the one with a super bowl grudge match

February 1, 2015

It’s Super Bowl Sunday. Which means different things to different people.

Why did I go to the grocery store today! or
Man the grocery store sure is empty right now what’s going on? or
Commercials! or
FOOD! or
Katy Perry’s boobs (me because I really don’t want to root for either)

and the list could go on and on. Here at the Remick household it means it’s time for the historic-traditional-bi-tri-semi-annual-first time really Super Bowl grudge match between my cats and the wife. In it I have the wife use whatever scientific method she has to pick a winner. Next I write Patriots/Seahawks on pieces of paper. I throw the papers down in front of each cat and see which they pick.

(SCIENCE!)

Tensions have been running high. There’s already been two brawls and a soliciting a prostitute arrest(no names!)

It’s katsleep     VS   csonkatongue VS      RASPEYES

FEROCIOUSLY COMPETITIVE!

wifebot: Seattle
Csonka: Seattle
Rasputin: Patriots.

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Pig man at the Summer Solstice Party

June 28, 2011

One of the first things I fell in love when I moved to Cleveland was the Art Museum. They have some great pieces, awesome lectures, and it’s free every single day. Here and here are a few posts on some of the lectures they’ve had. They also have probably my all time favorite “La Vie”.

Sometimes, when I didn’t have to be at work after school I’d get off the bus at University Circle and walk on over to the museum. I’d spend an hour or so in there and generally end up sitting in front of “La Vie.” I’d pull out my notebook and just write sitting there.

It had been a goal for a while to make it to their Summer Solstice Party. This is essentially a huge party in the museum. How awesome an idea is that? The set up is tiered. If you are (or know someone who is) Mr. Moneybags you can start the party at 6pm (Eventide) for the $175 ticket. This will get you in for the whole night and includes food and open bar. The ticket prices drop the later in the evening you show up. If you’re unemployed like me you can get 20 dollar tickets.

(15 for us cus we be members’ bitches!)

This gets you in at 10pm and includes a cash bar, which is fine because we had a pregame plan. What? Simple: Find a parking space and the drink absinthe out of plastic glasses before walking over to the event.

(Brilliant.)

Lindsay and Kat got all prettified and I wore my boring dress pants and shirt. Only Pig Man took over.

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Within two minutes I was followed and pulled aside by 2 girls. They were pretty drunk (or on the edge of it) and wanted to know why I was wearing the pig nose. The only thing was I hadn’t officially come up with the story yet.

(I wasn’t even calling myself pig man yet.)
(or talking in third person.)

Both of them pulled me off the escalator and each held an arm. They were really close to my face and played with pig man’s nose.

Girl1: I LOVEEE IT!
Girl2: Is there a reason you’re wearing it?
(Pig Man shrugs.)
Girl1: Is it a statement?
Girl2: Or just accessory.
Pig man: Just my nose so an accessory I guess.
Girl1: Oh mah gosh.
Girl2: Nooooo it has to mean something. Like performance art or something.
Girl2: Yeahhh.
Pig man: Like for Sugardale?
Girl2: YES, It has to be for SOME reason.
Girl1: I think it’s so cute.
(Pig man see’s his wife waiting/looking for him.)
Girl1: Byyeeeee
Girl2: Byeeeeee

For the rest of the evening pig man referred to himself in third person.

“Pig man’s so hot in here he’s gonna turn into bacon soon.”
“Pig man thanks you for your kind words.”
“Pig man appreciates you holding the door for him.”

At another point out in the huge dancing crowd a woman came up to pig man and stroked his snout.

Snout stroker: I love your nose!
Pig man: I’m sorry baby pig man’s already got a wife.

Later on pig man entered the bathroom. As he saddled up to the urinal another dude noticed him.

Bathroom talker: Oh man you’re the guy wearing the pig nose they were talking about!
Pig man: This is pig man’s real nose Pig Man ain’t wearing no nose.
Bathroom talker: Awesome man!

I didn’t bring the camera because I didn’t want us carrying it around all drunk and etc. We did hit up their photo booth.

(A photo booth! How awesome is that?)

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The whole night women (some drunk and some not) just had to touch my nose. Some grabbed it, some tapped it. So what did we learn? We have definitive proof that chick’s dig a guy in a pig nose.

Pig Man don’t mind one bit.


The one with tragedy

March 7, 2011

The one with tragedy

This weekend was a full one. It was the weekend of the wifey’s Absinthe and champagne party. It was planned a while ago but like most things these days really came upon me out of nowhere. It was of course to celebrate her 30th birthday, and you know drink champagne and absinthe.

It was also marking my first attempt at making chocolate covered beer flavored marshmallows. I found the recipe thanks to Lead Paint Cookbook and knew I had to try it. The Champagne and absinthe party seemed like the best excuse to try. So of course I went ahead with it. I decided to use Guinness as the beer. It was an easy choice. I love Guinness, its flavor is bold and well I had some.

(Yeah I’m cheap I know)
(Also unemployed you jerk faces!)
(Now that was unpleasant. I accept your apology.)

Now it just came time to make it. I was worried because the whole baking thing isn’t really my forte. So I bugged my lovely wife a lot but I did a majority of the work.

Where is the tragedy you ask?

(You sick sons of bishes!)

It was not in the making of the beer flavored marshmallows. No they turned out pretty yummy. I’ll post about their yummy gooeyness in some other post. Why? Because I’m in charge here! Also this is about tragedy not triumph.

Later on as the party neared I was helping with finishing things up. I had just cleaned up the kitchen and washing the dishes. As I put one of the bowls away it slipped out of my hand. I almost caught it but managed to just send it higher up and then of course back down. It bounced on the sink’s edge (didn’t break) and barreled into our good great friend General Pressem. Gen. Pressem was the name of our French Press.

The bowl blindsided him as he sat drying. He never stood a chance. He flew off the counter and down to his explosive demise. He shattered and shattered. I watched in horror unable to save my friend. Pieces of his body went everywhere—including my hair.

We have some great memories of our time with him. He was always smiling and such a jokester!

He got along so well with our kitties:

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Oh man did he party it up in the Keys:

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He could roll a 300 blindfolded:

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R.I.P General Pressem


New Poem: Blueberry Ale

November 2, 2010

Here is another poem. It is part of the book titled: Love is a Donkey. Now for some interaction (should you choose to accept your mission.) from you all. The poem is titled Blueberry Ale (right now) but the wifey thinks it should be titled “The Art of Giving Blow Jobs”. What say you dear reader? As always any comments appreciated.


After the third bottle the topic turned to sex.
This was usually the case but never with so many people
mulled and munched veggies. The party should’ve been over.
Rick finished off the hummus by himself. It was thick and homemade.
We found him on the toilet a joint in one hand and the other knuckle deep in the bowl.
“At least he’s not jacking off again” Johnny offered. He was right.


Two years from now he’d jump off a highway over pass.
His body smashed through the windshield of a brown Taurus.
He always had to take someone down with him. A pocket full of peach schnapps’
I got drunk at his funeral. “I always hated smooth tongued Johnny Ray.” I quipped
to the pretty girl at the bar. I undressed her with my eyes.
It turned out to be his sister.


At one point I must have met her. She may have even been at the party.
Pieces of poetry and scraps of art were thrown about.
It was the last of its kind. The only one where we were all friends and artists
If we had known that it may have changed things.
Of course in the end we’d still be high and debating the art of blow jobs.


The one with the birthday

August 6, 2010

someecards.com - Happy birthday to a sports fan who may just be realizing he's now older than his favorite athletes

That’s right bitches it’s my birthday!

Go, go, go, go, go, go

“Yeah I can get into this.” *Head bob and awkward looking body movement.*

Go shawty, it’s your birthday

“Hey! Don’t call me shor—”

We gonna party like it’s your birthday
We gon’ sip Bacardi like it’s your birthday

“Oh see that’s better. Though rather it be Jack Daniels but you know whatever.” *Cough* Wuss *Cough*

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look mami, I got the X if you into takin’ drugs

“Uhm drugs? Plus did you just call me mami? You are strange.”

I’m into havin’ sex, I ain’t into makin’ love
So come gimme a hug, if you’re into gettin’ rubbed

“Woah big boy just stop right there with your pervert ideas. I don’t know who you think I am but I’m not into that stuff. Plus you know I really don’t like you calling me short. You spelled it wrong too.
Oh?
You think so? You wanna take it outside tough guy?”

And that’s the true story of how 50 Cent really got all shot up. Yeah I shot 50 cent.
Don’t mess with me I’m a Lawyer!
Sorry this isn’t the movie Hook, but really is my birthday.

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the one where we cram it all in

July 20, 2010

Thats what she said!

There are a lot of bloggers out there that post a weekly recap of their weekend. It usually involves going to a lot of cool places with their friends. I am not one of them. Mostly because you know I like to make shit up.

That and I don’t really go out partying it up on the town. We do a lot of stuff. We like to celebrate the things to do in Cleveland and there are a ton of things. There are slow days for us and then there are times where we go to a play, dinner, a concert and a movie in one day. If need be we just cram it all in.

That’s what she said.

This weekend was one of those times. Friday there was what the kids are calling these days a “tweetup”. It was called the east-side tweetup and was held at the Willoughby Brewing Company. We were invited and you know went and stuff.

Oh was that not good enough? See I’m bad at this. The Three Shillelaghs headed over to Willoughby Brewing Company. Hilarity sort of ensued. I was still sort of limping. The pain in my heel had mostly subsided by then. We parked and then started walking toward the restaurant. We didn’t even get across the street when the wifey’s (kat clearly) flip flop broke. The back part just fell right off. Just as she walked it fell off and as she marveled about it and tried to walk on the rest of the shoe died. We walked on discovered it was further than we thought went back and got the car. Drove to it found there was absolutely nowhere to park and ended up parking right by where we originally did. She had to basically walk with the shoe in her hand the whole way and then fake like it was on to get inside.

The night was cool and met some new peeps which always a good thing. I wasn’t that impressed with the menu (though did not have anything) and the apps were expensive. The jack and ginger was tall and that good. The waitress was pretty awesome even if she got sort of busy and there were a few times I sat there like this:

‘more jack daniels please”

But you know more desperate sounding. All in all a good time was had. After we left we stopped and got us some Chick-fil-A. Yum.

Saturday was such a full day that the wifey made an itinerary. I never actually saw it but I’ve heard it did exsist. The Three Shillelaghs packed the car and headed on down to Akron for the:
National Hamburger Festival

Yay.
It was so hot.
(how hot was it)

It was so hot that on the way there a minivan caught on fire. Okay so that probably isn’t true. A minivan was on fire on the opposite way as we drove to Akron though. It was hot as all get out while at the festival that consisted of a bunch of places to get hamburgers for a 2 block radius. I was sort of disappointed by it. I mean it was cool and all but it lacked stuff. The only merch were shirts and Jughead comic books. A vast majority of the events seemed to be taking place at night and we’d have to be gone way before then to keep our schedule. I was going to attempt to be in the bobbing for burgers contest but oh well.

There was this:

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That’s right there was a Barney Fife look alike walking around the festival. How awesome is that? Also as we approached he yelled out:

“I’m Barney Fife bitches! What mofo wanna take a picture with me?”

Ok not really but I almost asked him if he would. Later he threatened to arrest us if we tried to sneak back in. The burgers were tasty and the one we got was from Steel Trolley Diner. Their banner said get your burger branded. I ordered the Marley Burger: A ½ pound burger topped with Jamaican jerk sauce and Orange chipotle mayo. It was tasty and they indeed did “brand” your burger. Unfortunate (or hilarious) they have std as their initials.

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Yes my burger said STD on it and I still ate it.

We left there and went home to nap for a little bit. Then we hit up the Cleveland Cinematheque for Animal Crackers. After some Marx Brothers brilliance we ate some Aladdin’s and then hit up Parnell’s Pub for some x-mas in July. It was for Thirsty Dog’s 12 dogs of Christmas Ale. Tasty! Then I had one tall Jack and Ginger. From there we headed over to the Capitol Theatre to see the late shift showing of Memento. It had been a while since I’d seen it and I really looked forward to it. On the way there the wife tried to destroy the happiness that is the Marx Bros. by saying they were probably very unhappy. This discussion went up until the movie started and included several other people getting involved. Then I won tickets to see the late shift showing of Pulp Fiction.

Sunday was a more relaxed. The wifey headed over to her mom’s house to do laundry and thesis work. I stayed home wrote some and watched soccer for a bit. Then I watched George A. Romero’s Diary of the Dead. It was decent. I was preparing for Monday’s viewing of Survival of the Dead. Later that night we went to a new Indian Restaurant called Indian Flame. It was delish. A review with pictures will be written soon as we go a second time.

Monday we went to breakfast and then picked up Lindsay. We headed over to the zoo to enjoy free day. It was pretty sweet even if it was packed and my heel was hurting again.
The wife and I on the Australian adventure train:

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It was fun but got weird when the driver said:
‘Oh my mate lookit the kangaroo ova there. Ain’t she a beaut? Why I’d like to stick me little dingaroo in her pouch. Boomerang bitches”

All that but you know with an Australian accent or you know probably not at all.

We encountered a lady wearing leggings that looked like jeans as jeans. It was not pretty and I wasn’t fast enough to snap a picture. Later on the wife and Lindsay marveled at the Rhino’s dong.
After that we went home for some resting and lunch. I almost set the apartment on fire. I forgot the package my Sammy was in had metal like shit inside and yeah it started to burn in the microwave. After a nap that did nothing for us we headed out to see Survival of the Dead which was pretty good.

Damn I’m tired.

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Me, Myself and Bernie Kosar?

March 29, 2010

I must warn this post is probably a little distorted. One because it had two extremes-equal parts awesome and fail. It was like a science experiment or something you’d read on Not that kind of Girl’s blog.

If you don’t read her you really should.

Anyhizzle so as you may or may not know I’m not the easiest person to get to socialize. I mean if I know you I’m very open and friendly. I’ve grown as a person quite a bit over the last years. I do things. I go places and put myself in situations that I would never have before moving to Cleveland. There is still a bit of the old me in me (sweet scoring with myself!) and at times I’m a tad reluctant to do things. I should rephrase that a tad: I’m reluctant to do things on my own. I’m not one of those guys who need total separation from the wife to have fun. In fact I’m the total opposite. The wife does nothing but add to whatever fun is going down. She is a ton of fun. Read her here or get her tweety tweets.

Okay commercial for her over.

I mean. I love my wife (unlike seemingly everyone I used to work with. They continually complained bitterly about theirs.) And like to spend time with her. This is not to say we are attached at the hip to have fun. I can have fun and not be with her, but it’d be a lie if I was say she wouldn’t add to my enjoyment.
There are factors that go into my reluctance. I must say here it’s a reluctance to go to things alone. By alone I don’t mean sans wife I mean literally by myself. No wife or friends—just me. I won’t lie I’m much more comfortable with a pen in my hand alone writing. There was a time where if I didn’t have friends I was pretty sure I wouldn’t care. Books and writing. The other factor is the no license/car. This makes going places more difficult. What was the point to all this? Well Thursday night I went against my instinct and went out. Yes (gasp) by my lonesome. Twitter came through yet again for me. I saw that The Cleveland Gladiators were having an open house and free scrimmage.

A sidebar: I rant get over it. Twitter gets a bad rap sometimes. I know a bunch of people who are like “Twitter! Yeah that’s a waste of time.” I also know someone who won’t get onboard the twitter train (chooo choooo) because it’s called twitter and this bothers him somehow. It has been a great way to find new and interesting reads, restaurants and I’ve met people I consider good friends and hang with consistently. Plus if not for twitter I’d never heard about the scrimmage and therefore what happened wouldn’t have.

Anytwitter this is about me and the Gladiators. So I hear about this and I think “yeah I can go for that.” I mean since the unemployment I’ve done mostly sitting in the apartment during the day. I’ve gone for walks everyday but still majority of the time was sitting in the apartment writing. This is a good thing of course but probably be good to get out too. I tried to get peeps interested in going but nothing panned out. The wife had school to go to so if it was going to happen it was gonna be all me. Cue the cartoon devil on one shoulder angel on the other. Only it was me arguing/coming up with excuses and the rizza telling me to go for it. So I did. I jumped. That meant one bus and rapid ride down and one each back. Did I mention it started to snow and get windy again? Full disclosure it wasn’t all that much snow, but still. As luck would have it the wife was able to drop me off downtown, cutting my bus/rapid ride in half. I got down there early and hit up the mall food court for some dinner. Yeah Mall Chinese! Click here to go the Dictionary of Jimi to find out the meanings of my rambles. So I sat down with my bourbon chicken and ate. The whole while this lady who looked about 60 sat down the table closest to me and proceeded to eat her taco bell burrito like she was in prison. She huddled near it and kept her eye on me the whole time.

After the yumminess that was Mall Chinese I walked over to the Q. That’s the arena that hosts the Cavs, Monsters and Gladiators for those of you who didn’t know. So I get there and of course set off the damn metal detector. I had to unzip my coat and let them scan me. Then I had to take all my damn pens out of my pocket. Yes I had about 10 in there, and I forgot about my IPhone so then I had to take that off too. Then it still went off because of my belt buckle but yeah finally I get in there. I pick out a cozy seat in the 4th row (which I had all to myself) and relaxed.

Checked into 4square of course. (shut up!)

Then thankfully I got thirsty. I decided I needed a drink and went out to get one. In the hallway I ran into some dude I went to College with and he proceeded to chat me up. So we’re there in the hallway between the concourse and the lower bowl. He’s blabbing and then what happens but Bernie freaking fracking Kosar walks up.

Okay now if you are someone who doesn’t know who Bernie Kosar is click here. I also really hope you have the excuse that you’re not from Cleveland.

We both (read he) stop talking and silently gawk at him. The Cleveland football god! I do believe there were rays of light (held by Jesus himself) shining in his general direction but that was never confirmed. He’s busy being prepped and we’re busy gawking and well gawking. He then comes over and seeing as us gawkers are in his way stops. I’m wearing a Miami Dolphin shirt. He asks me if I’m a Miami Hurricane fan too. This got us talking about The Hurricanes, Dolphins and of course the Browns. I shook his hand about 60 bazillion times and he signed my Gladiators’ roster:

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He then went down, signed and took pictures with people and then gave a short intro to the scrimmage. It was fanfuckintastic. It was a fun time at the scrimmage. Soon a really drunk dude and his younger siblings came and he kept asking me annoying questions like “which team are we?” He could not understand the concept of a scrimmage or why there was no score being kept. Then he asked who that guy everyone is taking pictures of is and when I told him Bernie Kosar, he asked me “Who’s Bernie Kosar?” That is when I turned around and ignored him for the rest of the night. A girl who was pretty wasted too moved over to sit next to me and have me explain the rules to her. After the scrimmage I decided instead of going on to the field to meet the players (a bunch of which would soon be cut) I’d just head on home. I mean it was a fun time and I met Bernie Kosar it wasn’t going to get much better.

So I head back to the rapid station and the girl who sat next to me comes with all the while asking me question after question. I’m so annoyed and trying to be nice. The problem was I sort of got lost in my explanation of things and just got on her train. I thought she said she was taking the same one as I was and I didn’t pay attention. She then sat next to me and yammered the whole time. Halfway through I realize I’m on the wrong freaking train, and that my phone is dying. The only way to get back to a train that I could get on to get where I would need to go to catch my bus is pretty much go all the way back to where I started. By the time this would’ve happened the last bus would have been long gone. Luckily the wife had just entered Cleveland and I got off at Shake Square to wait there. Now a diner that had an open sign lit up and their sign on the door still turned to open was not actually open. I went in and they proceeded to yell at me. I was starving and planned on buying food while I waited but I wanted a place to stay in from the cold too. I headed back out to the rapid station waiting area to at least sit. Luckily I had some Kerouac to read. Of course as soon as I was immersed a tall, older and extremely drunk black dude came in. He said “Hi, my man.” And I said “Good day sir” Nailed that huh?

Anydrunk he ignored the fact that I was reading and talked and talked. Told me how it was his birthday the next day and how he wasn’t going to do shit. Not a god damn thing but lay there. He don’t care who calls. He’ll party for his b-day another day. The best was he looked around and whispered “I come out here to party. Drop like 400 bucks for the night and party and then take this train back to Cleveland Heights to live. Safety over there not in the hood, I just party out here.” The train came and I wished him a happy birthday. He only replied with “Birthday?” Then the wife came and all was well.

Experiment: Go somewhere on my own.
Result: Met Bernie freaking Kosar, but then had a horrible travel fail. You gotta take the good with the bad.

The next day for lunch I ordered something I would generally never ordered. I liked it too.


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