Jack Kukoda

Yes, yes, I’m fully aware that I barely posted at all the past week. But it was Christmas, so cut me some slack. I also managed to get deathly ill yet again. Maybe I should stop eating gum I find on the sidewalk. No, eating strange gum is what makes me special. I have to keep doing that. Anyhey, after the first of the year I’ll make it up to all of you. A full rundown on the magical land of Buffalo, my Christmas, how the goddamn Bills broke my heart again-even though I swear every year not to let them do it again-all that shit.

In the meantime, enjoy this picture of my nephew wearing a baby beret and fake mustache. That’s his dad holding him. No further explanation needed for this one.

Here’s what I received for Christmas from various family members, friends, fans, and lovers, in no particular order.

1. Two Playstation 3’s - I make them fight each other like Rock’em Sock’em Robots.
2. A T-Rex Skeleton - I’m building my own museum. And then once it’s complete, I’m hoping some truly hilarious hijinks ensue!
3. A Coat Made of Peacock Feathers - Just try to ignore me now.
4. Some socks - Everybody needs socks.
5. A Cold that has all but incapacitated me and turned my brain to unfunny mush - This one is real.

Let’s see you do better with a fever and a mouth full of sores.

I’m in Canada today, playing hockey outdoors and building a barrel to take me over Niagara Falls. Traditional December 26th stuff, you know. I’ll be back tomorrow!

In honor of Christmas and creches, here’s a photographic evidence that my friend Katie and her sister will be going to hell at some point in the near future.

In the grand tradition of people on the Internet stealing from each other, I thought I’d do my year-end roundup in the same style as Deadspin. Let’s take a look back at December, shall we?

I discovered that my parents were going slowly insane.

I came up with a perfect nickname for Takeo Spikes. Now that I think of it, I’m a little behind on all those Bills nicknames.

Everyone learned an important lesson about the proper way to drink a pina colada.

And I ruined the Da Vinci Code.

Oh, and I will be posting new stuff, too. But I’m going to intersperse some best-of horsecrap in between the new stuff.
Wow. That was a magical fucking time.

(Sung like Toni Tony Tone) Do you know what today is? It’s this site’s anniversary. Well, not quite. I started this site just over a year ago on December 16th. It’s true! Here’s the first ever post right here. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year I’ve been half-assing this site. Amazing when you think about it. I’ve covered so many monumental events on this site, it’s hard to pick which one my viewpoint had the most impact on.

Well, since it’s my site’s anniversary and it’s the holidays, when most magazines and TV shows just pump out year-end best of lists, I think I’ll do the same. Until Christmas, I’ll be reposting some of my favorite things that I ever wrote for this site. That’s right, it will be one long clip show. And it will be great. Feel free to email me any suggestions for your favorites or leave them in the comments section.

Hey, everyone! How is everybody? Really? Aw, that’s great. Because I am goddamn miserable. Yes, miserable. Commence with the pitying. Shower pity upon me whilst I attend my own pity party.

Okay, enough alliteration there. Let’s just say it’s been a shitty week. Without going into too much detail, I can tell you that a relationship ended, a job fell through, and I received without a doubt the worst haircut of my life. I know it’s a cliche that comedians get bad haircuts, but sweet Mother of God, this thing is brutal. I can barely leave the house without a hat on. And all my co-workers made fun of me this morning. That’s how bad it is. Let me tell you how it went down.

Friday, after I taped that bloggers’ roundtable for the show on AOL(more details later, I think it’s airing in a couple weeks) I decided to get my hair cut. It was getting a little long in the back and starting to look like the guys from Young Blood or Slapshot. That’s a good look if you’re going as an 80’s hockey player for Halloween. If you’re living the present day and trying to look halfway decent, however, it is not a good look at all. I went to this salon in Chinatown that I’ve been going to for over a year, when I used to live in Chinatown. I get my hair cut there by a guy named Skyy. I do not believe Skyy is his real name. Perhpas I am wrong, but I don’t think Skyy is a traditional Chinese name. And I know Skyy was born in China because he doesn’t speak all that much English. But that’s okay because Skyy and I have developed an understanding about how I like my hair cut.

When I first started going to him, Skyy would sort of try to give me a fauxhawk or a fashion mullet like his. And if I were a gay man in Chinatown trying to look my best, that would have been great. But I wasn’t, so when Skyy would ask how I liked the mullet, I would politely ask him to trim the back a little more. Which Skyy would always do. See, an excellent relationship.

Anyhonks, I went to the salon on Friday and asked for Skyy. The receptionist told me it was his day off, but I figured as long as I was down there I might as well get my haircut. That’s when things went horribly wrong. I thought Skyy only spoke a little English, but compared to the guy who butchered me, Skyy was the freaking poet laureate. This guy actually tried speaking to me in Mandarin I think. Or perhaps Cantonese. The point is I speak neither of those dialects. So I had to tell hime what kind of haircut I wanted using hand signals. And guess what: I don’t speak American sign language either!

Sweet Lord above, this guy went to town on me. I ended up with one of those mushroom/skate haircuts kids used to get in grade school. Shaved up the sides with a bowl on top. Then he put a whole bunch of product(not sure what kind) and spiked the back up, then combed all the hair in the front to the side. I had never seen anyone in the world with this type of hair style. It looked like Ryan Cabrera’s hair in the back with a Flock of Seagulls in the front.

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When he made it clear that he was finished I actually said, “Are you kidding me? What is this?” I told him that it was all wrong and he had to fix it. He seemed displeased. Then he just started cutting all over the place. I believe this was to spite me. Then I told him just to stop altogether. The shampoo girl rinsed my hair, I paid for my haircut and left.

The next day I got drunk in the middle of the day and stumbled into a salon next to the bar. I asked the lady if she could fix my haircut. She seemed horrified by what the previous guy had done and said she could easily fix it. I thanked her profusely and put my trust in her hands. She took her clippers out, shaved the sides of my head, cut a little off the top and that was it. I paid her 20 dollars for her trouble. I’m pretty sure it’s even worse.

Okay, last day of non-posting. I promise. In the meantime, enjoy this video from Saturday Night Live the other night. Probably the funniest thing I’ve seen on it in a long time.

I’m guessing the YouTube link will be removed soon enough, so for an uncensored version go here. Click on “A Very Special Christmas Box.”

Hey friends! Sorry for the sporadic posts lately, I’ve been busy again on a couple projects. Still can’t talk about anything yet. Also, I’m home sick with the flu today. But, here’s something cool. I’ll be participating in a “bloggers roundtable” for AOL this Friday. It will be me and a couple other bloggers who are actual Internet superstars. I’m hoping to steal some of their Internet heat! You hear me? Your heat will soon be mine, bloggers! The whole thing will be taped and then broadcast on AOL’s new video site, from what I understand. So look out for that. I’ll post it as soon as it’s up.

I’ve also noticed that a lot of emails to me have been getting trapped in my spam filter. See that address over there at the top of the right hand column? Usually, all that gets me are solicitations for penis pills and other spam shenanigans. But occasionally I get an email from someone who has stumbled across my blog and wants to tell me they liked something in particular. Or from a Larry the Cable Guy fan who just wants to say “Your gay.”[sic] Anyhows, if you’ve recently emailed me and I didn’t get back to you, it’s because I never got your email. Sorry about that. I don’t want anyone to think I’m a jerk. And please feel free to email me. I love and need attention. Okay, I’m crawling back into bed.

Oh man, sorry I haven’t blogged at you jerks in a while, but I’ve got a pretty good excuse this time. Damn, that sentence just took me 5 minutes to write. But that’s what happens when you’ve got to type with your nose. Why am I typing with my nose? Let me back up and tell you all about it.

Sunday afternoon I went to the Bills-Jets game out at that shithole of a swamp of a stadium that is known as The Meadowlands. It’s a great place…for jerks! Anyway, I was in the parking lot, getting wasted on blackberry schnapps and blackberry wine(what can I say, I love blackberries!) having a great time. Everytime a Jets fan walked by I would yell that line about the Meadowlands being a great place (pause) for jerks. A lot of parents didn’t appreciate it, but I don’t go out and get obscenely drunk at NFL games for other people’s parents. I do it for my own. Because it makes them proud.

Again, I digress. After the game, which the Bills won 31-17, thank you very much, I was heading back to my car when some guy threw one of those plastic bottles at me. I don’t know if it’s because I was singing the Bills Shout song at the top of my lungs or if it was because I had put a Jets jersey on a blow up doll and was pretending to make love to it the whole time I was walking back to my car, but I had somehow angered this gentleman.

I turned around and asked him what his problem was. And he said, “I’m looking at it.” (He was looking at me) The whole crowd oohed and aahed. He was waiting for me to make the next move. So I calmly said, “I’m not looking for trouble. I just came to watch a football game and act like a drunken jackass.” Then I grabbed a handful of sand from the sand I keep in pockets just for occasions like this and I threw the sand right in his face! “Kickboxer style!” I screamed. He dropped to his knees, totally blind and that’s when I made my move. I ran up punched him in the side of the head, then dumped a whole bunch of sand down the back of his shirt(that itches like crazy.) Then I made a pretend fart noise with my mouth and declared myself king of the Meadowlands.

Needless to say, the rest of the Jets fans who witnessed this beat me absolutely senseless, breaking both my arms and legs. So that’s why I didn’t write anything yesterday and why I’m writing this with my nose. True story.

Update: Oh, and I’ll be back at the Meadowlands tonight to watch the Sabres-Devils game. I’ll be the guy in the Schoenfeld jersey calling everyone around me a “fat pig.” Speaking of which, enjoy that Schony classic below. He was even coaching the Devils at the time. If you’re at the game, buy us a beer!

1. Butt Christmas
2. Poopy The Snowman
3. Shitty the Buttnosed Reindeer
4. Poop-a Claus is Coming to Town
5. (Just a Real Long Fart Noise)

Weird Al, if you try to steal any of these I will fucking cut you.

I think this may be the greatest thing I, or anyone in the history of the world, has ever written. You can take that to the bank, Senator Vernon Trent!

P.S. First person to identify who Vernon Trent is wins a copy of my scatalogical holiday song parody CD “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus(Diarrhea Remix ‘06)!

So, according to a few people who shall remain nameless, last week’s rebus was far too easy. Here’s one that’s slightly more difficult AND 100% true. First correct guess wins, I don’t know, a happy meal? You people like happy meals? Of course you do, you disgusting gluttons. Ah, you sicken me. All of you do. Anyway, on with the guessing!

Previously: I’m A Teriffic Person

Ooh boy! It’s nostalgia time! When I moved to my new apartment from my old one in Chinatown, I was afraid I’d miss all the things I had come to enjoy in my previous home: the bustle of Chinatown, the cheap restaurants, the fact that the temperature in my apartment would often drop below 55 degrees in the middle of winter because of our deficient management company and their even more deficient boiler. Well, no need to worry, because it’s freezing in my new apartment, too!

Oh, it’s grand! I’m currently wearing sweatpants, slippers two sweatshirts, and a winter hat. And I know my landlord said the fireplace is cosmetic only and hasn’t been functional for twenty some years, but that’s not going to stop me from starting a fire in it. I’ve got a whole bunch of Victoria’s Secret catalogs I’ve been stealing from people’s mailboxes just ready to go into the fireplace. (Don’t worry, I’m constantly stealing Victoria’s Secret catalogs so my collection will be quickly replenished. Why, because I’m a goddamn dirtbag, that’s why.)

Anyway, it’s too goddamn cold to sit around my apartment today on my day off, so I’m going to go out and run some errands. I’ll be back tomorrow and it will be grand. Oh, and I should have a video of a recent standup set to put up this week. It will make you shit in your pants, Ted. So look out for that. And I sort of got a new writing gig this week. More on that later when it develops. I’ll give you a hint: A certain magazine that rhymes with “Fenthouse” published one of my letters about the time I made love to two bikini models in a hot air balloon. I never thought those things really happened!!!!!

Oh man, sometimes I feel like the phones never stop ringing around here. And by here, I mean deep within the blogosphere. A lot of people think the term “blogosphere” refers to the interconnected network of weblogs on the Internet and the way they influence each other and drive ideas. Not So! The blogosphere is actually a self-contained dome that houses a bunch of dorks. And we are always on our laptops! Talking about shitty new bands from Brooklyn!!! Oh, it’s grand!!!

Oh boy, the blogosphere is busy today. There was a big fight over whose job it was to water the tomato fields. Since the “b-sphere” is completely self-sufficient the tomato fields are very important. They provide sustenance and turn the CO2 in the air back into oxygen. As the tomato fields go, so goes the blogosphere. That’s what we say ’round here.

Anyway, I guess some people thought it was my turn to water the tomatoes, but I had an extremely good reason for not doing it. I was drunk! And not drunk on blogging. I’m talking drunk on alcohol. Before we were hermetically sealed inside the b to the log to the osphere, I managed to sneak in a flask of peppermint schnapps. It wasn’t brand name schnapps, but it was still pretty damn good. Schnapps is like sex in that way. Or pizza. I forget what I’m talking about. Oh right, tomatoes.

Anydoodles, a bunch of other bloggers told me if I didn’t stop getting drunk on peppermint schnapps and tending to my duties, they were going to kick me ouf of the blogosphere. “Blogosphere?” I said. “More like boogersphere!” Then I took a big swig of schnapps and passed out, hitting my head on one of the milk cows we depend on for milk. Well, it turns out that I was passed ouf for a few days and that’s why I’m so behind on everything. Cows! I’m drunk now.