Shyzer.com

As if I wasn’t already feeling like the loser who got left behind at the station by the Life Train, news like this starts to trickle in. First there was Stan’s announcement of engagement a month or so ago, which was pretty big news and exciting for all to hear. But just like the old days of Stoobela, Angela one upped him yet again with her announcement of becoming a baby oven. All of this is fantastic news, especially if it helps people forget I’m a 23 year old college graduate living with his family. In fact, if I want any thunder for myself, it looks like I’ll need to find a chick, knock her up, and then march her down the isle before the little devil pops out.

Seriously though, congrats you two. Y’all deserve it and I couldn’t be happier for either of y’all.

That Spring is finally here. Throw in the fact that it’s about to stay light outside until 2000 and I’m thrilled. If there was one bad thing about going to Australia last year, it was having to miss out on this.

Somebody hates Bob Costas as much as I do! There is a God!

Ideally the unwritten directive for this blog is to make one post a month and have it be somehow worthwhile to the reader; interesting, irreverent, profound (doubtful coming from me), etc. and at all times completely honest. [Sidenote: Why else would someone write in a blog? Well, a wiser person than me once said that America is a nation of voyeurs and I completely agree.] Luckily tonight I have a good excuse to exceed my mandate and report that absurdity levels have reached a new high. Around a priceless IM excerpt from an otherwise mundane conversation I will build the story of why Jen Roskowsky is such an interesting case study.

Take a trip back in time. It’s August of 2005, and I fancy Jen. I enjoy the fact that she flirts with me non-stop on the Grand Canyon trip. Until a few years ago I didn’t even detect flirtations. Unfortunately they occur about as often as a solar eclipse so any sort of attention from a woman is a major plus. At first glance Jen has an intriguing personality and is fairly attractive. She dresses especially well. She is smart. In short, I am very pleased to be on the receiving end of her interactions. What I selectively choose not to observe is that Jen’s attention to me is not singular.

As the weeks pass I plot strategy and during a night filled with Jim Beam and Johnnie Walker make my move. Classy! And it works! This is only the second time that I plant one on a girl and it goes about as well as one imagines. [Sidenote: I am completely serious; my 20 year absence of a sex drive is something that will be fully explored in a future New England Journal of Medicine article.] A week of blissful spooning ensues until Jen realizes that my interests apparently lie in a real relationship. You know, one where the guy and girl attend ice cream socials and ride a two-person bike with streamers for half a decade and eventually make babies. To deal with our differing visions she drunkenly confesses, “I like you but I don’t heart you.” Who says that? You guessed it folks: Frank Stallone!

Tragically our relationship in its official capacity ends sometime between when she starts crying and when I throw her in the pool. Jen is remarkably upset. So devastated in fact that she pins me into the corner of the pool like it’s about time to feed the eel. Toby, who had been relaxing pool-side, notices this and flees in horror. At the end of the night I am surprisingly not too shaken. This is a pleasant surprise as usually any romantic defeat ends with me poised atop a bell-tower with an automatic rifle. Instead confusion prevails, replaced soon-after by revelations. I learn, and should have noticed, that her brief interlude with me has a prequel (we’ll call him Jerome Smith) and a sequel (Bob Takaichi). All the while as she maintains a relationship with former undergraduate boyfriend Chris, who now lives in California in a community presumably distant enough not to be obliterated by the shockwaves of absurdity that she generates with every action.

Unfortunately I have no self control. Despite concluding that Jen has certain appetites that exceed conventional volumes and social boundaries (this is apparently referred to on the facebook as an “open relationship”) and will still like (but not heart) me almost at will, I engage in two spooning episodes with her over the next month. What can I say? The evenings started by watching Battlestar Galactica. And anyway it’s not like I abhor the experience. I purged that whole Catholic guilt dominated brain pattern 2 years prior. No, the whole episode is actually somewhat enjoyable. However there is something deeply unsettling and distasteful to know that you’re just a means to an end and one of several. Conversely knowing that two of your colleagues are infatuated in, share experiences with, but absolutely do not acknowledge their connection to Jen really brings a smile to my face.

To terminate my involvement I make the conscious choice to cease participation in the chicanery. However given my big mouth and absence of sound judgment I am not afraid to mention the “Love Pentagon” at anytime, especially considering that she has now thoroughly ensnared “Bob” and to a lesser extent “Mr. Smith” in her new invention which I casually refer to as the “Soul Reaper 5000″.

Now patient readers this is finally where I get to the juicy, PG-13, chat log which in final analysis really isn’t that great. Sorry.

jjkowski: hey there
Dr Rocks 1982: howdy
jjkowski1: howre you
Dr Rocks 1982: fine, went home to eat and work some on an excel that works
jjkowski1: ahhh
jjkowski1: good times
Dr Rocks 1982: it’s true
jjkowski1: you missed playing with ross’s kids tonight at stick it to the man
jjkowski1: twas hilarious
Dr Rocks 1982: yeah, ill probably be missing a lot of that in coming weeks
jjkowski1: yeahi houlsn’d have gone
jjkowski1: and had 2 beers
jjkowski1: ooops
Dr Rocks 1982: eh what can ya do
jjkowski1: oooh you can have a good time
jjkowski1: thats what you can do
jjkowski1: andy, i am really horny. i just thought i would share that with you
Dr Rocks 1982: i suggest a large pentagon in your office like the wheel of fortune wheel with pictures of myself, [bob], [mr. smith], chris, and yourself
Dr Rocks 1982: if it lands on you…well you know what to do
Dr Rocks 1982: I dont want to make this conversation R-rated
jjkowski1: hahaha but i’m TIRED of that, andy!
jjkowski1: it grows old
jjkowski1: i like R-rated things
Dr Rocks 1982: oh stop complaining and reap what you sew!
Dr Rocks 1982: the abusrdity of the entire situation still amuses me immensely
Dr Rocks 1982: it’s a shame the others don’t see it
jjkowski1: hahaha thats true. i’m glad that you do andy.
jjkowski1: its too bad you’re not quiteas willing to participate in it as others are tho
Dr Rocks 1982: i know what a shame
jjkowski1: haha
jjkowski1: you seem so sad to miss out
Dr Rocks 1982: oh it just tears me apart inside
Dr Rocks 1982: i vent the rage by kicking a puppy each new moon
jjkowski1: hahaha
Dr Rocks 1982: so let’s change the topic away from your sexual dysfunction…
jjkowski1: haha i do’nt think it’s a dysfunction
jjkowski1: i think its an overfunction
jjkowski1: but ok

I don’t think I need to explain why the above bolded statement is so incredibly ridiculous. At least she acknowledges the absurdity. Beyond that there isn’t much else to say. Or maybe there is plenty more but just not tonight. There are some people in this world who are different, vastly different, from me and probably some of you more normal people too. Try not to judge, but try to laugh.

Ok, judge too.

Snow isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

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.

I received my Virginia voter’s registration card in the mail today. It makes South Carolina’s look like a Picasso and the only thing the Palmetto State has going for theirs is that it’s blue. Virginia’s is a long, bland white strip that won’t even fold properly thanks to non-perforated edges.

Screw new roads in D.C. or better rural schools, I want something that I won’t mistake as a crummy business card in my wallet. I think I’m gonna refuse to vote here until a candidate campaigns for new voter registration cards.

And just as quickly as it arrived, Puke Fest 2006 faded off into the night. I think my favorite part was when I was talking to my socks, which I thought were my cat. Good times. I expected the house to be in a post-Katrina like state with clothes, toys, and food scattered throughout the rooms. Luckily, it wasn’t too bad and I was able to bring it back to “mom approved” specifications with only an hour or two of work.

I would write more, but I can’t see much since I’ve had to throw my contacts out since I’ve been wearing the same pair for, oh, about 18 months now. When I completely lose my eyesight at age 35, I’m gonna have nobody but myself to blame.

Puke Fest 2006 is in full swing and I must say, I’m ready for it to end. I woke up this morning feeling kinda quessy and by the end of the Patriots-Jags game, I was just coming back into reality. I was so delusional today, I thought it was around noon when it was really 2100.

Some might think I’m sharing too much information when I tell you that for 7 hours, on the hour, I puked. It was like clockwork. Kinda cool actually. But no, my friends, I think the “too much information” label should be applied when I tell you that once I spewed up the Pepto Bismal that I had taken and it didn’t taste that bad the second time around!

And somebody give Juls a medal for taking care of the house while I was bedridden.

Many a nights I stay up late working on the computer or reading or whatnot and it’s not unusual for me to drift off to sleep at 0400 or 0500. And while I don’t watch hardly any TV during the day, the few shows that I do watch usually start between 2100 and 2300. After my shows end, I tend the flip the TV on mute and go about my business since there’s nothing but crap on TV from midnight until I go to bed. However, sometimes I’m sucked in and I can’t help but watch something late at night. And whenever the show I’m watching goes on commercial, I’m of course subjected to phone sex after phone sex ads.

It’s no secret that I love LOST. In fact, I’m thinking about digging up that post I made about a year ago breaking down the show and updating to include the massive amount of info we’ve received since then. It’s also no secret that I think Kate is hot. I try to ignore the fact that in real life she’s dating Charlie and instead pretend in my little world she’s just sitting at home at night waiting to meet me. But still, no matter what hobbit she dates, it still doesn’t change the fact that she’s hot and that she’s hot.

As a 1988 edition of COPS went to commercial the other night, I diverted my attention back to my laptop to finish wrapping up a future post. In the background I could hear some 900 number being given to talk to young hot studs and while the offer was temping, I figured I’d pass. Something told me they weren’t gonna want to talk about the Mariners or my latest computer upgrades. I then heard a voice that was somewhat familiar and which caused me to glance up towards the screen. I couldn’t place where I knew the voice from, but I couldn’t see the speaker since the commercial was showing happy couples lying in front of fire places and going for walks on a beach. Then, right as the commercial was ending, I saw this chick talking to me. A hot chick. Wait a minute….Kate?!

Kate is the freaking LiveLinks girl. I watched it during the next few rounds of commercials and by the end there was no doubting it. I called the number looking to see if she’d pick up, but all I got was a message saying, “to talk to women, press 1. To talk to men, press 2. To talk on our free service, press 4.” The message then started to repeat itself, so I thought since they skipped the number 3, that might be the secret button you had to press to talk to Kate.

It’s not.