is that mario bros?

This guy either has a ton of friends, or none at all. It's a tough call.

assassin

I’ve discovered something about myself that I feel compelled to share with you – I am an expert Uno player.

The best?  Perhaps.  Better than you? I would bet my first born on it.

It’s uncanny, really.  It’s like I have this sense that tells me when and how to play the perfect card, leaving my opponents shocked and awed in my wake.

I’m even better at Uno than I am at the times tables, which is

64!

See?  I’m so good at times tables that I knew you were thinking, “Well if you’re so good, what’s eight times eight?”  But I’m even better at Uno.

I know you’re stunned.  I know you’re wondering how on Earth I could have a blog and be good at Uno, but it’s true.

From now on, I’m going to have to issue a warning to all who play me, because the swiftness and ruthlessness with which I play can crush even the most skilled player.

You’ll be sitting there, admiring the blue cards being laid down, then bam!  Next thing you know I’m dropping a Wild Draw Four on your ass, changing the cards to green and asking if you want a box of tissues to wipe the tears that I know are on their way.

It’s that brutal.

And trust me, I’ve been skipped and I’ve seen reverses that would make Robocop frown.  But I remain unfazed through it all.

My eyes will pierce you with their calm during the storm, just waiting for the inevitable:  Me yelling “Uno bitches!” and someone after the game saying that they “Can’t stand playing games with Chris.  What the fuck is wrong with him?”

But this is the life I lead.  I did not choose to be skilled at this game, Uno chose me.

Come and challenge me if you feel you have the skills, but I must warn you, it will not end well for you.  I am the best Uno player that

28!

safety first

It’s officially summer time, and that means lots of things, like going to the beach, or drinking too many beers in the hot sun and almost passing out from dehydration.  And for some people, it means going to amusement parks.

I take in the occasional trip to those Lands Of Fun, and yeah, I have some Amusement.

And if you’re lucky enough (or famous enough) to accompany me on a trip to one of these places, you will always know where to find me.

On the ground.

No roller coasters for me, thank you very much.

I’ve tried them, okay?

I’ve tried strapping myself into a tiny box of metal and being hurled through the air like some kind of fucking idiot and it turns out that it’s just not for me.

Whenever my friends and I have gone to an amusement park, I am the one standing at the bottom, holding all the women’s purses, waving to everyone and thinking to myself, “Well, I hope they don’t die because we’ve had some fun times together.”

Of course you can try to peer pressure me into getting on one, but it won’t work.  This may surprise some of you, but I tend to be a little Set In My Ways.

But don’t let me stop you from tempting the cold hand of death.  Have at it!

You go ahead and place your life in the hands of a single metal bar across your lap.  It seems very likely that it will keep you from flying to your death and making me have to call your parents.

I’m sure that pimple-faced kid with the voice that cracked whose Mom took him and his girlfriend to the movies last night is going to be completely responsible handling the controls of the coaster.

It will be great and you should really go.

While you’re climbing to your impending doom on rides that warn you not ride them with names like Phantom’s Revenge and Raging Bull, I will be safe and sound below playing Duck Pond.

Yes, you can play a duck or two after you’re done, but that’s assuming that you will live through your Ride Of Death, and I don’t think we should make those kind of assumptions.

choose wisely

I’m a big fan of using Paper-Rock-Scissors to solve any Difficult Decisions in my life.

If Ari and I are trying to figure out who has to take Jack out in the rain – we’re throwing down.  If a friend and I are choosing which bar to go to – better get ready to rumble.

One, two, three  – shoot!  And just like that, all decisions are made for you.  Of course, it’s best to do two out of three.  I’m not some idiot who lives life on the edge by just throwing once.

I really think that if Paper-Rock-Scissors was more prominent in our society, it would lead to nothing but positives.

Important Political Dude: “So, this is it, I win this last one and we don’t invade Iraq.”

Bush: “Yeah, yeah I got it. Quit yer stalling, city boy – you’re going down!”

[Important Political Dude throws rock, effectively crushing Bush’s scissors play]

Important Political Dude: “Yes!  Okay, you lose, no invading Iraq.”

Bush: [Face red with anger] “Dangnabbit!  Fine.  What other countries have lots of brown people?”

And not only on this scale – imagine how much better your life would be if Paper-Rock-Scissors was used in everyday situations.

Like when you and your Special Someone are deciding whether to have kids.

Your Other wants to have kids, you don’t.  Obviously the best way to determine this decision is to play the game.  And don’t you dare go with some rookie move of playing scissors first – if you do, diarrhea diapers here you come buddy.

I am asking you, what better way is there to make Difficult Decisons?  And no, don’t even try and tell me about Drawing Straws, I’m not a little boy.

I’m a man and I need Man Things like Paper-Rock-Scissors to determine my path in life.

That’s how I roll, and I suggest you do the same.

smooth operator

Who doesn’t love Jeopardy?

This show is always on in my apartment. On any given night, you can find me sitting on my couch, yelling out questions, “What is bat guano!” and trying my best to know more than the people on the show.

My favorite part of Jeopardy is when Alex (I call him by his first name because we’re tight like that) interviews the contestants.

It’s like a watching a horrific car crash. You want to look away, you know it’s going to be brutal – but it’s just so enticing.

The contestants tell the worst fucking stories. Then Alex, like the Super Human Host that he is, must make something funny out of what they say. Seriously, why do these people always pick the absolute lamest thing about them to tell everyone on national television?

This one woman talked about how she had three cats, and named them all after her favorite tv shows! Oh, how interesting! I only want to punch myself in the face three times as opposed to seven!

But have no fear, Alex The Fucking Man Trebek is here to save every single person from looking like a complete loser.

I also love it when someone has the balls to risk it all on Double Jeopardy.

When people don’t risk it all, I scream at the tv in anger, “He’s weak Alex! You must punish the weak Alex!!!”

But Alex just plays it cool.

He’s seen it all before.

He smirks.

He reads the cards.

There is no doubt in my mind that Alex is totally cool off the show. He probably listens to Led Zeppelin then throws on some Jigga right after it, just to keep shit interesting. I bet you’d be out at the bar with him, he’d be charming the women with his wit, then turn to you and say, “Who is – totally gonna get laid tonight?”

You’re the man Alex. You’re the man.

a ball of life

Remember gym class?

For some reason this morning when I woke up, my first thoughts were of gym class, and more specifically – dodge ball.

Dodge ball days were always met with a sort of nervousness in the air. The girls would be slightly less chatty and the boys would be eying each other up, knowing that in an instant, best friends could become bitter enemies depending on which way a small, orange ball bounced.

I was always “The Skinny Kid” so I was athletic, but not nearly as tough as the bigger guys in my class. But somehow dodge ball was my ticket to stardom. You didn’t have to throw the ball very far, and being skinny I was also fast, so I could dodge the ball (pun fully intended) easily most times.

These were days when I knew I could become a hero. These were days that I stood a chance of getting that glance from the prettiest girl in the class, Kelly Cook. These were also days when I could somehow stand toe to toe with Jake Breiding, a boy who, rumor had it, started shaving when he was 7. I don’t think I need to tell you that Jake Breiding was fucking cool.

Most games of dodge ball ended the same way though – with the Jake Breidings (ever notice how names from your past sound so odd when you think about them now?) of the world triumphing over the The Skinny Kids of the world.

But there were those days when something special would happen – when a girl (“She can’t possibly win,” all the guys would think) would make an amazing grab and thus win the game despite all the odds. Or there were those days when I, The Skinny Kid, would win one for the small guys, my eyes beaming and full of pride.

I’d get a nod of approval from Jake Breiding and maybe, just maybe, a brief glance from Kelly Cook.

And that would make all the difference in the world.

What are your memories of gym class?