Charity almost killed us

Last week when my brother, his wife, and my 3-month old nephew were in town, we ate at a place called BD's Mongolian Grill. This chain restaurant was always a favorite when my brother lived in Columbus, Ohio, so he was glad to see one had recently opened in Louisville.

At a mongolian grill, the customer gathers their meat, veggie, and sauce options into a handy bowl and presents it to a restaurant employee, who cooks it on a giant griddle or something. I noticed that night there were a lot of "cooks" who didn't seem to know what they were doing, but since I deal with incompetence on a daily basis at work, this didn't strike me as unusual.

Well, it turns out the new cooks were members of a local fraternity, who took a night off from beer pong and roofie-aided finger banging to participate in the restaurant's Guest Griller charity program.

That's right... BD's Mongolian Grill, in the name of charity, lets random assholes just wander in from a kegger and cook food for paying guests. There's poultry and shellfish involved here, for fuck's sake!

Speaking of raw poultry, that brings me to the subject of the undercooked piece of chicken my sister-in-law found in her food. Hard to believe, but "Booger" and "Ogre" and the rest of the Tri Lambs failed to achieve in the modest task that was their charge.

It was a miracle that we all survived.

Sport is a filthy, filthy whore

I watch sports occasionally, but I'm more of a highlight guy. The folks at Sportscenter are kind enough to pick out the good parts for my enjoyment.

The two teams I really follow are the Dallas Cowboys, who may never win another playoff game ever, and the University of Louisville basketball team. I watch every possible Louisville game and tape the ones I can't catch live. The Cardinals had a good year, winning the Big East Conference regular season and tournament championships; and entered the NCAA tourney field as the Number One overall seed.

Well, they fucking lost today; and it wasn't even close. I am now convinced that the University of Louisville will never win another championship in my lifetime. If they couldn't win with this team, they are never going to win.

They won their first title in 1980. Back then, people dressed like this.

They won it all again in 1986. Back then, people dressed like this.

Since then? Nothing. But I'll be back next fall when the season starts again. And once again the year will eventually end in soul-crushing disappointment.

I can hardly wait.

Is he human, or is he dancer?

The gullible public, this time in England, is giving Michael Jackson its hard earned money once again; so he can spend it on important things like nose jobs, skin bleaching, and building a boy-luring water park outside of his mansion.

I've wasted enough time ranting about how this freak should be in prison, but can we at least stop making him rich?!? Look at him. He looks like Mrs. Berman, my fourth grade teacher. The guy who made Off the Wall and Thriller is long gone, folks. He's been replaced by the pointy-nosed ghoul pictured here.

This summer, instead of begging for change in front of a plasma center, which would happen if God still cared about justice, Michael Jackson will be playing FIFTY arena shows in London. Yes, fifty shows of the same tired dance moves he's been doing since the late seventies. While non-child-fucking citizens all across the world struggle to pay their bills, Michael Jackson will be paying tens of thousands of dollars so surgeons can make him look even less human; and if the fossilized skull of JoJo the Dog-Faced Boy becomes available, look for him to get out the ol' checkbook.

That's right, when you're deciding if you can afford to take the family on a weekend vacation to a miniature golf and outlet shopping tourist trap, Michael Jackson will be lounging at a five star hotel in London, wearing a robe made of living ten-year-old boys. Yeah, that's fair.

I'm watching way too much college basketball

I don't know about the sexual preference of former Duke guard J.J. Redick, but that is one funny picture. Nice work, random Maryland student. Gay? Who cares. But as a white guy who played for Duke, he's got to be a douchebag. It's a law.

-My March basketball frenzy began in Las Vegas. I flew in last Wednesday and spent the night at the Luxor Hotel (before spending the rest of my trip lounging at Stately Vast Right Wing Conspirator Manor). Most of my evening consisted of sitting on a leather couch at Rumjungle sipping bourbon delivered by a scantly clad cocktail server, but I still woke up in time to catch the 9am Pacific Time tip-off of Louisville's Big East Tournament opener. I even got a cup of coffee and a muffin before the game started, because there was a Starbucks on the casino level right next to the elevator. Seriously, if I was crazy rich, I'd live in hotels for months at a time.

-Attention any females reading this: I will pay you to physically assault "Sarah Fisk, MVP of the Anderson Baby Shower". God, this commercial is BRUTAL, and they play it a thousand times a day. And the youtube "people" love it! Do you need any more proof of the stump-dumbness of our society? To quote one easily amused spackle-for-brains: "i love when the lady is all like nnaaaannnnnccccyyyyyy!!!!! its sooooo freakin funny lol!" IT'S NOT FUNNY. KILL YOURSELF IF THIS COMMERCIAL AMUSES YOU!!!

-ESPN commentator Digger Phelps has to be at least semi-retarded.

-I watched the late Saturday games at Nachbar while enjoying their Strong Beer Fest. A little known fact about really strong beers: They'll get you drunk.

-I had to work on Sunday, but someone was kind enough to bring in a tiny television so I could watch Louisville's winning yet feeble effort against something called Siena. At one point a coworker asked "Todd, your face is bright red. Are you ok?" so I'm pretty sure I almost died.

A plea to In-n-Out

I don't remember the exact date, because at the time I didn't realize the historic significance, but one day in late 2002 I ate at the In-n-Out Burger pictured here, located on Sunset Rd. in Henderson, NV. It would be the first of many trips to this fast food paradise.

Is In-n-Out the best burger I've ever had? No. But it is BY FAR the best fast food burger. On my recent trip to Las Vegas my brother and his lovely wife took me to an In-n-Out* and I had a Double Double with grilled onions, hold the tomato. Boy, those are some good burgers.

I have now decided to publicly lobby to have an In-n-Out open in Louisville. Yes, I realize that In-n-Out has been around since 1948 and are only located in California, Nevada, Arizona, and parts of Utah. It would be crazy of them to expand eastward and ignore New York, Chicago, Philly, Boston, etc.

But that's what I'm asking them to do.

In-n-Out is not your typical fast food chain. They use quality ingredients, keep their locations spotlessly clean, pay their employees much better than average, and offer benefits. They like to go against the flow, so I think expanding to Louisville is the next illogical step.

Yeah, they could open in NYC. Oh, how bold that would be! "Look, there's an In-n-Out in Manhattan. Maybe Alex Rodriguez will take a stripper here and go all 'roid-ragey on the counter help." The fine people at In-n-Out don't need a chemically hazed, overpaid douchebag and his hookers-in-training tramping up their establishment.

-Chicago? They'd have to deal with Nick.

-Philly? They don't need that kind of heartache.

-Boston? Two words: Dane Cunting Cook.

Why Louisville? Because I'm asking nicely, that's why. And Louisville is the home of Lebowski Fest, and In-n-Out is referenced in The Big Lebowski. You can't have a Lebowski Fest and then have a bunch of drunks head over to Steak and Shake. It's just wrong.

Uh...please?



*While I was enjoying my burger, I could hear a guy at the next table say to a female dining companion "I'll tell you who has a good burger...Del Taco."

DEL FUCKING TACO?!?!? To say that place serves dog food is an insult to the hard working men and women who grind up horse intestines to make food for dogs. I know it's an opinion, but sometimes an opinion is just plain stupid!

Really? Del Taco? To the uninitiated, Del Taco is a West Coast "Mexican" fast food chain that makes a bean burrito from Taco Bell taste like the culinary masterworks of renowned chef Rick Bayless. Unlike Taco Bell, they also feel the need to bastardize hamburgers and fries.

I wanted to punch that guy in the throat. But I didn't, because that's not behavior befitting Louisville's No. 1 In-n-Out Burger advocate.

Old People

There has to be an explanation for the events of March 10, 2009. A likely scenario: A bus of senior citizens, all chosen for cranky demeanor and utter uselessness to society, are on their way from Louisville to the capital building in Frankfort to be euthanized in front of an angry mob of drunken hillbillies better known as the Kentucky legislature. The bus overturns on Interstate 64; some perish, but the survivors escape the flaming wreckage and descend upon our liquor store like shuffling, complaining, mothball-reeking zombies.

Seriously, there were a lot of old people at work today, enough to make me wonder if I was working at a bingo parlor; and all of them were surly and/or borderline senile. The blame for the overwhelming number of senior citizens lies with our Double Discount Tuesday promotion. An old person would crawl over his many dead friends and relatives to save a fucking penny. But the way they bitched and moaned? The way they annoyed? The way they smelled more like death than usual? Had to be the bus wreck. That's the only explanation.

Early in the morning, our automatic entrance door got stuck. It happens. The world is an imperfect place. We usually motion the customer to come in through the exit door and all is well! Well, this particular old bastard WANTED ANSWERS! Why didn't things go perfectly for him as he made his quest for cheap swill liquor in large quantities?

Old fuck: "Are you closed? Are you closed? Why is the door locked?"

Cashier: "It just jams sometimes, sir."

Old fuck: "The door is locked. I couldn't get in that way. (Addresses me) You need to fix that door."

I walk out the exit door, through the vestibule, and the entrance door opens, no problem.

Old fuck: "What did you do? What did you do to get that door to open?"

You know, by then I had had just about enough of this fucking asshole. "WHAT DID I DO TO THE DOOR? I WALKED TOWARD IT."

Old fuck: "Well, it didn't work for me. I thought you were closed for a minute."

Me: "I wish we were closed." Yeah, that wasn't the right thing to say, but his deaf ass didn't hear it, and it made me feel a lot better.

I walk away from the man, who quickly goes about buying the typical senior citizen purchase: Cheap, barely drinkable wine in either a box or a moonshinesque jug; half-gallon plastic bottles of the lowest end vodka and/or bourbon on Earth; and a horrible luncheon meat from our food department, preferably something with pig face in it.

His gravely voice is still ringing in my ears when I see a morbidly obese old woman (I'm merely obese, so the morbidly obese are my social punching bags) repeatedly slamming her shopping cart into another shopping cart filled with discounted wines.

Huge old lady: "This cart is in my way."

Walk around it, you insipid bitch. Drag your Jabba the Hut's grandma ass around the cart. Jesus, are you an infant?

She'll have nightmares about the look I give her, but I move the cart out of her way before she has a heart attack and forces us to fill out a lot of paperwork.

A few minutes later, one of our cashiers walks up to me and says "We have a request that we offer a bench for our customers."

I look over and the aforementioned whale is leaning against a counter waiting for her unfortunate husband. She's panting and sweating like...I don't know...like a fat woman who had just pushed a shopping cart for five whole minutes!

I say to the cashier, "Unfortunately, the people who built the pyramids are long dead, so I don't think we'll ever have anything to accommodate her."

Cashier: "Uh, I'll tell her we'll pass her request on to the corporate office."

They kept coming, the whole morning and afternoon. I'm hoping the authorities round them up soon.

Note: I'll be in Vegass for the next week. Pray for my soul.

Louisville Coach Offends Hot Chick

This is a picture of University of Louisville basketball coach Rick Pitino screaming something so horribly offensive it visibly shocks court side reporter and internet favorite Erin Andrews.

Keep in mind that Erin Andrews routinely interviews players and coaches in locker rooms and sidelines before, during and after competitive sporting events. I'm guessing she's heard just about every obscenity ever uttered, but Pitino managed to throw together a filth combo so revolting that she made a face like Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High when she walked in on Judge Reinhold jacking off.

I watched this game on DVR after a late shift at work Saturday night. I noticed Erin's reaction and replayed it a few times, but it never occurred to me to take a picture of my television. Someone did, though; and sent the image to Deadspin, who ran it yesterday. There's a reason I'm not winning the internets.

News Alert: Ghost of Nicole Brown Simpson to Give OJ "One More Chance"

The empty gossip industry was stunned when R and B singer Rhianna, less than three weeks after being beaten and choked senseless by Chris Brown, hooked up with her boyfriend/assailant during a weekend in Miami. However, this news was trumped during a seance in Los Angeles last night, when the ghost of Nicole Brown Simpson announced her plans to return to the earthly realm and reunite with her ex-husband and "alleged" killer, OJ Simpson.

"I've talked to OJ," Nicole's spectre told a group of stunned reporters. "I've been haunting his dreams lately, and I think he's really changed. He told me he's sorry for slitting my throat and getting away with it, and I believe him."

When asked how she and Mr. Simpson would maintain a relationship while he remains in prison on an armed robbery conviction, Nicole quipped "Hey, I'm a ghost; I think I can get in and out of a jail cell."

When asked for a comment on the reconciliation of OJ Simpson and the woman he murdered, Rhianna stated "I wish them luck. Everyone deserves a second chance."

Chris Brown then shouted from an adjoining room, "Bitch, shut up and fix me a turkey pot pie!"

Damn it, I could have been shitting on Bobby Jindal for days!

I'll admit that the election year left me spent as far as political blogging goes. In fact, I haven't been following current events lately. Last week I was too busy working, recovering from an illness that would have killed half of Europe during the Middle Ages, watching college basketball, and drinking to excess to take notice of Bobby Jindal's disastrous "rebuttal" to President Obama's State of the Union Address.

Apparently, condescending Bobby thought it would be a good idea to treat America as one collective retarded kid, and the internets exploded with derision. A common theme was that Jindal came across like Kenneth the 30 Rock page:



The speech was also heavily criticized by Republican strategists, so the hatred was bi-partisan.

I can't believe I almost missed the presumptive 2012 Repub frontrunner shit the bed in such a dramatic fashion. I need to start paying attention again.

So let me get this straight: The best hopes of the Republican party for 2012 are a guy who thinks Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon from magical metal plates and a guy who once performed an exorcism and reminds the world of a wacky sitcom character. Nice.