By: the looney lam-baster

Scene:

Hot girl’s house. Open bar. Neighborhood located at Hiller and Greer.

Story:

It was just another night of heavy drinking. Drinking to the point where I even tried to sneak a fifth of vodka and four Mike’s Hard Lemonade for my walk, and arrival home. I say tried, because I was obviously unsuccessful, which is a good thing because this hot girl was a pretty good friend of mine, and I didn’t need to be hording her mother’s booze.

I left the premises with one Matt Richy. Although our levels of intoxication contrasted, it was in the best interest for us both not to drive home. After all, we were just a few miles down the road, and everyone enjoys a leisurely drunk stroll to wind down a nice evening.

Richy was particularly excited about the stroll, primarily because he had his roller blades in the trunk of his car. They were a recent purchase of his of which he was extraordinarily proud of. Often I would hear about a new stretch of fabulous black top pavement that he had discovered and couldn’t wait to blade on.

With beers in hand, feet in shoes, and blades on foot, we began our late night stroll back to Willow Farms. While approaching the light a squad car drove by, Matt dumped his beer, I wasn’t as sharp, flashers and sirens blew, we were being pulled over.

“Lamb, you’re wasted, let me do the talking.”

I complied.

The officer approached, and asked us for our identification. 22 at the time, we gladly complied.

“What’s the story guys?”

Rather than letting Richy do the talking, I immediately plead our case (far less eloquently I imagine.)

“We’re leaving a friends from that neighborhood. We live just down the street. We could have been driving but we’re responsible.”

The officer made me ditch my beer, returned our IDs, and told us to get home without any trouble. Only once in my lifetime had I been pulled over on foot before. It was my freshman year in college, at High Point University, and I was stumbling home after being removed from a frat party. They kicked me out because I was a baseball player, fortunately and unrelated I had already stolen a handle of vodka which the cop made me dump out.

Immediately following his departure Richy tore into me for acting like an idiot.

“I told you to let me do the talking! Why couldn’t you have just shut up!? You’re lucky he let us go!”

“He let us go, didn’t he? I handled it fine, Richy. You’re not the authority on talking to police just because you think you’re better than everyone!”

There we were, roughly 2:30 in the morning, pretty sauced, arguing with one another because, well, that is what me and Richy do. Not three steps were taken, or in Richy’s case bladed, before a second squad car flashed it’s lights and pulled us over.

“It’s almost three in the morning! I could hear you yelling from down the street, what is going on here!?”

I let Richy handle this one. We gave him our IDs, again, he checked us out and let us go with a warning.

“When I get back to this corner, if you’re still here, I’m bringing you in.”

That was all we needed to hear. We diligently advanced down Greer in mutual disbelief that we had been pulled over twice in the span of 10 minutes, no more than 10 yards from the neighborhood we departed from.

Richy recommended we cut through Hidden Lake, a neighborhood in the area avoiding the main road and any further run-ins with the law. I was confident that the odds of us being pulled over a third time were as likely as him getting a DUI on roller blades, so we briefly voiced our conflicting opinions, and parted ways.

No further trouble faced our individual return trips. To this day I ponder the wonder that could have been if only the officer had issued Richy a DUI on roller blades. I have heard of several instances involving bicyclists being charged for driving under the influence, so I decided to look into the matter further.

To no surprise my first discovery occurred in the town of Columbus, Ohio. Jeff Brown was walking his bicycle — across his front lawn — when a cop stopped him. The cop began to cite him for not having a headlight on the bike, then said,

“I smell the presence of alcohol on your breath”.

Jeff was stunned — and refused to take a breath test. Result: convicted of drunk driving — with four days in jail, a 6-month driver’s license suspension and a criminal record. So Jeff decided to appeal…and started looking into why the Ohio Legislature in 2004 had changed the drunk driving laws from driving motor vehicles to include operating such “vehicles” as golf carts, lawn mowers, farm tractors and bicycles – and from driving on public roads to include driving on your own private property. He found the reasons for the new laws were based on supposed fatality figures from MADD and the federal government….figures which were, to say the least, deceptive.

San Francisco police arrested one Tyrone McDonald and charged him with “driving” a horse under the influence of alcohol. McDonald had become intoxicated and stolen a horse from a local racetrack, thereafter riding into oncoming traffic where he was met by a truck. McDonald was charged with grand theft, cruelty to animals and drunk driving. You can’t make this shit up.

Shocking as it may be, in another horse-riding-while-under-the-influence case, the Judge threw out the case in realizing that the term “vehicle” in the drunk driving statute did not really mean “horse.” The prosecution appealed however, and one justice on the Court, however, insisted that a horse was, in fact, a vehicle and wrote a dissenting opinion in which he (no joke) wrote the following poem:

“A horse is a horse, of course, of course, but the Vehicle Code does not divorce its application from, perforce, a steed as my colleagues said. ‘It’s not vague’, I’ll say until I’m hoarse, and whether a car, a truck or horse, this law applies with equal force, and I’d reverse instead.”

All of a sudden it’s not so far fetched that one of two officers could have given Richy a DUI on blades. I have a told him on a few occasions,

“Imagine the possibilities, I could have made you a star, Leno, Letterman, I would have had you on every late night show, coast to coast.”

Yet another shot at semi-stardom lost, however brief its duration, I’ll take my 15 minutes.

The lesson learned: be weary of all means of transit when intoxicated, from blades to horse, front lawn to sidewalk, consider yourself warned.

2010 Detroit International Comedy Festival submission

Guy Copland | MySpace Video

Studio 13 G1NBC

By: Gunnar Ludwig

To my brethren who struggle to get through the six days a week that wearing a jersey is deemed socially unacceptable, this is your holiday…

To everyone who believes that the holiest place to be on a Sunday is a sports bar with NFL Sunday Ticket and multiple flat screens TVs, this is your holiday…

To my coworkers who preemptively called in sick the following Monday anticipating a hangover and a lack of sleep, this is your holiday…

To the die-hard sports lovers who cringe when you hear someone say, “I’m really just watching it for the commercials,” this is your holiday…

To the gambling men who spent your last five dollars on the hope that the randomly assigned numbers in your square will match the final score, this is your holiday…

To the early birds who consider sitting in a giant cold parking lot and drinking beer with men you hardly know an ideal way to start a Sunday morning, this is your holiday…

To the impatient fans who think two weeks is way too long to wait for the greatest game of the year, this is your holiday…

To the savvy shoppers who plan on trying to return your new HDTV at full price after only one use, this is your holiday…

To the overconfident couch potatoes who could do a better job coaching your team than the “bum” who currently gets paid millions to, this is your holiday…

To the loyal viewers who think four and a half ours of pregame just isn’t quite enough coverage, this is your holiday…

To the hungry men who have changed your diets for your ladies, but promise today there will be no fruits or vegetables! This is your holiday!

Raise your glasses sports fans. Today young men will become great men and great men will become legendary. This is Super Bowl Sunday, and this is our holiday!

Sports Addict’s Prediction: Colts 31 Saints 24.

By: Jantz Spalding

So, after I signed my contract (by contract, I mean thank you e-mail) with http://www.g1nbc.com/college , today – I realized that life was going to be completely different for me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been used to fist-pounding every guy in the bar that I knew from high school, letting girls that thought my beard was sexy sit down next to me, and also the ever-so-common signing autographs – well, it usually is debit-card receipts at Buffalo Wild Wings but to each his own really. Now, it’s a whole new world out there.

I’ve received quite a welcoming response from most since the birth of this lovely site, and it’s been a very humbling experience – but I am obviously ready for the fame, the riches and the celebrity status-quo that comes from being a blogger. Now don’t worry, it’s not like I am quitting school because of my new-found love for blogging and the large lump sums of cash and groups of women that have suddenly come my way. I’m quitting school because I hate going to class hung-over.

Waiting for the call from my parents after that last paragraph. Ok.

I’m ready for it. I’m ready for the autograph signings, I’m ready for the pictures to be taken with random people because, “they loved my article on how to fist”. Hell, I was at the gas-station yesterday and the attendant randomly bought me a 40 oz. King Cobra because she thought my blog was “quirky”. I declined for two reasons.

(1.) I’m a professional blogger now; I don’t drink that garbage unless it’s a Holliday.
(2.) She said the word quirky. I don’t like the word quirky.

It was then I received the text message from the local club around Macomb that said, “Free-Cover” before 11:30 – I knew that I was in. I knew that people knew me. I mean come on, who gets text from the bar saying they’ll pay your cover. I’m just mad the douche-artist didn’t know who I was when I asked him if he wanted a picture. Read my blog yuppie.

It was then, as I sat there with my entourage, drinking from a glass (don’t ever try to give me a plastic cup again, hoe) – I knew that I had to prepare for the big city life. So what better way to prepare then to share my new found secrets with everyone that has helped shape me as the world-class wordsmith and story-teller that I am today? I don’t care about those “shows’ you see on your televisions, they are wrong. I’m going to show you how to prepare to be a celebrity.

THREE EASY TO REMEMBER WAYS TO PREPARE FOR STARDOM

Now I know what you’re thinking. Jantz, when I start blogging and become known by the world like you, am I going to start having sex with cocaine addicts and mom’s like they do in Niptuck? No. Sex like that doesn’t exist in the real-world. It’s not possible, the movements are to fluent and imposible to pull off – or out. Just because your a celebrity doesn’t mean you leave your friends for richer friends or begin to have sex with blondes that don’t know how to properly use were, we’re or where in a sentence. If your looking for better sex tips, don’t ask me – and quit reading.

#3 -Smile

What’s better? Robert Downey Jr. or Robert Downey Jr. when he was a crackhead. Trick question. Both. People love celebrities because they look better than them even when they have a needle stuck in their arm, Show your confidence. Know that you are better than that person and laugh with them, not at them – well, you can in some scenarios. Constant smiling and laughing in good times and times of agony will bump your celebrity status instantly. If people know, people will remember. Let’s just check out example 1 below:

It’s a mugshot, yes – but he still looks like he should play in Iron-Man. That’s the difference between people like Robert Downey Jr. and people like Gary Busey. He knows he rocks. Now obviously I’m not suggesting that you go out and “trip balls” on some mushroom your buddy Gary got from his friend down at SIU – if you’re going to, and you’re a celebrity….smile.  It paid off for druglord over there.

#2 – Go Places You Usually Don’t Go To While Wearing A Full Suit (Or Dress)

I don’t know this guy, but I remember this guy. The guy is on a bike, and he is dressed up. Why? Because he doesn’t care about the normal people around him. I’m suprised the guy can stay on his bike, the person taking the picture was able to get a rare shot of the guy not surrounded by flocks of huge-breasted men and women. This guy makes that bike look cool – why? Because he’s a celebrity, and he knows it.

There are so many places you can go where normal people look like fools when you walk into the door dressed in your finest suit from Sears or Kohls. KMart, WalMart, the dog shelter, a random hot dog stand, Applebees, a Will Ferrel movie, Ottawa’s Riverfest, the state of Rhode Island – all of those are very acceptable choices. The point is, to continue your celebrity-status, always dress up. Always.

#1 – Make Up Hillarious Catch Phrases or Insulting Names With Funny Adjectives – In Front Of Large Groups Of People.

This is when people finally realize that you have officially, “made it”. You are wearing your suit that you just bought on your Kohl’s Credit Card (save that 20% when you can, morons) – you are drinking some draft beer out of a rocks glass, and you are smiling at all of the annoying white haired broads trying to sleep with you (even though you have a girlfriend and want nothing to do with them because they smell like bad sex). That’s when it hits you. You want to punt that gingered-hair crotchless clown on the dance floor. So what do you do? Like any true celebrity you turn to the one person in your group that you like the most, and you look at only him – yet saying as loudly as you possibly can so everybody can here, “You see that slumdog jackass over there? His birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory.”

Everybody laughs. People buy you drinks, random people are jumping around screaming – “Dude you are insane”. And all you can do is smile. That guy did nothing, but you thought of a hillarious catch phrase and insult in your head, so you had to tell somebody. Then your not so well-dressed friend that came with you says, “Bet you he likes Harry Potter. What a Dumble-Dork”. Yeah. He’s not a celebrity. It’s not funny.

I guess we all can’t be professional bloggers.

(yes we can)

2 A.M. Thinking

By: Gunnar Ludwig

It’s been over a month since my last update. I’ve been stuck in my apartment, struggling to get my fix, but the NFL playoffs just haven’t had the good stuff this year. I’ve been trying to write an article about how boring they are, but for some reason I just couldn’t make that interesting… There’s been two good games and a lot of lousy blowouts. But two good games don’t cut it for an event that has spoiled us with so much great excitement in recent years, and a second string Pro-Bowl the week before the Super Bowl didn’t make up for it. Entertain me!

Luckily I always have a secret stash of amusement to pick me up when my addiction gets bad. This time it consisted of two guys who are the best ever at what they do, another who hopes to one day have the same title, a rocket powered 3D acid-trip to a planet called “Pandora” and a reality show that’s so well-done that it makes auto racing seem entertaining.

Ha ha ha ha ha, Wipeout!

Leading up to this year’s Winter X Games, Shaun White asked his fans and the media honor a change in nickname from “The Flying Tomato” to “The Animal” after several people told him he looked like the drummer from The Muppets. The initial reaction was to reject the request, since lobbying your own nickname is frowned upon in the sports world for anyone other than Shaq (aka The Diesel, Big Aristotle, Shaqtus, Shaqovic, Osama Bin Shaq, etc.). But when White bashed his face on the edge of the half pipe during the warm up for the men’s finals, only to wipe off the blood and lay down one of the best runs in the history of snowboarding just moments later, it started to sound like a suitable nickname. Ok, it wasn’t quite Curt Schilling with a bloody sock, but it was tough.

White became the first ever to win three straight gold medals in Winter X’s marquee event. Aside from maybe Tony Hawk and Dave Mirra, he is the already the most accomplished athlete in X Games history at the ripe age of 23. If I were a betting man, I’d put all my money on The Animal wiping out the competition in Vancouver for his second straight Olympic Gold Medal.

Still the Best

During the Australian Open there was a lot of talk about whether Andy Murray was British, Scottish, Australian or Vietnamese and who could claim him as their own. But Roger Federer was much more concerned with thoroughly kicking his ass all over the tennis court and upsetting whomever the hell was cheering for him. The experts keep saying he’s fading, but maybe that just means he’ll only be winning two grand slams a year.

It’s unfortunate the last few slams haven’t offered us a Federer vs. Nadal matchup, but the reason is no matter how well Nadal plays against the big man, he still lacks the consistency to get to the finals every grand slam. Federer is the best to ever play the game and, along with Nadal, has brought excitement back to tennis. If there’s one international superstar athlete that has maintained his image on and off the court and actually seems like a good role model, it’s Tiger Woods… I mean Roger Federer, it’s Roger Federer! Stop waiting for his day to end and start appreciating what he’s done for the sport.

King Me

There’s been a lot of NBA bashing over the last few years, but I have always been a strong supporter (sometimes even stubbornly). But any sports fan has to admit that January gave us more exciting NBA regular season action than NFL playoff action (even including the Semi-Pro Bowl). I’ve never been a Lebron James fan per say. In fact, until now, I’ve always refused to refer to him by his royal nickname. But seeing him lead the Cavaliers to a nine game winning streak that started with him out-dueling Kobe, Wade and Durant makes it harder and harder not to consider Lebron the best player in the NBA.

The King and his men are sitting pretty with the best record in the association and he is the clear MVP frontrunner. I’d still rather have Kobe (and maybe a couple other guys) in the last few minutes of a big game and I think the Lakers will repeat as champs. But after Lebron and Kobe, you could argue that the Lakers have at least four players that are better than anyone on the Cavs (with all due respect to Osama Bin Shaq). And Lebron James is 25 years old! Michael Jordan was 27 when he led the Bulls to their first of six NBA titles. I’m not crazy about how he carries himself on the court or some of the things he says to the media, but maybe I should get use to it, because if he’s not the best in the world now, the King will have his reign soon enough and it should be a long one.

Avatar – I now see the world in 3D…

After hearing endless reports of audiences being mesmerized by James Cameron’s future fantasy land and the major advancement in 3D technology that was Avatar, as well as being bored to death by the NFL playoffs, I had to go see what all the fuss was about. After about five minutes of adjusting my eyes to the 3D glasses, I was lost in Pandora. With a fairly trite, cliché story line and very little character development, it isn’t necessarily “my kind of movie”, but it’s a rare case of the positives leveling out the negatives. Avatar is so awesomely mind-blowing it is impossible not to call it a great film. But as captivated as I was for two and a half hours while watching it, and as satisfied as I felt as I walked out of the theater, it still left me with mixed feelings. In ten years, when we have seen many great 3D films with impressive sci-fi and effects, will Avatar still seem so great?

Avatar sparked the discussion of soon-to-be launched 3D TV channels, starting with ESPN 3D. While this is very exciting, we will soon be spoiled with the technology and anxious for the day we can view the game as a hologram while sitting in a lazy boy right in the middle of the field. Or maybe we’ll have chips planted in our brains that allow us to view the game as if we were courtside while catching the bus home from work or taking your lady out to dinner. While new technology is great for sports and films, it is not all that makes them great and it will always be abused. Super Bowl XXXII, despite being broadcast in only standard definition television, is still the best NFL game ever played, and The Hurt Locker, despite being screened in only two dimensions, should still win the Oscar for Best Picture.

Best Show on Wheels

As I offer my analysis on the Australian Open and the Winter X Games, I’m sure you get the idea that I like to following all sorts of sporting events. Still, I would rather wear cheese grater underwear while listening to Kenny G Christmas albums than watch more than ten minutes of any auto race. But my distaste for racing was trumped by my love for great documentary TV (I reserve the term “reality show” for game shows like Survivor despite not being based on any actual existing reality) as well as great character drama when I first came across History Channel’s new series, Madhouse.

Set at legendary Bowman Gray Stadium, Madhouse follows four teams of modified racecar drivers through their crash-filled soap opera of a season with excellent gritty videography and fast paced editing. All of our favorite characters are in it: The evil, bitter old king who wont step down; the prime hot shot who wants to steal the thrown; the prime hot shot who wants to take steal the thrown’s brother; the schizophrenic Jesus freak who got here all on his own; and the asshole who wins a lot but has no personality. Spoiler alert: They all hate each other!

I respect passionate sports fans, so there’s nothing I like to see more than a couple three hundred pound Carolina girls swearing at each other about which local semi-pro race car driver is king of the track. These lovable rednecks really are superstars in Winston-Salem, and if you watch the show, you might just start to understand why.