Jack Kukoda

Hey kids! My friend and fellow hockey fan Ritch Duncan asked me to write a weekly column about being a Buffalo Sabres fan for his website American Hockey Fan. You can check it out here. Go read it even if you don’t like hockey or Buffalo or me. It’s that good. And I believe I’ll be doing a weekly column over there so that should be fun.

Also, check this out.(Quicktime Required) It makes Armageddon look like…look like…uh…oh boy…something less scary and explosive than Armageddon? Like the total opposite of Armageddon, you know? A period piece, maybe? Like Pride and Prejudice? I’m no good at similes. Anyway, give it a look.

So I got my wisdom teeth out last Thursday and it wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected. When I told everyone I was getting them out they all said things like, “Oh my God, I’m sorry” or “That’s horrible” or “They-ah gonna pull-ah your teeth-ah outa your-ah face-ah!” Actually, only the easily alarmed Italian man on my corner said that last one. Anyhow, it was kind of painful for the first few days, but now I’m feeling pretty good. And when they cut the teeth out of my face they pumped me so full of novacaine and nitrous that I didn’t mind one bit.

The thing is, I only got the wisdom teeth on one side of my face taken out. The teeth on the right side are still in there. Therefore, only one side of my face swelled up and at any rate, the swelling pretty much went away by Sunday. Still, I’ve had people who knew I was getting my teeth out come up to me today and say, “How are you feeling? You look good, a little swollen, but not too bad.” And then I have to decide if I want to tell them that, “No, I’m not swollen anymore. This is just how fat my face normally looks.” Or if I just want to say, “Thank you for your concern. And yes, I hope the swelling goes down soon. I’m so embarrassed walking around with this balloon face on my shoulders,” and then cry at my desk because I’ll never be beautiful.

Whatever, I’m going to go eat more ice cream. And then maybe I’ll cut myself, but just a little. That ought to help my stupid fat face.

Hence, no posts today. Probably not tomorrow either. I will make it up to you all in free painkillers.

Is what I would call my peanut and cigar bar if I ever opened one. That, or Shells and Cheese. Because we would also sell cheese. The shells refers to the peanut shells, not pasta shells. Because people who eat shells and cheese disgust me. It’s macaroni and cheese! Why not just have ravioli and cheese or spaghetti and cheese or rigatoni and cheese? Where does it end? In the madhouse is where. Anyway, come by Nuts and Butts this weekend for all the nuts and butts you can cram in your mouth. And bring your friends!

Until I saw this…

It seems like whoever made this tried to make it seem like the robots were rapping, but just gave up halfway through. But still…it’s glorious.

Also, this:

I usually don’t go in for all the being nostalgic for shitty pop culture moments, but…El Debarge plus Short Circuit. In this case I’ll make an exception. And I love how Ally Sheedy was in the video, but they only had a cardboard cutout of Steve Guttenberg. Apparently the Gute was too big a star to appear in a lowly video. Who’s laughing now, Gute?!!! El Debarge has had his revenge.

Related

Woohoo! It’s that time of year again, when my Mom and her friends make their annual pilgrimage to New York to see a Broadway show, put on feather boas, then head out to a piano bar in the West Village to get sloppy drunk and sing show tunes. And guess who gets to accompany them the whole time? Me! Hurrah!

This year we’re going to see A Chorus Line. I’ve actually seen the movie version. It’s pretty, um, dancey. That’s really the best way to describe it. It’s just Michael Douglas sitting in the back of a theatre yelling at dancers. And then the dancers dance. And describe what it’s like to be a dancer. And then they dance some more. See? Pretty dancey. The best part is when this one dancer auditioning for a part sprains his ankle. And Michael Douglas, who has been a dick up to this point in the movie, runs on stage to comfort him and assures him he’ll get the best treatment possible. That part is also the most unrealistic. When I was auditioning for the touring company of The Knights of Dancelot: A Re-Imagining of the King Arthur Fable Through Dance, I saw a dancer get two compound fractures simultaneously while attempting a rather difficult combination. The director didn’t rush to his aid. All he did was get one of those big push brooms and shove the kid offstage. But I learned a lesson that day. Nobody’s going to hand you your dreams. You’ve got to go out and take them. You hear me? Take your passion and make it happen. Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life.

I just made that up. Just now. For rlz. What the fuck am I talking about? Oh right, my Mom. Yeah, this weekend will be fun. If you’re up for some Chardonnay drinking and show tune singing, give me a call this weekend and you can join us. But don’t you dare upstage my Mom or she will cut you good.

What A Feeling! [Lyrics Vault]

Remember this?

No? Then go to hell. You go right to hell with your flowers and chocolates and fulfilling relationships. What? No, I’m not bitter. You’re bitter. Bitter because you’re such a jerk. Ah, I hope you all get gonorrhea and burn in hell. Especially you, Marino.

Also, I just found out today that I have to get two wisdom teeth removed next week. It’s the greatest Valentine’s Day ever!

My prediction for the sexiest profession this year?

Nude dick models.

Just a guess, though.

Okay, I haven’t even watched this one because I don’t particularly enjoy seeing my fat self mumble about celebrities, but there’s a new edition of the bloggers round table I did for Sara Schaeffer’s show on AOL a while back. Once again, the other participants are Lang Fisher and Todd Levin. We talked about various topics for about an hour and a half and they’ve edited it down to a couple of shorter snippets. Also, Todd ate an unseemly amount of M&M’s throughout. I blame him for my inability to focus. Anyhey, here it is:

Just kidding, Todd!

Previously: When In The Hell Did I Get This Fat?

You, intern. In my office! When? Five minutes ago, you piece of shit. You know what? Forget my office. Meet me in the unemployment office, ’cause you’re fired. Who the fuck are you to question when I want you in my office? You’re nobody. Got it? Why are you even answering me? You don’t work here anymore. Now get the fuck out of here. And tell that ugly kid in the corner to come see me.

What’s your name, ugly? What? I don’t like that name. Doesn’t sit right with me. So I’m gonna call you Ugly Pete. Got it? Great. Now, Ugly Pete, I need to know something- What? I know Ugly Pete isn’t your real name. You think I’m stupid?! Get your ugly ass out of my office! And don’t touch anything on your way out. I finally got everything in here just how I want it. I don’t want your ugly ass uglying everything up. Move it!

What are you looking at? You got a problem with how I talk to my ugly employees? Well, maybe you know how to run this company better than I do? Maybe your name should be on that door? Maybe you should get complete access to the company Kia Sonata?! Is that what you think? What? Speak up! Stop moving your hands like that! It angers me! What? Now, who the fuck are you? What do you mean, she’s deaf? Big deal! What?! I know what American sign language is and that is not it! Both of you, get your disabled asses out of this office! Yes, you are so disabled. How? Your eyes are weird looking. They’re too far aprt. Now get the hell out of my office, you back-talking hammerhead shark-looking motherfucker!

Who the fuck are you? The police? Good, because I have a crime to report. You’re both assholes, now go arrest yourselves. It is so a crime. Well if I were in charge it would be. Regardless, get the fuck out of my office.

What the fuck is that? What’s a taser?! And where are my documents?! Oooooh, that’s a taser. Goddamn you all.

This is pretty amazing.

Thanks to Terry for the tip.

Previously:Where There’s No Summertime

I happened to catch this commercial while I was watching an Ohio feed of the Sabres-Bluejackets game last week. My friends and I fell out of our chairs. Thank God it’s on YouTube. And yes, this site is completely real. This might have been on the Internet a long time ago and I’m late getting to it. Sorry if that’s the case.

I really hope those people find true love. And the cows and horses, too.

Farmersonly.com: Where Rural Singles Meet
Watch Our New Commercial [Farmersonly.com]

So for some reason I’m having trouble uploading all my photos onto my website, so the Denver wrap-up mega post will have to wait until tomorrow. But I can tell you that I ate somewhere between 10 and 15 pounds of red meat in Denver. That’s all they eat there. Or maybe that’s just all my friends eat. But Good Lord, that was a lot of meat. Burgers, steaks, tacos, ribs, chicken-fried steaks, chops, chicken-fried tacos. My chest feels like it’s been twisted with a giant pipe wrench and then stuffed with hot coals. That’s a metaphor for heart burn! And, oooohhh, how it burns! Last night I could barely choke down the 42 oz. strip steak I ordered. I would have just asked them to wrap up the leftovers, but if you eat the whole steak at this restaurant you win a pony. And I wasn’t about to lose a pony. So I finished the steak. Then I took that pony, rode him right into a barbecue pit, and ate him for dessert. His name was Cinammon and he was delicious.

Seriously, my chest hurts just from typing this. Is that normal? I’m just going to assume it is. Oh, in other news, it appears I have gotten even fatter over the past week. All of my pants are near the breaking point. On the bright side, I no longer need to wear belts. So that’s nice. On the less bright side, I’m a bloated fatty who can only fit into two pairs of pants. It is a good compromise.

Okay, I’m going to get some heartburn medicine. But I hate the taste of it so I think I’ll wash it down with a couple of sausage links. I learned that trick from when my dog had gout.

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.

Hey, jerks! I’m in Denver. Last night I went to my first Major Indoor Lacrosse League game. A friend got free tickets to the game through work, so we decided to go. Actually, I didn’t really decide anything. My friend Paul asked if I wanted to go. I didn’t even know professional lacrosse existed and even if I had known, there’s no way in hell I wanted to actually watch a game. So I politely said, “That could be fun.” And so we went. We saw the Colorado Mammoth defeat the Portland Lumberjacks by a score of something to something. Actually, I didn’t see that, because we left about halfway through. If you’ve never been to an MILL game, I’ll try to explain it to you in the following equation.

Ice Hockey Minus The Ice Plus Lacrosse Sticks Plus Rules that Make No Sense Minus Skill and Athleticism Plus Absolute Brutality Equals MILL

Here’s my friend Paul, the one who forced me to attend this shit. He is no longer my friend.

The other thing I noticed is that the game does not stop for injuries. Last night some player got slashed across the face with a stick and immediately fell to the ground. It was one of those injuries that are painful to watch. He was writhing on the ground in pain, wiggling his legs like in NHPLA 93 and play just continued. The team’s trainer couldn’t even get out to help him.

The other thing I noticed is that the PA announcer talks throughout the entire game. He plays AC/DC songs during the game, too. It was like watching a game while a strip club DJ announced it for you. “C’mon crowd, let the Mammoth hear you! You want to see another goal?! Also, Tanya, you’re up next on stage number 2. Gentlemen, make some noise for Crystallllllllll!”

And here’s that guy who was injured. I swear he was on the turf for a good two minutes before anyone noticed he was hurt.

After the lacrosse game, we all went to my friend Paul’s house and drank and played darts. It was very fun. I was also informed that I’m going to a MOE concert against my will tomorrow night. I hate Moe and all the horrible hippie jam bands like them. I’ve offered a number of times to sell my ticket, but my friends won’t hear of it. So I should at least have a MOE concert to report on later on. God, that shit will be horrible.