing it out just for awareness, then you are lying to yourself. That'd be like saying chicks only grow big ol' titties for breast cancer awareness. Nope. It's to show off. The next big 'stache you see this month, ask them how much money they raised for the PCF. If they say they did donate, ask them if it was just so they could wear their disgusting lip caterpillar to work.

The other option:  apparently it's cool to either draw a mustache on your finger and hold it up beneath your finger, get the previous drawing actually tattoo'd on your finger to be 'ironic', or to crochet some facial hair or create it out of some other crafty items. You're right, that'd totally make me feel like my pride is intact.

Can't we all just wear ribbons and jerseys for another month?
~RoB

P.S. I do feel like my lack of facial hair is the reason I still get asked for my ID quite regularly. Even with my license, a bartender at a swim-up bar probably wouldn't serve me. Young looking. I'm ok with that.

P.S.S. I do grow an enormous amount of nose hair. I've talked about letting it go, and maybe having some kind of Movember comb-over starting from my nostrils. If I could do it without gagging just thinking about it, then I might attempt it just to prove a point.

Favorite Youtube Videos

Picture it: Sicily, 2013...
You're with a new group of friends. (I know, hard to imagine for those of you that don't move more often than seasons of Dancing With the Stars air, but work with me.) Anyway, you're with a bunch of people that don't know you very well, and therefore don't know your shameless plug of Youtube videos. I never know how it starts, but I do know that it regularly ends with the same streak of favorite Youtube videos being played on various devices (though most often a huge HD TV these days).

Since I keep a running list of them in my head, and since you only really read my blog to kill time, I figured I'd find a place like this to list them. Again, if you are an avid reader of my Facebook feed, none of these should surprise you. I'll even break them into categories, for your viewing pleasure.

Funny
Since meeting Annie, I"ve been turned into quite the soccer fan. High school me would call me 'gay', but high school me grew up a long time ago. I was just introduced (Saturday night during the Timbers win) to this NBC attempt at getting more 'mericans to watch soccer, and it is so on point!

Key & Peele is a sketch show. Sketch shows aren't typically good. In general, K&P is no exception. However, the East vs. West college bowl is hilarious from beginning to end (except for 3 players). Keep in mind that I collect names that I find absolutely ridiculous. The current list is topped by greats like: La-a ("Ladasha") & Abcde ("Absiddy").

I can't really remember how I came across this (my apologies for whomever originally introduced me), but the premise for this series of videos is great. A new father remakes random conversations that he has had with his daughter, but casts the role of his 2-yr-old to another full-grown man. This is my favorite episode that they've made so far.

"Because I am naked, I am the boss."

Bringing together my favorite 2 things:  ignorant religious fanatics and 90s pop culture.

Unfortunately, this went big when it was picked up by McDonald's. That fact frustrates me so much that I almost linked their version of Russian Unicorn instead, but I've learned through experience that you have to be familiar with Michael Buble's music and videos to really get the full enjoyment of its lip reading. So, here is A Bad Lip Reading of the NFL.

For Men Only
Girls can watch this, but they're not going to like it. They probably will not get it, either. Neither will boys. Men will.

Music
OMG, how many times have I posted this?! This is still my favorite moment from any vocal reality show ever. 2-minute musical orgasm, commence.

Susan Boyle was a great moment in reality TV history. I'm a sap. What can I say? I fell in love with 11-yr-old Bianca Ryan on America's Got Talent. All that said, Jonathan from the Britain's Got Talent's 2012 audition is probably my favorite unsung hero of inspiring musical performances from reality shows. Look how much he's shaking! To top it off, the moment where he says he'd rather keep around that leach of a pop-soprano than to go on without her will put a ball in your throat. It helps that I like me some opera.

"We've come on here as a duo, we're going to stay..."

Les Mis is an epic musical/opera. If you only have one musical that you ever go see performed, it should be Les Mis. Fuck Phantom. Les Mis has lasted the test of time for a reason. Aside from that goddamn Jonas brother, I was extremely pleased with the most recent anniversary release of the concert version of the musical. The extras took it up a step, when cast originals showed up to sing songs with the current cast. Then Alfie Boe sang with 3 other Jean Valjeans, and my heart exploded. (This isn't the same version, since it was pulled from Youtube, but it's representative.)

I'm still hoping that Pentatonix gets big. I think everything that they do is really cool, and it'd be really hard for me to pick a single performance from their season of the Sing Off, but I'm going to have to. Just like you have to pick your favorite child sometimes. Here goes. Skip to 1:30.

Finally, Beauty and the Beast gets an urban remake.

LaWasha. LaDrya. Love.

Just Interesting
Do the Test. How many passes?

Enjoy,
~RoB

Sideball

"Why is sideboob so tastefully erotic, while sideball is horrifying?!" - Gypsy B (extremely paraphrased) regarding her first experience at a live drag race (the tranny kind in high heels, not the automotive kind).

Sideball (side Ewok?) became my secret nickname for my Halloween costume this year. I expected the costume to be the most popular costume of the year, so I didn't think it would turn out being very special. Over the years, I feel like we've done quite well for ourselves in our costume efforts, including a Fred Flintstone costume that sparks fear in all who experienced it in person. ;)

Thanks, Beekeeper.

I was going for shock value, and I didn't know how well our new group of friends would take it here in the Tri-Cities. However, when we woke up the morning after the party, our Facebook photo had blown up with over 200 Likes. We must have done something right.

I made our costumes. We found Annie's white suit at Goodwill, which I painted black with duct tape and 3 bottles of fabric spray paint. My top was found at Goodwill, but it was a tank, so I had to trim it. My bottoms are "undershapers" (spanks) from the maternity department at Walmart. Miss S, my friend and hairstylist, did the hair for me the first time. The hand, which was waiting for us in the car at the time of the photo shoot, was made from 3 pieces of construction paper and some cardboard reinforcement.

It barely survived 2 weekends of partying.

Considering the popularity of our costumes, and the most popular Facebook photo (almost 300 Likes now) either of us had ever had (which is saying something, because I'm, well.... popular), we decided to put it to the test and head to one of the two local clubs for their costume contest the following weekend. This time, Annie did my hair, but she did a fair enough job. Didn't matter, cuz we swept both the boys' and girls' costume divisions, getting us $25 cash and a VIP party for 18 for each of us. That'd be the 2nd time we've won a costume contest at a bar, though the last time we actually won 'worst costume' and only because we had a huge, loud group of people with us. The girl beside us in a homemade, shitty Narwal costume truly deserved to win the category.

It's always pleasantly surprising when your work turns out to be more epic than you could have ever expected. I feel like we've set the bar too high for next year among the villagers here, so we'll probably just have to move again.

Happy Belated Halloween,
~RoB

P.S. I did clean up Cheetos stains off of my outfit before taking it out to the competition. They were on my underboobs.

A Month of Something (Probably Failure)

I tend not to finish things. My PhD. My new year's resolutions. Folding the laundry.
Heck, I rarely follow through with anything. A full-time job... Weight lifting....

Two years ago, I attempted NaNoWriMo. So did Annie. I made it through half of the month on track to actually finish my novel by the end of November. About that same time, on a flight to Michigan, I allowed Annie to read what I had written so far. She wasn't blown away, so I used that as an excuse to stop. I didn't really know how I was going to continue, and quitting seemed easiest.

Well, Annie is going to attempt NaNoWriMo again this year. The premise for her story is the best that either of us have come up with since we started discussing writing stories. I didn't have any real inspiration to attempt the novel-writing business again, so I told her I would NaBloWriMo, just a month late. That's where you write a blog post every day for a month. I wasn't necessarily going to only write on this blog, but any blog that I write, as long as I did a post that day, I was going to count it toward my goal.

Then, out of nowhere , everybody hopped on the Facebook Plank Train in an attempt to build core muscle. There was a viral post that took you from a 20-second plank to a 4-minute plank in just 30 days. So I agreed to do that, too. RobPlankHoldMo?

She has nipples...

Then, last night, only 8 kids showed up to Trick-or-Treat, which resulted in me eating way too much candy. That, combined with the fact that my shift got cut at the winery today, led me to blowing off steam by toying around with C# / XNA, thanks to the current class that I'm taking on Coursera. I finally hit the sack around midnight, but I woke up with programming ideas floating around in my head like seasonally-early sugar plum fairies. So, I returned to the tinkering I had done the night before, and wound up with this:

That's right, RobProWriMo. A month of developing my own game, for the hell of it.

Overwhelmed yet? I am.

NaBloWriMo is probably the one that I'm least inspired by right now, but I think Annie will 'inspire' me (yell at me for being lame).

I can't wait to fail four more things,
~RoB

P.S. I know y'all missed this blog!

Whiskey Madness

Today, I'm hoping to take a couple of friends back to my favorite stop on the Bourbon Trail, Wild Turkey.  I finished The Trail last month, and though I'd go to just about any of them again, Wild Turkey was definitely my favorite.  It's massive.  It feels the most scientific because of the scale of its mass production, and honestly, I always thought Wild Turkey was crap bourbon.  It turns out that I was very unfamiliar with their full line of spirits.  Anyway, planning today's adventure reminded me that I never posted about the bracket we set up for comparing all of the whiskeys my group of friends had been drinking lately.

There have been 6-8 of us that have been touring distilleries and drinking all varieties of whiskey (primarily bourbon), and we've been purchasing bottles along our travels.  Saturday night before the Super Bowl, Annie and I hosted the Michigan @ Indiana (1 v 3) Mens' Basketball Game at our house.  Since it was going to start late, we decided to skip all of the food and instead compare all of our favorite bourbons over the past few weeks at the same time.  It didn't take long before I made a bracket, set up a way for anonymous voting for each pairing, and lovingly dubbed it 'Whiskey Madness'.  We set the bourbons up against each other to see who would come out on top.  Here's what it looked like at the beginning, a lineup that The Bourbon Trail's Twitter account would eventually dub "Murderer's Row":

Following were the contenders:  Woodford Reserve, Woodford Reserve Double Oaked, Four Roses Single Barrel, Bulleit, Angel's Envy, Blanton's, Russel's Reserve Single Barrel, Russel's Reserve 10 year, Knob Creek, Kentucky Spirit, Stranahan's Tennessee Whiskey, Russel's Reserve Rye, Chivas Scotch, Jameson, and Trader Joe's Bourbon.  I wish we could have had Elijah Craig's 12 Year or Basil Hayden's, just to round out representation from the western side of the state, but I hadn't even finished the Bourbon Trail yet.  In the end there was one:

I had never had Blanton's before that night, and it's definitely the most distinctive of the bourbons I've tasted.  It's the easiest one to do a blind tasting and confidently state, "This one is Blanton's."  So, it was interesting to watch it walk to the Finals.  However, the most expensive (I think?) and what showed up being heralded as the best bourbon eventually won:  Wild Turkey's Kentucky Spirit.  Here's the Whiskey Madness bracket:

By the end of the night, I had learned several things.  Though KY Spirit won, I was really happy with how our bottle of Russell's Reserve 10-year faired.  It fought some stiff competition to make it to the quarterfinals. I was also happy to hear how much everybody liked plain ol' Woodford Reserve.  That's been my go-to for mixing since we moved here, and it's nice that, under the scrutiny of the Madness, one of the more popular comments was 'I forgot Woodford was this good'.

After posting both the lineup and the eventual winner, I was impressed at the Bourbon Trail and Wild Turkey's quick responses via Twitter:

So that was cool.  Thanks, Twitter!

Happy Drinking,
~RoB

P.S. Why didn't the Trader Joe's Bourbon show up in any of the pictures?  Because you shouldn't drink it.  That's why.  You're welcome.

P.S.S. No we're not professional tasters or anything, so what does our opinions matter, but I will defend that I actually work in the wine industry and am considered to have a good palate in that field.  Regardless, you like what you like, so take our results however you want.

Following a Cop

Who here does not immediately start to freak out when there's a cop behind them while they're driving?  Nobody?  Didn't think so.  We all do it.  My heart races as soon as a cop pulls out behind me, even if I have nothing to do with the situation.  One time, a cop peeled out from the shoulder of the freeway, drove up behind me, turned on his lights, and when I started to pull over (assuming I'd been caught), he pulled over the car directly in front of me.

Heart.... racing.......

OMG, cop!  Drop the phone.  What's my speed?  Of course I'm speeding.  Maybe he won't notice if I hit my brakes real quick.  Did he see that?  Is my seatbelt on?  Have I been drinking?  Before I know it, the car speeds past me to get to whatever he needed to get to.  I don't know, maybe Krispy Kreme just turned on their 'now destroying arteries' sign.  Why do I freak out every single time?!

But what if he's got a friend around here somewhere?  Am I entering a speed trap?  Did I use my blinker to turn on here?  Was that even a cop, or was it just some old lady in a white Crown Victoria?  Has he been following me?

Bum... bump.... bum... bump....

What I really want to know is, would they notice if we were following them?  Would there be any point where they might start to freak out?

The other day I was heading to downtown Lexington, using my preferred plethora of back roads to avoid stop lights.  A cop turned right on a red light just before I crossed the intersection, so I was directly behind him.  It appeared that we had the same route in mind.  After 3 or 4 turns, I started to wonder about this very subject.  Had he noticed that I appeared to be following him?  What if I was some renegade gang-banger looking to get my revenge on the copper that shot my baby-mama.  Did that make his heart start to race?

I hope so, 'cuz I owe 'em a few,
~RoB

My 5 on Both Sides

A running joke that we have in my current group of friends is our 'list of five'.  You get to pick 5 celebrities that your spouse would allow you to have sex with (no strings attached) if given the opportunity.  I feel like my list changes hourly, but this is probably the most consistent.

A few notes.  SMG moved up a spot (or down, here) after Google Image Searching her (damn!).  Also, there are a ton of honorable mentions that have made their way on and off:  Shannon Tweed, Anna Farris, Amy Adams, Pam Anderson, Rachel Roxx, Mila Kunis, and Monique Gabrielle, to name a few.

5.  Reese Witherspoon

I like younger & thicker.  Fear, Cruel Intentions, Legally Blonde.

4.  Isla Fisher

So distractingly (made up word) hot in Wedding Crashers.

3.  Sarah Michelle Gellar

Hot as Buffy.  Hotter in Cruel Intentions.

2.  Geri Halliwell

I've already done a post about her.

1.  Emma Stone

Something about those huge eyes (and red hair).  The opposite of yellow fever?

Then, I awoke on Monday morning after a weird, dirty dream with Channing Tatum.  I don't think I've ever really considered Tatum hot.  It did make me realize that if Annie were a guy, and all we did was blow each other all of the time, we'd probably never leave the house or have friends or be able to pay bills.  That's all gay guys do, right?... just blow each other all the time...

Monday morning, a friend posted this photo on Facebook, and I took it as a sign.  I've always been open about the fact that I find some guys hot.  (My current #1 has been at the top of my list for as long as I can remember.)  So, here goes my list of 5 on the guy side (Brody on gLee and David Beckham's Armani underwear shoot [just the shoot] are honoarable mentions):

5.  Channing Tatum

I've never actually seen Magic Mike.

4.  Chris Hemsworth

Only if he's bulked up like Thor.

3.  Taylor Lautner

He'll have to pretend to be Jacob.

2.  Chris Pine

Strangely unattractive shirtless...

1.  Mark Wahlberg

I think it has to do with the movie Fear.

So, there ya go, a post everybody can enjoy,
~RoB

Cocktails

I love wine.  I had a fling with tequila between the summers of 2007 and 2008, but wine has been my only long-term relationship (with alcohol).  The closest thing I've ever come to drinking cocktails were Tequila Sunrises (during that bout with tequila) and the Jack-n-Cokes I get every time I'm at a bar.  They're simple, sweet, and alcoholic.  Who could ask for more!

This year for Annie's birthday (the day the Maya calendar supposedly ended), we fought through a blizzard to take The Art of the Cocktail at The Ritz-Carlton, Lake Tahoe.  Only our group of 4 (us and her parents) and 2 other guests actually made it to the class, so we did it at the bar of the Manzanita instead of in the Living Room Restaurant.  There we had their two top bartenders giving us the secrets behind their most popular drinks.  I got pretty drunk... I think it was the altitude.  We took the recipes home, tweaked them to our tastes, experimented with friends, and now I'll list the recipes for the 4 cocktails that got us through the holidays.

We bought all of the tools necessary to make these cocktails, like a cocktail shaker, jigger, & strainer.

Since I'm using a jigger, all of my proportions are in ounces, but yours could just as easily be in tsp or Tbsp or shots or whatever you want.  That's the convenience of proportions, so I'll just leave them as such.

Annob's Sidecar (this makes 2)
1 Cointreau
2 Simple Syrup (if you want less sweet, make this 1)
2 Lemon Juice
4 Brandy
Shaken and strained into two dry martini glasses, or in our case, a wine glasses.
(If you're feeling fancy, use 1 orange for 1 lemon and drop a spiral of orange peel in the glass.)

Annob's Moscow Mule
2 Vodka
~6 Ginger Beer (usually I split a can/bottle between roughly two drinks)
Stirred with a cinnamon stick, leaving the cinnamon stick in the glass.

Annob's Margarita
1 Cointreau
1 Lime Juice
1 Orange Juice
2 Simple Syrup
3 Tequila
Shaken and strained into a salt- or sugar-rimmed glass.

Annob's Keeneland Breeze
2 Bourbon
2 Cointreau
6-8 Ginger Ale

It's shameful for us to take any credit at all for these classic/standard drinks, but we did play with the recipes we were given.  You could order a Sidecar, Moscow Mule, or Margarita at just about any respectable bar, and who knows, maybe they'll be better!  Keeneland Breeze is a cocktail from the Keeneland horse-racing track in Lexington.

As far as the cocktail recipes are concerned, all fruit juices are fresh-squeezed.  Lime and lemon juice are completely interchangeable.  You can even replace the orange juice in the Margarita with lime.  Cointreau can be replaced with Grand Marnier with little distinction in taste.  I just like to keep Cointreau around for when I make buttercream.  The cheapest Brandy you can find works for the Sidecar, we use Christian Brothers VS (the same brand I use in my Sangria).  You can use the cognac of your choice, as well.  We use Bulleit Bourbon and Absolut Vodka.  I've used 1800 Reposado for my Tequila in the past, but currently we're using Espolon Reposado.  Goslings is the standard Ginger Beer, but I'm really digging Regatta for its extra fresh-ginger spiciness.  It might be too much for some, though.  Finally our simple syrup is just half sugar and half water.  No boiling required.  Just use warm water, shake it up, let it dissolve for a few seconds, shake it up again, and drop it in the fridge to remove the cloudiness.

I'll be honest, I hated vodka until I discovered the Moscow Mule.  Also, we bought a muddler to work on things like lemon drops and mint juleps, but we focused on these 4 drinks instead.

Cheers!
~RoB

New Year's Resolutions

New Year's Resolutions are stupid.  I can't think of a single one that I've stuck to.  Here is my list of 3 simple NYRs for 2010 (which I posted in a note on Facebook in December 2009):

1. Put my clean laundry away the same day that I do it.
2. Six day work weeks at school.
3. Do not charge anything to credit cards.
Each of these, individually, could really help my life. If I manage to do all three, I should be a clean, debt-free Dr. Rob in no time at all!

I honestly don't think I succeeded at any of those through the entire month of January.  I had charged things by January 15th.  I started living out of my laundry basket after my birthday (February 15th), and I dropped out of school in December...

I think NYRs are so stupid that I didn't even attempt them in 2011, but I will try them again now.  Since Schoolhouse Rock taught me that 3 is the magic number, here goes:

1. Blog at least twice a month.  (Or give up blogging entirely.  There's really only one or the other at this point.)
2. Save 10% of the money that I make.  (I've tried this several times throughout my life, and I've failed miserably every time.  I'm genetically trained to live paycheck-to-paycheck.  However, I have to start learning to save, or I'll have to work until I die.)
3. Find a job where I'm making a significant portion of the household income.  (I've had a sweet deal with Annie for a while.  I think she's had enough of it.  She hasn't complained once, but I think she's ready to share finances instead of being solely responsible for them.)

So, here goes.  We'll know by January 15th if I've failed the first one...

It's amazing how much that single video has stuck with me my whole life,

~RoB

Legislation

Have you ever seen a gun... in real life?

Have you ever seen someone shooting a gun?

Have you ever seen heroin... in real life?

Have you ever seen someone shooting heroin?

That's because outlawing drugs that kill people helps deter their use.  No, it doesn't eliminate heroin from the planet.  However, it's more likely that somebody in the parking lot at Walmart or at a high school has a gun in their glove box than heroin.

Gun legislation is worth talking about, just as much as increased mental health awareness and funding.

~RoB

P.S. When I first wrote this, I spelled heroine incorrectly.

TBOX 2012

Two weekends ago, Annie and I took a trip up to Chicago to visit with one of her close friends from college, as well as participate in the annual Twelve Bars of Xmas (TBoX) bar-crawl throughout Wrigleyville.  (When you click on that link, you can find me in that blurry picture right below the tendons in Heat Miser's right wrist while he pours cereal into the audience.  I'm the dark afro with reindeer antlers on.)  The weather sucked driving up there, but we got there Friday afternoon and decided to pre-party for the bar crawl with red wine and tequila and Jack Daniels.  I've made better decisions...

The crawl started around 8am on Saturday the 8th at The CubbyBear, across from the Chicago Cubs' ballpark.  The line in front of that bar was an absolute zoo; a great foreshadow of the day.

TBOX is effectively a drunken holiday parade on Clark St.

One big thing about TBOX is that you're supposed to look ridiculous.  Straight from their website:  "People need to be STARING at you the minute you leave the house."  I feel like I succeeded in that, since I used blinking LED Xmas lights and red/green pompoms to make a ridiculously ugly sweater.  I also had pink-bunny, footie pajamas on, as well as antlers.  A spectacular moment happened before we even got into the first bar.  An old man pulled up to the stop light, rolled down his window, and shouted "what's going on?", to which someone in the crowd yelled back, "a birthday party!"

The first bar & opening ceremonies were boring.  The guy who created TBOX and organizes it now had a really long, indulgent sing-a-long that he composed and it was super awkward.  It seemed as though he didn't have many friends in real life, so he was going to milk today for all that it was worth.  We left in the middle to get our drink on, but not before getting a green bracelet.  The first bar we went to was Bar Celona.  It was empty, so getting drinks and using the bathroom was easy.  I don't drink beer, so a bar-crawl means that I'll be drinking a bunch of liquor.  There were deals on Jagermeister shots all day, so that was what I was going to choke down so that the day didn't cost $500.

TBOX is all about stickers, as well as their theme, which was TBOXopoly this year.  So, at each bar you got a sticker that said 'you landed on...' and there was a royal court walking around passing out stickers that looked like money with their individual faces on the bills.  Annie and I even had bright pink 'Virgin' stickers that had to be signed by one of the royal court after we kissed/got kissed by them.  (Again, the underlying theme of these folks having poor social lives and needing this bar crawl.)

Thank you, Annie's friend, for hosting us!

I got antsy and progressed by myself to Rockwood Place for a shot and a sticker before meeting my group at the Hofbrauhaus, called Uberstein for some reason.  At this point, Annie was already trying to slow me down by making me drink water in between shots of Jager.  We walked across the street to get into Exedus II Lounge, which I started to freak out about because it wasn't on our TBOXopoly boards.  If I was being challenged to hit at least 12 bars on the board, I had no time to waste at other bars.  Apparently Exedus was one of 3 bars participating in TBOX that weren't on the board, so at least we got stickers.  The back corner of this bar was ridiculously dark, so my Xmas lights were shining bright.

At this point, hunger was affecting my drinking, so Annie and I actually took off to go find pizza at Dimo's.  I ate a ton there, getting a dollar off my second round for being fat.  Annie thoroughly enjoyed the Mac-n-Cheese pizza, and our friends eventually met us there.  We had heard how ridiculous the lines were getting at most of the bars, and we could see that the Blarney Stone didn't look too bad from the windows of the pizzeria, so that is where we headed next.  This ended up being the most-crowded room of the day.  Plus, the single bartender was an old Irish asshole that only served people right in front of him.  (I understand that it was a zoo, and that he could get away with that, but you should really walk along the bar and try to get to everyone.  People were starting to throw shit at him when we decided to just leave.)  At least this pub felt the most authentic.

From there, we decided to head south and find the shortest line, which was to Rookies.  As I look back on the day, Rookies was probably my favorite bar.  This is sad, since it's a Michigan State bar.  They did a fantastic job at controlling numbers that went in so that once you were in you were comfortable.  It was easy to get drinks, the live DJ was playing good music, and there was plenty of room for drinking and dancing.  We stayed there for several drinks, but eventually moved on as our group was getting drunker.  In fact, our group split in half at this point, since Annie and her friend ran off ahead while the rest of us waited for someone to make their way out of Rookies.  I eventually ran off to find the girls, but the rest of the party never came.  Oh well...

I found Annie and her friend at Fiesta Cantina, and we all ran upstairs.  Once we got drinks, we hovered around an empty stripper pole, which was used several times by drunken sorority girls (I wasn't complaining) before we decided to progress to the next bar.  I'll be honest, this is the line in the sand.  This is where things get hazy.  I know most of the events that occurred from here forward, but they may be out of order, or just plain made up.  You can see the number of bars that we had already hit at this point.  I tried to text Annie every time I took a shot, but I lost track by Rookies...  You've been warned!

We found ourselves at Nisei Lounge, where we were lucky enough to meet up with one of my friends from college.  That is, unless Nisei Lounge doesn't have two dartboards in the back.  If it doesn't, I'm not sure what bar we were at.  We left here to return to Clark St. and hit up Deuces, Irish Oak, Mullen's, Vines, and eventually Yak-Zies.  (You're very welcome for combining those into one sentence, since this is already getting too long.)  I really liked Vines, and I would like to visit there once when it wasn't a shit show.  They were even smart enough to have bathroom attendants, so it wasn't absolutely disgusting in there.  At one of these bars, we ran into 4 people dressed as toy soldiers.  After the fact, I was told that they looked like they were from Babes in Toyland, but at the moment, all I could do was sing songs from The Nutcracker loudly at them while making robotic toy soldier motions.  I was not the only one singing in our party, for the record.

Doing shots of cereal is another big thing at TBOX.

At Yak-Zies, my friend from college reunited with his group of bar crawlers.  This bar felt exactly like Elephant & Castle, which was one of my favorite pubs from bar-crawling San Francisco during St. Patty's Day.  It was very comfortable, very spacious, very easy to get drinks, and they had food, which was becoming a necessity again.  At one point, a taco truck pulled up outside, and Annie begged me to bring her food from it, but the nice gentleman at the door said he couldn't allow me to do that since they serve food.

I only needed one more sticker to finish my 12 bars (and Annie only needed 2), so we left our friends at Yak-Zies and ran to Trace.  [If you're doing the math, we had actually already been to 13 bars, but the first bar didn't count and neither did Exedus.]  For our sakes, I don't think we drank at Trace, but we quickly found our way to Raw Bar.  They didn't have any stickers left, but they did have amazing oyster shots with vodka, which we gladly partook in.  This was another bar that I would like to visit while sober.  We finally found ourselves at the northern-most bar of the day, Full Shilling.  This is where shit hit the fan for my female companions.  This is the bar that they remember least, and it's also the bar where they barely took a sip of the beers I bought them.  All they wanted was water.  Lots of water.  I felt like I still had my wits about me, but events that followed might prove otherwise.

We finished, but Annie would not finish those beers!

We were handed red bracelets to match the green bracelets we were handed to at the first bar.  (Remember those bracelets from the first bar?)  These bracelets signified that you had completed a TBOX bar crawl!  Happy with our success, we decided to swing back to Yak-Zies to pick up our fellow partiers.  We only actually got one person to go back out with us, and our first stop was Big G's Pizza.  For some reason, they had stickers, which we gladly accepted, but I was more interested in 3 more slices of pizza.  Also, we ran into the toy soldiers again.  I sang again.  I also finished their half-drank bottle of water after they left.  Could I be more obnoxious?  Annie and our friends decided to sit there for a minute to watch the Heisman ceremony, but I couldn't sit still.  From what I recollect, I stood up and said, "I have to go" and ran off to continue bar crawling on my own.

Annie's completed board, which wouldn't make it home with us

I got to check out Rockit Burger Bar, CubbyBear (again, but this one counted), and Sluggers before meeting them back at Casey Moran's.  I, technically, should have never seen Sluggers, but I walked in the door that they were reserving for the exit.  I had no clue, since nobody stopped me.  It wasn't until I gave up on the crowd and walked back outside that I saw the huge line to get into that bar.  Bernie's had also shut their doors and weren't letting anybody else in.  I remember being very angry at Bernie's.  I also have the slightest memory of reaching into my bunny pocket to find change for a homeless person and pulling out golden, chocolate coins instead of money.  (Most of us found these in our pockets the next morning.  Where the fuck did we get these?  Full Shilling?  Drunker than I thought...)  I gave the chocolate coins to the homeless man anyway.  I pray it was somebody just dressed homeless, since that's a dick move.  Casey Moran's would become home base for the rest of the night, and where we hailed a cab from to take us home, but I wasn't finished.

When I met up with everybody once again at Casey Moran's, I realized that my college friend, who had missed part of the crawl for a birthday party, hadn't finished collecting all the stickers for his TBOXopoly board.  Well, I was a self-proclaimed expert at this point, and I dragged him down the road in the search for stickers.  We went into one really fancy bar that, for the life of me, I cannot figure out which one it was.  We also hit up Dark Horse and Black Sheep, but I was just hunting for stickers.  I think we collected his last sticker at Nisei Lounge (a reappearance for me), and we celebrated with a round.  On the way back to find Annie, I swung in to Merkle's for a round in memory of Granny (who had her funeral at Merkle's Funeral Home in Monroe, MI, in June.)

We time-traveled back to Casey Moran's where I couldn't find Annie.  I remember having an overwhelming fear that Annie and her friend had gone home without me.  I had memorized addresses and cross streets, so I wasn't worried that I'd never see them again, but I do remember being worried.  It turns out they were on the other side of the wall dancing.  I got dragged over to their side of the bar, and I would never see anybody on the other side of the wall again.  I don't remember anybody leaving, but the next thing I knew that side of the bar was closed and they were gone.  Oh well, dancing and water was the name of our game. I also had one other college friend that was headed there at 10pm to meet us.  (What time did we start?)

By the time the new guy joined the party, it was an utter shit show, all parties included.  I ran off to try and collect my first friend who was wandering the streets looking for his lost jacket.  I got to see some spectacular text messages that were passed:  "Abe wow Itzel is: hooatsky earth brute."  Finally, just before 11pm, Annie and I hit a wall.

And it was a big, fast wall that we hit...

We walked outside and hailed a cab back to our friends place, having just left her at the bar.  We managed to get into her apartment.  I had to strip down out of the bunny suit at the door and head straight to the shower, because I was disgusting.  Annie immediately passed out on the airbed.  I, I'm told, came out of the shower screaming at her to drink water, fearing she was dead.  Then I passed out, too.

We woke up at a reasonable hour the next morning, but I think I was still drunk.  Our host had apparently brought someone home with her.  [Awkward palm tree.]  The three of us (sans extra guy) ate at a cool place nearby.  Unfortunately, I didn't get to meet up with one of my closest friends in Chicago since he and his wife had consumed too much alcohol the night before, also.  Once Annie and I sufficiently had our shit together, we got into our cars and headed back to Kentucky.  The weather driving home sucked.

Your weather sucks, Indiana,
~RoB

P.S. I'm pretty sure that my college friend who got really drunk and lost his jacket had this Red TBOX present on at one time, having found it beside the road, and eventually ditching it since it smelled:

Now it sits in front of Wrigley field.

P.S.S. I'm still unclear how I ended up with a purse strap (no purse) around my right wrist (go back to that last reindeer photo).  It looks like no purse anybody in our party was carrying...

Who Help Themselves...

In the wake of the recent massacre of elementary school students and staff in Connecticut, I find myself frustrated with one message that has gone viral in many forms:

Ummm, usually I can stand on the sideline and let Christians be Christians, but this is where I draw the line.

We need practical solutions to protect kids, as well as general citizens, from maniacs legally obtaining weapons and using them to injure and kill innocent people.  We do NOT need a bunch of people wishing to some magical being for a solution.  If you want God to be in your child's school, then feel free to enter your children into a private, Christian institution.  There they can spend more time on God and less time on Math.

I don't want gun legislation to be a knee-jerk reaction to what has happened in the past week.  I want gun legislation to be a logical step regarding years worth of data determining that our policies on guns are killing us.

The over-used 'Right to Bear Arms' argument is old.  The Constitution had slavery written into it.  Most states' voting laws only allowed for white men who owned significant property to vote (the Constitution left voting rights up to states originally).  We've Amended (and sometimes un-amended) the Constitution several times since it was written, including Amendment #2.  It's a living document, and most of it is out-dated.

You should only have the right to protect yourself if you are going to do so with a weapon that is not automatic or semi-automatic and if you are mentally stable.  There is no need for concealed weapons; if you are just protecting yourself, then there's no harm in visually notifying everyone in your surroundings that you're prepared to.  You only need single- and double-shot weapons for hunting.  Automatic weapons should be reserved for military.  If the military were to ever turn on its citizens, which Amendment #2 was protecting us from, we would have bigger issues to deal with than people running down our streets firing guns at us.  Much bigger issues...

All I'm trying to say is that religion shouldn't be part of the current discussion.  You know my feelings on religion, and I think they're reasonably fair.  However, this should be a time to debate gun control and mental health funding.  It should absolutely not be a time for wasting time on religion in schools.

Pray in one hand, shit in the other, and tell me which one fills first,
~RoB