Archive for August, 2011
Hoo boy, this Irene thing looks to be a doozie, eh? Fill your tubs and charge your phones and make sure you’ve got some candles, all that stuff. Be safe out there, friends. Except for the son of a bitch that tore down the “No Parking on August 29″ sign I taped to the pole outside my apartment. Feel free to not be safe, asshole.
But anyway, listen to a little Something Corporate.
Dear precious readers,
I am writing this post in advance of drinking a small can of Moxie. Moxie, for those who are unfamiliar, is the clove(?)-based soft drink that’s not quite cola and not quite Dr. Pepper famously endorsed by notorious and repeated fan-spitter-upon Ted Williams. Although once one of the most widely consumed soft drinks in the country, Moxie’s popularity has waned in recent decades, probably owing to its mysterious taste, and is now found primarily in Maine, commonly referred to as the Texas of New England.
I haven’t had much Moxie in my day, which puts me in league with the vast majority of Americans. There’s no predicting what kinds of pernicious side effects this unknown fluid will have on my physiology. Here goes nothing!
I’m just yankin’ ya! Moxie isn’t that bad. I’m actually taking a shine to it. Not so much as to actually seek the stuff out. But maybe enough to actually willingly finish the five tiny cans still in my fridge.
Anyone with ears to hear understands that Jon Bon Jovi is the greatest poet of this or any generation. Today just so happens to be the 25th anniversary of Slippery When Wet, the album that put Bon Jovi on the road to rock immortality and gave us such cover band anthems as “Living on a Prayer,” “You Give Love a Bad Name,” and “Wanted Dead or Alive.”
Regular readers of Dangerous, Dirty, and Unfun understand that I march to the beat of my own Tico Torres. In that spirit, here are what I consider to be the two best songs off Slippery When Wet, an album that is almost literally wall to wall hits.
I’d Die for You
Look for the nail clippers. Undoubtedly, I’ll have been clipping the nails on my right hand by using the clippers in my left hand, and I’ll have brutally maimed myself. You’ll be like Columbo at the crime scene. It’ll be fun.
Seriously, though, how do people do it! I’ve been clipping my nails for years now, and I’ve yet to get the hang of using my non-dominant hand. Every grooming session is an adventure fraught with all manner of peril! And don’t say the solution is to have someone else do it. I’d rather have those freaky gross long fingernails that I have to carry around in bags!
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