As Americans, we naturally enjoy competition, but there are often limitations that prevent some people from participating in certain sports. Basketball isn't for midgets. Football requires some muscle, that of which is missing from us scrawny white boys. Fat people can't.... well, they are kind of excluded from just about every athletic sport. Oops. We often forget about a sport that literally everyone can participate in. Everyone from your local high school douche jock to the weird guy in the accounting department to even you! That's right, get out of your moms basement, it's time to play putt putt!
Putt putt is a game where players putt through 18 tough holes, often with obstacles like small water hazards, windmills, and the occasional asshole clown. You don't need to be able to lift 400 pounds or run a 1.7 40-yard dash. You just crank your putter back and hope for the best.
What makes this game so different is the amount of tediousness required to succeed. While it's no real golf, trying to hit a small ball into a small hole a ways away with a bunch of stupid shit in the way is no walk in the park. While any putt putt veteran can usually master a course in no time, it's the small details that make it interesting for all crowds.
Even if you're playing the game of your life and are on track to star in the next professional putt putt open, one stroke over a long game can be the difference between you becoming a champion and becoming a huge, gigantic failure. That's right - that awful shot you had on 13 where the clown ate your ball and spit it back out will be your demise.
There's no better feeling than winning in putt putt. The toll the game takes on your pathetic little body may be a lot, but in the end, justice prevails. You walked to every hole; no cart. You didn't bring a caddy. You're still chugging beers between holes, like a champion. Driving back to your moms basement with the lowest score on your Magic Mountain score card is just as rewarding as getting a handy from Tina in 5th grade.
With the rush of putt putt, I don't see why America has thrown it in the back seat of their sport repertoire. It's behind soccer, cricket, and even curling in popularity (probably). Back in the day, professional putt putt was actually televised on television. Today we're just stuck with the NBA Finals and the Little League World Series. We've let those little shits run ESPN2 for too long! I encourage everyone to revive America's lost pastime in the beautiful game of putt putt. Who knows? You may be the next champion, and when mom finds out, she'll cook you a congratulatory batch of pizza rolls made for a king.
There are some debates that have raged on for centuries. Is there a God? Democrat or Republican? Do these pants make my ass look big? Today, we indulge in another great debate that has plagued our globe since the days of modernized indoor plumbing: is it better to sit on a cold or warm toilet seat?
Cold Toilet Seat
You walk into your office and drop your trousers. Your hiney touches the porcelain throne and you immediately realize that you may as well be sitting on a giant block of ice. The cold toilet seat is more easily noticeable, as the nerves in your tushie scream "DAMN THATS COLD." Let's analyze the ups and downs of a cold toilet seat.
The Good
-You know someone hasn't been on the toilet recently
-On a hot day, this may actually feel good
-There's something about a cold toilet seat that convinces us that it's a little cleaner
The Bad
-It's really cold
-It stays cold for a while, leaving our perky little cheeks to suffer for a few minutes
Warm Toilet Seat
The warm toilet seat can leave us with mixed emotions. It can either make us feel warm and tingly or more grossed out than a Jerry Sandusky shower. The instant our poop chute makes contact with the poop chair, a variety of thoughts are provoked. Who was here before me? Does this feel good? Should I go vomit? Let's evaluate the perks:
The Good
-It's like someone warmed it up for you, leaving you to feel special
-No need to suffer through ice blocks on your ass for minutes
The Bad
-Someone made the nasty just minutes before your arrival
-There's no knowing what anal symphony was unleashed prior to your time
-A warm toilet seat may be a sign of a lingering stench leftover from the previous culprit
When it comes down as to whether which one is better than the other, my vote goes to the cold toilet seat. The false sense of security and sanitation is comfort even if our donks must suffer through a blizzard for short period of time. To me, there's something about sitting on a toilet seat shortly after someone else as used it. It's like getting sloppy seconds on a hooker. A really smelly, poopy hooker. Covered in poop. Let me know what your stance on this debacle it in the comments or tweet at me.
I've been going to concert for 12 years now. I've seen everyone from Snoop Dogg (twice) to Linkin Park (when they were good) to The Wailers to As I Lay Dying to Skrillex to performances of Beethoven symphonies. Except for country, I've seen just about every genre of music live at one point or another, and how people act at these shows is just astounding. These people don't know what they're doing or how to act. I've never personally never thrown fat kids into the middle of a 14-acre salad buffet, but I imagine that they would act the same as naive concert goers - lost and confused. Today I tell you how to act and to not make yourself look like a dumbass in front of hundreds or thousands of people.
-Don't be THAT guy
There's always THAT guy at the concert. There's always someone who wants to be the center of attention, no matter what. They will be shouting loud stuff just to seek attention. They will pretend to know every fact about everything ever on every subject ever just to sound smart, even though they have the intelligence of the couch I'm sitting on. No one likes these guys. When the show starts, I go out of my way to make sure that this guy has a miserable concert experience, no matter the genre. You're in a group of hundreds of people you don't know and will probably never meet again - trying to be the hero is just plain stupid. You look like a tool, and everybody hates you. Don't be that guy.
-Wear something appropriate
If you're going to a metal show, don't wear the most flamboyant clothes you have. If you're going to a country festival, don't wear your "BLACK POWER!" t-shirt. Use common sense. Dressing in inappropriate attire can literally get your ass beat. I saw an EMS unit come into a rap show after this dumbass with a 2-foot mohawk held together by Elmer's glue took five fingers to the back of his head a few times. It really isn't that hard - don't dress like a dumbass and everything will be fine. Otherwise, everyone, including myself, will hate you. Now, I'm not saying you can't have fun. If you're going to an EDM act, it's usually encouraged to dress up in outrageous, colorful clothing. I'm seeing Lynyrd Skynyrd in a few weeks and you bet your beautiful ass I'm going to be sporting my American flag bandana, sipping Budweiser AmeriCans, and wearing every other USA apparel I have. Just be able to fit in - standing out in a concert atmosphere may not be a good thing.
-Quit with the crowdsurfing
I recently saw Mac Miller and Skrillex together at a show at THE Ohio State University. Before the first set even went on, people were crowdsurfing like the rookies they were. Really? Why? Every crowdsurfer that came over me got a swift punch to their ass. Save the crowdsurfing for specific EDM shows (Steve Aoki?) and rock shows. I once helped crowdsurf over 100 people in a single Five Finger Death Punch show two years ago, but I wasn't pissed because you're supposed to crowdsurf and beat the shit out of each other at a hard rock show. Not at Mac freakin' Miller, though. You're just pissing everyone off and it basically broadcasts to the entire crowd, "HEY LOOK AT ME! I'M AN ATTENTION WHORE! PLEASE PUNCH ME IN THE KIDNEYS" Don't be surprised if someone drops you if you try to crowdsurf at the premiere of the next opera - save it for the rock shows.
-Know when to cheer/applaud
This is more applicable to classical concerts. Know when to applaud - it's the biggest pet peeve of any classical concertgoer. Don't applaud in between movements of entire pieces, or you'll look (and sound) like the biggest buttmunch in the area. Wait to applaud after the entire piece/symphony/quartet is over. Thank me later, noob.
-Know your limits
I'm all for having people "enhance" their concert experience with their substance of choice. Frankly, I don't care what your substance of choice is. Know how much you can handle/how much you're supposed to take though. I've seen shows drunk plenty of times, and it's always a great time. I never have too much to ruin it for me or others though. I worked DayGlow last month and I saw at least five kids have to be sent to the hospital because they passed out while on ecstacy. I can't even count the amount of times I've seen security literally drag out drunks who have thrown up in the pit or passed out in the middle of the venue. I have zero sympathy for them - if you're gonna take your drugs/drink, know the risks and plan ahead. On a related note.....
-Get used to marijuana
I've smelled pot at almost every type of show. Rap/hip-hop, rock, EDM.... you name it. I bet some of the old folks who saw a concert of Chopin's piano pieces were probably baked too. Weed has always been a staple at live concerts since the Woodstock era, and probably was a part of the live show experience before then. If you are going to bitch and complain about "that awful stoner who's just smoking pot like, all the time, because, like, it smells like a skunk died in my butthole," then leave. You don't have to smoke or take a hit when the hippie next to you offers the joint, but don't be a dick about it. Get over yourself. No one's bitching about you drinking your beer or lame cocktail.
-Enjoy yourself, but don't be a douche
This should go without saying. If you're going into the moshpit at the Anthrax show, make sure you're not throwing any 'bows at the girls not in the pit. Don't be screaming in the ears of the innocent victims in front of you for the entirety of the concert. DO have a great time, but keep it within limits and make sure you're not negatively affecting everyone else around you. You're all here to listen to good music and have a good time! There's no reason why you should ruin it for everyone else.
I don't care it you're white, black, orange, purple, tall, skinny, fat, short, or any other attribute - EVERYONE loses their socks at some point. You go out and buy a pack of eight pairs of socks, and within a week you have a total of five foot snuggies. Where do these socks go!? This question rivals other great mysteries, like whether aliens exist, or if Daniel Tosh is gay or not. While we may never know for my certain, I apply my knowledge and expertise to attempt to answer the unknown.
The Dryer Monster
Not to be confused with the Loch Ness Monster or Oprah, the Dryer Monster is a savage and heartless beast. The Dryer Monster is relentless in its consumption of socks. One may wash four socks and take out two. No one knows where they went during that 47-minute spin cycle. The Dryer Monster has claimed many victims and left innocent bystanders wearing tacky, unmatching pairs of socks over their stanky feet. This invincible creation is unknown in its origins, but one thing for certain is that we may never be able to defeat him or even see him in wild sock feast. Avoid this neanderthal like a rabid homeless man.
The Creepy Man Looking Into Your Window
Have you ever looked out your window at night to see a bearded man licking his lips and fingering his belly button while grunting, "get in there nice and deep like" under his breath? That same man may be responsible for the theft of your beloved toe blankets. This man will go through hell and high water to get a whiff of your undies, so what makes you think he won't grab a sock or fourteen? Keep an eye for this rapist weirdo. At first he may just be hiding in closet, but soon he may be taking large steps to get into your sock drawer to sniff your precious toe jam scent.
The Washer-To-Dryer Transfer
This may be the most logical explanation for this unspoken phenomenon. I can't tell you the amount of times I've dropped small articles of clothing when taking them from the washer to the dryer, and for some reason no one knows what happens when a sock is dropped. You might as well have dropped it in the Grand Canyon or Glenn Beck's endless esophagus. Once an article of foot clothing is dropped during the daring transfer, you're never getting it back, so simply accept it, and be wary next time you transfer loads. No sock left behind.
In A Randos Room
It's 2:47am and the bars are closing, just as you are closing the deal with the hot chick whose name you've already forgotten. You take a taxi back to her place, because you've also forgotten your address, you sloppy mess. You arrive at her place and faster than you can say "dryer monster," you're more naked than the day you were born. Fast forward six hours now as you're scrambling to escape her bedroom without her noticing. You get the essentials; pants, underwear, shirt, shoes, sock... wait, where's the other sock!? Who knows, time to get the hell out of here! It is said that 1 in every 23 sock related casualties are from this awful fate. What happened to no sock behind? Get your shit together and keep your clothes accounted for next time you bump an ugly.
Under ________________
I've found socks under beds, desks, clothes, sofas, and even one that was attached to my dogs stomach by static electricity. Crevices underneath anything in your living quarters are sock magnets. How do they end up there? Only Sock God knows. This has dumbfounded college professors and trophy wives for years. The only way to discover them is by doing a routine sock check by inspecting underneath any possible hiding spot for your foot friends. Who cares if it's dusty, smells like a burning tire covered with pubic hair, and was laying next to your dead hamster Pookie? It's nothing a quick wash cycle can't fix... unless you lose it during the washer-to-dryer transfer.
I walk into a Chipotle in Columbus, Ohio, yearning for something new. As an avid burrito fan, I decided to throw caution into the wind and try a burrito bowl. All the cool kids are doing it, so why not jump the bandwagon?
2:35pm
It's finally my turn to order. The hippie with dreadlocks kindly asks, "What will you be havin', bro?" I respond, "Bro, I'll have a chicken burrito bowl with the tortilla in it, bro!" The bro toasts my heavenly tortilla as my mouth salivates like a 13-year-old boy watching porn for the first time. The tortilla is finished and the soft flat bread is placed in the paper mache bowl. The hippie tortilla prince asks if I will need a lid. I respectfully decline.
2:36pm
After accepting chicken and extra white rice into my bowl, I now add cheese, lettuce, and smidgen of hot chili salsa. Not a lot, just a smidgen. The cashier goddess asks for $6.36. I tell her to hold her goddamn horses because I want a fountain drink. I stare through the soul of the cashier as she rings me up correctly, cup in hand. I've won this battle.
2:37pm
After filling up my cup with lemonade, the sweet, sweet nectar of the lemon gods, I sit down at a table for two. I inspect my surroundings. I see a large man picking his nose.
2:38pm
I ready everything for my first bite. My palms are sweaty. My legs won't stop shaking. I man up and thrust my fork into the garden of food that is my burrito bowl. I take the sampling and insert it into my mouth and begin chewing. Delicious.
2:39pm
I decide that it is worth another bite. I do so, and before you know it I'm eating this bowl.
2:41pm
Halfway done. I don't feel full. The large man is still picking his nose. I'm very thirsty and refill my cup with the lemon gods nectar.
2:42pm
I sit back down and continue eating my burrito bowl.
2:44pm
I'm about 3/4ths done and I still don't feel that full. I pull a maneuver I've seen performed only by burrito bowl experts. I take my fluffy tortilla, encase its contents, and begin eating it that way. The large man has ceased picking his nose.
2:46pm
I devour this ball of yum like a lion mauling a zebra on Animal Planet. The bowl has finally been conquered, sans a few grains of rice that didn't make the voyage into my body.
2:47pm
I leave Chipotle, raise both hands, and scream like a hyena. I did it. I've beaten the burrito bowl.
4:14pm
The burrito bowl exits my body. I tweet while on the toilet.
THE REVIEW:
While the burrito bowl was delicious, it still does not compete with the behemoth burrito. I always struggle to finish the burrito, while the burrito bowl left me slightly empty. I felt like a gas tank filled up only 87% of the way. A burrito tops me off. I may attempt another burrito bowl in the future, but I will stick with my signature burrito for the time being.
