Nevdogg Note: Last week, I wrote about my anticipation leading up to my bachelor party weekend in Las Vegas (for new readers of mine, I am getting married on Aug. 22). I was originally going to leave it at that and not talk about anything that happened during the bachelor party. After all:
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. :-)
But then the following three things happened:
1) The trip was funny as hell.
2) It was the most fun I had in a long, long time.
And 3) I managed not to break any of my fiancee Ramona's "if you do anything insanely stupid, like get a tattoo, sleep with another woman or marry someone else in a drunken haze, I'm gonna chop your balls off and watch you bleed to death" rules of conduct.
In short: What the hell is stopping me from writing about this? :-)
So without further adieu, here's a breakdown of my bachelor party. Other participants: Kevin (my best friend, my best man, married); Joe (groomsman, also married); Jeremy (bachelor party planner extraordinaire, also married); Carlos (Latin guy, don't call him Mexican because he's not, single); and Evan (lawyer by day, lady killer by night, single):
FRIDAY
9:30 a.m., on the way to Vegas.
Kevin: Yeah, the Hoover Dam tour just isn't what it used to be.
The quote of the trip, by far.
10 a.m., on the way to Vegas. We stop to pick up Jeremy. We're packing everything in our rented SUV when Carlos picks up one of my bags.
Nev: Hey Carlos, be careful with that. That's my laptop bag.
(pause)
Carlos: Why the hell are you bringing your laptop?
Nev: So I can check my e-mail and ESPN.
Carlos: Dude, this is your bachelor party in Vegas. You shouldn't be wasting your time on a laptop.
Nev: But what if I want to check my scores?
Carlos: Dude, live without sports for a couple of days.
Nev: That's crazy talk!!
Carlos: Nevin, this is your bachelor party. You should be able to do what you want.
Nev: Fine. I want to bring my laptop.
Carlos: No.
Nev: You just said I can do what I want.
Carlos: Except bring the laptop.
Nev: It's coming with us.
Carlos: It's not.
Nev: It's coming with us.
Carlos: It's not.
Nev: What if I let you borrow it for 10 minutes during the trip so you can watch porn?
Carlos: (sighs)
(the others come to the SUV)
Carlos: Guys, listen to this: Nevin is bringing his laptop. How lame is that?
Jeremy: I'm bringing my laptop.
Kevin: Me too.
Evan: I'm checking e-mails on my blackberry.
(pause)
Carlos: You guys are stupid!!
Nev: Maybe so. But anything we don't know, we'll look up on the Internet.
11 a.m. Stop for a late breakfast in Irwindale. Evan and Carlos, the single guys, discuss to the rest of the group how talking to ladies is done in today's times:
Evan: Nev, what do you think a guy says when he's talking to a girl?
Nev: Um, I don't know. What do you do for a living?
Evan: No no no. It's about non-communication communication.
Carlos: Totally!! Non-communication communication.
(Nev and Kev look at each other, confused and unconvinced looks spreading across their faces)
Evan: It's about just looking at her. Not saying a word. Just looking at her. Catching her eye. Making it known that you see her, but don't need to rush it.
Carlos: Not rushing is key. Just maintain the eye contact and put out the vibe.
Evan: The vibe.
Carlos: The vibe.
(pause)
Kevin: Um, when do you actually go and talk to her?
Evan: Her body will tell you when.
Carlos: Oh yeah. It totally will.
Nev: Her body will tell me when?
Evan: Trust me, Nev. This is how it works today.
Nev: But what do you say when you actually approach her?
Evan: You just go up to her and say:
"Hey, you seem like a really interesting person and I just wanted to come over and see what you're about."
(Evan and Carlos lean back and give each other a triumphant nod. Nev and Kev, meanwhile, give each other quizzical looks)
Kev: I think I speak for Nevin and I when I say: You two are imbeciles.
Nev: I'm sending you the "imbecile" vibe right now. Can you feel it?
Kev: I can feel it.
Nev: That's because my body is telling you when.
Noon. Quick piss stop in Hesperia when...
Jeremy: OH MY GOD!!!! IT'S THE WIENERMOBILE!!!!
Everyone Else: WHERE?!? WHERE?!?
We proceed to follow the wienermobile to a shopping center parking lot where, along with a crowd of about 50 people, we take numerous photos with it from all different angles.
The trip is mere hours old and is already a success.
5:30 p.m. We get to Vegas -- we stayed at the Luxor -- and everyone convened in my room to discuss the plan for the evening. It should be noted that while I was not involved in my bachelor party planning -- Kevin and Jeremy handled that -- I did veto an early idea about going to see a Beatles show. I like the Beatles but am not crazy gaga about them like so many others. Nevertheless...
Carlos: So guys, Evan and I had an idea for tonight.
Evan: Yeah, we really need to go see the Beatles Cirque du Soleil show Love.
Carlos: It's awesome!!
Nev: Ah guys, I don't know. I'm not the biggest Beatles fan.
Evan: But Nevin, it's rad.
Carlos: You really have to see this.
Evan: Totally.
Nev: Uh, I'll be honest. I don't know if I'm feeling it.
Evan: Nev, let me just read you a description about the show.
(Evan grabs a hotel brochure off my desk)
Evan (reading): Born from a personal friendship and mutual admiration between the late George Harrison and Cirque founder Guy Laliberté, LOVE brings the magic of Cirque du Soleil together with the spirit and passion behind the most beloved rock group of all time to create a vivid, intimate and powerful entertainment experience.
Jeremy: Hey, let me see that brochure.
(Evan hands the brochure to Jeremy.)
Jeremy: Hey we can also see Fantasy at Luxor. Hot naked women...
Nev (interrupting): Sold!!
What can I say? Evan's a lawyer, but Jeremy made a more persuasive argument. :-)
7 p.m. We're eating dinner at Tacos and Tequila at the Luxor. Jeremy orders a shot of Patron Silver tequila for everyone. Now I hardly ever drink. Even in college, I was a light drinker. I had a kahlua and cream over 4th of July weekend that was my first drink in 18 months. So when the shots came, I had to ask Jeremy the following:
Nev: OK, so: What's the order?
Jeremy: You lick the salt off your hand, you down the tequila, and then you bite into the lime.
Nev: OK. Salt, tequila, lime. Salt, tequila, lime.
I take a breath, we hold our shot glasses, and the salt licking, tequila downing and lime biting commences.
(I cough 5-6 times.)
Jeremy: What do you think?
Nev: (coughs) Smooooootttthhhh. (coughs)
(Note: By the time the second shot came around, I was licking the salt, downin' the Patron and biting the lime quicker than anyone at the table. I'm a quick study. LOL)
8 p.m. We've been served all night by a cute little 22-year-old blond waitress named Molly. Near the end of dinner, we start chatting her up. Interestingly enough, it was the married and soon-to-be married guys at the table -- me, Kevin and Jeremy (Joe was meeting us in Vegas the following day) -- who were doing the talking while the vibe-sending single guys stayed quiet. Finally, Carlos spoke during the following exchange:
Nev: So you said you're a student?
Molly: Yeah. I go to UNLV.
Nev: What are you studying?
Molly: Ultrasounds.
Carlos: Oh really? And what are you planning to do with that degree?
(pause)
Molly: Um...ultrasounds.
Jeremy: She's gonna fly jets, Carlos.
It's OK Carlos. Points for trying. :-)
10:30 p.m. -- 11:45 p.m. The Fantasy at Luxor. 75 minutes of nothing but hot naked women on stage
Nev to Carlos: And you wanted to see the Beatles.
Carlos didn't answer. He was in a bit of a daze. But I think my message came through. :-)
SATURDAY
We all meet up for a late breakfast and then meet Joe in the Luxor sportsbook. Joe had come up to Vegas separately with his wife Kristy, who had already planned a trip to Vegas with her friends. All of us are milling around in the sportsbook chatting for a bit when a horrible sin -- a break of a bachelor party by-law -- is committed:
Kristy: Hi Nev. Just wanted to say hello real quick.
Kristy chats me up for a minute and leaves.
Now:
No no no no no. A wife or girlfriend never -- and I mean NEVER -- stops in to say hello during a guy's bachelor party. I mean...no!! It just can't be tolerated.
Nev to Joe: You know you're gonna get %$#@& for that by the guys later, right?
Joe: (sighs) I know, I know.
Suffice to say: The rest of the trip was a bit rough on Joe.
4:30 p.m. We all part ways for a few hours to do our own thing. After finishing second in a poker tournament, I head to my room to get ready for the evening when I get a text from my friend Tiffany. Tiffany's mom, apparently, has come up with a special "bachelor party dare" for me to do.
I accept the challenge.
More on this later. :-)
6:30 p.m. We're all eating dinner at the Rio Around The World Carnival Buffet (my favorite place to eat in Vegas) where, in quick succession, I am given both a double shot of Patron Silver (smoooooottthhhhh) and a Washington Apple, which consists of Canadian whiskey, sour apple schnapps and cranberry juice. As a result, I become a little...out of it. :-) Everything to me is now hysterical, I find myself juggling a Heinz ketchup bottle for my amusement, and in this intoxicated state I participate in the following exchange:
Joe: You know Carlos, you really should go after older white women.
Carlos: Really?
Joe: Definitely. They'll like you.
Nev: OH TOTALLY!!!! (I was a little loud. Remember: I'm a bit looped). Dude, chase after older white women. A lot of them are really hot, and they'll like you because they can fulfill their GARDENER FANTASY!!!!
(dead silence except for me pounding the table in hysterics. I look up at Carlos.)
Nev: See, you're the gardener and...
Carlos: Yeah Nev, I got it. I got it.
I have to sincerely thank Carlos for not kicking the crap out of me right then. That's a true friend. :-)
9:30 p.m. We stop at an Irish pub at New York New York for my traditional bachelor party roasting. Now at these things, you normally get a lot of gag gifts of a sexual nature that are meant to embarrass the hell out of the bachelor. In my case...it was no different. :-) The "highlight" of my gag gifts, by far, was an inflatable sex toy lamb that I was ordered to walk around with in plain sight for the rest of the evening.
Now initially, I was horrified as hell. But I'll tell you something: Women all over the place were coming toward me, wanting to pet my lamb (which I named Molly). I mean, this thing was a conversation starter!! I offered it to the single boys Evan and Carlos for their use -- they declined -- and even whispered to Kevin at one point:
Why the hell didn't we think of this when we were single?
Observe the following exchanges:
Random Hot Blond Girl At The Irish Pub: Oh, I love your lamb!!
Nev: Her name is Molly.
Hot Blond Girl: Aww, that's so cute!! You named her?
Nev: Would you like to dance with us?
Hot Blond Girl: Sure!!
See? :-)
And later:
Another Random Hot Girl: Hey nice lamb.
Nev: Thanks!! We just met tonight.
Another Random Hot Girl: Yeah, I recently bought an inflatable beaver. Want to come up to my room later and see?
I politely declined -- I'm a one-woman guy -- but I'm telling you, my single guy readers:
Inflatable lamb.
It'll change your life.
:-)
10:30 p.m. - Midnight. My boys got me tickets to see Zumanity, the nude Cirque du Soleil show. Kevin, Jeremy and I had actually seen it before -- at Kevin's bachelor party in 2007 -- but since it involves hot naked girls bending in ways never before seen, I wasn't complaining. LOL Besides:
We had third-row seats!!
As a result, we had a bird's eye view (pun intended) of my favorite part of the show: Two hot Asian chicks frolicking in a large water bowl.
The women jump in the water.
Nev: They're bending.
The women jump out of the water.
Nev: They're bending.
The women go back in the water.
Nev: They're bending.
The women lift their legs high.
Nev: THEY'RE BENDING!!! (holds my lamb in triumph)
My bachelor party was better than Kevin's. I apologized to him. He accepted.
And finally:
12:15 a.m.
You remember that dare? :-)
Earlier in the night, I asked Kevin to be sure to bring his camera as it had a function to record videos. I call everyone in for a huddle in the middle of the New York New York slot machines:
Nev: OK listen up. I'm gonna start playing some slots. Kevin, you stay behind me and start filming. Everyone else, just stay back. Kev, no matter what happens, you keep filming!! And guys: If you see security coming, squawk like eagles.
Worry permeated on everyone's faces. Nonetheless, I had accepted the challenge.
I start playing the slots. A minute later:
Nev: Oh my God. Oh my God. OH MY GOD!!! I WON!!! I WON!!! I WON I WON I WON!!! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!!! I DID IT!!! I DID IT!!! I HIT THE JACKPOT!!!!
(I high-five the old ladies to the right of me.)
(I give Evan a bear hug.)
(I high-five the blackjack players to the left of me.)
(I leap into Joe's arms and raise my arm like I just won the Super Bowl. That part looks especially good on video).
(I run back into the middle of the slots)
Random Casino Patron: How much did you win?
Nev: I WON A DOLLAR!!!
(people stop cheering)
Nev: A DOLLAR!!!
(cheering has not re-commenced)
Nev: And in today's economy, that means something!!
(dead silence)
Nev: Thank you, and I now return you to your regularly schedule gambling.
By this point, people were pissed. No matter. We got it on video, my boys thought it was hysterical, and besides:
It was a double dog dare.
:-)
We ended the night by heading to the coffee shop for a quick bite to eat. By 2 a.m., everyone else had gone to bed. Me? I stayed up to gamble for a while, winning $350 playing cash poker and 3-card poker before turning in at about 4:30 a.m., my head pounding, my throat dry and the biggest smile spreading over my face.
My bachelor party.
The most fun I had had in a long time.
Vegas baby.
Vegas.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Next Thursday, Aug. 6, I turn 30.
Any guess as to what next week's blog topic will be about? :-)
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Bachelor Party. Las Vegas. Need I Say More? A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
When I got engaged last August, one of the first things I did was tell one of my best friends Kevin the good news.
And Kevin -- one of my oldest friends, who has seen me through many ups and downs in my life (and vice versa), and who has met the love of his life and gotten married himself during the course of our friendship -- proceeded to ask me one of the most important questions that a good friend asks upon hearing the news that one of his closest buddies is planning to tie the knot:
Bachelor party in Vegas?
And that's why he's my best man. :-)
As I write this blog, I am mere hours away from joining Kevin and four other good buddies to participate in a tradition that has spanned across the world throughout the generations. The bachelor party: A chance for a man about to get married to enjoy one last romp of single-dom; to drink, to gamble, to see naked women, to be stupid in general with his equally stupid friends.
All to celebrate the fact that I'm pledging my love to a single woman for the rest of my life.
It makes no sense. None whatsoever. And it's OK. Because it's a bachelor party!! It's supposed to be mindless!!
And this weekend, it's all about ME!!!!!!!
I'm a little excited. :-)
The bachelor party. My father before me, and my grandfather before him, are among the many men who have participated in this ritual of rituals. I've heard their bachelor party stories, seen the light shine in the oldest of eyes as they retell the stories of their own bachelor party experiences. I've even been a member of the experience, but always on the outside looking in, someone planning it rather than living it.
And now, it's my turn. Men young and old, living and deceased, all waiting for me to join this prestigious fraternity, ready to say: "Welcome, brother. This is your moment."
I'll just admit it right now: I'm gettin' misty. And I'm not ashamed.
Know this about me:
I consider myself a nice guy. I try to be a good person. I do my best to be a good friend, a good fiancee, someone who listens and tries not to judge. I was never into wild parties, drugs, or heavy drinking. I was a good student in school and have worked professionally since I was 17. I never caused my parents any real trouble and have done my best to become a responsible adult.
I guess what I'm saying is:
I've earned the right to act like a %$#*&^$# idiot for a couple of days. :-)
Bachelor party in Vegas?
Could we possibly have it anywhere else?
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Are you Jewish and have a need to pray at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, but can't because it costs too much?
Well fear not!!
The Western Wall now has its own address on Twitter, allowing believers around the globe to have their prayers placed between its 2,000 year-old-stones without leaving their armchairs.
Isn't that nice?
If that ain't a Sign Of The Apocalypse, I don't know what is.
And Kevin -- one of my oldest friends, who has seen me through many ups and downs in my life (and vice versa), and who has met the love of his life and gotten married himself during the course of our friendship -- proceeded to ask me one of the most important questions that a good friend asks upon hearing the news that one of his closest buddies is planning to tie the knot:
Bachelor party in Vegas?
And that's why he's my best man. :-)
As I write this blog, I am mere hours away from joining Kevin and four other good buddies to participate in a tradition that has spanned across the world throughout the generations. The bachelor party: A chance for a man about to get married to enjoy one last romp of single-dom; to drink, to gamble, to see naked women, to be stupid in general with his equally stupid friends.
All to celebrate the fact that I'm pledging my love to a single woman for the rest of my life.
It makes no sense. None whatsoever. And it's OK. Because it's a bachelor party!! It's supposed to be mindless!!
And this weekend, it's all about ME!!!!!!!
I'm a little excited. :-)
The bachelor party. My father before me, and my grandfather before him, are among the many men who have participated in this ritual of rituals. I've heard their bachelor party stories, seen the light shine in the oldest of eyes as they retell the stories of their own bachelor party experiences. I've even been a member of the experience, but always on the outside looking in, someone planning it rather than living it.
And now, it's my turn. Men young and old, living and deceased, all waiting for me to join this prestigious fraternity, ready to say: "Welcome, brother. This is your moment."
I'll just admit it right now: I'm gettin' misty. And I'm not ashamed.
Know this about me:
I consider myself a nice guy. I try to be a good person. I do my best to be a good friend, a good fiancee, someone who listens and tries not to judge. I was never into wild parties, drugs, or heavy drinking. I was a good student in school and have worked professionally since I was 17. I never caused my parents any real trouble and have done my best to become a responsible adult.
I guess what I'm saying is:
I've earned the right to act like a %$#*&^$# idiot for a couple of days. :-)
Bachelor party in Vegas?
Could we possibly have it anywhere else?
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
Are you Jewish and have a need to pray at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, but can't because it costs too much?
Well fear not!!
The Western Wall now has its own address on Twitter, allowing believers around the globe to have their prayers placed between its 2,000 year-old-stones without leaving their armchairs.
Isn't that nice?
If that ain't a Sign Of The Apocalypse, I don't know what is.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Using A Pencil: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
Yesterday at work I asked somebody for something to write with, and you know what he handed to me?
A pencil.
The pencil. I swear, I didn't know they still made these.
The pencil. Beige. Pink eraser. Pointy lead tip.
The pencil. It had been way too long.
I mean, I don't know about you but when I'm not typing words, I'm using pens. It's nicer, easier, more durable, and these days they make pens with erasers. Pencils have gone the way of the VCR: There's nothing with them, but better technology has been created and now they're obsolete.
Me and the pencil. Together again.
And it wasn't like me and the pencil had a falling out or anything. We both just sort of grew up and became different people. There wasn't any animosity on either side. We just both went our separate ways.
And you know what happened when we met up again yesterday? It was like nothing had changed. I used the pencil just like I used to. It wrote for me in a way that told me, "Hey: No hard feelings." I even fiddled with it, twirled it and put it behind my ear at one point.
Like no time had passed at all. :-)
We have some friends who are like that. You don't see that person for three, four, even five or six years. Then you meet up and you go right into your old routine. You talk easily, play off each other, laugh. You catch up quickly, reminisce about old times, crack the same jokes.
It's nice. :-)
The pencil and I had a lovely morning. We grew up together, it and I, and it was nice to see that connection was still there.
Afterwards, the pencil and I parted. I went back to pens, the pencil went back to its well-deserved retirement. When will we next cross paths again? It's difficult to say. These things have a way of just coming together randomly. But I do know that when we will do, it will be like we had just seen each other yesterday.
Me and the pencil.
A bond that will last through the ages.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
The governor of Arizona recently signed a bill allowing guns in businesses that serve alcohol.
Yeah, this shouldn't cause any problems. :-)
A pencil.
The pencil. I swear, I didn't know they still made these.
The pencil. Beige. Pink eraser. Pointy lead tip.
The pencil. It had been way too long.
I mean, I don't know about you but when I'm not typing words, I'm using pens. It's nicer, easier, more durable, and these days they make pens with erasers. Pencils have gone the way of the VCR: There's nothing with them, but better technology has been created and now they're obsolete.
Me and the pencil. Together again.
And it wasn't like me and the pencil had a falling out or anything. We both just sort of grew up and became different people. There wasn't any animosity on either side. We just both went our separate ways.
And you know what happened when we met up again yesterday? It was like nothing had changed. I used the pencil just like I used to. It wrote for me in a way that told me, "Hey: No hard feelings." I even fiddled with it, twirled it and put it behind my ear at one point.
Like no time had passed at all. :-)
We have some friends who are like that. You don't see that person for three, four, even five or six years. Then you meet up and you go right into your old routine. You talk easily, play off each other, laugh. You catch up quickly, reminisce about old times, crack the same jokes.
It's nice. :-)
The pencil and I had a lovely morning. We grew up together, it and I, and it was nice to see that connection was still there.
Afterwards, the pencil and I parted. I went back to pens, the pencil went back to its well-deserved retirement. When will we next cross paths again? It's difficult to say. These things have a way of just coming together randomly. But I do know that when we will do, it will be like we had just seen each other yesterday.
Me and the pencil.
A bond that will last through the ages.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
The governor of Arizona recently signed a bill allowing guns in businesses that serve alcohol.
Yeah, this shouldn't cause any problems. :-)
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Dealing With The Wedding Registry: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
Me and my fiancee Ramona were home the other night fiddling on our respective laptops when I noticed that a sad look came across her face.
"What's wrong, baby?" I asked.
Her reply:
No one has bought our stemware.
And thus, the hell that is known as "The Wedding Registry" had begun.
To understand this blog is to understand one simple fact: I had nothing to do with my wedding registry. Ramona and her mom handled everything. I had no input, and rightfully so. See, if it were up to me our wedding registry would've consisted of three things:
1) Money
2) Raider tickets
3) Nintendo Wii games and accessories.
You know: The essentials for all new marriages. :-)
But I wasn't involved, and so now I was home, dealing with a sad-faced future wife who was pouting because our stemware had yet to be purchased. So I, as the future loving husband, went over to her and comforted her with the following words:
What the hell is stemware?
Seriously. I had no clue.
It was a question I never should've asked. Because not only was I given a 15-minute lecture on what stemware was and why it was vital to our existence as a married couple, but I was also forced to actually go on our wedding registry site and see every single one of the items that we're asking people to buy for us.
Among them:
Glisten Truffle Pm
Vornado® Vortex Air Circulator
Calphalon Stainless Steel Ladle with Grip Anywhere Handle
Calphalon Stainless Steel Pasta Fork with Grip Anywhere Handle
Oxo Stainless Steel Fork
(sorry, no Grip Anywhere Handle)
Bissell® Lift-Off® Hybrid™ Pet Vacuum
(please note: We have no pets)
Lenox Mosaico Mattonella Accent PL
(??????)
And finally:
"Look Nevin!! Someone bought our $300 pots and pans!!" Ramona exclaimed.
$300. For pots and pans.
And that's when I realized: I was now a part of an infamous American tradition. See, my friends' wedding registries were filled with stuff that no one needed or ever used. People spent tons of money buying them things they had no room for. And now, apparently it's my turn.
But I'm struggling with certain questions. Why do we need this stuff? Where are we going to put it all? Were our lives really not be complete unless someone buys us a $32 rice bowl?
Ramona and I have been together eight years. I think we've made rice six times.
But Ramona answers all these questions the same way:
"Nev, we don't need this stuff now. But we will one day."
And I may need a kidney 40 years from now. But you don't see that on the registry!!
A few days ago, my sister Blake called and asked me the following:
Did you get the ottomons I bought you and Ramona?
Please note: I had no idea what an ottomon was, and until now -- with the writing of this blog -- I had no idea how to spell "ottomon". I had to look it up. Seriously.
Nonetheless, I'm now the proud owner of ottomons.
Along with stemware, $300 pots, and fancy steak knives.
"They cut steak, Nev!!" Ramona said.
Glad she cleared that up.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
I love video games, have since I was a kid. But even this is a touch much for me:
A collector recently paid $17,500 for an obscure Nintendo game from 1990. The game in question is an ultra-rare, gold-colored version of Nintendo World Championships, a cartridge specially produced for use in a Nintendo-sponsored gaming contest. According to Wikipedia only 26 were created, and the guy who bought it calls it the "Holy Grail" of video game collectors.
The game itself has a time limit of just 6 minutes and 21 seconds.
That's $45.93 per second of game play.
Nice to see the economic downturn hasn't affected all of us. Jesus.
"What's wrong, baby?" I asked.
Her reply:
No one has bought our stemware.
And thus, the hell that is known as "The Wedding Registry" had begun.
To understand this blog is to understand one simple fact: I had nothing to do with my wedding registry. Ramona and her mom handled everything. I had no input, and rightfully so. See, if it were up to me our wedding registry would've consisted of three things:
1) Money
2) Raider tickets
3) Nintendo Wii games and accessories.
You know: The essentials for all new marriages. :-)
But I wasn't involved, and so now I was home, dealing with a sad-faced future wife who was pouting because our stemware had yet to be purchased. So I, as the future loving husband, went over to her and comforted her with the following words:
What the hell is stemware?
Seriously. I had no clue.
It was a question I never should've asked. Because not only was I given a 15-minute lecture on what stemware was and why it was vital to our existence as a married couple, but I was also forced to actually go on our wedding registry site and see every single one of the items that we're asking people to buy for us.
Among them:
Glisten Truffle Pm
Vornado® Vortex Air Circulator
Calphalon Stainless Steel Ladle with Grip Anywhere Handle
Calphalon Stainless Steel Pasta Fork with Grip Anywhere Handle
Oxo Stainless Steel Fork
(sorry, no Grip Anywhere Handle)
Bissell® Lift-Off® Hybrid™ Pet Vacuum
(please note: We have no pets)
Lenox Mosaico Mattonella Accent PL
(??????)
And finally:
"Look Nevin!! Someone bought our $300 pots and pans!!" Ramona exclaimed.
$300. For pots and pans.
And that's when I realized: I was now a part of an infamous American tradition. See, my friends' wedding registries were filled with stuff that no one needed or ever used. People spent tons of money buying them things they had no room for. And now, apparently it's my turn.
But I'm struggling with certain questions. Why do we need this stuff? Where are we going to put it all? Were our lives really not be complete unless someone buys us a $32 rice bowl?
Ramona and I have been together eight years. I think we've made rice six times.
But Ramona answers all these questions the same way:
"Nev, we don't need this stuff now. But we will one day."
And I may need a kidney 40 years from now. But you don't see that on the registry!!
A few days ago, my sister Blake called and asked me the following:
Did you get the ottomons I bought you and Ramona?
Please note: I had no idea what an ottomon was, and until now -- with the writing of this blog -- I had no idea how to spell "ottomon". I had to look it up. Seriously.
Nonetheless, I'm now the proud owner of ottomons.
Along with stemware, $300 pots, and fancy steak knives.
"They cut steak, Nev!!" Ramona said.
Glad she cleared that up.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
I love video games, have since I was a kid. But even this is a touch much for me:
A collector recently paid $17,500 for an obscure Nintendo game from 1990. The game in question is an ultra-rare, gold-colored version of Nintendo World Championships, a cartridge specially produced for use in a Nintendo-sponsored gaming contest. According to Wikipedia only 26 were created, and the guy who bought it calls it the "Holy Grail" of video game collectors.
The game itself has a time limit of just 6 minutes and 21 seconds.
That's $45.93 per second of game play.
Nice to see the economic downturn hasn't affected all of us. Jesus.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Examples Of How Americans Are Stupid: A Nevin Barich July 4 Blog Special
Tomorrow, the U.S. celebrates July 4, our country's Independence Day. As our 233rd anniversary approaches, I thought it would be appropriate to share some observation's I've had over the past week that show us...
How stupid Americans really are. :-)
The following examples should help provide some further evidence as to why the rest of the world hates our guts:
1) Here's a question I heard someone ask earlier this week:
Do the British celebrate the 4th of July?
Um, let's see: Back in 1776 we declared our independence from Britain because they were being punks about taxes, the Brits send an army across the water to kill us, we kill them instead with the help of the French, the Brits are forever lambasted for that whole "redcoat" thing, and as a result we're far stronger than they'll ever be.
So no: I don't think the British celebrate July 4.
No wonder the British think we're stupid.
2) I was watching the Dodger game the other night and saw that they had someone sing "America The Beautiful" in the middle of the seventh inning. Major League Baseball has been doing this nonsense all year!! I mean, seriously, what the hell? You got the Star Spangled Banner -- a song in which no one sings the same way (which is freakin' annoying) -- before the game and you've got the seventh inning stretch's "Take Me Out To The Ballgame". How much more American do I need to be? Why do we have to add a random third element to the mix?
And for that matter, why the hell does America have two songs? All other countries have one. And they sing that song the same damn way every time. But we have two, and we tend to interchange which one we sing. This is our nation's anthem, not Transformers!! Pick one and stick to it!! And stop singing one of them in the middle of the seventh inning!!
No wonder the British think we're stupid.
3) OK, look: It's "French" fries, not "Freedom" fries. It's "French" toast, not "Freedom" toast. It's "French" bread, not "Freedom" bread.
Every July 4 holiday for the past couple years, I've noticed people giving their food the "Freedom" moniker in increasing instances. Here's a tip: It's stupid!! Switching "French" with "Freedom" does not make you more American. It just makes you sound retarded to the rest of the world. Someone used the phrase "Freedom" wine the other day and I thought it meant that it was made out of organic grapes.
Besides: The French have a bad rap. They helped us win our independence. They deserve to have the French food stay French in the eyes of Americans.
So thank you, French.
Love your cheese.
No wonder the British think we're stupid.
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
I actually don't have a traditional SOTA this week. Instead, I wanted to use this week's space to do a good deed and tell y'all a bit about HOPE Worldwide. HOPE Worldwide is an international charity that aims to change lives by harnessing the compassion and commitment of dedicated staff and volunteers to deliver sustainable, high-impact, community-based services to the poor and needy. Some of my friends have been involved in the organization's youth program over the years and told me of the richly rewarding experiences they've had as a result.
Causes that HOPE Worldwide have been involved in include:
---AIDS/HIV treatment and prevention education in Africa
---Malalai Emergency Maternity ward in Afghanistan
---Disaster response in Asia, Africa and North America
---Care for the elderly in Eastern Europe
---Diabetes medication and education in Australia and around the world
---Shelter and employment for the homeless in the UK
---Hope for the sick at the Sihanouk Hospital Center of HOPE in Cambodia
I have a lot of teenagers and parents of teens who read my blog, so I encourage you to check out HOPE Worldwide. And anyone can make a charitable donation to this worthy cause.
See? I'm not just about trying to steal handicapped parking spaces and pretending I'm a student to pay cheaper movie ticket prices. At nevdogg.blogspot.com...
We care.
:-)
How stupid Americans really are. :-)
The following examples should help provide some further evidence as to why the rest of the world hates our guts:
1) Here's a question I heard someone ask earlier this week:
Do the British celebrate the 4th of July?
Um, let's see: Back in 1776 we declared our independence from Britain because they were being punks about taxes, the Brits send an army across the water to kill us, we kill them instead with the help of the French, the Brits are forever lambasted for that whole "redcoat" thing, and as a result we're far stronger than they'll ever be.
So no: I don't think the British celebrate July 4.
No wonder the British think we're stupid.
2) I was watching the Dodger game the other night and saw that they had someone sing "America The Beautiful" in the middle of the seventh inning. Major League Baseball has been doing this nonsense all year!! I mean, seriously, what the hell? You got the Star Spangled Banner -- a song in which no one sings the same way (which is freakin' annoying) -- before the game and you've got the seventh inning stretch's "Take Me Out To The Ballgame". How much more American do I need to be? Why do we have to add a random third element to the mix?
And for that matter, why the hell does America have two songs? All other countries have one. And they sing that song the same damn way every time. But we have two, and we tend to interchange which one we sing. This is our nation's anthem, not Transformers!! Pick one and stick to it!! And stop singing one of them in the middle of the seventh inning!!
No wonder the British think we're stupid.
3) OK, look: It's "French" fries, not "Freedom" fries. It's "French" toast, not "Freedom" toast. It's "French" bread, not "Freedom" bread.
Every July 4 holiday for the past couple years, I've noticed people giving their food the "Freedom" moniker in increasing instances. Here's a tip: It's stupid!! Switching "French" with "Freedom" does not make you more American. It just makes you sound retarded to the rest of the world. Someone used the phrase "Freedom" wine the other day and I thought it meant that it was made out of organic grapes.
Besides: The French have a bad rap. They helped us win our independence. They deserve to have the French food stay French in the eyes of Americans.
So thank you, French.
Love your cheese.
No wonder the British think we're stupid.
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
I actually don't have a traditional SOTA this week. Instead, I wanted to use this week's space to do a good deed and tell y'all a bit about HOPE Worldwide. HOPE Worldwide is an international charity that aims to change lives by harnessing the compassion and commitment of dedicated staff and volunteers to deliver sustainable, high-impact, community-based services to the poor and needy. Some of my friends have been involved in the organization's youth program over the years and told me of the richly rewarding experiences they've had as a result.
Causes that HOPE Worldwide have been involved in include:
---AIDS/HIV treatment and prevention education in Africa
---Malalai Emergency Maternity ward in Afghanistan
---Disaster response in Asia, Africa and North America
---Care for the elderly in Eastern Europe
---Diabetes medication and education in Australia and around the world
---Shelter and employment for the homeless in the UK
---Hope for the sick at the Sihanouk Hospital Center of HOPE in Cambodia
I have a lot of teenagers and parents of teens who read my blog, so I encourage you to check out HOPE Worldwide. And anyone can make a charitable donation to this worthy cause.
See? I'm not just about trying to steal handicapped parking spaces and pretending I'm a student to pay cheaper movie ticket prices. At nevdogg.blogspot.com...
We care.
:-)
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