Friday, August 15, 2008

I Make The Dough, You Get The Glory




UPDATE: I honestly have no idea how this post got posted. I tried to embed this video in the post a couple down about Kathleen Edwards. It didn't work, hence the fact that there is just a link in that post. So how did it turn up yesterday at 11:51 p.m.? Especially since I just saw it on August 16 at 10:53 p.m.?

I have no earthly idea. Youtube is one helluva drug.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

The Easiset Question of the Firefighter I Certification Test...

Question No. 34:

Examine the following picture. Answer the question below the picture.



Please describe what adverse conditions affecting firefighting operations you observe.

The Definitive 1000

We are going to be counting down the Definitive 1000 things. Why are they Definitive? Because The Friendly Friends have deemed them as such.

967 - Kathleen Edwards



I love Kathleen Edwards. From the first time I heard "Six O'Clock News" on.

But why the sudden outpouring of love in the form of Enshrinement in the Much-Ballyhooed List of the 1000 Definitive Things?

I finally saw the video for "I Make the Dough, You Get the Glory" from her new album Asking for Flowers.

It's impossible not to love a song that features the following lyrics:

I'm a Ford Tempo you're a Maserati
You're the Great One, I'm Marty McSorley
You're the Concorde, I'm economy


And then you see the video and it only makes the song better. I finally got around to watching the video based on XPN's Michaela Majoun's recommendation. Pay close attention at the 1:09 minute mark.

Press PLAY

Donald Brashear may disagree with it, but this song and video is exactly what Definitive 1000 enshrinees are made of.

[Here's the inside story on the filming of the video which also features Paul Coffey]

Monday, August 4, 2008

New Sport of Kings: SpiderManHeadBall

Growing up with a younger brother, the Mighty Malagan, we spent a lot of time inventing new games to play. They pretty much all involved physical pain and blocking a goal of some sort.

There was the game we played where one of us stood on the sidewalk with a tennis ball and tennis racket and tried to hit any part of the front of our rancher with the ball while the other played "goalie" and tried to block it.

There was the game where we piled all the sofa cushions and pillows at the end of the hallway and the goal was for one of us to run as fast as possible at the other, who blocked the cushiony pile, to try to get to the end of the hall.

There was the game where we put Mylec street hockey pads, a winter coat stuffed with pillows, a waffleboard, a baseball mitt and a street hockey goalie helmet on the Malagan, gave him a broom to hold and whaled lacrosse balls at him from close range.

There was the game we played in the basement of the duplex with mini hockey sticks and buckets for goals which morphed into the game in my bedroom with the IKEA desk as the goal and mini hockey sticks. And fighting. Mini hockey sticks, but full size hockey fights.

And of course, the aforementioned Suicide.

So, where am I going with this? Well, the Jewbaccas and the Sweatys just returned from a vacation to the seashore. The house we stayed in had a pool.

And what better way to spend a summer afternoon, evening, night than in the pool of a rented house playing SpiderManHeadBall??

What is that you say? Imagine water polo without the swimming, the skill, the stamina, or any of the athletic ability.

Imagine two large slightly idiotic, mostly immature mid-30 year old men winging this:



At each other from one end of a small pool to the other. In the dark. Wearing our glasses. In the pool.

I know you're all asking, why is this game called "SpiderManHeadBall?" Very simply, the ball we used was not the one pictured, since I can't find any pictures of it. The ball we used looked exactly like Spider Man's head and was also a ball so there you have it.

The object of this game was quite simply to wing the ball from the shallow end to the deep end, ostensibly to try and score on a goal made of Adirondack chairs on their sides.

For those of you who would like to try and replicate this game in their own pool, here is a picture showing the top two athletes at SpiderManHeadBall in an officially sanctioned SpiderManHeadBall pool:



Sweaty and Jewbacca playing SpiderManHeadBall. Or not. Possibly discussing who would have to go into the jungle on the other side of the fence to retrieve the SpiderManHeadBall and deciding that just floating in the pool drinking beer was a better option...



Mostly the game consisted of firing the SpiderManHeadBall in a fashion that sent it skipping on the water where it would conveniently disappear amongst the trillions of drops of water that splashed onto ones glasses causing them to not see the SpiderManHeadBall until a millisecond before impact. The goal is the two green chairs on their side at the end there in the picture. There was also a vicious suction vent at heel level at the bottom where the goalie stood making things all the more interesting as well as a million watt pool light that burned the crap out of you when you backed into it.

Good times. The only near major injury was when Sweaty fired one right past Jewbacca and he stupidly turned to see where it went as it came careening off the chairs and smashed him the glasses and mouth. Other than that, happily there were no injuries, alcohol-related or otherwise.

Just two 30-something idiots enjoying vacation. And beaning one another with a small dodgeball. That belonged to a 17 month old.

Top 5 Edible Mythological Beasts

5. Harpeas (Pigasus eliminated)
4. The Hydrox
3. The Cornicorn
2. Kracken Oat Bran
1. The Minutemaidotaur

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

The Only Thing That Could've Made it Better Was if Harry Was There...

Of course, I'm talking about the Phillies game last night.

I'll admit it: I actually started to do a live blog so I could pinpoint the exact second that Blanton exploded and ruined the season. I got up to the beginning of the 3rd inning and decided that nothing exciting was going to happen.

Next thing I know it's 3-1 and Jolly Cholly is getting tossed out!

Even though I still don't understand the Blanton trade* and I still think we're in for trouble tonight with Myers' return, I gotta hand it to them for pulling off the come from behind last night.

I guess the situational hitting that Charlie was so upset about during the Marlins series worked itself out for at least a half inning last night.

The ups and downs of last night's game seems to provide the perfect opportunity to break out an innovative new Friendly Friends series:

The Friendly Friends' Picturebook!

Here, in easy to follow picturebook format is how Jewbacca felt while watching the Phillies game last night:

1st Inning:

2nd Inning:

3rd Inning:

4th Inning through 8th Inning:


9th Inning:





* They got Blanton to "eat innings" which led to the best quote of the night when Sweaty called me and said "looking at Blanton it appears he ate more than innings."

And if the prospects that the Phillies refused to trade for Sabathia or a better pitcher than Blanton are so good, why not just call them up instead of trading for Joe "Adam Eaton" Blanton?


Flowers courtesy of Mrs. Jewbacca and her gardens!

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

The Definitive 1000

We are going to be counting down the Definitive 1000 things. Why are they Definitive? Because The Friendly Friends have deemed them as such.

968 - The Wachovia Spectrum



It's dumpy. It's small. Its roof wouldn't stay on.

But it is also front and center in so many memories for the Friendly Friends.

The Philly papers and websites are filled with rememberances for the old barn. And they all center on the same few things: Flyers and some basketball teams' championships, Olga Korbut, Bruce, Billy Joel, Christian Laettner's shot and the Grateful Dead.

But those are the party-line, let's shine it up and make it look good memories.

The Friendly Friends would like to celebrate the life of this old building through the eyes of the common man. Not through the eyes of the Comcast PR department. So without further ado, and in no particular order, here are some random thoughts and memories of times spent with the Spectrum.


From Sweaty:

Going to a Philadelphia Phantoms game with FFMatt. The game itself was uneventful. But for the first and only time in my life, I caught a sling shotted t-shirt launched towards us. FFMatt positioned himself in front of me as a pick. The shirt was launched; I reached for it and snagged it with one hand! Yes! I rule! The guy behind me did take a chunk of skin out of my hand with his disturbingly long fingernails, but it was worth it. The shirt, I wore until it disintegrated. There were also two tickets to a future Phantoms game inside the shirt. To complete the circle, I went to that game with Jewbacca. He and I had seats right behind the goalie. They were little folding seats, and Jewbacca and I are on the larger side, so we decided to go sit up in the cheaper seats.



Is this the guy that scratched Sweaty?



From Jewbacca:

First and foremost, the Spectrum will always mean Flyers hockey to me. Both live and on PRISM (Philadelphia Regional In-Home Sports and Movies). How cool is it that Flyers games from the Spectrum were broadcast exclusively on a cable channel called PRISM? My earliest sports memories with my dad have nothing to do with the usual American, Norman Rockwell baseball scenes. They all involve the Flyers. My dad would get 4 or 5 games a year to go to and he'd take me to one, The Mighty Malagan to one and usually my mom to the others. We'd sit in the first row of the second level and use the ledge in front of us as a table for our sausage sandwiches and sodas. He'd explain the finer points of the game and why we had to whistle every time Ron Duguay touched the puck. He made sure that we left that Nordiques game at the end of the second period with the Flyers down 3-0 since it was a school night. We listened as the Flyers came back to win 4-3 in OT.

We battled about bedtimes when the Flyers were on. Home games meant 7:05 and at least half the game before bedtime at 8:30. They also meant Ed Van Impe from the bowels of the Spectrum interviewing someone between periods who would get a gift certificate to some men's store or a watch. Those intervies dragged for an 8 year old who only had until 8:30!

But seeing the colors in the Spectrum logo at center ice in person, or on PRISM, was always awesome.




My god. That hair. How could you not wolf-whistle at that?



From Sweaty:

The Sixers Dancer I named "Candy". Watching the dreck that was the Sixers at the time, including Jeff Hornacek (AKA K.D. Lang), Jeff Malone and Clarence Weatherspoon was all worth while thanks to that little blonde vixen.



Candy?? Is that you??? Did you get all of my voicemails and text messages? You did? What's this? A restraining order?? Exactly how far is 500 yards anyway....



From FFMatt:

Besides the years of Flyers games and childhood Ringling Brothers Circus experiences, and Wiggles concerts for my kids I was at the Flyers season opener after the strike ended. HUGE pumped crowd, insane energy and it all quickly devolved into E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES chants as the Flyers stunk up the ice with a season opening loss. Back where we belong!



Sweaty will always have Candy and FFMatt will always have these guys...and thousands of drunk idiot Eagles fans.



From Jewbacca:

In sixth grade a new sport dawned into my puberty fevered brain. The Eagle League Pro Box Lacrosse outfit (now the MILL or the MLL or NLL or something) came into existence with the Washington Wave, the Baltimore Thunder, the New York/New Jersey Saints and most importantly the Philadelphia Wings. This was earth shattering to a young Jewbacca. As soon as I was old enough to drive, me and the Malagan would go to the Showcase store (an offshoot of the Spectrum and Spectacor) at the Willow Grove Park Mall and we'd get TicketTron tickets to every single home game the Wings played. We'd usually get two extra and invite friends along. We'd all pile into my 1981 Chevy Impala and cruise down to the Spectrum, blasting our good luck mixtape, which inexplicably contianed 3 songs from Achtung Baby, 3 songs from Queen's Greatest Hits (the blue one) and some other songs long forgotten.

We'd enter the sports mecca and settle in for a couple hours of the best parts of all sports: the hitting and fighting of hockey, the speed of...well hockey again, the high scoring of....well this time I'd have to say early 80's hockey and the shot clock of basketball. We'd scream our lungs out for the Gaits, Dallas Eliuk, John Nostrant, Tony Resch (who incidentally was my buddy Jim's math teacher at Penn Charter), and anyone else wearing the silver and black. We even got to sit next to Chopper at a pre-season Wings/Pittsburgh Bulls game.

Without missing a home game (pre-, regular and post-season) for four years, we still managed to miss all four of the Wings' championships, but did see them lose one to the Buffalo Bandits in OT. We also saw a game called against the Detroit Turbos since every single player on both teams got into a major bench clearing brawl. The Turbos disappeared after that.




This is Chopper. He leads his entire side of the arena in a W-I-N-G-S Wings(!) chant and taunts opposing players coming to the box. He is a god.



From Sweaty:

Going to my first ever Wings game with Jewbacca and his brother Malagan. I had always scoffed at the Wings as a secondary sport, but I was truly entertained and have since been to many games. I was dazzled by the Gait brothers and the sprawling saves of Dallas Eliuk. The Wings, as it turned out were right...I paid for the whole seat, but only used the edge

From Jewbacca:

Fine. You want a basketball memory of the Spectrum? My hatred of basketball notwithstanding, I do have two minor Spectrum related basketball memories. My dad's friend scored Sixers-Celtics tickets in 1984 or 1985. They had four and I guess no one else could use them so the Malagan and I got to go. I remember two things from that night: 1) when my dad's friend drove his Toyota mini-bus/van thing over a cement island to get around a traffic light (red by the way) and 2) walking through the Spectrum lot wearing my Celtics painter's cap that I specifically asked for when my dad was in Boston on business. I hated the Sixers then and since the Celtics were one of their biggest rivals, I'd proudly wear that. Being ten and in South Philly wearing a Celtics hat I was treated exactly as I thought I would be: by having my life endangered by taunting Sixers fans until my dad ripped the hat off my head and pocketed it.



My Celtics painter's cap looked just like this. Except it was a hat and not a hot cheerleader. It was mostly green though.



From Sweaty:

Going to a Sixers game with Mighty Malagan, again, with a horrible Sixers team and sitting close enough to the Sixers bench that they were within earshot. How did I know they were within earshot? Because Jewbacca's brother kept yelling out the name of Rex Walters. Rex Walters could have been up for 12th man of the year in basketball. A poor little white guy who found himself the last man on the bench. Malagan kept calling his name...for 48 minutes. While sitting on the bench, while he stood near the sideline...Malagan called "Rex! Rex Walters!” A fruitless pursuit right? Wrong. Low and behold, the final team timeout of the game, Rex is standing in the team huddle pretending to be paying attention, as if he had anything to do with the play being drawn up. Malagan is still hoarsely yelling his name...then it happens. Rex Walters raises his eyebrows and looks up at Malagan and gives him a head nod acknowledgement. What does Malagan do? He giggles like a school girl and shuts up for the last 40 seconds of the game.



I did a GIS for "Rex Walters." I got a picture of Gemma Atkinson. Which would you have put here?



From Jewbacca:

I saw my first ever concert, the best concert I've ever seen and had the most fun I've ever had at a concert all at the Spectrum.

First concert: Midnight Oil on the Blue Sky Mining tour in 1991. Peter Garrett is a very, very intense man. He did a dive off of the top of a stack of Marshalls during a cover of "What's So Funny 'bout Peace Love and Understanding" that would have killed a mere mortal.

Best concert: Peter Gabriel on the Us tour in 1992 or 1993. Sweaty can back me up on this one, but I think he did three separate encores, the last of which was after the lights and house music came back up. He came out and talked to the crowd for about 5 minutes, thanking Philly for all their support during his career. It was the most theatrical concert I've been to, and also one of the best all-round musically.

Most fun at a concert: Barenaked Ladies, New Year's Eve 1999(98?). Possibly the best stage presence of any band I've ever seen (and I've seen a lot having worked Event Staff security for 4 years at the Tower, the Mann, the Civic Center and even the Spectrum). Sponataneous rapping, unbeliveably strange dancing and a midnight phone call to Kevin Hearn in the hospital back in Toronto to countdown to the new year all made it memorable. Plus, Mrs. Jewbacca got me the tickets for Christmas that year. I had Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in my shoes when I got home!


From Sweaty:

Early in the summer of 1993, I was adjusting to the freedom of now more mandatory formalized education. Released from the shackles of Springfield High school, I was looking forward to the summer of love...or, as it turned out for me, summer of I like you but not in that way.

But before the weekend trips to the Jersey Shore would take place. Before drunken nights passing out in Turkey Clubs (the sandwich, not a night hot spot), before working 1 day in an Ice House and 2 weeks as a beach tagger in Sea Isle City...I and other Friendly Friends such as Jewbacca had to kick the summer off right with my first ever concert! I am proud to say that my first concert ever still holds up as one of my favorites as Peter Gabriel came to town promoting his new album Us. The Spectrum was arockin' that night my friends. Peter Gabriel knew how to put on a show, and he made sure to include Solsbury Hill to appease the Gods. The Gods being me & Jewbacca. As I said, still one of my favorite concerts of all time and the only one I saw at the Spectrum. Pissah was there as well, and shockingly, he found something to complain about. Because he never complains about anything!


So there you have it folks. Some of the Friendly Friends' memories of the Spectrum. Of course there are more, but these are the ones that stand out.

Unfortunately my most recent visit (Phantoms game this past spring) left a bad image for me. They've let the place run down quite a bit. It was clear at that time that they had stopped trying and knew it was only a matter of time before a soul-less, corporate, Disney-like "entertainment" center was built over its grave. I guarantee you, I won't be making that just-long-enough-to-be-extrememly-annoying-not-long-enough-to-risk-my-life-at-Fern-Rock-to-take-the-subway trip to this new complex. Maybe if I'm at the Center or the Bank I'll brave the crowd of annoying South Jerseyans long enough to check it out.

But for the memories it invokes and the times we've spent there, the Friendly Friends are proud to add The Spectrum to the Definitive 1000!

[Feel free to leave your memories in the comments. Thanks to http://www.e-lacrosse.com/ for the picture of Chopper.]



Did you know that "Spectrum" is actually an acronym for Sports-Entertainment-Concerts-Theater-rum. The "rum," as in Auditorium, was all the rage in 1967 for newly built arenas (see Centrum, Worcester)

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Chase Utley is the F'ing Man Reason #734

NSFW Audio...



F'ing A right. "Boo? F--- You!"

Now why can't Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, JD Drew and Scott Rolen have the same attitude about getting booed instead of being all sad about it?

Friday, July 4, 2008

Celebrities that Probably Smell

In this segment we propose that celebrities stink... and how.

The look that launched a thousand Hepa filters.

Wow. You feel that in your nose? The change in sinus pressure like the bow wake before a thunderstorm? That tinny taste in your throat?

Gotcha. You aren’t sucking on a Luden’s watch battery, you are thinking about Jonathan Pryce.

You know it. He knows it. So let’s just stop the pretending and get really real:

A steaming mug of Pepto Bismol. A suprised skunk. A prostitutes pillow case in July.

It is impossible to believe that isn’t what our esteemed actor, who is known for playing slight, effete, quirky, scary and always off-center roles both on and off the stage must smell like.
If you don't believe me then attend the local role playing game convention, stand in the men's room and say "Pryce" out loud. You will receive (unwashed) high fives from heavily costumed wizards, orcs, warriors, theives and C++ programmers who defer to their inspiration in persperation.

No better time than the 4th of July to declare our independence of effervescence by fanning the face of freedom due to a British aromatic actor, a Celebrity… That Probably Smells.

See the armed guy next to Pryce? With the pinched face? He isn't acting... he's that close.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Technological Advancements Rendering Songs Anachronistic

Dear Barenaked Ladies,

They have pre-wrapped bacon now.

You were right all along.

Still no Dijon ketchup though.

Sincerely,
Jewbacca