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Read Filling the Void … 7/14/04, Habla Español?

Filling the Void … 7/15/04

Grip It & Write It (Head 1 of a Two-Headed Beast)

It's so on it hurts. Welcome to the jungle, children of the corn. Buckle in.

"You want to get nuts? Well come on, let's get nuts!"

Now that I've welcomed everyone to the jungle, here's a tip. If you haven't seen the Behind the Music on Guns n Roses, see it. It's awe-inspiring. It's f'ing beautiful. I don't want to ruin it for those that haven't seen it, so I'm not going to discuss the nuances of the show. But I will next week. It's too good not to write about. Let me put it this way. I think it trumps Motley Crue's Behind the Music. I think that's saying something. I mean the Crue's hour is impeccable. Nikki Sixx's "death", Mick Mars' face, Vince Neil's car crash, mainlining booze, snorting ants with Ozzy and the mental abomination that is Tommy Lee. Strength around every corner. You really can't lose. But I'm telling you, I think the Gunners nip them at the wire. GNR's wild card? The surprise factor. I had no idea some of the stuff that happened actually happened. And I'm a huge GNR fan. I thought I knew a lot of the inside junk. Nope, not even close. Even my brother, who is the lead singer of a band called "Guns & Poggis", was happily surprised by a few tales. Anyway, long story short, check it out. You wont be disappointed.

(For the record, the Ozzman's Behind the Music is the king of all Behind the Music's. There is no point in debating this. The stories accompanied by the man's lingual skills are too genius to be surpassed.)

In case anyone was wondering, Vinny Testaverde means Vinny Green Head. And the Fratelli Brothers from Goonies means the Brothers Brothers. See? You learn something useless everyday.

I heard the third greatest song I've ever heard today from The Colonel: "Yao. I've got you, Yao. Yao. I've got you, Yao. Yao. I've got you, Yao."

So the British Open starts this weekend. And, as is the norm, several lads in my office will be wagering some loot on their respective "teams" after we have our draft. If what you just read makes no sense at all, go to the 'On the Plate' archives and check out 'Remastering the Masters' from April 10. I explain the draft process / rules of the office bet in there. It's quite amusing. Anyway, I was looking at the Open field with my brother last night trying to get an idea of who I wanted on my draft A-list, B-list, etc. My brother looks at me, and asks in all seriousness, "Tom Lehman is still alive?" Needless to say, I was a little perplexed by the question. Yes, he's still alive. What events have occurred that would lead to any thought that he wasn't alive? Tom Lehman isn't old. And, just for the sake of argument, even if he had died, would anyone outside of the golf community know about it? What's the point of all of this? Insanity is a common theme in my family.

You want more proof? How about this nice little exchange…

Dad: Hey Lou, where you going?
Brother: Nothing, I'm only putting my computer away.

Obviously.

Three Sundays ago after I had gotten back from Nashville, I was waiting to pick up some food outside of this sushi joint. Just so you know, where I live, the streets on Sunday nights turn into a scene from Robocop. It's a freak fest. I'm dead serious. It's beyond disturbing. Anyway, I'm standing outside waiting for my grub and this random guy walks up to me and hits me with this, "Hey man. I just got into town, and I'm looking for a band to sing with. I'm trying to make some money while I look. Dude, I'll sing any Led Zeppelin or Doors song to you for $1." I look around thinking I'm on "America's Hidden Camera" or whatever the F those shows are called. No dice. This cat was serious. Bizarre. If you've seen The Big Lebowksi, you know the Dude's landlord? That's exactly who this guy looked like. It wasn't as if he was some longhaired rocker in a Scorpions T-shirt. He was a short, fat, bald, middle-aged guy who clearly wasn't homeless. This homeboy was seriously trying to sing himself into a band. He could have easily been the third member of Tenacious D. Easily. In fact it might have been Kyle. If that's the case, I friggin' blew it b/c I told the guy that I didn't want to hear a damn thing, but thanks for the offer. Now tell me this…where else on earth does a person get asked that question other than Charm City? Where else? Nowhere. It doesn't happen. It just doesn't. A dollar for a Led Zeppelin or Doors song? Come on now.

While I'm in the "stories from Charm City" portion of this rambling, let me give you one more. I'm driving to work today stopped at a red light right by the Inner Harbor. It's 10 of 8am. Standing on the corner of the median strip is a guy dressed as a woman who is talking up a storm to himself. OK, some dudes like to go that route and that's their prerogative. I just have one question / suggestion. For dudes dressing up like women is it cool to have a beard too? Because this cat had a beard. And a wig. And a dress. And it was hilarious. If the City of Baltimore was ever strapped for cash (which I'm sure they are right now), they could easily put Barnum & Bailey out of business. A Charm City All Stars Circus would crush them. Simply crush them. Think Cirque de Soleil except without all the cool acrobatic circus stuff. Just freaks. We're talking hundreds of millions in sales. Easy.

You want to know what isn't cool? When your buddy is hammered at a bar drinking White Russians, Toto's 'Africa' comes on, and your buddy yells to the bartender, "Hey Brad, Toto! Africa! F'ing awesome! Awesome!" And he's serious. Not good times. Don't get me wrong, it's a good tune. It just isn't a tune that gets a "f'ing awesome" at the top of your lungs in a crowded bar.

You want to know what is pretty friggin funny? When one of your buddies welcomes guests to the Nashville Marriott wearing nothing but boxers and boots while handing out cold beers at 3am. And those being welcomed love him for it. Yep, that's funny.

So I wrote in my 'Mailbag' that I thought the Rangers would fold before the Orioles. You guessed it…the Kiss of Death still packs a punch. What was my rationale? That the O's pitching combination of Cabrera, Ponson and Lopez would keep the Birds playing .500 ball. Man, I was right on. Holy xrap, no I wasn't. Ponson is the biggest stiff of the century. And my boy Rodrigo is always being thrown back and forth from the rotation to the pen. I makes me dizzy. I'll stick by my statement that Cabrera is the next coming of Jesus. When the O's put some pitchers in the pitching rotation next year, as compared to the crew of mutts they have this year, everyone will be talking about Cabrera like they talked about Beckett last year for the Marlins. Believe me. Wait, don't. Cabrera will probably never pitch again now that I've written this.

Have you ever had "sake in a box"? I know, I had no idea what the hell it meant either. I was at this Asian restaurant in NYC called Chinese No.1 (which is hilarious in and of itself). The restaurant was amazing. Very cool atmosphere, very good grub. And they had sake in a box. For $6 you could get a glass of sake. For $10 you could get sake in a box. So I went sake in a box, obviously. For the $4 extra, I had to see what this was all about. Well, it was exactly what it said it was. F'ing sake in a little wooden box that you drink from. Who the hell wants to drink out of a square wooden box? It's not easy drinking out of a box. I had sake all over myself. The jackass waiter told me the box supposedly gave the sake a nice "piney" or "cedary" or whatever scent. F that. The box smelled nasty. The sake was all over my shirt. And I had gotten hosed. I don't know what I had expected, but it sure as hell wasn't some cold sake in a little wooden box that I drink from. Sake in a box. Asinine, but brilliant.

Did anyone catch the brawl in the pits during last Sunday's NASCAR race in Chicago? Amazing.

So I invented this new drink. It is called a Grabbo. Why? Because that is my nickname. Those who know, know. If you don't, ask, and maybe I'll rehash the story on the site one day. Anyway, the drink is Tanqueray and Red Bull. It's awful. Awfully delicious. When I order it, bartenders look at me like I am insane. They make a face like they smelled something bad. It's invigorating. Order one sometime as a joke. You'll love the responses you get.

Now that The Diesel is off to the MIA, I will finally write about why Shaq is totally my boy. But that's for next week. More Beast, part 2 coming tomorrow…