Monday, March 30, 2009

Hornets Nest

So there I was at the New Orleans Arena watching the Hornets play the San Antonio Spurs, when inspirado hit me. Up until then, I had been trying to heckle the Spurs' players all game, but the best I could do was heckle a player named Bonner by calling him Boner.

But now I had a secret weapon in my arsenal.

My section was pretty wild. We were on the fifth row from the floor, and the Spurs were down by 3 with only a few seconds left in the game. But that was only part of the reason for our hysteria. The other reason was because Tony Parker, one of the Spurs' best players, was at the line to shoot two free throws.

Tony Parker is married to Eva Longoria, one of the stars of ABC's Desperate Housewives. We could see her from where we were sitting - she was only 4 rows down and maybe 10 rows to the left of us.

"You suck, Tony!" someone from my section yelled.

"Your wife loves Mario Lopez!" another douchebag yelled.

It was time for me to strike!

"Your wife is a very beautiful and sensual woman, and is a wonderful actress that my wife admires!" I yelled at the top of my lungs in the middle of a crowded stadium.

Tony Parker stopped his pre-free throw dribbling and just stood still. Everyone else gradually stopped cheering. As the crowd grew silent and the throngs of spectators turned to face me, I could feel that I had the Spurs just where I wanted them.

I made a megaphone with my hands and shouted at the top of my lungs, "Your wife is extremely pretty and it's an honor to sit this close to her!"

Tony Parker knew how to handle heckling. But he didn't know how to handle this.

"Come on, honey, you can do it!" Eva Longoria cried. "Don't listen to that asshole!"

Tony dribbled the ball a few more times, then got ready to shoot.

"Seriously, your wife is a talented actress. You are very lucky!"

Tony Parker threw up two bricks. He hung his head in defeat while his wife thrashed around like a madwoman. My plan was a success!

After the game (which the Hornets won, by the way), Eva Longoria strode by us and turned her nose up at me. My victory, as well as the Hornets', was complete.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Texas de Brazil

My wife loves to tell the story about how one year she and her family went to Brazil to visit her Uncle Jay. In her story, she eats 7 fried bananas in one sitting at a local restaurant - after eating a full meal. And every time she re-tells this story, she always makes sure to point out that she ate more bananas than everyone else at the table.

To hear her tell the story, she's famous down in Brazil. For all she knows, they've built a statue of her up on a mountain.

While recounting her experience of demolishing an entire banana crop in one sitting, Betty told me one interesting things about Brazilian restaurants: the waiters walk around with large chunks of meat on sticks and cut slices off onto your plate.

A walking buffet? Can a restaurant get any better?

As luck would have it, a new Brazilian restaurant just opened in Baton Rouge called Texas de Brazil. Betty wanted to go for her birthday, but I wanted to go because secretly I wanted to have a banana showdown.

Texas de Brazil is located in the Perkins Rowe shopping center on the corner of Bluebonnet and Perkins. When we walked in I made sure to tell the hostess that although she might work at a Brazilian restaurant, my wife actually went to Brazil and ate at a real Brazilian restaurant. We don't mess around.

True to its theme, the servers at Texas de Brazil brought random cuts of meat to our table. At first I was a little unsettled by seeing large Brazilian men with sharp knives walking around with flank steak on a spike, but after a while I got used to it... eating 80 pounds of meat in one sitting will make you complacent.

At the end of the night we were presented with a bowl containing two fried bananas. Betty quickly took a bite of the first banana, then her eyes glazed over while she recounted how, one time when her family was visiting her Uncle Jay in Brazil, she ate seven bananas.

This was it! This was my cue!

I quickly scooped up the remaining banana and shoved it into my mouth. I tried to say, "It's on!" but it came out like "Mmfff ommph!" We had officially began our banana showdown! And eight bananas later, we had a winner:


She retains her title of banana queen. She beat me by a banana and a half. And just for the record, I'm like 700x her size. She just out-ate me.

My only comfort is knowing that while in Brazil she probably ate plantains and not bananas. Eating 7 plantains isn't a big deal. Anybody could do that, right?

I demand a rematch.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

The Watchmen

Today I went to see The Watchmen, which I assumed was about men who made watches. What can I say - I love horology.

One of the movie's characters, named Jon Osterman, aka Dr. Manhattan, was the son of a watchmaker, so I guess in a sense you can say that the movie was in fact about men who made watches.

But it was also about men who dress up like superheroes and kick the living crap out of everyone else, including other superheroes.

My broseph-in-law Danny bought me the graphic novel of The Watchmen a month or two ago, and I loved it. It has real depth to it. In fact, The Watchmen was on Time Magazine's All-Time 100 Novels.

Suck it, Koontz!

I was excited for the movie, but heard both really good and really bad things about it. It seemed like fans of the comic loved it, and people who hadn't read the comic hated it. And after watching the movie, I can see both points of view.

The thing is, this movie is less like a typical movie than it is an animated comic book. It's like watching a comic book being read aloud, and visualizing the frames coming to life. That's the best way I can describe it. If a movie reel and a comic book did the nasty, this would be the product.

Although I really liked the movie, I do have one criticism: there's too much slow motion.

The Watchmen was directed by the same guy who did 300 - the movie about the Battle of Thermopylae. If you remember, that movie had a lot of shouting, a lot of mostly naked manly men with beards, and lots of killing - all done in sloooow mooootioooon.

For those of you who've seen the movie, you're probably wondering why I didn't criticize the fact that there was blue penis on the screen for inordinate amounts of time. Furthermore, you might be questioning why I am not criticizing it.

Well, my wife always complains that too many movies show ta-tas but none show wiener schnitzel, so having an atomic penis grace the screen seemed like a good way to get women in the theater. And I think we can all agree that us comic book fans need a lot of help getting women into the same room.

So if you are a comic book fan, or you want to see a good movie in slow motion, or if you're a woman who's into atomic dongs, go see The Watchmen.

Saturday, March 21, 2009


We threw a surprise party for my mother-in-law's 60th birthday. It was amazing. She was completely surprised.

And so was I, actually.

I knew that my wife was doing something for the past few weeks involving a party hall, invitations and cake, but I didn't know what it was. She tried to tell me a few times, but I tuned her out after she started delegating tasks to me.

"Where are we going again?" I asked, as I packed some platters and a camera into our car.

She rolled her eyes and said, "Aargh, for the last time, we're going to my mother's surprise party!"

"Oooooh yeah, I knew that."

After we got to the hall, Betty was running around like a crazy person trying to get everything ready. I couldn't help her set up tables, check on the food or get the music going because I was too busy hooking a laptop up to the projector so the guests could watch the second half of the LSU vs. UNC basketball game. LSU lost, but the laptop-to-projector connection was a success - so successful that we later used the projector to run a slide show of pictures of my mother-in-law.

Kudos to me and my mad computer skillz!

Thanks to my wife, sister-in-law and everyone else for making the party so successful. I was happy to stay out of the way and let you do your magic. I'm looking forward to the next party you throw.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Biker Bob

Now that Betty and I have our own bikes we've decided to start our own biker gang. You can join if you want, but you'll need to hurry - we've already started recruiting people and spots on our posse are few and far between. So far it's me, Betty, Anne, two seven year old girls from down the block, and a five year old boy with his own motorbike. He's the muscle of the group.

My bike is a Huffy Tundra so I can't do any cool tricks - or even basic tricks, like popping a wheelie - without fear of my bike collapsing around me. So I just sit cool and pretend to be pedaling 2 miles an hour on purpose.

Anne rides shotgun in Betty's bike. We don't have a helmet for Anne yet so she's only ridden once or twice, but once the helmet we ordered online comes in, Anne's going to get in some serious bike time.

Before we bought these bikes, the only bikes I had been on in the past 4 years were the stationary bikes at the gym. And I only used those two or three times before deciding that even going to the gym was too much effort.

And before that, the only other time I've ridden a bike in the last 15 years was on our honeymoon when we biked down Mount Haleakala in Maui. And I didn't really even have to pedal on that ride - I just held on for dear life while gravity did it's thing.

I think about all of this as I ponder whether or not to crank my bike into third gear. I'm not too sure about it - my handle bars already look like they're going to fall off. Better not chance it.

We pass by another group of children on bikes who are surrounding another middle-aged man who's also riding a cheap Huffy Tundra. We look each other in the eyes, sizing each other up, trying to determine if we each need to show off our mad bike skillz. Both of us hope the other chickens out, because our bikes can't take the beating. But after a few minutes his group passes ours with no issues.

That's right, biatch. This is my street.

If you own a bike and want to be in our bike gang, please drop me a line and we'll swing by one afternoon and pick you up. Mountain bikers, seven speed bikers, ten speed bikers, and bikers with training wheels are all welcome. We aren't snobby about our bikes, unlike those bastards in the other neighborhood.

Just make sure you wear a helmet if you ride with us, because if I ever do attempt to do a wheelie and fall off my bike, you need to make sure that you're fully protected if I fall on top of you. You've been warned.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Jim Cramer vs. Jon Stewart

In case you didn't see it, here are three videos of Jim Cramer getting beat down on the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Videos courtesy of the Huffington Post.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

PH Imbalanced

Something is happening to my body. I'm not sure what it is, but I think it's related to my deodorant.

Or more specifically, to my wife's deodorant.

We're at my parents' house for the weekend and I'm too lazy to unpack the stuff that my wife so diligently packed for me. So I took it in stride when I didn't have my toothbrush, razor or deodorant at hand after I showered today.

Not brushing my teeth? No biggy. That's just an excuse to eat something else. And not shaving? Also not an issue. I might even give up shaving next Lent.

But no deodorant? My family loves me, but not that much.

I noticed my wife's bathroom kit was already conveniently placed in the bathroom, and her Secret deodorant was staring me in the face. Secret is strong enough for a man, isn't it?

Yes. Yes it is. But it's also pH balanced for a woman.

And "pH balanced for a woman" isn't a marketing ploy to sell deodorant to women, but is a hidden warning for men. Unfortunately, because the product is created and marketed by women, it gives instructions to men in the same way our wives do: through hidden, cryptic meanings instead of just telling us in the most direct manner.

You know us men can't take hints!

The ingredients in Secret have slowly but surely leached into my bloodstream, now my hormones are raging! Not to get into too much detail, but when you use a woman's product and your man-boobs start tingling, it's time to call it a day.

My wife just read over my blog and told me that she didn't know I was using her deodorant. Now she's aggravated with me. And usually that would just be another day in the life of Bob, but today, with all these fem-mones running through me, I'm really sensitive to her needs and now regret my decision to use her deodorant. I almost feel like crying, or worse, calling my best friend and blabbing for several hours about my feelings.

At the end of the day I think I'd much rather have had my family hold their noses and berate me about my stinky armpits than have gone through what I've gone through today. But maybe that's just the hormones talking.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Oh the Humanity

I'm sick. And I'll give you the most horrific detail: it's coming out of both ends.

It all started at noon on Tuesday. I was at the Chime's on Perkins when my stomach started bothering me. "Maybe I just ate too much," I told myself as I continued to stuff boudin balls down my throat. "Or maybe my pants are just too tight."

But retching on my knees in the Handicapped-accessible bathroom at work 6 hours later, I started to think that maybe I was actually sick.

Betty was sick last week, and worst of all she was sick on her birthday. Then Anne was sick. She seemed happy enough, but couldn't keep anything down. My poor babies!

Maybe I just caught whatever they had.

I think about all of this, and about how terrible it must be to be sick on your birthday, as I'm hurdling baby toys while simultaneously pulling down my pants on my way to the bathroom. I stumble when I hit the tiles in the bathroom, but launch myself at the toilet just in time. I make a mental note to never sprint to the bathroom in socks.

And conveniently enough, the sink is right there for me to barf in. Another victorious trek to the sick room!

As bad as this stomach virus has been, it's not as bad as that time I ate an entire pack of sugar-free Twizzlers, which caused me to sit on the toilet for 8 hours straight. That was one of the most terrible nights of my entire night.

I take comfort in knowing that things could be worse.

Gotta run... Old Faithful is set to explode again any second!

Sunday, March 08, 2009

Girl Scout Cookies

I think the buying, selling and even baking of Girl Scout cookies should be illegal on the grounds that it amounts to prostitution.

Shocking slander against the Girl Scouts of America? I think not. Let's face facts:

1. Girls get dressed up and stand on the street corner (or occasionally under a Winn-Dixie awning).

2. These girls, usually with the help of their mothers, offer their "goods" to passing strangers.

3. The consumer often calls the act of eating these cookies "orgasmic."

A paid service offered by girls to strangers resulting in orgasms is prostitution in my book. And yes, I do have a book that outlines these things.

Okay, maybe I'm being unfair. In fact, I might even be contributing to the problem, as I just bought two boxes of Samoas from the Girl Scouts stationed at Winn-Dixie on Airline. In all honesty, I thought I was getting actual Samoans instead of just cookies.

But if Girl Scout cookies amount to legalized prostitution then we all might as well make the most of it. So here's my suggestion: pick up ten or twenty packs of your favorite cookie, rent a nice romantic comedy from NetFlix, turn the lights down low and enjoy your cookies to the last drop.

You owe yourself a nice relaxing evening, and you can thank the Girl Scouts of America for giving it to you.

Saturday, March 07, 2009

My New Tundra

I am the proud owner of a new Tundra.

I've never owned a Tundra before. Maybe I should get some of those truck nutz, so my Tundra will feel masculine and will attract female vehicles with its huge, gross-yet-tintilating genitalia.

Being a Tundra owner, I guess you can say that I'm a man's man now. So in addition to already being a ladies man, I'm now a man-ladies man. Hmm... I think that means that transvestites are into me or something.

Nevermind! The point is that I now own a new Tundra. And in this weak economy, I was able to buy it outright. That's how I roll, baby!

My next purchase is going to be a helmet.

What, you didn't think I was talking about a Toyota Tundra, did you? Are you crazy? Me, in a truck? No sir-ee, Bob! I'm barely tall enough to fit into my Corolla!

I was talking about my new 26" Boy's Tundra 18-Speed mountain bicycle by Huffy!

Betty got a new Schwinn bicycle and we got a "Wee Ride" for Anne. The Wee Ride is an infant bike seat that attaches to the front of the bike instead of the back. So now Betty can do some totally radical wheelies while holding onto Anne.

I hope Betty likes her new bike. She's been wanting one for a while. I just read some comments about my new Tundra and apparently it's a piece of garbage, mostly due to manufacturing issues. Oh well - if it breaks then that means I just won't exercise as often, so it sounds like a win-win situation for me.

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

The War Against Second Person Pronouns

I'm officially declaring war against using both the singular and plural forms of the second person pronoun, otherwise known as the word "you." From now on, I will use the word "one" instead of using "you" when associating verbs with a generic entity.

My main battle ground will be song lyrics, because songs are notorious for using the second person in an incorrect manner when referencing a generic entity.

As my first strike against the enemy, I've taken the liberty of changing the names and corresponding lyrics of each of the following songs to fit my new cause:

Queen / We Will Rock One

U2 / With or Without One

Bon Jovi / One Gives Love a Bad Name

Stevie Wonder / I Just Called to Say I Loved One

I think we can all agree that these songs have been greatly improved by my changes. You're welcome.

I challenge everyone to exchange the word "one" for "you" in any song one sings for the rest of the week. It's actually pretty fun. Plus it will drive one's spouse crazy, which means he/she won't want to be in the same room with one while one sings it, which means one will not have to shower regularly.

After all the second person pronouns are eradicated, my next war will be against contractions in songs.

Sunday, March 01, 2009

No Complaints About Lent

Everybody check your navels - it's Lent again!

Last year I gave up procrastinating for Lent, and I accomplished more during that 40 day period than the rest of the year combined. It was tiring, but fun.

This year I chose to go a different route: I gave up complaining.

Most people I know are cheerful, optimistic and generally very nice. But I'm usually a black cloud, ruining everyone's fun as I rain/pee on their parade. I'm like Debbie Downer, but with a hairier chest.

And let's just say that my blog is called the Tantrum for a reason.

But so far I have to say that not complaining has done wonders for me. Of course, it helps that the first few days of Lent were spent in Disney World, the Happiest Place on Earth. There really wasn't anything to complain about there. We'll see how I do when I head back to work on Monday.

If you gave up something interesting for Lent, or if you're doing something extra to better yourself or others, please leave a comment or send me an email to share your story with everyone else. I really need to know what you're giving up so I'll have something to think about whenever I get frustrated. For instance, instead of complaining when someone cuts me off on Airline Highway, I could just say, "Well, it could be worse - Steve gave up blinking for Lent."

Knowing that I can blink guilt-free would make my day. But knowing that I can also do whatever you can't - drinking beer, eating chocolate, not exercising - will really help me to get through the next 40 days.