Archive for the ‘Big Red Eisner’ category

Bull Rush in Abril

April 3, 2008

Ok, I’m here. I’m alive, although I’m not sure anybody equated my death with my lack of posting. If so, you should now be feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.

• Last night I went to the Dodger game with Big Daddy Eisner and BDE’s parents, who gainfully employed me during high school. If by some chance, you’re a casual reader of this blog and need BBQ Catering in the Greater Los Angeles Area, please do go with Rosie’s BBQ. We sat in the orange (second level), which proved to be pretty good. The seats were under the overhang, but still in prime foul ball territory, which always makes things exciting, although BDE and I slightly disagree on catching technique. He opts for catching like an egg, where as I’m of the belief that you should cradle it into the body, rib injury be damned. The game sucked, it was cold, and I made myself even colder by eating an ice cream sandwich in the later innings. Also, I think Scott owes me money for parking. (I will, however, accept BBQ food in the place of money.)

• I did a video with college wrestling fans and participants a couple of weeks ago for SI. You’ve probably already made up your mind about whether this interests you, but it’s up on the new version of my site at SI Tour Guy. Hopefully in the coming months, the SI player will be upgraded so that everybody can watch videos on the site that wants to, with no problems.

• I’ve been running more and more and my body seems to be holding up. I attribute this to my listening to the Tony Kornheiser Show on the ol’ Shuffle. Nothing gets you jacked up to keep pushing yourself like a cranky guy pushing 60 who endlessly complains. Good stuff.

• There’s a Sharky’s five minutes from me that is outstanding, save for their horrible, semi-paved parking lot.

• The Ducks just opened spring practice. I did my best to explain the issues being addressed to Yackie, and I must say, she did a fairly good job of following along. What I’ve done to her may now be more clearly defined as a “near-thorough brainwashing.”

• Frozen custard in St. Louis is excellent. After getting lost (in what must be the most abandoned major city in the country), Sully and I made it to Ted Drewes, where around 60 people were eating frozen custard in 40 degree weather. The other highlight was going into North St. Louis (not East) and getting the best ribs I’ve ever eaten. Were we the only two white people in the neighborhood? Almost. Was it as bad as it was described to us? Not so much.

The best thing was returning the car immediately after eating those ribs and having the Avis employees completely flip out at how great the rib smell was as soon as we opened the door. Good folk in the StL.

• I’ve been watching season one of Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job (actual title), the 12 minute sketch show on Adult Swim, and it’s pretty funny. It gets a little odd sometimes, but well worth one’s time (if he or she were to have too much of it). Friend of the blog Esa (Garbage blog, see right) recommended Frisky Dingo, also on Adult Swim. I’ve watched four episodes (12 min), also pretty funny. See, this is why I’ve been running so much, I either do nothing or kill myself doing something, I’m strange. is the best thing ever to help you do nothing. I’ve been watching Arrested Development episodes that I’ve already seen, nonstop.

“You mean he can’t even grow his own hair? C’mon!”

Oregon basketball is not so good. Next year, the team will be completely different, let’s hope Big Ern gets some new assistants, as well. Luckily, Big Mike Dunigan (incoming 5* center) won’t have to deal with those pesky Brothers Lopez. God was this year awful to watch.

• I think I’m going to start doing some new web stuff in the near future, all this time is ridiculous. Stay tuned. Or don’t. Whatever, it’s coo.

• Old friend Sam is moving to London. I ate steaks with him and other people from the Cbas last weekend. Ray Romano was there, but he seemed to want to eat with other people and not recognize that Sam was leaving. Sucker.

We went up to Sam’s office at Google around the corner, where I got way too excited about free candy and played Rock Band for the first time. I killed it on lead vox during Fall Out Boy and The Killers. EPIC.

• Yackie framed my two magazine appearances with the covers of the respective issues they appear in. The thought is great, but I now am constantly distracted by a Playboy cover in front of me with a giant painted ass. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not.

• Just so you know, navel oranges are for sure in season.

This is getting long. That’s what she said.



Fotografias, Parte Dos

July 30, 2007

This is part deux. Unfortunately, due to legal issues, I’m unable to post the pictures I just took at the Playboy Mansion celebrating The College Football Tour Guide. Sorry.

The Birthday Fiesta

Yackie made a cookie cake. If you’ve outgrown cookie cake, chances are I don’t associate with you. Efforts to convince Yackie to include my full name in frosting went unfulfilled.


You’ll notice the lovely kitchen that couldn’t possibly be mine. My parents were kind enough to let me move all my crap into the casa while waiting to move to the other coast. You’ll also notice that Sully has what appears to be a male gunt (munt?).

One of the central themes to this gala was the Chickadilla. I shouldn’t have to explain what a chickadilla is (triangular chicken finger, quesadilla hybrid), but let it be known that it trumps most other Americanized Italian fast-food appetizers. Pictured: Yackie in the midst of a chickadasm.

Big Daddy Eisner chickadasm. You’ll notice the subtlety and grace with which he eats his chickadilla. Some attribute this to his dipping choice of ranch dressing. Others say he takes Ameci‘s appetizers far too seriously. We may never know.

KtL‘s first chickadilla. I can’t say for sure, but I think Sully loves her a little more after witnessing two of his favorite things in life come together in one magical moment. Sully, in particular, is one of the biggest proponents of the chickadilla in the Greater Los Angeles Area may ever see.

See. Such style, such decisiveness. If you ask me, it’s a wonder he stayed on the market as long as he did. KtL truly has a late round steal in Kevin Sully.

When I blow out birthday candles, I make as much of an effort to appear as primate-y as possible. Just my thing.

Big Daddy Eisner, on the other hand, get’s so excited that his pits explode with anticipation sweat. Miller Time appears to be in drastic need of seconds.


The combination of too much chickadilla (some say this phenomena doesn’t exist), too much pizza, too much alcohol, too much cookie cake, and too much milk mixing with all of this wasn’t smart. I’ll save you the details of my night. We’ll leave it at saying that my religious pleas went answered, albeit barely.

The Birthday Dia

Yackie and I decided to go to Ventura for a couple hours for the ol’ 24th birthday. This is the Anacapa Brewing Co., whose greatness was discovered by Yackie and Me, and later confirmed by Sully and KtL. Rating: 5 out of 5 Steinies.

Pulled pork, duh. I get so transfixed by this sandwich that I suck out all of the light behind me. I really have no idea why it seems so cavernous behind me – it looks as if we had to know some sort of password and kill a hobo to get into this place, but I assure you, everything was on the level.

Yackie with her sandwich. She got so excited over this sandwich that she turned pale with excitement. Oh wait, never mind, standard pigmentation.

Artsy fartsy and out of focus. Just how I like it.

Hobo-killing darkness!!

When one reaches 24, he must understand that it’s probably time to start acting more adult and celebrate occasions accordingly. Or so I’m told. Here is some mini-golf and go-karting.

Yackie kept it surprisingly close, considering her lack of wingspan, upside, and athleticism. She’s got what you can’t teach (no, not heart) – sheer luck.

Her form is remarkably below-average, although she makes up for it by viciously cheating with absolutely no remorse. I should probably make a mental note of this.

I never felt weird mini-golfing that day, mostly because we were playing behind the lead singer of Nickelback‘s skinnier, terrible mini-golf playing cousin.

Unmatched focus. Sure, I may have held up some little kids looking to keep moving, but you can’t rush perfection. You just can’t.

Call me a hippy, but I stand by my separation of church and mini-golf ethos.

Look at that form. If Big Daddy Eisner were there, his pits would’ve exploded with form-envy sweat. I closed out the round late, proving once again that my upside and wingspan trumps Yackie’s ability to luck into putts and viciously cheat without remorse.

To celebrate, I sped around in a go-kart that I barely fit into. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t drive the Cole Trickle way. Rubbing=racing, just ask Big Daddy Eisner’s daddy, Big Red Eisner.

Almost the entire race was spent in second place, or as it’s more correctly coined – first place loser. Back to the drawing board I go.

Good times were had by all. I couldn’t catch the first kart, Yackie refused to kart, I bumped somebody illegally while gaining inside position, and my picture is now probably on an “Unwelcome Parties” list at Golf-n-Stuff. Oh well, there’s always next year.