Everything is wrong with me
Friday, August 26, 2005
mom b-day, ESPN fantasy, Corolla, emails, music (Sweat)
This week was my mom's birthday, so I sent her a card. I also got her the extravagant gift of a new light fixture for the porch, which is kind of a strange gift. I guess when people get older, they want different, more mature things. But I can't see a time in my life when I'll want a new porch light as a gift. Of course, I won't live long enough to have grown children, but if I did, our birthday gift conversations would probably go:

My son: "Dad, what do you want for your birthday?"
Me: "I was thinking, maybe some mace? Bob next door has this fucking dog that won't stop barking, so I'm gonna go fucking mace it."
My son: "I don't think you should mace the neighbor's dog, dad."
Me: "Oh yeah? Well, I didn't think I should have come inside your mother, so I guess we all live and learn. How is she anyway? Is she dead yet or is she still dating that black guy?"

But anyway, I got my mom a birthday card. I hate buying birthday cards, or any greeting cards, because they're lame. I'm actually hoping to start my own line of greeting cards, and I bet if my potential business partner could just STOP TAKING BONG HITS FOR ONE FUCKING MINUTE we could make some serious cash with this.

So for my mom's b-day, I picked out a card that had two little girls on the front, with their backs to the camera. They're wearing white dresses and one is leading the other by the hand. It's a lovely little image. On the inside, it says, "Thanks for always being there. Happy Birthday!" It's a classy little card, meant for one woman to give to another woman, maybe her sister or a friend. But I gave it a little personal style by changing the front image of the card just slightly, writing "Jason" under one of the little girls and "Mom" under the other little girl. Sweet.

I don't know if my mom has gotten it yet, but I wonder what she thinks when I do shit like that. All she ever wanted was a normal, well-adjusted son, and I'm sending her birthday cards intimating that we're both little girls. What a fucking weirdo.

Anyway, again, happy birthday mom. I know you say you don't read this, but there's no need to lie about it. And my god, I'm sorry. Truly, truly sorry.


When I got home from work last night, I caught the fantasy football special that was on ESPN. Basically, Chris Berman moderated a mock draft of ESPN personalities and Nick Lachey. And it was the most worthless hour and a half of my life.

First, because of the complete lack of fantasy football knowledge. I have my two main football drafts next week, so I was hoping to get a little more information. I was sorely disappointed, because these assholes had no idea what they were talking about. It was only an eight person league, but what the hell is Julius Jones lasting until the 4th round? I should have known it was shit when the Buffalo defense was taken in the 3rd, but I stayed with it. What a mistake.

Second, a major part of fantasy drafts is the shit-talking that goes on during the draft. This show tried to create some of that, most notably with Steve Young going after Mike Ditka, but the result was so uncomfortable I had to put it on mute and look away on several occasions. Also, the other owners couldn't bash the players themselves, as they work for ESPN. So in a real league, people might make disparaging comments like "Kurt Warner sucks and his wife looks like a busted lezbo", that didn't happen here.

So I'm thinking of doing a fantasy football preview next week, or at least I'll let you know how my teams turned out, because I have to have some sort of backlash to this program. Wish me luck.


Last night, I watched a little of the Adam Corolla show on Comedy Central, "Too Late with Adam Corolla". I love Adam Corolla, but I don't know much about him, so I guess it's more like infatuation. I do know that back when he and Jimmy Kimmel hosted "The Man Show", I used to plan my Wednesday nights around it because it was so fucking awesome. However, I'm not much of a late night talk show guy, so I haven't seen much of Kimmel's or Corolla's new shows.

Corolla's show wasn't bad. His monologue was very up and down, but he had a dynamite joke (which is the purpose of me writing this). He was talking about how the government warned that terrorists would be posing as homeless people, so he had a suggestion that would counter that and reduce crime: give police uniforms to every homeless person ("There'd be a police presence everywhere!").

Anyway, check out the show if you get a chance. Not too shabby.

(I thought this section would be much funnier before I wrote it out. Oops!)


I got some interesting emails this week. The first comes from Morgan from Denver, who offers some Bang Bus insight:

Dude -

I hate to spoil it, but I think Bang Bus is fake. I know, I'm sorry. I was broken up when I found this out as well. I was looking for something interesting to watch one night and stumbled across an "adult" site that we had signed one of my friends up for with his parents’ credit card while we were in college. Since I was the bastard behind the joke, I remembered the login and it was still active. I went to a video that had some sort of plot to it (school girl who forgot her book in a classroom and went back and got railed by janitor and teacher) and started being dirty. I looked and noticed the girl was the same girl from one of the Bang Bus videos. Maybe she just wanted to start her porn career, but it severely damaged the credibility of the Bus in my eyes. I would hope those girls would never come out in public again (except to bang me). Sorry for the awakening.
As if this didn’t suck enough, Alex at "Fuck Your Couch" (who does excellent sports-related work on his blog) totally de-bunked my "Bang Bus is real" theory:

Sorry to rain on your parade, but the Bang Bus is unfortunately fake. I was as crushed when I learned as you are now.

Here's a quick synopsis on how it goes down: http://www.local10.com/news/3927246/detail.html

And here's a more detailed version (actually kind of a fascinating read): http://www.miaminewtimes.com/issues/2004-10-14/feature.html
So that goes to show you how much I know. Perhaps I should pay more attention to the dialogue and the drama in the scenes and pay less attention to the booby sex and subsequent facials. Oh well.

Also, if you read that second article, you may never watch porn again, or in my case, at least for another twenty minutes. But while we’re being misogynistic, here’s an email from Jeff in Savannah, GA:

Have you seen this yet? I don't know about you, but I think the only way this could be any cooler was if the background was, like, a living room or something and you could throw her into sofas and lamps and stuff...

http://www.izpitera.ru/lj/tetka.swf [safe for work]
I don't really have anything to add to that, except that it made me laugh pretty hard. Let's just move on before I say something that disqualifies me from ever being in a relationship with a woman again.


Six Songs:

"Don’t Walk Away Eileen" Sam Roberts
I like this song, but I feel like I would LOVE this song if I heard it in high school. That probably doesn't make any sense, but I really don't care - it's Friday.

"Coin-Operated Boy" Dresden Dolls
Sure, it's about a minute and a half too long, but it's a pretty awesome fucking song. Sad, scary piano rock.

"Gravity" Sara Bareilles
If any of you ladies reading this right now can do this on the piano, email me immediately. We're going to move in together, so you can sing and play the piano while I smoke bowls and play with your hair. It will be a beautiful little existence - promise.

"If I Could Talk" The Lemonheads
I hated this song when it came out, but I came across it recently and have been listening to it non-stop. Weren't this guys, like, the first hipsters, or am I totally wrong?

"Booze Me Up And Get Me High" Ween
If I were in a band, I would close every show with this song. A better boozy, sing-along, I can think of none.

"Gonna Make You Sweat" Keith Sweat
Ladies and Gentlemen, it's time for Great Moments in Jason Mulgrew's Sexual History, brought to you today by Keith Sweat

Back in college, when I actually made out with girls, my friends and I had a competition. This competition was to make out with a girl to the weirdest song possible without her stopping or saying, "What the hell song is this?" You had to bring a girl home, put on some music, and make out with her to, say, Primus' "Winona's Big Brown Beaver" without her questioning the song. Also, it had to be a FIRST TIME make out, meaning girlfriends or occasional hook-ups didn't qualify. Immature, yes, but totally awesome? Definitely.

One night, I was at a party in the mods, which basically look like housing projects but serve as party central on BC's campus. This was my senior year, which was, sadly, my sexual peak. I was dating a girl long distance at the time, but we had an unspoken "don't ask, don't tell" policy when it came to hooking up with other people. Or at least this is what I believed and what I was operating under.

So anyway, I was at this party and I noticed this girl from across the room. She was pretty good-looking, but definitely attainable, and I could tell she was an underclassmen. We kept sort of making eyes at each other but I really didn't know what to do. I asked the party hosts who she was, hoping to find a mutual connection for an introduction, but they didn't know. And I had (and still have) no game, so I couldn't go up and try to kick it to her. So for a good two hours we just made eye contact. Very mature.

But finally, she walked in my direction, as if she was looking around for someone. She then came up to me and said, "Hi, have you by any chance seen a blond girl, about this tall?" (presumably her friend). I assumed this was fiction and her way of initiating contact, so I blurted out, "No, but I've been trying to think of something to say to you to break the ice for about two hours now, so I'm glad you finally did it."

Money. So fucking money.

The gods had smiled upon me this evening, for she made a face that gave the "Ohhh!" look, as in "Ohhh! That's so cute - let's make out right now!" and sure enough we were making out in the kitchen of the party in less than ten minutes. Shortly thereafter, we were fumbling back to my dorm room through BC campus, necking all the while. I was on a roll, so I knew this was as good a chance as any to win our weird song competition.

I already knew what song I wanted to use: Keith Sweat's "Gonna Make You Sweat". First, because of the obvious: it's a song about a guy making a girl sweat, presumably from some sexual act. A simply preposterous basis for a song (not to mention the guy's name is Sweat - get it?). Second, because of Keith Sweat's incredibly whiny voice, which I can barely listen to, and the cheesy early 90's synth. And third, because every fifth word in the song is either baby, girl or yeah. Here's the first "verse":

Oh baby
Give it to me now girl
Yeah, there's nobody here baby
But me and you, yeah girl
I wanna pull down the shades, dim the lights
Do what I wanna down to you yeah girl
Tell me now baby
I think you're trying to play hard to get girl
Oh girl before the night is over
I bet, I bet I can make you sweat girl
I mean, did they even write that before hand or did the producer say, "You know what Keith? Just go into the studio and wing it. No one's gonna listen to the words anyway."

Anyway, so we made it back to my place and went into the bedroom, where my roommate Joe and I had a couch. We were sitting on the couch smooching (the girl and I, not Joe and I) when I made my move and said, "I'm going to put some music on." At this point, we were both pretty drunk, so my only hope was to put it on and rush back to the couch to resume making out before she had a chance to process and respond to the song.

And I did just that, but I did it too...vehemently. I put on the song and then literally dove back to the couch to start kissing her again, so that she couldn't object to the song. But my lunge - and the weirdness of the song - freaked her out and she asked what I was doing. I said "Nothing, nothing" and tried to go back to making out, thinking I was still in the clear because technically she didn't question the song, just my antics. All I had to do was get through the song without her saying anything about it, and I would win.

Alas, it was not meant to be. I tried to kiss her after I told her nothing strange was going on, but she stopped me and said, "What is this song?" Game over. I tried to make fun of the situation and said, "What, you don't like Keith Sweat?" but she looked at me like I was crazy, so I got up and put something else on (most likely something like Phish's "Waste" or some other lame make-out song).

She stayed the night but nothing much happened and I never saw her again. I actually called her a few days later to follow up, but I think putting Keith Sweat on and then jumping at her squandered any smoothness my "I've been trying to think of something..." line built up. Oh well.

That was the closest I ever came to winning the competition, and after that experience generally threw in the towel. Who actually won, to this day, is embroiled in controversy. My buddy Joel supposedly made out to "Dead Flag Blues" by Godspeed You Black Emperor, which is about the most angry and scariest song of all-time. My other buddy Greg supposedly made out to the Super Mario Bros. theme, which I think personally tops Joel's song. But this songs are so ridiculous that none of us could ever imagine a conscious woman making out with a strange guy while they played. And of course, we were operating on an honor system, because it's not like their could be people in the room as witnesses. I suppose we'll never know the truth.

So that's my Keith Sweat story. And now it's time for the weekend. Joy.

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