"Looks like it's New Year's Eve again time to get all liquored up and preach saying things'll get better this time. C'mon, freshen me up, don't forget the lime. Lets make believe things are really gonna get better. Yeah, everything is gonna be better this time. Looks like another wasted year you grab the wine I'll bring the beer. We'll talk about mending our ways and have another drink to brighter days. Lets make believe that things are really gonna get better. Yeah, everything is gonna be better this time."

--Party Hat by the Frampton Brothers.

It's very nearly New Years Eve. Got any plans?

I know someone who got an AK-47 for Christmas.
Beat that.

He stole it all from me, even the way he breathes. He didn’t even know how to breathe before I got a hold of him. She was nothing before she met me, didn’t even know how to breathe.

Like sex in a teapot. It sounded like he was trying to jack off a teakettle. It sounded like an orangutan trying to jack off a teakettle. No, this was after he pissed in the teakettle. Boiled piss, hissing on the stove. Boiled piss, screaming on the stovetop. Like piss left to boil on the stove. They’ll be here any minute. You set the table. I’ll piss in the teakettle.

All the good little children have numbers in their shoes. They could only express his shoe size in Roman numerals he was so cool. Ancient man invented the concept of zero to accurately express her beauty. Zero on the absolute scale of beauty.

I don’t want much, just enough to kill me. All my calculations reach the same conclusion, I really don’t have a penis. I used to have an asshole. Used to stare at it for hours. Even if you don’t change your undies everyday you should check to make sure you still have the same genitals from the day before.

Even God touches Himself in His sleep. The difference is that the devil touches himself while awake. Also, God doesn’t know how to barbeque. I kissed an angel behind the porno theater. It seared off my lips. It was worth it. Angles don’t fuck around with foreplay. Stuck it right in me. Pain is the hillbilly cousin of pleasure. You don’t even want to think about the germs that live on the devil’s toothbrush, between the cracks in the linoleum of the devil’s bathroom floor.

By your logic, every word ever written is the infallible word of God. If that’s what it takes to get you to buy this car, then, yes.

The coming new year has got me thinking about the state of my life. I'm not living up to my full potential. I'm not doing what I want to be doing. I'm living a miserable, unfulfilling life. I need to change. I need to start doing all the things that will give my life meaning.

That's why I'm going to be devoting all my time to writing erotic poetry.

Billy Zane is awesome.

What was Kate Winslet thinking?

I didn’t just watch a four hour marathon of Project Runway, did I? Of course I did. It’s my favorite reality teevee game show ever. I hadn’t seen the first episode of the new season or last week's one. That last one was pretty rough. You need more time than that to design lingerie.

The group projects are brutal. They always end up canning someone who doesn’t quite deserve it, but they also have a habit of showing everyone’s true colors. I don't care if he's one of the best designers, Santino should totally have been sent packing because his undies weren’t any good and he totally punked out in front of the judges, but Santino still has drama to give the show.

Daniel Franco, who got kicked off, had a pretty cool narrative arc—from first out last season whiner to nobly taking the bullet for his two teammates. That was pretty damn classy.

The best part of last night was, while coming home on the T from the hockey game (and, yes, I wore The Sweatshirt), my brother and I were talking about how the remaining member of Queen should've tapped Michael Jackson to be their new lead singer. I would totally stand in line for a ticket to that.

Some sports fan I am. I only went to five sporting events this year. Three Penguin games, one Pitt football game, and one Pirate game. I ended with a record of 4-0-1, three overtime/extra inning games, and two sightings of Jeff Jimerson.

What if that isn't Osama bin Laden's niece in GQ.

What if that's Osama bin Laden.

I watched Christmas Eve on sesame Street, half of Muppet Family Christmas, and the Steeler game while decorating the tree this morning. I'm still not done. It's a good thing my sister doesn't get into town until 11:30 am tomorrow so we're doing Christmas morning tomorrow night after trips to both of my grandmothers houses. Last minute Christmas moves beyond Thunderdome.

Christmas Eve on sesame Street is so great. It's got some wicked funny stuff including the awesome opening of Oscar the Grouch flying through the air, down a bunch of stairs and through multiple walls. What a fantastic beginning! And those kids, man. Santa Claus keys. It's all great. Rock solid holiday fun. I get all teary when Mr. Hooper gives everybody exactly what they want for Christmas. Beautiful.

Muppet Family Christmas is also amazingly, awesomely great. There so much stuff that is just great muppet action but then there's also some really great jokes that come from the interaction between the muppets, Sesame Street, and Fraggle Rock characters. "This is small talk where we come from". Ha.

Muppet Family Christmas also features the great insult: "You and what other nerd!" Memorize it . Use it.

The Steeler game was pretty great too.

Lets take a break from all this Xmas stuff.

Here's an interview with John Petkovic, lead singer of Cobra Verde, the greatest rock and roll band in the world.

Don't wait until the 23rd to get your tree. Here was my afternoon. Ungodly Traffic. First stop: no trees. Even More Ungodly Traffic. Second stop: no trees. The Most Ungodly Traffic of All. Voice in my head while I'm sitting in Most Ungodly Traffic of All: Give up!. Me: Okay. But I was stuck in the Most Ungodly Traffic of All so I had plenty of time to think about the children--their disappointment on Christmas morning. Their tears. So I kept driving. Third stop: four trees.

Four gloriously stinking trees.

Merry Christmas.

I think I'm all done with my Christmas shopping. I think I did pretty well. My only regret is that I didn't buy Snoop Dogg's Buckwild Bus Tour for the adult grab bag at my grandmother's house, but I think Carmen Electra's Aerobic Striptease will be pretty funny.

It's up to me to go get a tree tomorrow. It's our new, unfortunate holiday tradition: buy the tree on the 23rd, decorate it on the 24th, but then we leave it up for a month so we get our money's worth (half off of half off if it's the same as last year).

I THOUGHT WE WEREN'T DOING CHRISTMAS THIS YEAR!!!

Five Favorite Things:*
Teevee Show: Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law. **
Band: The Gin Blossoms. ***
Movie: Network.
Book: The Zoo Where You're Fed To God.
Word: Chum.****

*As of right this second.
**"Did you get that thing I sent ya?"
***Pieces of Night is about to become the first song to be played 100 times in my iTunes.
****As in: "Lets have some fun, chum."

Why am I still awake?

Oh, yeah, because I had to pick my mother up at the airport.

I went around the loop once without going faster than 20 mph.
It says you can't park but it doesn't say you can't go really slow.

And then I parked.

And I almost drove away with my brother half out of the car because it was really late and I shouldn't be operating heavy machinery at that time of night.

Also, that was a brutal two hours of teevee, Nip/Tuck people.

I can't wait for next season.

Congress should draw up articles of impeachment against Bush. They don't have to convict him but they should show him that they have considerable power over him.

Now do you understand why I never answer the phone?

Shall I compare the Rude Pundit to a summer's day? Nah. The Rude Pundit is much more wicked than a summer's day. Wait, I guess I just did. Anyway, Check it out.

[Bush] keeps talkin' that he took an oath to protect the citizens of the country. But that ain't true. He took an oath to "preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States." People come and go, motherfucker, but the nation remains.

While I'm at it, David Cross gives it to Larry the Cable Guy.

The Bob Loblaw Law Blog.

Genius.

Also, tonight's new episode of Arrested Development was followed by a repeat from last season. It wasn't just any episode though (I forget exactly how the announcer put it) but one of the "all time classics" or "greatest episodes" or something. Anyway, if it's that great why are you canceling it? Jeez.

A remark by one of the bone-headed announcers in today's Steeler game gave me the title to my autobiography.

Sixteen or Seventeen Yards Out of Field Goal Range.

Yeah, I think that just about perfectly sums up my life.

The sun has set and the Christmas lights look awesome.

Up and around the one pillar, gently caressing the bricks, across the front of the porch in four aesthetically pleasing and calming curves, down the other pillar like a baby's laughter, and, the kicker, something entirely new (my dad's idea because there was still a bunch of feet left on the last string): back across the front of the porch--doubling it up.

It looks really good.

The Christmas lights are up on the porch.

Take that, Christmas.

Somebody clean up that mess.

I was going to go to the Penguin game and the save the Pens rally before the game tonight (and I was going to wear The Sweatshirt) but I couldn't find my scarf, and I'm not rallying in the cold without a scarf. I might protest in the cold without a scarf but not rally. If they end up leaving town I'm going to blame myself.

And that damn scarf.

Anyway, looks like I get an exciting night of watching the game on teevee, eating bagels, and practicing the guitar.

Today I had an incredibly laid back snowball fight with the kid who lives next door. There was some sweet snow out there.

I should've made a snowman.

I would like to wish Ed Olczyk success in all his future endeavors.

Now lets win some hockey games.

I know it's just an urban legend but someone should make a movie about Fred Rogers' time in Vietnam.

I guess I'll be reading Ken Levine's blog from now on.
How can I not with gems like this:

Wouldn't it be great if the Carver on NIP/TUCK were OJ?

That would be sweet, but knowing Nip/Tuck it'll be something even sicker and more twisted.

If that's not enough for you he also wrote the classic Dancin' Homer episode of the Simpsons. And Wings. He worked on Wings. C'mon, show some love for Wings, the last great sitcom.

Three things I love:
1. Shoveling snow at night.
2. A convincing Steeler victory.
3. Nip/Tuck.

"You should try falling in love with someone you know."

Three things I should do everyday:
1. Draw.
2. Write.
3. Exercise.

Three sad songs I've been listening to lately:
1. High and Dry - Radiohead.
2. You Can't Be Too Strong - Graham Parker.
3. The Freshman - The Verve Pipe.

Three things that I haven't done in a while:
1. Gone to the movies.
2. Gone to a concert.
3. Shaved (my face).

Three things I'm looking forward to:
1. Holiday party at my aunt's restaurant.
2. New Year's Eve bash at AIR.
3. My brothers and sister being home for Christmas morning.

"On Earth peace, good will toward men."

You tell 'em, Linus.

CF C. Duffy
SS J. Wilson
LF J. Bay
1B S. Casey
RF C. Wilson
2B J. Castillo
3B F. Sanchez
C R. Doumit

Good lord, a baseball post in December. The Pirates trade the useless Dave Williams for Sean Casey. Damn. It could maybe use a little more pop but that doesn't look like a bad lineup to me.

Seafood is serious business to the stern fish mistress.

George Clooney says creativity comes from kindness.

I don't know what that means.

But I like the sound of it.

I only ended up 49,751 words short in my National Novel Writing Month novel. I think I was going for something in the science fiction-erotic-humor genre.

The silver, caterpillar shaped spacecraft slowed as it approached the asteroid field. In a universe filled with over the counter genetically modified miracle diet parasites, cranially implanted AM radios, cheap Martian thrills, and cheaper Neptunian whores, this was the last place a man could get his hands dirty and earn a good, honest wage. Unfortunately, the spacecraft, the God's Honest Truth, was manned entirely by women, and its captain, Blue Jay Gould, was a compulsive liar. In the ship's science lab, Blue Jay Gould stared disapprovingly at the scene before her. The severed head of a toad stared back from its jar. The toad blinked, and, in broken English, began to recite Shakespeare's 18th sonnet. Blue Jay smiled.
"You fixed him." Said Blue Jay.
Lucy Charms, the ship's science officer, looked up from the pile of electronic components that were strewed about on the workstation before her.
"What's that? Sorry, Captain, I didn't hear you come in." Said Lucy.
"You fixed Billy Ray."
Lucy's brow furrowed as she looked across the lab at the bodiless toad.
"Not quite. I've got him talking again but he's only repeating his original input. His personality extrapolator isn't online yet. I have to reboot him and upload his memories."
"How long is that going to take? We'll be arriving at our destination in fourteen hours and I need my first mate."
"You'll have him by then." Said Lucy. "I'll get right on it. Come back in a couple hours and I'll reattach him."

It's a shame, really. I've got a ton of sci-fi ideas floating around in my head that I'm never going to do anything with.

Here's the commercial my brother is in.

The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak and covered in hives.