Posts published during November, 2005

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November 9, 2005

Pizzahutenoff

Let’s pretend it’s Monday, so I can play mrtl’s game. Her theme this week is “won”, so today I’d like to talk about how I’m a weiner winner in life.

An extreme overachiever, you might expect to hear about my various scholastic achievements – how I kicked ass in elementary school elocution contests, how I’ve taken state in nerdy Japanese competitions, how I was sent to DC, all expenses paid, thanks to the merits of my writing, etc.

Yes, I could bore you with stories of scholarship and that bit part I got in our second grade production of “The Sound of Music.” (*hack* My Favorite Things Song Group Leader #4), but I would prefer to talk about a win that really means something. I would prefer to talk about the Pizzahutenoff.

Winning the Pizzahutenoff is no small feat. It requires stamina, endurance, and an extreme act of gluttony. It’s about sacrificing your body in the name of competition. It’s about beating the buffet whilst busting your gut.

The Pizzahutenoff was devised on a crisp winter’s day by college kids who had too much time on their hands. The premise was simple: Send a group of cafeteria-worn 20-somethings in to a Pizza Hut all-you-can-eat buffet and see who can eat the most, and still leave standing.

While the odds were stacked against me (I was competing against three male friends), I’m proud to say on our maiden Pizzahutenoff, yours truly consumed 11 slices of piping hot pizza in order to take home the crown.

It wasn’t an easy feat.

At four slices I laughed at my competitors, chomping down a few breadsticks (which didn’t count toward the total), just to show my big cojones.

At eight slices I started feeling lethargic and had to unbutton my pants.

At ten slices, having gone beyond all reasonable levels of bloating, I made myself think about all the starving kids in Ethiopia, and as I put that slice of pepperoni in my pie hole I said, “This one’s for you Abebe.”

By eleven slices I knew I was done. My pants, no longer simply in danger of being snug, were, it seemed, getting close to splitting. Having had a bad experience with busting out of my Levis before, I knew I had to Just. Say. No… to that twelfth slice of deep dish meat lovers, that is.

I’m really proud of my accomplishment. I have to admit though, in retrospect, winning the Pizzahutenoff was kind of like bringing home a blue ribbon from the Special Olympics. I may have won, but at the end of the day, it was still retarded.

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November 8, 2005

A Christmas Story Kid Grows Up, Does Porn

Someone told me that Ralphie’s friend, Flick (aka Scotty Schwartz), from the classic 1983 film and TBS Superstation 24-7 holiday staple, A Christmas Story, was now making movies for the adult entertainment industry. a christmas story

This is sad, but predictable, as there aren’t many venues for washed up child stars these days. Porn is one option, and – for those who are really desperate – VH1 is always looking for has-beens to fill celebreality TV slots…God love you Danny Bonaduce.

So yeah, this got me thinking. What does a former child star, made famous for his role in a movie that so prominently involved a Red Rider bb gun, call his first adult film? I don’t have an answer, but my money’s on “You’ll shoot your eye out with that thing.”

But seriously, let’s talk about who’s to blame for this tragedy. Dear hannihaus readers, should we blame society? How about Hollywood? South Park fans, should we blame Canada?

I don’t know what the answer is, but I happen to think that Flick’s foray into the dark world of ribald filmmaking probably had something to do with that FRA-GEE-LAY (it must be Italian) leg lamp.

But I digress.

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November 6, 2005

On The Drive Home

“No farting in the Jeep” Angel says as he wrinkles his nose in disgust and rolls down the windows.

“I’m sorry but we’ve just eaten at Diarrhea Golden Corral and I can’t help it,” I say, (knowing full well I can, but find my anal acoustics more amusing.)

He says, (with deeply furrowed brow), “Seriously, don’t do it. No farting on the leather seats.”

I say, (slightly taken aback, and intrigued by the idea of despoiling factory leather via ass blast), “Erm, k…”

He says, (self righteously), “I don’t ever fart in the Jeep.”

I say, (incredulously), “Yeah right!”

He says, (with all the conviction of an ardent televangelist) “No really. I only crack one off in emergency situations and you should do likewise.”

At that moment I:

A) Wished I had one more colonic calliope to bequeath my darling husband – one more telegraph from Ft. A-hole to Cmdr. Nostril, if you will.

B) Realized I am married to someone who is, in his own special way, just as insane as I am.

And now, dear hannihaus readers, in the spirit of fun and flatulence, answer me this: A sphincter says what?

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November 4, 2005

The Truth

If you met me today, you’d probably think “Wow, she’s fun and remarkably well adjusted”, but the truth is I spent many of my teen years in a panic. I was worried because I was *gasp* a virgin (hi maaa), at a time when lots of my peers weren’t.

Now, every time I hear a teen girl lamenting her chastity, I say “Cheer up, being a virgin is cool. Besides, I’m sure it’s not you. It’s probably just that your boyfriend of two years, the guy you’d consider spending eternity with, well, he likely prefers steak to tuna, because he is gay – really.”

At least that was my experience.
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Dear hannihaus readers, have you dated a boy who likes boys? Share your truth at Hänni’s Friday confessional. C-O-M-M-E-N-T and come clean.

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November 2, 2005

Tickling my Giggle Bone

Some have their smoke breaks, while others rely on Wheel of Death,(also known as the vending machine), to provide some sweet solace from the stresses of work. I personally like to put on concerts for my cubicle mates, wherein I crank up my iPod real loud and then sing along with Bright Eyes, Fall Out Boy, MCR, or Death Cab For Cutie.

I don’t mind so much the disgruntled looks and murmurings. Many times I have heard my coworkers cry out to the god of office etiquette, “How have I displeased you? What have I done to deserve this warbley-voiced hell?!”

But you know what? I don’t sweat it. I’m a rock star, even if the dudes who share a partition with me don’t know it.

But yes, anyways, the winner of the makes-the-workplace-fun award would have to go to Ed. Every day around four o’clock the clickety clack of fingers on keyboards is interrupted by, first, the small snickering, and then the eventual full-on, irrepressible howling of Ed. He’s laughs like a lunatic, because every day at four he watches this video:

Triumph The Insult Comic Dog Meets Star Wars Nerds.

Enjoy! (PS. I hope you’re sitting in a plastic chair b/c you’ll probably wet yourself.)

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November 1, 2005

Of Rock Stars and Root Canals

Well it’s official, Rockstar Brother has quit the band. After four years of living and breathing North Coast Punk Rawk, NothingLess and Rockstar Brother have agreed to end it amicably.

Rockstar Brother writes:

Dear NothingLess,

It wasn’t you. It was me. I think we need some time apart… I need to clear my psyche (and nostrils) of the collective, four-year post-show pit funk – that rite of hard rocking – that invades my brain, even now. I want to know what it’s like to ride in a van that doesn’t have four dudes, their guitars, and stank ass clothes living in it. I want to know, darling NothingLess, what life is like when your greatest concern isn’t what you’ll get pierced next, or what tattoo you’d like on your left butt cheek.

I hope we can still be friends.

Love you forever,
R.B.

Yes, Rockstar Brother has moved on to greener, cleaner pastures. He has two business degrees, but he’s back in school because he wants to be a dentist. And you might think it’s weird that someone who is so right-brained would want to take on such a left-brain endeavor, but it happens. True story: Art Garfunkle is a rock star/dentist too.

I’m happy for my bro-bro, but also a little sad. I was going through my stats and was reminded that this, the image of my bro and band mates, is the most googled pic at the haus:

wedgie

Let’s face it folks – like striking it rich by winning the lottery – magic (and monster wedgies) like this don’t happen every day.
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Record Store Video
Darling mrtl made a good point. Many of you have never even seen NothingLess. My bad. Feast your eyes on this:

NL Record Store Music Video Hi Fi | Lo Fi

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