Category: Funny Business

It’s Valentine’s Day, and for many of you lovebirds it means flowers, chocolates and a romantic dinner, all framed by a soundtrack featuring Barry White, Harry Connick Jr. and Michael Buble.

What does it mean for me and my darling person?

We’ve recorded a bunch of “Your Worst Nightmare” episodes on Investigation Discovery, as well as of ID’s newest series, “Bride Killa.”

We’ll watch those, eat a whole pizza and then call it a night.

What … you don’t think that’s romantic?

Maybe not in the traditional sense. But then again, we’re married and we aren’t exactly “traditional” people.

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve done the whole Valentine’s Day shtick before.

In fourth grade I saved up all my pennies, nickels and quarters to buy my girlfriend a big, heart-shaped box of chocolates.

And this was a Whitman’s Sampler, too, not one of those knock-off brands full of cheap-ass chocolate filled with that weird jelly.

I can’t remember her name – or even what became of her – but I do know she had polished off the entire box by lunch period.

You’re welcome, fourth grade girlfriend, whoever you are and wherever you are.

Once in high school, of course, the stakes get much higher.

Maybe you’d actually have flowers sent to the school.

This was a truly “romantic” gesture, of course, but hardly cost-effective. The markup on flowers is about 500 percent on Valentine’s Day.

But if you go that route, just stick to red roses. I had a dozen yellow roses sent to my junior year girlfriend because I thought it was unique, not realizing yellow roses mean “friendship” and not “love.”

Turns out in my case that was not a correctable error.

And then when you become an adult, you can end up spending a fortune on Valentine’s Day.

There are roses AND chocolates AND a candlelight dinner at an intimate restaurant such as Cracker Barrel or Golden Corral.*

* Golden Corral makes you bring your own candle but it’s the best buffet in the USA, so it’s worth it.

Still, you play along with the holiday for as long as you have to, and then you finally (hopefully) get comfortable ignoring it.

And really, Saint Valentine’s Day was never meant to be about commerce.

It originated as a Western Christian Feast Day honoring a 3rd century Roman saint who was martyred, conveniently enough, on St. Valentine’s Day in 269.

I assume flowers were sent to his funeral, but I doubt Whitman’s Samplers were available back then.

Plus, sending chocolates would’ve been messed up.

You can thank Geoffrey Chaucer for making the day all about romance. In his 1382 poem, “Parliement of Foules” he wrote:

“For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.”

What stands out to me more than anything is that the dude could not spell. If you took a red ink marker to make corrections on his work, it’d look like the St. Valentine’s Day massacre.

However, if you decipher it, what Geoff is trying to say is that on Valentine’s Day, there will be birds making cheese.

I’m not sure what this has to do with flowers or candy, but this is what Mr. Wikipedia says and I am in no position to argue.

Certainly, there is nothing wrong with a traditional Valentine’s Day celebration.

A delicious dinner, a bottle of wine and then some intimate alone time (remember the safe word is “Gryffindor”) is a wonderful way to spend Cupid’s biggest sales day.
But my wife and I love each other and have fun any time we’re together so, at the risk of sounding cheesy, every day is Valentine’s Day for us.

And that being the case, we’ll just stick with the ID channel and a three-cheese pizza tonight.

Unless we decide to be spontaneous and head out to the Golden Corral. Nothing puts you in the mood like the endless chocolate fountain.

It’s Super Bowl weekend, which means I’m getting ready to watch a team I hate (the New England Patriots) face a team I care nothing about (the Philadelphia Eagles) in a game that I will have on TV out of moral obligation but, frankly, have little interest in.

But that’s why there are Super Bowl parties, right?

These gatherings are a staple for football fans and non-fans alike, an all-American celebration that sees people come together in living rooms for food, drink and fellowship.

And being a man of sophistication, I have not only participated in such parties, but helped plan them.

Let’s be honest, though … too many of these events are predictable.

Cooler of beer?

Check.

Sausage balls?

Check.

Pigs-in-blankets?

Check.

Chips and salsa?

Check.

That’s all well and good, but boring.

Why not shake things up?

In that spirit, here are some ideas to help spice up your Super Bowl party, regardless of whether or not you cheer for the Eagles or those other bastards:

 

FOODS SHOULD BE FESTIVE

You can continue the tradition of sausage balls, pigs-in-blankets and chips and salsa, but dress them up and give them festive names.

Imagine the look on your guests’ faces when they see a spread of pork testicles, swine-in-fitted sheets and deep-fried tortilla wedges and tomato puke.

They’ll be eating the same food they normally eat, but it’ll have a whole new attitude.

Of course you can also go way outside the box.

One year, instead of going to all the trouble of preparing foods, I kept it simple.

I just placed eight packs of frozen wieners and a jar of mayonnaise on the table and told guest to help themselves.

You’d be surprised how many did.

 

BEVERAGE OPTIONS

Back during my drinking days, I just assumed stocking a cooler full of beer was sufficient for any Super Bowl party. And if – heaven forbid – someone was a teetotaler, I’d just direct them to the water faucet.

But times have changed.

Some people would rather not drink beer at parties, Super Bowl or otherwise.

Again, this is a chance to be bold.

Why not buy a kiddie pool and fill it with pure grain alcohol?

Sure, Everclear may be considered a “neutral spirit,” but your guests will be shifting into overdrive quickly as they belly up to the pool to get their drink on.

Want to try an even more innovative beverage option?

NyQuil.

The nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, aching, coughing, stuffy-head, fever, so-you-can-rest medicine comes with its own plastic shot glass, which leads me to believe its makers are well aware it can be used for an entirely different purpose.

And if you’re on a budget, you can get the store brand knockoffs which basically have the same effect.

If you go this route, chances are good your guests will be asleep by the second half, but it probably won’t matter as by then Bill Belichick will have made some unholy bargain with Satan to ensure that the Patriots win their 12^th Super Bowl in the last 10 years.

 

PREGAME FUN AND GAMES

Remember playing pin the tail on the donkey and hitting a candy-filled piñata?

Me either.

And trying to get adults to play those games in the leadup to the Super Bowl is pointless.

Have fun! Be creative!

I’ve always thought it would be cool to set up a miniature boxing ring in the living room and have guests square off in a bare knuckle brawl that lasts until one fighter is knocked unconscious.

Divisions could be based on weight, sex, age – whatever.

The gifts you choose to award the winners are up to you, of course, but sometimes a losers’ consolation prize is best.

Who doesn’t want to ride in an ambulance?

In the interest of full disclosure, I have no party plans at all on Sunday.

My wife, who has less interest in sports than any human being who has ever lived, will be reading.

I’ll be watching alone, snacking on healthy foods because my body is a temple and I damn near burned it down for the first 45 years of my life.

But just because I’m not in the party mood doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be, and hopefully I’ve given you enough tips to make sure this really is a Super Sunday.

So eat, drink and knock the crap out of somebody in your living room.

It’s the American way.

Those who know me know I’m a vegetarian, so it’s probably rather obvious that I don’t hunt.

Never have, never will (barring some apocalyptic event in which all plant life is destroyed by an anti-tempeh terrorist organization).

I have zero interest in wandering off into the woods and shooting a critter, because I like critters and – to date – not a single one has ever taken a shot at me. That being said, there is some hunting-related news I’m rather excited about.

According to a report in livescience.com, deer in at least 22 states and parts of Canada have died from chronic wasting disease.

That news is sad, of course, and thoughts and prayers go out to the entire Cervidae family. Still, there is hope for a happy ending.

Why?

Well, some side effects of this malady, according to the Center for Disease Control, include, “… drastic weight loss, a lack of coordination, drooling, listlessness or a ‘blank’ facial expression, and a lack of fear of people.”

Admittedly, this reminds me of me during my heavy drinking days, but in deer, this is known as “zombie deer disease.”

Now frankly, at that point I had no desire to read any further because you’re going to have one helluva time topping “zombie deer.”

And since I didn’t finish the article, I am free to imagine (hope?) what this means to hunters and hunting and bucks and does and the whole circle of life (and death).

Say, for example, you shoot Bambi’s mother. Normally, that would be a shitty thing to do. But if Bambi’s mother (I think her name was Tiffany … it was never clear in the movie) contracted this disease and died, would she not return as a zombie?

And if she did, would that not be one of the coolest things ever?

While Elmer Fudd is dragging her back to camp to process her, she suddenly springs to life (or however zombies define their resurrection), and bites his trigger-happy ass.

Fudd dies, but then he comes back as a zombie himself.

That’s where things could get vewwy, vewwy interesting.

The zombies in “Night of the Living Dead” were pretty traditional and fit the definition provided by the CDC.

They drooled, they hobbled … about the only time they ever showed any enthusiasm was when they got hold of fresh femur (where the meat just falls off the bone, by the way).

But remember the movie “World War Z?” Those zombies were amazingly fast. In fact, they were quite well-coordinated and formed impressive pyramids. Could it be that the disease might manifest itself in such a way that a Fudd zombie would be more akin to a Z zombie?

We still don’t have Patient Zero so we can’t answer that question yet.

At any rate, if zombie deer suddenly start to populate the forests, that’s going to be quite a game-changer.

Those who have a taste for venison will likely lose it once they realize Bambi’s mother isn’t going to be still long enough for you to eat her.

And, the knowledge that you could become a zombie Fudd yourself should be quite a deterrent to deer hunting. At least I think it would.

Look, I’m not trying to preach here. After all, some of my best friends are Fudds. And if you eat meat, chances are the meat you eat didn’t volunteer for the job and off itself so you could have a burger.

I’d like to think that’s the case, but I know it’s not.

Plus, animals eat other animals. That’s messed up, but no less a fact.

But I’ve never thought of hunting as a sport, since humans have guns and animals do not. And sport is defined as “physical exertion and skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment.”

However, if a Fudd goes up against a deer that is going to spring back to life right after it’s killed, then you’ve got yourself a ballgame, my friend.