Tuesday, May 25, 2010


If you are in the mood for the best male buttocks and hairy man belly button love scenes ever, go see MacGruber. Is it stupid? Yes. Is it inane? Yes. Childish, moronic, and stupid? Yes to all three. And I intentionally have put stupid twice.

But, it is funny. On SNL, "MacGruber" is a one and a half note joke with the exact same punchline every time. The latest installments have built on each previous minute sketch to add to the funny, but there really aren't any surprises.

MacGruber the movie is chock full of surprises, cameos, and "that just went a little too far" moments. But they all miraculously work. It funny just to hear a character previously forbidden to utter any four letter words, let all the curse words available fly out in unexpected ways.

I mean, Val Kilmer's evil mastermind is named Cunth for Pete's sake. (Hey, Pete, how is San Fran treating you?)

If you are in the mood for a stupid R-rated comedy there's only one man to call. MacGruber!

Heed the Dub

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Day ???

It's me again. I do not know how long it has been since my last post on this running thing. I am too exhausted to check the date of the "Day 2" post. Obviously, it has been a while. Sorry.

Here is the update. I was only one half mile behind the leader last week, I think. That was after I had only run about four miles for this dang competition. But the tide has run red with nipple burn. Unbeknownst to me, I was dealing with legit, real deal, "I run at 5am", pro-am 5k competitors.

It was not like I was bragging and boasting, and shouting from the flagpole or over the P.A. system during the morning announcements about my four miles. I wasn't. Seriously. If anything I was downplaying my early boost in the ratings, slightly suspicious of what my opponents were capable of. I was correct to be wary.

As of this morning I was at a meager 11 miles and in third place. There was absolutely no sign of the women in front of me because they have exponentially increased their paces. Over one weekend, one runner, let's call her Sleeprunner, ran like nine miles to take the lead. Myself and Runner 2, let's call her Trackstar, whose idea it was to start this God forsaken, "all for the fun of it", six month marathon, were stunned. But then the next day, Trackstar chalks up four miles for herself and I am left holding the plastic, bronze medal that everyone receives even if they don't finish the race.

I was demoralized and downtrodden to say the least. What was I to do? But a small spark went off in my belly after watching Jack Bauer disembowel a Russian assassin Monday night. That spark grew to a flickering little flame when Jack agreed to accept the responsibility of guarding The Island and drank Jacob's Kool-Aid. And Wednesday when I saw that Sleeprunner was almost at twice my total and Trackstar was only a few behind her, I decided enough was enough.

Then Alys took the wrong train Wednesday and wound up in Glen Rock. She needed a ride back to Nutley. She had crossed the county line over to the Bergen side and was out of her parents' jurisdiction. I was needed and unable to turn my little flickering flame in a fire.

Thursday. Enough was enough. Got on the road and my feet carried me all the way to good ol' River Dell High School. Two miles each way! I was not done. Got back and ran another mile around the neighborhood. Then to vary things a bit, I did a half mile shuffle stepping. The bonfire was a' burning!
Talk about in the zone! I did another half mile and called it a day.

Saving up a little some'in some'in for tomorrow.

Heed the Dub

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Iron Man 2

Go see it. It is quite a ride.

Only one complaint: The final showdown at the end with Mickey Rourke's Whiplash ended a little abruptly. I would've liked to see more.

Heed the Dub

Saturday, May 8, 2010

House Hunting with a Crazy Critter

Alys and I were house hunting because for some reason we had yet to find a place to call home. We entered a large three bedroom colonial somewhere that afforded a large yard near a wooded area. The tour of the house was going fine. We seemed to be liking it and each room we entered was better than the last. It wasn't until we walked out the backdoor onto a patio that overlooked the verdant lawn and the adjacent wilderness that this house hunt took a turn for the worse.

The small varmint gave no hint of malice at first. He was milling around on the edge of the trees, scrounging the grass for any bits of grub. No ill will at all. Alys and I were far enough away to just point and casually comment on the odor this little beastie would leave behind him, but then the innocuous creature turned and stared. For the briefest of moments I could feel his eyes upon me and I swear I saw him lick his lips. All conversation ceased and then silence. There was a faint sense of a breeze but the leaves remained still and birds no longer chirped.

A stick cracked somewhere off in the woods.

As if it was a starter's pistol, the skunk made a bee line skampering dash in our direction. We snapped out of our momentary freeze frame and turned towards the backdoor. The sound of this ferocious little gargoyle was a mix of a child suffering an asthma attack and a grizzly bear. Quite jarring. I slammed the sliding door as the mad skunk crashed into the glass. Thankfully it held. We shared another eye to eye, man to monster, stare. Then it looked to its left and I swear it smiled.

It took off running and suddenly, it occurred to me that this emmin-effer was going for the garage. The realtor had disappeared conveniently enough, and Alys and I bolted to the door that led to the garage. She hit the button for the door to close as I stood watch. When it finally shut we stood there in silence, questioning each other if this was really happening. A false sense of safety overcame us and we let ourselves relax for about three seconds. Then, there was a scratching noise in the far side of the two car garage immediately followed by a mammalian hiss. I was close to the four door sedan so I jumped in. Alys swung around to the other side of the door leading inside and closed it just enough so that she could still peek out.

The car was hot and leather. I peered out the window, looking out onto the area from which the sound came. I saw nothing. The car had been backed into the spot so through the windshield I could see Alys. She began to shout in a whisper something that I couldn't quite make out. But it wasn't long before I knew what she was trying to tell me. The skunk (don't ask me how) had opened the trunk to the car. I realized this when I heard the little bugger clawing its way through the backseat. As its head popped through the center of the leather backseat, I let out a shriek and stomped on it, sending it flying back into the trunk. I exited the car and met Alys at the door, but the skunk was right behind. It had its best opportunity to land its rabid claws into my legs and its bloodthirsty teeth into my buttocks, but it went for the spray attack.

One of my dream's parameters for skunk attacks was that a spray assault could only be carried out by being immobile. The skunk had to stop to shoot its stench. And his aim wasn't all that accurate. We narrowly escaped by turning the corner into the kitchen, though now, we were in an unfamiliar house that we had only once toured with a rabid skunk deadset on our extinction.


Heed the Dub

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Day 2

Ouch. Succeeded in running another mile and a half but at what cost. So to lift my spirits, here is an oldie but a goody.

How do you fit a 500 lbs. man into a size three dress?

Here is a hint.

Take the F out of fat.
And take the F out of weigh.

You are absolutely right. There is no F in weigh.

Get it?

Giggle a little while I ice myself.

Heed the Dub

Monday, May 3, 2010

Day 1

The challenge: Accumulate as many miles as possible running on whatever surface is available. Three teachers have accepted this challenge, all of whom will remain nameless, but I'll give you three guesses to figure out one participant.

A chart has been posted that records miles accumulated in total by all those involved. I joined the competition on Friday and I am already losing. Big time. I did nothing over the weekend, exercise-wise, but it was not my fault. I will accept the blame, however. Walking in today I saw that I, of course, was still at zero, but, more importantly, that my competitors racked up four and two miles respectively. And they are both women. Not that this makes any difference. Except for the fact that I am losing to girls. They mean business. Big time.

I prepared myself for such an arduous challenge the best way I knew how. I exercised a total of zero times over the past six months. For all intents and purposes, I planned on making this challenge every thing it could be and more. Of course I didn't find out about this running accumulation thunderdome game of death until this past Friday, but I knew my lack of physical preparation would come in handy eventually. I have always believed that a man could run a marathon on sheer will and gritty determination, which still could be true, but that man is not me.

Not even close.

I chalked up one and a half miles today on feet that have not seen or heard from my sneakers in months. They haven't called or emailed my feet in the longest time. And my feet are so dang stubborn that they aren't willing to be the ones to make the first move. But through some back channels and some mutual acquaintances, they reconnected. It wasn't easy going until about a quarter mile in but once The Black Eyed Peas Now Generation came one the good ole Zune, they were friends again.

Afterwards, it felt like my calves exploded in my legs. Stairs were now daunting. My hamstrings taunted me with cramps and my lower back spasmed out. And I'm sure my back just wanted some attention because it did very little of anything during the run.

But, tomorrow I get to shade in one and a half boxes. I'm sure my two fellow runners will have more boxes to shade in as well. Putting even more space between us, but I have joined the class of runners once again.

It feels good to be back.

Heed the Dub