What a week. As the hurricane loomed over us Sunday, I - as on most Sundays - decided to go to my local, terrified of what was to come, though in this case my fear was not related to a Bills game... thank you bye week. Last year I spent Irene with a friend's family, but this year I was on my own and woefully under-prepared, not to mention riddled with documented anxiety issues. So what better way to manage fears by drinking 20 beers? I made it home late Sunday night and didn't leave my home in central Queens until Tuesday night to go back to the bar. Luckily, I couldn't have been safer; I had power and everything the whole time, no flooding, no trees fallen on my block, nothing. The Barrister took the Wee Baby Dubs and Lady Dubs to Massachusetts safely, The Yachtsman watched loads of Friends in Brooklyn, and The Apologist played video games. The Scizz, however, was in Hoboken, which was severely affected by flooding and fires and I can only imagine what else. Fortunately he and his lady made it through and The Yachtsman rescued them, and now he is back to tweeting hilarious and offensive shit. Awesome.
I am so grateful that my friends, and the DGWU crew made it through this storm safely. This was no fucking joke.
Okay, time for some fucking jokes.
Shave. Movember is the pink penalty flag of prostate cancer awareness, lame at best, more like hollow-hearted. Plus mustaches are even dumber than beards, and beards are fucking dumb. A lot of dumb women are into dumb men with dumb beards though, so i guess I can't completely discourage having a beard, because at least some women will fuck you. In the end, facial hair isn't my wheelhouse, and I have a quite the array of wheelhouses bro.
You should be fine unless the wedding is extremely formal, but then you probably would have just chosen a black suit or tux and would be fine. It might be too fashion forward if you are attending a WNY wedding, but that's to be expected from a New Yorker. Every time I go back home I get loads of comments about my clothes... granted I did dress like a 60 year old lesbian gym teacher during the majority of my high school years, so being at all fashionable is quite the departure. But, at my grandmother's funeral I got compliments for my outfit by nearly everyone attendee AND got hit on by the funeral director, and let's be real - I'm like okay looking.
Never discount a good outfit bro. Bitches love a good outfit, or at least I do. Good outfits are part of most of my wheelhouses.
Short answer: yes. Longer answer: fuck yes. You're not expecting to go to London to watch whatever poor teams drew the short end of the stick to play at Wembley. Don't worry about Toronto, I mean for now. The Toronto Bills are another story. Ugh.
NASCAR is gross and makes no sense to me. Any other form of racing any of my bumfuck classmates were interested in made no sense to me. However one extremely well made and interesting documentary I saw tackled racing with elegant and compelling subjects, unlike my classmates who would hang out around Lancaster speedway. Racing Dreams, which came out in 2009, carries a 100% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatos and is on Netflix Instant. It's directed by the guy that made Street Fight, a documentary about Cory Booker's 2002 campaign for mayor of Newark that was also extremely well done.
As for the real answer to your question, I mean, we all choose our own hobbies. Mine obviously include somewhat obscure but critically acclaimed documentaries. Some people choose to use their internet personas for evil instead of good, for instance, others choose to be the living incarnation of any character from Talladega Nights. When I asked Barrister about this, since he's apparently been to a few NASCAR races with the Deeg's resident racing expert, The Scizz, he mused that it seemed the choices were largely arbitrary and circumstantial, the choice to follow a driver being guided by a weird combination of sponsorship and whether the guy actually does well that first time you take the plunge and decide to cheer for him. Apparently, that's what made Barrister latch on to Matt Kenseth after he saw him win live at Dover in 2011 while Kenseth drove the Crown Royal car. Makes sense.
I guess that begs the question - do we really choose our sports allegiances? Are we like Lady Gaga says - "Born this Way"? The NASCAR-ers who are largely homophobic gunslingers would probably say yes, that Jesus Christ Superstar our one and true Lord our God made them this way. Really, the answer closest to the truth is why we're all Bills fans (probably). Both nature (by the virtue of being born in WNY or to WNY parents, perhaps) and nurture (what the fuck else are you supposed to watch on Sundays, NFL Season ticket and Deadspin didn't exist in our formative years?).
As for me, I apparently spend more time thinking about which came first - the chicken or the egg - rather than who came first - Jeff Gordon or Kyle Bush - in the Nextel Series. (That last sentence exemplifies my ignorance. I did not look any of those racing things up... are those real people? Is Nextel even a phone company anymore? Do chickens EVEN HAVE EGGS??)
Skywalker/Vader, hands down. Daddy issues aside, you can't compete with a mo'fuckin lightsaber. Also Captain Hook is a crook. However, the dark horse winner in this contest, though only tangentially related, is clearly Adele's Skyfall song, as that song is sexier than Javier Bardem, which is no small feet because he is terrifyingly hot.
Is it more pathetic that I can't drive or that I can't do 8th grade math? What are the most pathetic traits/quirks/habits you find in women?
Seriously, to everyone, many thanks for the well wishes.