Jack Kukoda

I’m heading back to New York today and won’t be near a computer. Enjoy this picture of an airplane till I see you again.

Wow, huge news! Family friend Ron Howard-yes, that Ron Howard!-just asked me to watch a preview screening of The Da Vinci Code! And I did.

Now, he specifically asked me not to tell anyone about it or give away any details, but he’s bald so nobody listens to him anyway. So I’m going to give you the scoop on this thriller, including some plot twists and surprises. But for those of you who would rather not hear some secrets, I’ll let you know when there are spoilers ahead with one of these:
SPOILER ALERT!

So here goes: If you’ve read the book, then you’ll know that it starts out when Tom Hanks’ character, Robert Langdon, a world-renowned-symbologist, is awakened in the middle of the night to go to the Louvre to help solve a crime. So he goes to the Louvre, where he meets mysterious Paris detective Bezu Fache.

SPOILER ALERT!
We’re all going to die someday. So will all your pets and friends.

Langdon then teams up with the beautiful Sophie Neveu, played by the whimsically delightful Audrey Tatou. But Sophie might not be exactly who she says she is…

SPOILER ALERT!
My friend Kevin Henley is not circumcised.

Langdon and Neveu race around Paris all the while trying to avoid a mysterious albino monk. What are they both after? Why, it’s a secret that could rock the Catholic Church, as well as Western Civilization, to its very core. Things get even more complicated when the three of them converge at the house of Sir Leigh Teabing.

SPOILER ALERT!
Foods that are labeled “fat free” are not necessarily healthy!

The movie then turns into a race against time as Langdon, Neveu, Teabing, the albino, and some other people I think,(it was a long movie and I get distracted easily) end up in a castle in London or Paris,(see above parentheses) where Langdon and Neveu learn the truth about the Church, and themselves.

Phew! I got exhausted just watching The Da Vinci Code and I’m sure you will be, too. Thanks, Uncle Ron. Hope I didn’t give too much away. And I’ll see you, readers, at the cineplex!

SPOILER ALERT!
This movie will be horrible.

Da Vinci Code Trailer Here

If there’s one question I get all the time-and I get a lot of questions-it’s this: What is the proper way to drink a blended, rum-based, Caribbean drink? You would be surprised how many people are unsure of how to do this properly. That’s where I come in. I come in and teach you how to drink a pina colada, just like the title of this post foreshadowed.

Avert your eyes in real life!

Step 1: Never look directly at a pina colada. It’s okay, you can look directly at this one. It’s just a photo. Had it been a real colada, well, I don’t know what might have happened. Nor do I want to.

Step 2: Sip that colada, still not looking at it. See how I do? Pretty cool, right? Not only are my eyes shielded from the blinding powers of the colada, but I can also scan the happy hour buffet so I’ll know the exact moment they replace those barbecued shrimp.

Step 3: Make intense, almost bordering-on-psychotic eye contact with the pretty girl sitting across from you. Gaze into her eyes whilst you sip that colada. Listen intently while she talks about her job as a physician’s assistant and how she’s trying to save up enough money to get her real estate license.

Step 4: Casually walk away, but then stop by the railing and wait for her to follow you. You should still be sipping the colada! It helps, but is by no means necessary, if you haven’t gotten a haircut in a few months and are starting to show signs of a mullet. Really, that’s no problem at all.

Well, that’s it. That’s how you properly drink a pina colada. And I think I also told you how to pick up a girl in the process, which wasn’t my original intention, but who’s complaining? Not you. And if you have any doubts about my qualifications when it comes to advising people on drinking pina coladas, just ask one of my satisfied clients.

“Now I know how it’s done! Thanks, Jack!”

Takeo Spikes, LB #51
AKA “The Volcano”

Holy Christ Almighty, look at the size of this man’s neck. It’s literally wider than his head; hence the nickname “The Volcano.” The way his shoulders meet his neck, which then tapers off at his head makes Takeo look like a volcano from chest up. See?

In this metaphor, his head would be the smoke and lava.

I like to think that if I were Takeo’s teammate, I would call him Volcano to his face. I’m sure after a while he would ask me why I call him Volcano. “Is it because of my massive neck?” he would inquire. To which I would say, “No, it’s because you play linebacker so explosively. You know, like a volcano.”

Then Takeo would say, “Okay, man. Thanks.” And then I would giggle.

Actually, I would never mock Takeo to his face as he is very powerful and probably my favorite Buffalo Bill. Goddammit, he is awesome. And he’s pretty tough, too. After he tore his achilles tendon in the third game of the year, causing his calf muscle to dangle like a stretched-out rubber band, he did not cry in pain or even wince. He got angry because he couldn’t play. If I tore my achilles tendon I’m absolutely sure I’d be screeching for my Mom no matter how many people were watching. Get well soon, Takeo.

More Takeo from ESPN: Life on IR new, difficult for Spikes

More Buffalo Bills Nicknames

I’m sure I’m not the first to notice this, but doesn’t recently-deceased Dunkin’ Donuts commercial actor Michael Vale look a lot like Hitler, if Hitler had survived and lived to 83?

Separated at…I don’t know. I miss Spy Magazine, too.

Anyone else? Oh, and I hope this makes Geoff Haggerty cry.

Via Yahoo: Sleepy-Eyed Dunkin’ Donuts Actor Vale Dies

Update: I changed the original picture I had up to the current side-by-side one, which I Photoshopped all by myself, thank you.

So I’m still in Buffalo until Friday when I will return to New York to find my mailbox overflowing with New Year’s Eve party invations. Until that day, though, I’ve been trying to keep busy here in the “City of Good Neighbors.”

To pass the time I’ve been reading, watching TV, and sleeping. I’ve also been scouring the house for clothes I know I left here before I moved out.(Where is that shirt from Structure I used to wear all the time?!) In my searching, I came across something so horrifying, yet adorable, I nearly crapped my pants in horror/cuteness appreciation.

My parents, who I’ve always known to be slightly nuts, have crossed the line from endearingly wacky into full-blown empty-nester delusion…

They have taken to dressing up our dogs in Halloween costumes.

The Horror! The Adorable Horror!

The one above is Rosie. She is a cocker spaniel. She is also dressed as a ladybug. Why? Because my parents are under the impression that dogs are the same as human children. (Click on any of the photos to see a full-size picture of my parents’ madness.)

“Who’s my little angel? Why, this dog, you old coot!”

This one is named Murphy, who is also a cocker spaniel, but he’s dressed as an angel. No need to explain why. Here’s the two of them together.

“Will someone please save us?”

When I first came across these photos, I naturally shrieked. Then I asked my Mom why they dressed the dogs up. Her response, while giggling, was, “It was fun. And they liked it.”

I ask you, dear reader, do any of these dogs look like they are enjoying being paraded around in these outfits like circus clowns? They look like they’re staring off at the horizon, pretending to be in a happy place and waiting for this experience to be over so they can start repressing it.

Okay, here’s the last one. Don’t scroll down if you’re allergic to displays of incredible cuteness.

Okay? You’ve been warned. I won’t be held liable if your throat closes up and you break out in hives after you see this…

“Bzzzz! I’ll sting you…with sweetness!!”

Yes, that is a cocker spaniel dressed up as a bumble bee. Don’t fight it. Let that image seep into your brain. That’s it, let it do its work. It’s replacing all the bad. Soon you’ll have no recollection of this thing called “war.”

This post leaves a lot of questions unanswered, I know. Questions like, “What’s with your parents’ cocker spaniel fetish,” or “Why do they have so many dogs,” or “Why haven’t you committed them, drained their bank accounts, and bought thousands of cartons of Kools for you and your friends?”

I can assure you I’ll answer all these questions in good time. All in good time.

Now that the crush of holiday parties, last minute shopping, and Christmas itself is over, I can finally check off some items on my holiday to-do list. Let’s see if I got everything done this year:

1. Buy and wrap presents for Clare(my sister) and Sean(her husband.) Check.
2. Burn the greatest Christmas mix CD known to man. Check.
3. Send online Christmas cards to dork friends. Check.
4. Get into bar fight over disagreement about a game of darts. Check.
5. Attend my high school class’ Christmas party. Check.
6. Make out with an ex-girlfriend under a blanket on a stranger’s couch. Check.
7. Show up an hour late to my uncle’s house on Christmas Eve with an egg nog hangover. Check plus!
8. Go to Mass, it’s only one day a year. Nope.
9. Forget to buy my father a present, try to cover tracks by saying I got him a book on Amazon, but they couldn’t ship it in time, mumble incoherently when he asks what the book is about, then change subject. Check.
10. Help the needy. Just kidding.
11. Steal the baby Jesus from a neighborhood Nativity display, take photos of the baby Jesus in incriminating situations. Still to do.

Today is Boxing Day! I hope all you Canadians and Brits and Australians and Kiwis went out and bought presents for your servants today. If not, they’re going to adopt an insolent attitude and do a half-assed job with the laundry. And do you want that? I didn’t think so.

Wait, I meant to say I hope you cleaned all the boxes out of your house. Yeah, that’s what Boxing Day is.

No. Shit. Uh, I meant I hope you put plenty of coins in the box that’s kept on your sailing vessel to collect money for a priest to say a mass for the safe return of you and your fellow mariners. What?

Jesus Christ, Canada! This is your big holiday? Some sort of mish-mash that nobody seems to be able to understand? And while we’re at it, what in the hell is Victoria Day? I doubt I even want to know. Stick to hockey and delicious bacon, Canada, and leave the holidays to the U.S. of A.*

*The “A” stands for Ass-kicking.

What kind of loser writes in his blog on Christmas day? This kind, apparently. I didn’t post anything for two days, which is something I promised myself I wouldn’t let happen when I started this site, but it wasn’t my fault. The company that hosts this site had their servers attacked by hackers, which meant I could not access my account.

This experience has profoundly affected my perception of hackers. I always pictured hackers as lovable nerds cooped up in their apartments, cracked out on red bull and caffeine, striking a blow for the little guy by exposing secret government plots or stealing money from the Republican Party.

Now I find out that hackers do things like flood the servers of a small Internet hosting company that specializes in websites for small businesses and individuals. And they do it on Christmas Eve!

Well, hackers, you have lost my tacit support. I won’t go so far as to say that you have made an enemy because I’m afraid that you’ll crash this site and then I won’t know what to do. Let’s just say that right now we have a lukewarm relationship. That’s right, I said lukewarm. And I’m not going to take it back.

From the front page of Yahoo News:

Did they have to put the word “planet” in there? Wouldn’t it be so much more hilarious if they hadn’t? Go on, just say it to yourself without the word planet. Super funny, right?

Don’t they know that lazy comedians count on funny headlines so they can just put them on their blogs without commentary? Goddammit.

This attention to detail on Yahoo’s part also prevents me from having the following hilarious conversation with my friend:

Me: Hey, Tim.

Tim: What?

Me: I heard scientists found a bunch of new rings…around uranus!

Tim: Dag, that was good.

But thanks to Yahoo’s fastidious writers we get this:

Me: Hey, Tim.

Tim: What?

Me: I heard scientists found a bunch of new rings around the planet Uranus.

Tim: Wow, will the wonders of modern astronomy ever cease to amaze?

Me: I hope not.

Tim: Me neither. Science is great.

Me: Sure is. Uh, you want to burn something?

Tim: Okay.

If any fires break out in abandoned buildings in Buffalo tonight you’ll know who’s to blame. Yahoo.

And if you actually care about science: More Rings Are Found Around Planet Uranus

I’m flying back to my hometown of Buffalo, New York this afternoon. In fact, I’m sitting in the Jet Blue terminal using their free wireless access to type this. (I could make a hacky Yakov Smirnoff joke here, but I’m better than that so I won’t.)

I can’t describe how excited I am for Buffalo and Christmas. Actually, I can describe it. Embarrassingly excited. That’s how I would describe it. I’m ashamed of/weirded out by how excited I get. When it comes to Christmas I’m like a gay man on Halloween. I love it! The music, the outfits, the pageantry. Woo, I’m getting dizzy.

And I get to see my best friend Tim and watch the Bills games on my parents’ couch, just like when I was growing up. All right, this is pretty sappy and too personal already. The hilarity and offensiveness will return once I touch down and realize my memories of Buffalo, much like a soldier’s mental picture of his girl back home, have been greatly embellished due to our extended separation. I’m sure it will take only a cursory glance at the exhaust-stained snow, fatties in Starter jackets, and overall blight of downtown Buffalo to remind me why people flee that city like rats from a sinking ship. I kid because I love!

More Cute Names For Dogs Dressed In Christmas Outfits.

1. Collie Old Saint Nick
2. Bark, The Herald Angels Sing.(Seth came up with this one.)

I defy you to think of another.

Earlier: Time For Some Hilarious Christmas-Related Lists!

Mike Mularkey, Head Coach
AKA “Confused Kevin Costner”

I know I’m not the first person to point out that Mike Mularkey bears a striking resemblance to Kevin Costner, especially if Costner were a little doughier. But I seem to be the only one that notices that Mularkey always looks confused. It’s like his face is permanently stuck in that scene from Dances With Wolves when Lt. John Dunbar is trying to figure out why Wind In His Hair is yelling at him. In Dunbar’s defense, he was trying to decipher the meaning of a completely foreign language, whereas Mularkey perpetually looks like he’s trying to read heiroglyphics no matter what he’s doing. Check out his offical team photo here. He couldn’t find a picture that made him look slightly more informed?

Arrrggghhhh! I hate you so much, Mike Mularkey. The amount of talent that you have squandered is unbelievable. And your cute play-calling makes me pull my hair out. But I’ll give you one last chance.

The Bills are playing the Bengals on the road on Christmas Eve this Saturday. If you deliver a victory, Mularkey, I might be willing to forget your past transgressions, like the time you had Roscoe Parrish line up behind center and throw a screen pass. But if the Bills lose another road game like they’ve been doing all season, I promise you this: I will learn voodoo and then use that voodoo that I do so well to make your life unbearable. Do you understand me? Voodoo, man. Watch out.

More Buffalo Bills Nicknames

Oh man, I just got the greatest idea. Instead of doing freelance writing, and auditioning for crappy gigs, and temping, I figured out how to make an assload of money just sitting at my computer. See, I’ll hook my video camera up to my computer and then chat with lonely men who will pay me money to take my shirt off or do pushups or stuff. I bet nobody’s ever thought of that before. What’s that? They did? Nooooooooooooooo!

Well, okay, I guess it’s not the most original idea, but that’s not going to stop me. I mean, this plan is foolproof. What could possibly go wrong by entering a world of sordid, underground pornography? What? Oh, jeez. Yikes.

Back to the drawing board. Hmm. What about snakes? There’s got to be some money to be made with snakes.

I was pleased to see this headline today, although I’m slightly disturbed that this issue seems to be open to debate.

Court Rejects ‘Intelligent Design’ in Science Class [CNN]

This is the case in Dover, PA, in which a bunch of fundamentalist Christians were elected to the local school board, bullied science teachers, required students to listen to a statement that cast doubt on Darwinism, and tried to teach ‘intelligent design’ alongside evolution. Margaret Talbot wrote a great article all about the trial in The New Yorker. Unfortunately, I cannot link to it because it’s only available in the print edition. What’s that? You don’t subscribe to The New Yorker? Oh, how embarrassing for you.

Let the healing begin.

Anyway, my favorite part of this whole story is that the intelligent design textbook the school board ordered is called “Of Pandas and People.” “Of Pandas and People” sounds like a children’s book to me. I bet the plot would involve a wacky mixup where a human child somehow ends up with a panda family and a panda cub ends up with a human family. I’m not sure how, maybe the families attend the same picnic or something. Then they have to figure out how to get back to their respective families, but not before learning a lesson about pandas and people. If there are any children’s book publishers that want to give me a million dollars right now, I prefer to be paid in cash. That way I can roll around in it.

Sort of related, definitely crazy: Check out this take on dinosaurs.