Archive for 2006

Poked in a non-sexual way.

February 6th, 2006 at 11:26 am

I’ve just been informed by the script coder that I fucked up in a simple copy and pasting of the script. Go me. The Poke Button should now work properly, so commence Poking.

I’ve been reading the blog of one of the guys who was involved in the whole Facebook Cake Party I posted on last month and he recently came up with a pretty nifty script for all you Facebook lovers out there. If you are currently logged in (and admit it, you know you are), then click the button below to send me a poke.

If you have a site of your own, you can snag the code yourself from Legatissimo and join in the giant Pokefest.

I thought Mick Jagger was dead.

February 5th, 2006 at 08:13 pm

Am I the only person who doesn’t like the Rolling Stones?

And even at halftime, I can’t figure out who I want to win this game. I love Bill Cowher and the Steelers are fun to watch, but I can’t help but hope the Seahawks win as well - if for no other reason than to bring my many fellow Mariners fans some joy. Seattle has been a city of sports futility over the past thirty years and maybe if the Hawks can win, some of the winning spirit will rub back off on the M’s. God knows they could use it.

Then again, maybe I’m just pulling that out of my ass and reaching for straws since the upcoming season doesn’t look too promising.

TGATE, #29 - Roseanne

February 2nd, 2006 at 05:21 pm

When you sit around working on the computer all day, there are times where your eyes need a break from staring at a 17 inch computer screen. Naturally, this is when I choose to divert them to the slightly bigger television screen across my room since I figure who the hell needs eyes anyways? I’m sure I can just buy new ones when I get older, right after I buy my hover car, ticket to Saturn, and penis growth pills. Not all of which are going to be used at once, mind you.

But the problem with watching television in the middle of the day is that there isn’t anything on worth watching. Sure, I could watch the 1973 World’s Strongest Man competition on ESPN or maybe one of those trashy dating shows on UPN. And if I’m feeling a little too safe and secure, FOX News is always a good choice to scare me back into submission. But other than that, I’m usually SOL.

So with that in mind, I’m starting a new segment here on Shyzer called: “Things Goob’s Ashamed To Enjoy.” Today’s item? Number 29 on the list - Roseanne.

I have no idea where this sudden appreciation for Rosanne came from, but trust me, it’s there. Any time I’m flipping through the stations and stumble across an episode of Roseanne playing on The Oxygen Network, I stop and watch. I guess Number 30 on this list could be that I actually watch something on The Oxygen Network, the same network that has a 90 year old sex therapist on late a night that makes just about anything remotely related to the topic at hand seem unappealing. But that’s for another post.

The bad part is that I think I’ve got Julianne hooked on the damn show as well. Last week I walked into the play room only to be greeted by the obnoxious laughter only capable of emanating from Roseanne’s mouth and I knew right then and there that I had to put a stop to the Crazy Train. It’s one thing to allow myself to hitch a ride on it, but it’s a whole other story when the children are climbing on the caboose while your not looking.

Jack Bauerisms, Round II

February 1st, 2006 at 11:45 pm

It’s time for another round of my newest favorite pasttime, reading Random Jack Bauer Facts. I literally spend a good 30-45 minutes on that site each day and it has yet to get old. Plus, Google seems to think Shyzer is the leading authority on Jack Bauer stats and facts and they’ve been sending me massive amounts of traffic lately, so I mustn’t disappoint. So, without further A Due.

  1. Osama bin Laden’s recent proposal for truce is a direct result of him finding out that Jack Bauer is, in fact, still alive.
  2. Jack Bauer has been to Mars. That’s why there’s no life on Mars.
  3. In kindergarten, Jack Bauer killed a terrorist for Show and Tell.
  4. In 96 hours, Jack Bauer has killed 93 people and saved the world 4 times. What the fuck have you done with your life?
  5. Jack Bauer once won a game of Connect 4 in 3 moves.
  6. Instead of buzzing, Jack Bauer’s alarm clock screams out “THERE ISN’T ANYMORE TIME!”
  7. Jack Bauer once had CTU open a socket to the depths of hell.
  8. Jack Bauer only needs one page to solve the Da Vinci Code, not 454.
  9. Normal people have trouble killing two birds with one stone. Jack Bauer can kill thirteen birds simultaneously with a dull pencil.
  10. When Kim Bauer lost her virginity, Jack Bauer found it and put it back.

IT’S WORLD WAR THREE!

January 31st, 2006 at 05:45 pm

My “bedroom” is actually just an extension of the play room down in the basement. The laundry area is also connected to my room and being a family that adheres to a strict 15-outfit a day per person policy, my mom and I spend a fair bit of our waking moments in there sorting through clothes and getting out skid marks in underwear. One of the other fine benefits of living downstairs is the fact that I get to enjoy the sounds from above in their full glory. When somebody walks through the kitchen, I am treated to loud thumping. When somebody runs through the kitchen, I hear elephants wrestling. When two humans are actually wrestling in the kitchen (it happens in this household), I hear the full wrath of God coming down upon me.

Last night, I was performing one of my hourly rituals of transferring laundry from the washer to the dryer. This lucky batch included bed sheets, socks, and a rug Koral had peed on, among other things. Juls was watching television in the next room and Clay was playing on the computer, so the only person upstairs was Colton, who was supposed to be in bed falling asleep. It was right around the point where I was pulling out the rug when I froze dead in my tracks and my heart stopped. The entire house, not just the laundry room, shook with a violent force and my chest literally vibrated for a second. The deep boom that filled the air lingered in my ears for what seemed like minutes and before my brain even had time to compute what was happening, my legs were in Emergency Mode and carrying my body upstairs.

I’ve never moved as quickly in my life as I did during those few seconds.

I was upstairs and in Colton’s room before Clay or Juls were even out of their seats. The rumble was so heavy, so consuming, that I knew it wasn’t just Colton tripping and falling down. Something else far more massive had succumbed to the force of gravity with him and my mind was racing with visions of him trapped under a bulking set of chester drawers or a massive armoire or even a collapsed roof.

You can imagine my surprise when I burst into his room and was greeted by Colton, sitting up in bed with a giant grin spread across his face, and telling my, “WHOA! That was a big explosion! It woke me up!” Clay and Juls spilled into the room moments later and we all stood there for a second looking around before my mind finally caught up with the situation again. I barked out a few orders to the kids and went to look around the rest of the house. Something, somewhere, had to be wrong in the house. The noise had sounded as if it came from upstairs, as if the entire roof was trying it’s hardest to come crashing down upon us.

And yet not a thing was amiss. None of the large object in the house had fallen to create the shudder. A few small things here and there had been knocked over due to the shock, but for the most part, everything was fine. Having made sure the kids were safe and the house wasn’t falling apart on my watch - because I’ll be damned if I’m blamed for it! - I decided to venture outside and see if maybe a car had rammed the house or something. As I stepped outside, I noticed I wasn’t the only one out searching for answers and finally I realized it wasn’t just confined to our house. Just about every single person in the neighborhood was outside, trying to figure out what had just disturbed them as well. We all stood around with a queer look on our face for a while, trying to guess what had happened. Someone thought a plane might have crashed, but I ruled that out because with most plane crashes come fires that light up the nearby night sky. Others thought maybe there had been some explosion at one of the nearby factories, but again, I figured we’d at least see a fire if that had happened. My money was on a gas explosion somewhere and literally right as the words tumbled out of my mouth, Clay got off the phone with his friend and burst with the news.

Clay: “Ryan, a house blew up down by Matt’s! It just….exploded!”
Ryan: “By Matt’s? That’s only two hundred yards away! How come we don’t see a fire?”

Around this time an entire brigade of rescue vehicles came screaming down the road and swerving around the corner. In fact, I had enough time to go get Colton out of bed and over to the window to watch them since the stream of sirens and flashing lights was almost endless. Before long, the vultures started coming in full force and by vultures I mean curious people who are only getting in the fucking way and who should have just stayed home. I can understand slowing down to look at an insane car wreck, but people who go out of their ways just to drive by the car wreck get on my nerves to no end. A cop finally pulled up alongside our house and started turning people around. Clay, Juls, and I sat on the steps listening to what he was telling people and we learned that there had been a gas leak in a nearby house for what must have been house. It built up in the garage and when the father went outside to start up his car, a spark from the engine ignited the entire place. He managed to crawl out of his car and into the street, where he was airlifted to a nearby hospital and luckily, nobody else was home at the time.

Needless to say, Clay and I were glued to the late night evening news and finally, we were able to see some pictures of the destruction. One of the first answers we got was why there was no fire blazing in the night sky - there was nothing to burn. The entire house was virtually vaporized and in its place was a pile of rubble and twigs of lumber that were smoldering with small fires. Debris was actually scattered across a few miles radii and they still won’t let us down there to take a look at it. I wanted to include some pictures along with this post, but the local news in this town makes the Spartanburg Herald Journal look like the New York Times, so I guess I’ll have to wait until they let us down there in a few days.

But don’t ever let me say again that nothing interesting happens up here.

This blows.

January 30th, 2006 at 12:21 pm

When you write a 2,522 word post, you feel as if you’ve accomplished something.

When you realize you don’t agree with most of the 2,522 words you’ve just written, that feeling begins to dissipate.

When you decide to sit back down and start over again, you feel as if bashing your face in with a blunt object might be a little more productive.

I missed you, Internet.

January 30th, 2006 at 09:29 am

If you ever need somebody to come over and completely break your modem, give me a call. Saturday evening I was trying to tweak things and I somehow severed our connection to the Internet, so we’ve been without it (gasp!) for the past 48 hours. It honestly felt like I’d lost my right arm and for two ghastly days, my siblings and I were forced to “interact” and “talk.” *shudder*

With it now restored, I feel complete again. Don’t ever do that to me again, Internet.

Trust me, in 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

January 27th, 2006 at 08:32 pm

Somebody needs to drag The History Channel into the backyard and shoot it in the head with a double barrel shotgun.

Back when our local cable provider first picked it up, it was a big moment in the Geek Department of my life. I was no longer forced to rely upon “books” or “teachers” to learn about history - good ole’ TV could start pumping into my room and I could absorb as much of it as humanly possible before switching over to Comedy Central late at night to catch those hot Girls Gone Wild commercials.

But now? Now my stomach cringes any time I flip over to channel 70. Somewhere along the way, they succumbed to what I call the “24 Hour News Syndrome.” Out with the trash went responsible reporting and actual…oh, what’s the word…facts. In turn, they started airing sensational pieces that are meant to entertain, truth be damned. Gone are the days of airing episodes based on documents and speeches and the like and in are the days of interviewing authors of horribly written books who think they know what they’re talking about because they’re run a blog on the subject for the past 4 years.

I’m guessing they did for the same reason every other network has made the switch - ratings. I can only imagine how few people watched a channel dedicated to nothing but dead people and things that happened 500 years ago. But even with that said, The History Channel took a giant and messy dump on those of us who loved them back in the day and who appreciate that F word I spoke of earlier. Out of the shows I watched this week, I counted somewhere along the lines of 25+ major blatant and outright mistakes and/or lies and this is considering the fact that I’m nowhere near excellently versed in many of these fields. To make matters worse, I’ve Googled a few of the “experts” they’ve had on their show and the only thing a few of these guys seem to be experts in is tricking television networks into thinking their experts in something.

When somebody watches a show like Inside Edition or anything on MTV, they know (at least, they should know) that whatever they’re seeing is for entertainment purposes only and that for all they know, it’s completely scripted and fake. But when you watch a station like The Discovery Channel of The History Channel, you would hope to have a shred of truth in whatever you’re watching. To The History Channel’s credit, I guess, they’ve gotten better at making things entertaining without outright lying. For instance, in most episodes and specials (such as the Little Ice Age a few weeks back and the one last night about secret organizations), for 58 minutes they air conspiracy theories, ludicrous claims, and wild accusations. Then, in the closing minutes, they say something along the lines of “Some historians, however, disagree with these findings and therefore the debate will go on forever.” Wow, thanks for showing us both sides and giving us a full view on the subject, guys. I would have hated it if I’d only gotten to hear about the view held by 0.00001% of historians, but luckily for me you tossed in that final sentence to give those 99.99999% of people a voice.

I’m not saying the minority shouldn’t have a voice for who knows how much of history we’ve screwed up and gotten wrong. But don’t pass off what they say as complete truth. My faith in the American publics intelligence isn’t that strong and frankly, if you don’t spell out for them that what you’re saying is simple the opinion and views held by only a small number, then they may start to think that what you’re saying is what actually happened in the past. And if there’s one thing that I can’t stand more than green beans or Laura Bush’s face, it’s people who rewrite history.

So fucking stop it. Now. Thanks.

I always liked those Dad commercials where Tom Selleck did the tagline.

January 25th, 2006 at 11:54 pm

In the span of 24 hours, I received eight - count em, EIGHT - comments about my children. Which is funny, because it’s been a while since I’ve gone through the process of having sex, then asking, “so…have you peed on that stick yet, honey?” before I finally, oh you know, HAD A KID!

I should be used to this by now. And then with Colton only being six, I naturally am assumed to be his father when it’s just the two of us out and about. But Julianne is nine. Clay is thirteen. This means that if Clay was my son, I would have had to have him when I was Julianne’s age. I don’t think my 4th grade days were THAT wild and crazy.

It started when I took Juls and Clay to the dentist. Two school helpers, two nurses and one doctor later, I knew we were going to be in for a long day. By the time we’d walked out of the dentist and into the mall, I’d given up on correcting people and just started playing along: “Huh, what? Oh, Clay? Yeah, he’s a great kid, thanks. I tell ya, I can’t wait for him to grow up and start making the big bucks though, because I want to retire and let him take care of me as soon as possible!” or “Your daughter is precious as well. My little Julianne over there is a sweetheart. You should see the adorable little bracelets she makes for me. She can’t cook or clean worth a damn, but I’ll beat it into her eventually.”

And this isn’t the only misguided assumption people make about me. Last week, my mom and I were mistaken for boyfriend-girlfriend far too many times and while that may be a huge compliment to her looking young and fresh, it raises far too many Freudian issues that I would just soon rather forget. But I think the real kicker came today. The kid’s babysitter, who has got to be in her 70s, called the school and when they called back, I picked up the phone and was greeted with, “Hello, is this Clay’s father? Well, your wife called earlier”… I mean, sure, who doesn’t like older women? I just prefer mine not be on Medicare yet.

But the other night made it all worthwhile. Juls came home begging me to take her and a friend to the local skating rink since her school was having a fund raiser for a few hours. I had plenty of work to do and was kind of tired, but I could tell she really wanted to go. She spent a few minutes picking out her clothes and packing her little purse and when we arrived, she paid and got her own skates. It was around this time that she finally told me she had no idea how to skate.

Her friends tried to teach her, but after 20 minutes I could tell this wasn’t going anywhere and when I walked over to her, I could tell she was discouraged and embarrassed and ready to leave. So I did the only thing I knew to do; I went and grabbed a pair of skates myself, laced up, and as soon as I stepped into the rink, the number of people who had no idea what they were doing doubled. I never learned to skate since the skating rink near where I grew up was a tad redneck and hillbillyish. (Although, now that I think about it, every skating rink I’ve ever set foot in has fallen into that category). Juls was still grabbing onto the side, so I pulled her out into the middle with me and for the next hour and a half we twirled around like idiots and fell down approximately every seven seconds. But the whole time, we had these giant grins on our faces and by the end, Juls was getting the hang of it.

As everybody was putting their skates away and getting their coats on, one of the moms sitting nearby came up to me and said:

Hey, I wish I’d had a dad like you while growing up. Mine would have just sat over there in the corner and shouted instructions to me until I started crying.

Ok, so I guess there are worse things than being mistaken for a dad.

I’m in a Flank Two position!

January 23rd, 2006 at 11:56 pm

I have to admit, killing hookers is fun.

Clay recently bought Grand Theft Auto: San Antonio or whatever the hell it’s called and I’ve been hooked since I picked up the controller. However, since talking about killing hookers isn’t nearly as much fun as actually killing hookers, I won’t bore you with the details. You’ll just have to take my word for it. Either that or go buy the game for yourself and start killing some hookers.

For the past week, I’ve been walking around screaming “I’m in a Flank Two position, everybody!” Clay and Julianne have surprisingly already gone through the stages that occur when I get hooked on something that is annoying to most people but hilarious to me. First, there’s a small window where everybody else finds it funny. Then we quickly enter what I like to call the “Uh oh, is he gonna keep doing this?” stage. Soon afterward comes the, “What do we do? Play along or make him stop?” stage followed by the “Good God, Ryan, if you don’t shut the fuck up, we’re going to strangle you with a dog leash in your sleep” stage. And finally, we arrive at the “…it’s Ryan, the most stubborn man on the planet, he who will not stop at anything if it brings him at least 0.0001% joy - we surrender” stage. That’s where we are right now.

So, in honor of the official return of Jack Bauer, I’ve changed the Title Bar for Shyzer and want to share with y’all a site I recently found. About a year ago, I stumbled across the “Random Vin Diesel Fact” page, which was an absolute goldmine.

That is, until I found the “Random Jack Bauer Fact” page. Out of the top thirty, I think my five favorite would have to be:

  1. If Jack Bauer was in a room with Hitler, Stalin, and Nina Meyers, and he had a gun with 2 bullets, he’d shoot Nina twice.
  2. Jack Bauer’s favorite color is severe terror alert red. His second favorite color is violet, but just because it sounds like violent.
  3. Jack Bauer got Hellen Keller to talk.
  4. You walk into a bar and Jack Bauer’s your wingman, you’re probably gonna get laid.
  5. Jack Bauer can get McDonald’s breakfast after 10:30.

Okay, I lied, I can’t stop. These are just too damn funny. Let’s make this a top 10 list for good measure.

  1. 1.6 billion Chinese are angry with Jack Bauer. Sounds like a fair fight.
  2. Upon hearing that he was played by Kiefer Sutherland, Jack Bauer killed Sutherland. Jack Bauer gets played by no man.
  3. Jack Bauer once forgot where he put his keys. He then spent the next half-hour torturing himself until he gave up the location of the keys.
  4. When life gave Jack Bauer lemons, he used them to kill terrorists. Jack Bauer fucking hates lemonade.
  5. Superman wears Jack Bauer pajamas.

And in our final 24 segment of the day, I would like to share with you a letter that was sent to Bill Simmons over at ESPN which is oh-so-true for a frighteningly high number of American citizens.

I think I was actually more upset over the assassination of former President David Palmer on “24″ last night than I would have been if our actual president would have been assassinated. It was like I lost a member of my own family. Maybe I’m just screwed up, but I don’t think so. Here is my question: If you forced every registered voter in America to watch seasons 1-4 on DVD, and convinced Dennis Haysbert to legally change his name to David Palmer, don’t you think he would win in a landslide in 2008? I have bounced this question off several people and Palmer has every vote so far, and most would have voted for him over Bush and Kerry.

Not only would we be electing David Palmer to office, but the guy who gives us those great All State commercials and Pedro Cerrano, the man who had no marbles. Yep, he’s got my vote.