Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
Like everybody else in the world, I watched the Super Bowl Sunday night.
Usually I only see it in chunks and hunks, but did the entire haul this
year. You know, because of our new Big Ass Television. I wasn't overly
interested in any of it, mind you, but felt a social obligation to tune
in; many believe those BATs are created for such events, and you're wasting
it unless you see every freakin' minute. And God knows I don't want
to waste it. So, like everybody else in the world, I watched the Super
Bowl Sunday night.
We even had a small spread of chips and salsa and guacamole and neon
orange liquefied cheese, and the like. It wasn't a full-on Superbowl
party, or anything, just a modest snack upgrade in recognition of the
holiday-like atmosphere. Pass the beer nuts.
Here are a few random notes on my evening spent watching, as unlikely as
it now seems, professional football....
Why do those guys at "the desk" have to holler everything?
What's wrong with simply talking? Is speaking in a normal conversational
tone considered pussy in football culture? I don't know. In
baseball they just talk, and in golf they actually whisper. If I wanted
to start an argument, I might say it's like car commercials: the cheaper
and less sophisticated the product, the louder the announcer. But I
don't want to start any arguments.
And are those clip-on Garth Brooks microphones designed to press into
their jaw like that? I thought they were supposed to be positioned an
inch or two from the face, not mashing everything in. A few of those
guys could've held paper to their faces, like human clipboards. I think
the skin of an old man had actually been pierced by one, and the mic
itself was inside his mouth. But I could be wrong about that.
I was watching the Superbowl (can I say that, or do I have to refer to
it as the Big Game, in fear of NFL trademark lawyers?) on an HD
television, via an HD broadcast, and there was water all over the camera
lenses most of the time. Wotta rip-off. Sometimes it felt like I was
looking at the players through a shower door, and that's the thing
nightmares are made of. Ya know? Why couldn't they wipe if off every
once in a while? Have they ever heard of, you know, a cloth?
What was the deal with that fake lightning
before Prince came on? It was fake, right? The National Football
League hasn't figured out a way to manipulate the weather, have they?
And how did he play his electric guitar in the driving rain? At one
point he was standing in a pool of water, soaked through to his purple
panties, and cranking off an extended guitar solo. I thought he was
going to start jerking and frothing at the mouth. Not that anyone would've
noticed, really.
Is it wrong of me to admit I was praying for him to slip and fall
off the stage?
This doesn't have anything to do with the game, but I met Prince once,
in Atlanta. And he's roughly the size of your standard fourth grader.
He's a portable rock star. The man could be mounted to a dashboard, and
perform on long commutes. Or something.
The commercials were OK, I guess. I liked the one for Bud Light where
they were trying to teach non-English speaking people how to order the
product in various American cities. There's a lot of funny foreigners in
that one, and you simply can't go wrong with funny foreigners. And the
one where everybody was slapping each other was good, but I don't really
remember any of the others. What about you? What were your faves, and
which ones sucked?
I'll tell you one that I thought sucked, even though a lot of people
apparently enjoyed it. I'm talking, of course, about that retarded Go
Daddy commercial. Here's video footage of me watching it for the first
time. Stoopid. What is this, 1980?
And that's everything, off the top of my head. Next week is the Grammys
(featuring the big Police reunion), and then the Academy Awards. I'll
probably skip the former, and watch the latter. And once again, I'll be
praying for people to slip and fall. Is that wrong?
-- Sorry about yesterday. I had to be at work early, and was only up to
the "have they ever heard of a cloth?" portion of the update
when I was forced to walk away from it. The initial phase of a new
operating system was launched at my job yesterday, and I'm supposedly
involved. I'm not sure what I'm contributing exactly, but whatever. I
even had to go in on Saturday, which didn't make me very happy. It's up
and running though, and working properly (thanks to me standing off to
the side and scratching my chin in deep, deep thought), so maybe they'll
leave me alone now? Sweet Maria.
-- I'm not sure why, but I set up a little half-assed MySpace page,
right here. Yesterday I invited a few celebrities to be my
"friend," and you can see the results so far. I was rejected
by a couple of people, which stung a little. But I can't remember who
they were, dammit, so I'm being denied the opportunity to work up a good
bitterness. From now on I'm keeping a list, so I can hold a grudge if
necessary.
Send me an invite if you'd like my Fuck You Tattoo icon to
appear on your page. I don't turn people down, like.... somebody.
Hey, wonder if J.D. Salinger has a MySpace??
-- And I'm going to hand it over to Buck now, and call it day.
--
Like everybody else in the world, I watched the Super Bowl Sunday night.
Usually I only see it in chunks and hunks, but did the entire haul this
year. You know, because of our new Big Ass Television. I wasn't overly
interested in any of it, mind you, but felt a social obligation to tune
in; many believe those BATs are created for such events, and you're wasting
it unless you see every freakin' minute. And God knows I don't want
to waste it. So, like everybody else in the world, I watched the Super
Bowl Sunday night.
