Smokey The Drew

So let me just start by saying that voting today while listening to the song "Mrs. Officer" by Lil' Wayne made me love my country. I mean...really? I can do that? I don't know why I found this so fascinatingly odd and cool. But the old lady next to me, who may or may not have been dying IN her mini-booth, looked like she was mortified that I was listening to music on a "future-device" while voting.  Change is a brewin' ma'am...change is a BREWIN'. Also, thanks for voting, I respect your tenacity, as I’m sure being 900 years old makes it challenging to move/eat food/do anything really, let alone vote. So hey, HIGH five! Unless you voted for proposition 8. Then I hate you. Side note: I found it entirely alarming/hilarious that they quietly threw in Measure K on the SF ballot decriminalizing prostitution, and people are more outspoken and have a larger problem with same-sex marriages. Really? Where is the sign that is for people NOT being hookers? Isn't this kind of a bigger problem than people who like each other getting married, right-wingers? Anywho. Moving on from the political diatribe..

So I almost killed everyone in my apartment complex last night. With a duraflame. Let me explain.

It's chilly in San Francisco right now. You know, cold in a "everyone in California is a big whambulance about weather that isn't actually cold but yet they bitch about it" kind of way. Nonetheless, I love to complain so I'll argue that it's been cold.

So I got home and thought about my options. We have a fireplace at Chateau Ghetto, one of its only perks (well this was considered a perk until last night, when it became a "stupid"). Chateau Ghetto also came with gunfire, people dying outside on Fillmore St. seemingly every 4 minutes, and poor water pressure that in turn makes you feel like you are bathing with a very small squirt gun that is out of water WAY too fast. So obviously, when they said all of this, then told me that it comes with a fireplace, I of course said "WHERE DO I SIGN!" Hey, the last place I lived in SF, my landlord lived in the WALL and was a registered sex offender, so the apartment with the fireplace that came with NOT a registered sex offender seemed like a step in the right direction. Or a marathon in the right direction.

Back to the point: I looked in our lovely little fireplace, which i've used not once, and found a duraflame with no paper jacket on it. A naked duraflame, if you will. A sad, lonely, naked duraflame. Looking as though he was cowering in there with a British accent, saying, "please sir, do be kind and put a flame to me!" Yes, this is how I imagined him. So I thought, you know what duraflame? Today is your lucky day. I'm gonna romance the fuck out of myself with a nice fire while I enjoy monday night football. Let's do this.

Fast forward to the beginning of Drew challenging himself to see how many poor decisions he can make in a row. So to start, I decide to find the nearest magazine and just start basically tearing out pages in it to light underneath the naked lil' guy. If you are wondering, yes, ink smells great when you burn it (great = poopookaka). At this point, I light them and decide that I’d like some wine, so I'm going to leave the apartment unattended to go to Safeway down the street. I know, right? Who does that? Why didn't I just turn the stove on full blast and leave it open, and the set of knives on a rope and pulley system that shoot forward when you open the front door? It's like I was subconsciously trying to make my own Final Destination scene. (wouldn't it be cool to die that way though? be honest, you've thought about it...)

When I get back, it turns out the duraflame is not going up the chimney, but rather into the house. So that's cool. I decide to point a fan directly at the flame directing the smoke towards the window (which, last time I checked, is how wildfires spread...keeping score yet?), which then just blows smoke all over the apartment. It turns out you can't just tell the smoke to go out the window, it doesn't listen. At this point, my roommate gets home and basically just starts cracking up, as it smells like I went camping in the living room. Now here's the kicker: I decided I wanted to nip this in the bud before it just got smoke in the living room slowly all night, and I wanted to put out the fire. I have gone back through my logic from here on out for a while now, and I’m not sure how I passed any course from the third grade on at this point. I decide (get this) to SOAK A BATH TOWEL and throw it on the fire. In a very small fireplace. What? And go figure...smoke pours into the apartment. So I panic. And in that panic, I decide the next best idea is to open my front door and let it seep out into my building hallway, so that everyone else can enjoy the fun I’m having. Which in turn sets off the building's fire alarm. Which in turn sounds like a national terror alert siren. Which in turn turns on a strobe light. Which in turn locks the elevators. And calls the fire department. Wow.

I go out to the hallway, and EVERYONE is there staring me down. Kind of like Kevin's uncle in Home Alone ("looook what you diiiid you litttttle JERK"). And better yet, people are honestly acting like it's the apocalypse. Dogs and cats in in their travel kennels being run down the hall by terrified owners. So obviously, i'm feeling pretty good about myself. I run down to the street, and phew...THREE fire trucks have come. With twelve firefighters...gearing up like this is the final scene of backdraft or something. People are frantically asking me what happened, and I keep trying to explain that I'm just not that intelligent, but in all honesty I don't need the national guard in my apartment. Nobody listens, and instead this apparently translates to them that they need giant axes (side note again: why the axe? are you going to stab the fire to death? moving on). The best is when they get to my apartment...charge in to find...a wet towel on a duraflame. Needless to say, they did nothing and just left...basically stating to me that they just prefer that I do kill myself this way rather than help at all, because I have proven myself a weak link in the evolutionary chain.

Just to finish off the story, the smoke of course keeps billowing in because...I didn't remove the wet towel and just decided to ride it out? Wow...again. At this point, I decide to not have the fire department come again...and go BACK to Safeway...this time procuring 7 boxes of baking soda (it's all I could think of) to pour all over my fireplace. So basically...

Everyone at Safeway thinks I’m going on some huge bender and presumably getting drunk classy styles with a bottle of pinot noir while cutting MAYBE 9 pounds of Colombian grade cocaine, the fire department and 800 other people hate me, and I can't make a fire from a DURAFLAME at the age of 26. All in all, I'd say that's doing pretty well for yourself in one night.

Have I mentioned that it was a duraflame? And that I WASN'T on drugs, which is really sad? The best part of the night, though, was when all was said and done. The roommate and I are sitting there, in awe of my epic tour de retard...and he looks at me and says, "Welp. At least you've got something to blog about now."

Well said, Chris. Well said.

Song of the day is by MGMT. They are everyone's "hey have you heard of those guys?" band in advertising, and everyone acts like they are cooler than you because they found them first. But I found them before you. Because I’m in advertising. And who really cares…the band is just ridiculously good. Enjoy...this song is addicting. And hey, if you need someone to build you a fire, ladies...


Lil' Wayne Blogs? Wait, Really?

I feel like Lil' Wayne is a hundred dollar bill I found in my jacket that I left hanging in the closet a year ago. Except I left him hanging in there after "Bling Bling" came out like 14 years ago or something and had an awkward jewfro. And now the coat is the outdated north face fleece that everyone had in high school (the black one) and I don't want to wear it because I fear I may look like i'm heading to P.E. or something. But seriously...WTF?? He should not be good. It's almost just science that he should be considered um...terrible. I mean, most of the time, the man's lyrics BARELY rival my drunken whitetastic flows...which, as Richard knows, usually simply involve me being Drew, who inevitably lives in a shoe...and then I will ask you what you "gon" do. This is the go-to drew hoolhorst flow. If not? I'm usually Drew and i'm here to say that i'm a crazy motherfucka from around the way. Ironically, I just went to research Lil' Wayne lyrics to prove my "oh my god he should be terrible technically" point...but I think I actually just proved my point the wrong way in the process. I was just going through song after song, and I almost feel like he is the rain man of rappers. I just sat there like a total retard in awe of this man's strangely hypnotic songs...and I feel like a four year old watching teletubbies or something. WHY is he so good? I don't get it. I'm not sure if he's good, or he just beats you into submission with the fact that he just never...stops...talking... (I know what you're thinking. "hey drew, I wonder what that's like. maybe grab a tape recorder the next time you are talking bud...")

I mean, he says "got so many bitches they should call me mike lowwwwry." This is genius. And you know you love the movie Bad Boys. If you don't, you are dumb and people should throw olive oil at you. I say that because it is a tough stain to take out of anything, so you THINK about making fun of me for saying that's what they should throw at you. It's terrible. You can't even shout that crap out. On that note, the next time you feel like saying something terrible about someone? You should just hope they stub their pinky toe and that it never grows back properly and instead makes this weird "nub" at the end of your foot that looks awkward when they go on vacation. Can you tell this happened to me? It sucks. And I wish it upon only people I strongly dislike. Also, it hurts when it rains. I'm like spiderman or something. Anyways...

So my love affair with this man is going on hardcore right now. It's not even a man-crush anymore...I'm at that point where I start bumping "A Milli" in my car after work, and honestly (yeah I know, get ready to picture this) start totally trying to flow the song...WITH him...and pretend that there are no windows in my car and that I don't look like a complete and total ass-clown. He's like the anti-anything-you-ever-wanted-to-look-like-in-life guy. I mean, he's basically just a tattoo now, and I wonder if he's bummed because he peaked and tattooed his whole body already so now he can't get anymore for the rest of his life unless he shaves his head. Wait, write that down if you are reading this weezie. And yeah, I just called you weezie. Jew represent, WHAT WHAT.

So here's my favorite new thing about the man. He blogs. No seriously. He blogs. I mean say that out loud. I don't know why this is so funny to me, but it is. The thing is? He's...interesting. And his points on sports are...valid. For some reason I expected him to write like this:

Lil' Wayne: Heh heh HEH...jiiiaaa....ya'll ain't know I'm it. I like grapes because they smash n' shit. Li-li-like who dat say they gon stop me from float'n on tha hovaboooorrrrrrd when ya'll know I ain't got scorrrred on. Heh heh hehe YOUNG MONEY!

This is not because I think he's uneducated. It's because I just don't think he can talk in anything but "flow" talk. I can't see him saying things like, "Yeah, I do agree...with foreign policy like this, our economy is sure to fluster! Good on you, sir!" I don't know. Maybe i've underestimated weezie.

Anyways. Listen to this song. If you hate it? You should ju...Oh what's that? You just listened to it for the fourteenth time in a row and can't figure out how to stop? SEE. I told you. WHO IS THIS MAN??!?!?!?!


Repowering the Rockets

Dear Everyone, If you read the blog regularly....and I think this is like 6 of you (hey, better than "not 6", right?)...I apologize for my disappearing act. Let's face it, I was just Cameron Frye of Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Mikey from Swingers...I don't know, fill in your "whatever guy in whatever movie who is kinda a bummer, doesn't bathe and doesn't shave for a bit" guy...and that was me. But I'm working on it. I've shaved. I've gotten a haircut (which, in turn, was a partial WTF when said haircutter tells me i'm not balding but...i'm balding...sweet! That helps!). And you know what? I'm not dead. But as we all know, very well, breakups are hard and they make you:

1) EXTREMELY not funny

2) Believe that the only programming on television is:

  • ch 702: Everyone is in love!
  • ch 703: No, Seriously, EVERYONE is in love!
  • ch 704: Wait, are you bummed right now because you just broke up? How about this program about love!
  • ch 705: Oprah
  • ch 706: Honestly. You should think more. Are you thinking enough? If not, overanalyze everything, Drew!
  • ch 707: Have we mentioned that it's a bummer you just went through a breakup?

3) Kinda bummed out and just wanting a second to yourself

But hey, we're gonna be okay, fellow rocketeers. Life goes on, everything happens for a reason, fill in metaphor for life here. And we are slowly, SLOWLY finding ways to mock society again and find irony in everything we see over on my side of the Bay. And I look forward to not being a big effing Eyore here very soon. Thanks for the support, and thanks for hopefully still reading when i'm back in action in...which I think is tomorrow. Rocket Shoes for me is like Sex In The City for girls...it's annoying to everyone else that they like it so much, but you don't complain because it makes them so happy and keeps them occupied. Wait, what? Insult, TO MYSELF. YES WE CAN!

On that note, to hopefully bring the funny back, I'd like to point out a wonderfully confusing grammar fail my brother mentioned to me the other day that I finally had the fortune of seeing. And also, i'm posting a song that is, in theory, not only AMAZING...but it's my anthem right now. Swedes know how to rock. Bring me home, Sweden. Bring me home.


Drew Hoolerific Hoolhorst


Random Thoughts For Today

The movie "Disaster Movie" makes me want to kick people in the shins. Not because of seen it, but because it exists. They aren't even TRYING to make sense anymore, they are just putting a bunch of unfunny things together for the creation of an entire film. It's like producers went to a frat house and grabbed the guy who thinks wayans brothers movies are funny and asked him to write an entire script. I mean, "amywinehouse kindacurrentevent juno! baby hulk!" isn't funny. That though process, being made into a sketch? Not funny. Make another movie again, and I will seriously come to your house, ring your doorbell, punch you in the face and then leave immediately. Maybe i'll try to pee on your front porch, but i'll get stage fright, realize I can't and just leave. That may happen, too. I think what scares me the most is that it has made ten million dollars. I did the math, and I could have bought like 2,857,143 jamba juices with that. Which means that for the next 7,287 years I could have one jamba juice every day. Which, for all those keeping score at home, is not possible, you are right. Point being, we could all be drinking a lot of jamba with the money this movie is making. Somebody make the bad man stop. The bus passed a store titled "Hair Now" today. I thought this was a horrible name for a store, as I don't think that if I asked for hair now, they would give it to me. So hey, guess what hair now, you don't make any sense. (ba dum CHING! definitely the seinfeldism of the day, sorry. humor me.)

I'm severely bothered by the Cialis commercials on TV, and really, it's only because of that one scene where they are sitting in bathtubs gazing out at the ocean. This is impossible. On so many levels, this perplexes me. First of all, old people are NOT flexible enough to be having sex in small bathtubs. If you can't get an erection? It's probably time to stop trying to have sex in complicated positions in general in small confined areas. Secondly, they aren't in the same bathtub together, and I find that depressing. But finally...HOW did the hot water get in that bathtub? There is NO water hookup, and if hot water did somehow magically get in there? It's VERY cold now. They are old, they would be very cold. The sea breeze alone would send them into hypothermic chills. C'MON cialis...think things THROUGH before making your ED commercials.

There is a McDonald's commercial on right now that talks about how you can't get anything for a buck anymore. I mean, valid. So the guy deals with all these things that he can't get for a buck. But wait a minute...what about McDonald's? They tell him he can get a chicken sandwich there for a buck, alright! PROBLEM SOLVED! But WAIT a minute...right after this, he has fries and a coke as well. Oh, really McDonald's? Well, if Bob had been asking other places what he could have gotten for $3.74, maybe he would have gotten a different answer, now wouldn't he have? I call bullshit on you. Also, don't forget to add in the five extra dollars he'll need for the diarrhea medication he'll need after eating your products. Thanks.

On my fantasy football team, my tight end is injured and he is thinking of taking a couple of weeks off. I would like to call him into my fantasy office to have a fantasy conversation about how he should fantasy buck the fuck up because i'm going to lose the sport i'm having him play for me. It was hard enough for me to draft someone whose parents were mean enough to name him "Dallas", now I have to go find another person to play the sport for me so I don't have to.

The song of the day is delicious and poptastic, and I just found it yesterday and have listened to it and it alone for like 9 hours straight. Enjoy.


Awesome Signs That You and Your Friends Are Gross

Can you imagine how happy this makes a nerd like me? CAN YOU IMAGINE? It may as well say "24 of your friends spent way too much money on a phone that also doubles as a statement of how much better they are than you." p.s. I told my friend Kevin this weekend that he was a loser for having the old iPhone and that it was gross. And I stand by those claims. Grow up, Kevin. Grow up. (and yes, I just spelled it "iPhone" instead of "iphone")

Yay! It's Peter Rabbit Day!!

Peter Rabbit? Really, google? Sometimes when Google does this kind of shit, I feel like they are someone who gained twenty pounds,  and EVERYONE notices...but no one wants to say anything. Basically, because they were so effing hot before, no one wants to tell the hot chick she should probably lose a few pounds, and maybe just slow down a bit before she gets hammered and says things without any real filter. Because now she can't really get away with crap like this. Cmon google...seriously, you aren't even trying. I know I know...i'm an asshole because it's Beatrix Potter's birthday, and we should all celebrate because she was a great woman in literary history. Oh, what's that? You had no clue it was Beatrix Potter's birthday? Oh that's right, BECAUSE NO ONE DID. Stop acting like lycos or askjeeves.com, google...you are better than that.

(and yes, this was really the google home page today)

Looking Ridiculous For A Living

So Mekanism has now allowed me to dress up in: a bunny costume, a lobster costume, 70's high school style clothing for a fake school photo shoot, and last but not least...this awesomeness. They are making us a new website right now (by "they" I mean the little magical designer worker elves that live in the corners of our walls. which isn't far off from how I view their genius squad) and the sandbox got to dress up in this ridiculousness for our thirty seconds of fame. I love my job. And I also just put "ness" on the end of two adjectives to make them more aggressive.