'Jonesing' for a milkshake

(Seth in 2005. Last known photo.)

By MISTERTRENDY
Blog on the run senior writer

Try as I might, I’ve been unable to keep Seth out of my columns. For those who don’t know him, Seth is this friend I met in college at OSU. He was not enrolled at the time, but he hung out with a bunch of people I knew from South Campus and blah blah blah.

Anyhow, I can’t help featuring Seth this week, because what he did on Saturday needs to be made public. See, Seth gives me a call on Thursday. He doesn’t even say hello…just says “hey man, wanna crash a wedding Saturday?” I was, of course, appalled at the thought. Seth wouldn’t back down though, claiming he knew of a wedding taking place in Bexley that was huge so we’d blend right in. Of course, leave it to Seth to not think it’s weird for two dudes to go to a random wedding in Bexley. He claimed he had “Bexley cred.” Well, missestrendy was having none of it, so I told Seth I’d be his DD, but that’s it. Seth was down with the offer.

So, I pick Seth up at 4 on Saturday, as he insisted he didn’t want to miss the 4:30 ceremony for fear of blowing his cover. I show up at Seth’s parents house and there’s Seth, sitting on the couch shot-gunning Pabst. Seth is still unshowered and wearing a New York Jets sweat suit. That’s right. A sweat suit…not just sweat pants or a sweat shirt, but a sweat suit…in the middle of summer….drunk…wearing a Mets baseball cap. I’m a tad pissed because missestrendy wanted to go to an early dinner and I told her not to worry. I should have known better.

Well, no surprise here, but Seth was not “feeling” the ceremony portion and asked me to PBR him ASAP while he got ready. I went to the fridge to find no beers. Seth claimed I owed him for not going to the wedding with him, so I made a beer run and picked up a six pack of Red Stripe. Seth only drinks Red Stripe when someone else is buying. Luckily, I was able to convince Seth to head to the reception hall early to score a good table instead of lounging around at his parents’ house pounding Jamaican beers in used bottles.

This is where it got crazy. We pull up to this reception place, and Seth is getting’ into his pre-game mode…spraying Axe body spray all over the place and practicing his lines to chicks (his personal favorite “hey baby, wanna pay me for sex?”). I said to him “ok, Seth. I’m outta here. I’ll pick you up at 11:30.” Seth replied “nah loc, you best pick me up at ‘the bar’ at 2:30.” I just nodded and said yes, knowing full well Seth would probably call at 9:30 after getting kicked out of the reception.

At 7:30, I get a call from Seth. He was slurring his words big time, but I thought I heard him say “it’s a cash bar, it’s a cash bar” over and over again. Leave it to Seth to crash a cash bar with no cash. He’s practically crying on the phone telling me how he borrowed $100 from some chick he wants to bang and needs me to come to the hall and spot him a couple hundred. Trying to be a good friend, I reluctantly go to the hall and meet him in the parking lot. There’s fuckin’ Seth, standing there with a group of 80-something year olds smoking pipes. I’ve never seen so many pipes. Even the grandmas were smokin’ them. I slowly approach the group, knowing this was going to look weird. As I walk up, Seth screams “hey hey, this is the guy I was tellin’ you about. ‘Mr. PBR’!” The elderly folks are crackin’ up, then Seth turns to one of the women and grabs her ass while screaming “Palestine!” I obviously wasn’t in on the joke and thought that was a just a tad creepy, but they were all drunk and smokin’ pipes of something, so I let it pass.

I pulled Seth aside and gave him $200 and started walking away. I was super pissed at this point. Seth shouts out “wait, I want you to meet this chick I’m gonna bang!” I don’t know what I was thinking, but I walked back in sheer curiosity. I walk back, and Seth points to this woman that had to be about 98. He introduces me to Gertrude and proceeds to lick the side of her face and whisper in her ear “I’m gonna bang you baby” while I try to make small talk and get the hell out of there. Well, Gerty was lookin’ a little weirded out but was hard of hearing so she didn’t catch Seth’s crude comments. Seth was just lickin’ the shit out of her face.

That’s when I caught it. Seth was reaching into this lady’s purse as he licked her face, stealing one dollar bill after one dollar bill. I was ready to call him out, but I just couldn’t.

That’s when I just bolted. I literally ran away, knowing that nothing good could come of the situation. Seth seemed pissed for about a second, but as I climbed back into my car, I looked back to see Seth running in the other direction with a pipe in one hand and Gertrude’s purse in the other. The old people just didn’t know what to do. No one was even chasing him, but there was Seth, bolting up Main St. I knew where he was headed. That’s right, Capital University.

I didn’t have time to stick around, because by now missestrendy had texted me about 100 times wondering where the hell I was. Well, you can probably guess what came next. Seth calls me from the Graeters on Main claiming he’s “jonesing” for a milkshake but has no cash. I was not making another trip back to bail him out, so I told him to fuck off. Needless to say, I haven’t heard from him since. If you’ve seen or heard from Seth, please comment. To my knowledge, his whereabouts are unknown.

The talking heads Olympics

By MISTERTRENDY
Blog on the Run senior writer

All this fervor in Beijing (due primarily to Rowdy Gaines’ stellar commentary on the endless pool that is the Pool Cube) has me thinking how cool it’d be to have an Olympics-style competition amongst television political commentators.

Talking

Hands down, the favorite in the talking competition is Ron Brownstein. The guy is fast and witty, albeit ultra-Sethy and liberal. Nonetheless, when that person came up with the whole “are you listening, or waiting to speak” saying, they were thinking of Brownstein. What’s remarkable is that, despite lacking an upper lip, Brownstein manages to cram more words in a 10-second sound bite than The Mayor crams people in his kitchen during a hop-skip spring party.

Bastardly

This one is actually a tighter competition than you might think. In ’04 in Athens, Bill Kristol was the odds on favorite and didn’t disappoint. His snarky remarks, constant smirks, overall zany disposition, and ghetto booty just screamed “bastard.” That said, and as much as it pains me to say it, Keith Olbermann is giving Kristol a run for his Seth-like money in ’08. Olbermann doesn’t even try to be fair. His “I’m a wealth-redistributing badass and I don’t give an F what you think because I used to work at ESPN” attitude has raised some eyebrows (Keith’s are painted on) in many circles. The edge still goes to Kristol, but the old man may have spent his last days atop the Hill after these games conclude.

Smelliest

Even though she’s not a commentator, per se, the smelliest person in all things news has to be Greta Van Susteren. Granted, no one has ever actually smelled her, but there’s a reason she had nose reduction surgery. The source of the stench is unknown, but if the stank don’t fit, you must acquit.

Biggest Jowls

This event is always a fan favorite, mainly because competitors stand up on stage and shake their heads back and forth to demonstrate the breadth of their jowls. Brit Hume is the reigning champion of the jowls, and I have no reason to doubt that he will win again this year. Many in the know have noticed a chilly relationship between Hume and Lou Dobbs lately and wondered why. Jowls, my friends. Dobbs has been making a push lately by laying his jowls on top of one of each of his guests’ faces. He calls it “jowl bagging.”

Nappiest Facial Hair

Rumor has it that in 2006, Jeff Birnbaum and Wolf Blitzer had a “comb off” to see whose facial hair was more robust. Blitzer cheated, ala Seth, by combing the back of his neck in addition to his beard. Listen, Blitzer has been a force of nature, with coverage from ear to ear … but Birnbaum has re-invigorated the sport with his insistence on the over-sized porn stash. Although never fair or smiling, the robot Blitzer gets the nod here.

mistertrendy's column runs every Monday.

Tuesday afternoon mailbag III

Welcome to Blog on the Run's third Tuesday afternoon mailbag. Here I'll answer questions from readers and non-readers about the week that was and anything else that might come across my mailbag.

Q: You usually love something (The Patio) or hate something (Lindey's Patio). But you seem indifferent on Chicago. Love or hate? - Donna, Beverly Hills

A: It's not a matter of love and hate with that city. I'm kind of disappointed I didn't spend more time there in my 20s. But I'm happy I don't live there. If I had to do it all over again, I'd spend two Saturdays per summer in the Second City going to Cubs games. I just loved it. There was a point when The Doctor wanted to go home to take a nap. I wasn't leaving. I'm a firm believer that if you're somewhere that's fun, you should never leave. That's why I don't like "starting nights at 185." If you know you're eventually leaving, there's little fun that can happen. I like to wear out my welcome. I just don't ever want to voluntarily leave somewhere to do something "later." I say "go on, go all out, go nowhere." That's sort of my motto when going out.

But I couldn't live there. I'm really happy in a city the size of Columbus. I think I could live in any city outside the five largest in the United States, and of course, Baltimore.

Fuck Baltimore.

Q: Feelings on unsigned comments? - Brenda, Minneapolis, Minn.

A: Not a huge deal. If the person can't sign their name to it, they just like sucking cock. I mean, they're not gay or anything but they enjoy sucking cock. There's a difference.

Q: I've heard of falling in love with a stripper, which I'm sure you have, but you fell in love with an electrician in Chicago? - Dylan, Tijuana

A: Yes. I did. I couldn't believe she was an electrician. Hottest one ever. She probably was 24 or 25 years old. I was standing at the Cubby Bear with my cousin Jamie when he said, "that chick keeps looking over at you." I walked over to her and talked to her one-on-one for about 30 minutes (I turned my blinders on) and then off-and-on for about an hour. The Godfather had a dance-off with her electrician/ballerina friend who kept taking her shoes off.

I don't fall in love easily. But this girl had it all. The entire package. (In case you didn't know what "had it all" meant.) Now I'd say there have been five girls in my life that I've actually had real strong feelings for, well, The Electrician makes No. 6. I can't imagine being more into another girl before 2009.

Q: The Godfather is going out of town this weekend. Are you sad? - Brandon, Boston on a summer internship

A: Yes. Very. But it comes at a good time. We've got a lot of time to spend together until Christmas. He's gone this weekend, but following that, we'll likely spend every weekend together until December. I'm sure he cringes at that thought.

We've got our last Friday Guyday of the season (pending McCampus' OK) on Friday, August 15. And then it's a wedding and 12 Buckeyes games, maybe a trip to Vegas, and fuckin' fun times until Christmas.

I guess I can just add him to The 1 (I USED TO KNOW) and McCampus as people I won't be hanging out with this weekend.

Q: Is The 1 dead? - Mrs. Walsh, California University

A: I haven't seen The 1 (I USED TO KNOW) since Saturday, June 28. I have sent him maybe two or three texts since then with nary a response. I know The Godfather sent him a text on Thursday but he didn't respond to that one either. He's apparently gone into the "mistertrendy-when-I-start-dating-someone-I-stop-hanging-out-with-friends" mode. It's sad and I hope we see him a few times in August before NFL season starts.

- From the desk of Art McGregor

The Veep Stakes

By MISTERTRENDY
Blog on the Run senior writer

All the talk these days seems to be about whom Obama and McCain should pick as their VP running mate. Never passing up an opportunity to weigh in, I offer some suggestions this week to the two men seeking the presidency. My selections are from an elite pool of candidates – namely, true “Americans” (i.e., German Village residents).

The Elite

Tops on any list has to be the Truth. What better running mate for the Messiah than the Anti-Christ himself. The guy can garner support among moderates who believe in libertarianism, which would greatly assist Obama in his quest to gain the votes of the .00001 percent of voters who are still undecided. Bob Barr what? Obama’s weakness is foreign policy, and the Truth would deliver by bringing his experience as ambassador to the Hey-Hey to the table. I’m convinced that if asked, the Truth would respond with a “yeah” immediately.

The thing about the Truth though is that he could be McCain’s guy too. McCain’s age is an issue, and the Truth could assist by bringing a youthful vibrancy, displayed repeatedly by his lust for all things shots (at Brothers). The Truth would also help shore up voters who fret over McCain’s economic prowess. If you buy a round of shots, you should do it early (during Happy Hour when everyone is drinking beers) and often (high volume, one tip for many shots). One lingering question mark about the Truth, however, would be his refusal to race the Mayor. No doubt, the guy appears to fear competing for a spot in the executive branch.

Middle of the Road

No discussion of a VP candidate for Obama can go without mention of The Godfather. I know, I know…you’re saying “but the Godfather hates Obama!” Get this though … he would help Obama shore up the remaining 4% of the African American vote (little known fact, but the Godfather loves Alan Keyes). Some might question the Godfather’s ability to lead in these times of crisis, but anyone who’s been at 185 when the vapids comprise 80 percent of the crowd would agree …the Godfather is a crowd pleaser who is capable of saving the day.

The Unknown

One candidate wouldn’t even be worth mentioning, but for the fact that he is so unknown. That’s right … McGinley (aka, ghost, lobster, dude with dog named Glimmer, Dubai Dubya, etc.). Many might question a choice like McGinley. No doubt he would not be a fit for Obama. But for McCain, it might work. His mastery of the magic undies could prove useful out West, where the undies are quite magical. Still, no one has seen his face for six months, almost as long as my own hiatus from America, causing many to question his dedication to the ideals of our nation.

Bottom of the Barrel

Seth. Yes, I said it. Seth. His unconventional ascension into American politics is little known and for good reason. Those who know him know his closet is awash in skeletons. Nonetheless, Seth possesses a zest for life and mint julips, which no doubt would assist either candidate in Kentucky. Seth has declared in recent weeks that he is not just “open” to accepting an offer to run for VP … he’s begging for it. In an effort to demonstrate his value to a campaign, Seth was in town for McCain’s visit to Schmidt’s. To demonstrate his credentials for VP, Seth ordered a round of shots and brought them over to McCain’s table. McCain seemed to enjoy Seth’s assertiveness, and the two downed a couple lemon drops in a sign of friendship. Rumors have spread, however, that Seth proceeded to order rounds upon rounds of shots for the entire restaurant, charging all of it to “the campaign” long past McCain’s exit from the establishment. When asked, the McCain comment offered no comment. Seth denies any wrongdoing, and in fact has asked that the McCain camp assist him in paying down his credit card debt, ala Hillary Clinton. Surely, Seth is bottom of the barrel, but with Lieberman’s apparent unwillingness to run, Seth would be a great 108th option to garner support among a group of voters long tied to the Democrat party.

That’s it for this week. Peace.

misterendy's column runs every Monday.

Tour de Beers

By MISTERTRENDY
Blog on the Run senior writer

So Obama’s trip was a huge success. He drew crowds in Berlin that city hasn’t seen since Hitler. What an accomplishment. Seriously though, Obama’s travels got me thinking today about what it’d be like if Art McGregor (AMG) went on a similar tour. AMG’s” Tour de Beers” would include all the favorite establishments in and around our great city. This week’s column explores such a scenario.

AMG, like Obama, would likely begin his tour with a stop at the two battlefields – Club 185 and the High Beck. At 185, he would address a situation that he’s been b(l)ogged down in for too long. Many have been asking how long until AMG gets out of 185. AMG has insisted that he will listen to the vapids on the ground and determine a reasonable timetable for withdrawal (from the bar, not from drinking alcohol). Departing hastily might leave behind many unexploited opportunities and lead to a surplus in Miller Lites. AMG would no doubt take the opportunity to lay out his plan to begin a phased withdrawal of two nights per month for 16 months. AMG would also address recent speculation that he will be eating beers at 185 for the next 100 years.

At High Beck, AMG would emphasize the need to refocus his efforts and not allow the jean shorts to get out of control. The neglect of the High Beck over the past year has led many analysts to declare that the homeless have reconstituted themselves. Nearby Round Bar has been providing safe haven for Pabst to cross Willow Street freely. AMG would pledge to shift one 185 night per month to High Beck to gain control of the situation.

On the final leg of AMG’s Tour, he would visit the West (sort of) – the Patio, Brothers, and Barleys. Barleys would be a quick stop, given the recently elected conservative bar tenders who insist on micro-brews. At Brothers, he would speak candidly to patrons and the Truth about their shared history and look to build upon the common goal of watching finger bangs. Finally, AMG would conclude his journey before throngs of 20-somethings at the Patio. AMG would take the stage for his speech, prompting mosh pits as he displays his ability to hold four Miller Lites in one hand. When asked by Scags, a Patio regular, “you gonna drink all those?” AMG would respond with a resounding “Yes I can!” In a bold move, AMG would seek to have the wall torn down between outside and inside. The mood at the Patio would be glorious, but AMG’s request for patrons to visit High Beck more often would be greeted with a chilly reception.

AMG would finally return home to America, relaxing on his couch with a six-pack of Miller Chills. When asked about his choice of the Chill, AMG would respond with one word – change.

Setting evolution back

What's up with states?

There's no rhyme or reason when it comes to the drawing of state lines. For example, you cannot escape the state of West Virginia. It's impossible. It never ends. All the maps are fucking wrong. Let's say you're driving down to Fredericksburg (not of Hollywood), Virginia on some mysterious back country roads that Garmin tells you to follow. Every 19 seconds you're going to be heading back into West Virginia. Now, that's not as often as mistertrendy needs to stop to take a piss (seven stops in a 15-hour roundtrip), but it's quite often.

But no one wants to hear about geography or mistertrendy's bladder the size of a penny. Fact is, I don't know how big a bladder even is. Whatever. I didn't major in math. It actually could be the size of the penny. Or smaller. Like a dime.

Speaking of dimes and bladders, let's get to the real issue at hand. Or in my hands, in this case.

"The Great Roommate Urination of '08"

By ART MCGREGOR
Blog on the Run editor

Nothing will top this moment. We could win the lottery or stop a four-gun stick-up when we go see "The Dark Knight" later this evening. Whenever Miss July's friends or pals (whoever they may be) ask her about her summer, she always will reply:

"Well, my roommate peed on me."

I remember taking the piss. I remember her waking up. I remember that's about it. At about 4:30 a.m. on Friday morning, I walked into Miss July's room, lifted up her blanket and began to pee on her feet.

"At least it's sterile and not vomit or shit, right? I don't think many people can say they've been pissed on by their roommate ... literally." - text from Miss July, 7-18-08

Who does that? I've had thousands of boozing nights and only about four times have I let go with a random piss in a closet, on a computer, in a dresser or on a roommate. That's about the same odds as my buddy The 1 following up on a "I'll text you later and meet up with you." Geesh. With how often I see that guy, you'd think I pissed on him.

I woke up Friday afternoon and laughed about the incident with The Sports Writer and his buddy. Speaking of. You know how when a friend visits you and brings someone else, they're usually very lame? Not this guy. Super nice guy, funny, knew about sports, was into being stupid. +1 for that guy. Now while I laughed about it with my friends from out of town, I didn't laugh about it with Miss July. I was fully expecting retribution of some sort when she got home from work. With all the midwest flooding, we really didn't need any more golden showering. Sunny skies are OK with me.

Isn't that always the case? I took the day off and the person pissed on still had to go to work.

She came home and we laughed about it and that made her the greatest sport of all-time. I also think the present The Sports Writer left for her helped with the laughter ... and then some more laughter.

I cleaned up, did some serious laundering, got her a bottle of wine from the place on South Third Street (I kept the Swedish Fish to myself) and hoped she wouldn't rip my head off.

Not that I'd need it the next time I decided to piss on a roommate.

Whistler tips

By MISTERTRENDY
Blog on the Run columnist

Welcome to week three of trendy’s blogging about stuff you no doubt ignore. If you’ve made it this far, I say congratulations and thank you.

Well, it was the week of politics that wasn’t. Nothing is really going on other than Jesse Jackson’s whisper campaign against BHO’s genitals. I’m sure Jesse will forgive him when he is appointed ambassador to Ghana. Seriously though, it’s been very boring this past week, even for me.

"Meet the Press" has been Meet the Depressed lately (stole that one from AMG’s dad). Can we get a permanent new host already? I thought Tony Snow would have been great. RIP, Tony. Instead, we find out Mr. Brokaw will moderate through the election. Glad he’s fair and all. His voice is pretty cool, but he’s always looks like he has to take a shit. Perhaps he does. He was wailing on McCain’s so-called flip-flopping today. At least NBC is finally owning up to their bias. I think all networks should just say who they favor and run with it. Think of it … some channels, like ESPN, could be like, “Don’t be a hater, vote for women’s athletics, arena football, poker, the X Games, and Nader.” Others, like the History Channel, could be like “Bob Barr or bust!”

In Ohio, the GOP is still fumbling around trying to figure out who should run for AG. This is truly sad. Can’t we find one person who wants to run? What about the Truth? I think he would bring a refreshing candor to the office. Yeah.

On a side note that I must get off my chest, I’m glad to see some commenting on posts, such as McGinley, who claims he saw the infamous “Whistle Tip” news story “five years ago.” Granted, McGinley holds a top secret job. No one knows what he does, but we know it’s cool and important. So for that, perhaps McGinley had access to YouTube back in 2003 while the rest of us had to wait until 2005. Or perhaps McGinley was living in Oakland in 2003 and regularly watched the late night news. I suppose I wouldn’t put anything past the artist formerly known as ghost. Still, the Whistle Tip never gets old. My boy Bubb Rubb.

We’re stuck up and we’ve been sethed!

By MISTERTRENDY
Blog on the Run columnist

I was entertained by President Bush’s speech on July 4 honoring 72 individuals who chose to become LEGAL immigrants. Much to my chagrin, Code Pink and other nut jobs were on site to ruin the ceremony. God forbid we honor these fine individuals who probably waited longer than me at 185 for a beer.

Nope. Can’t do that. Gotta let these folks who grew up on daddy’s money, felt guilty about said money, have no job, and feel the urge to show up at Bush’s speeches with UVA t-shirts scream "fascism" with the hopes of making the evening news. What a life. They’re like vapids, only they like to whine at speeches instead of drink wine at Club 185.

Did anyone else hear? Barack Obama has "recalibrated" his position on Iraq. That’s funny. I thought he "sethed" that issue. For those not familiar with the term, to "seth" something is to act like Seth, which usually means to mooch and waiver like McCampus on a Thursday night in February (sorry, Seth, but it’s true). Like this one time, I asked Seth if he wanted to go up to a Tribe game last summer (what was I thinking?). Anyhow, Seth said he was in and that he was going to "hook up the beers!" Well, we drive up to C-town, and of course, Seth did not pay for gas. He proclaimed he would be "hooking up the beers," and thus should not pay for any gas. Fair enough. Anyhow, after said proclamations of hook ups, along comes the seventh inning stretch, and no beers had been purchased by Seth. Sure enough, Seth gets up in the bottom of the seventh and tries to score a round of beers. He told me that he’d make it up to all of us with a round of 20 beers (five apiece). Well, of course, five minutes later, Seth comes back with four cups of water. His explanation for no beers? "Hey, not my fault they stopped selling beer. I still hooked it up. You owe me." So yeah, Obama sethed us this week on Iraq.

See ya next week.

"Meet the Ump "

By MISTERTRENDY
Blog on the Run columnist

So, welcome to the first installment of trendy’s weekly column. My assignment according to Art McGregor: politics, the Court, and pretty much anything else that most people don’t care about.

Anyhow, what a week for the Supremes! As AMG has lamented on GVM, Justice Kennedy has been on a terrorist/child rapist kick lately. At least the Court said the 2nd Amendment actually exists. Too many times, the Court just arbitrarily ignores Amendments (see, e.g., the 10th Amendment, the most dissed Amendment ever). This time, the Court got it right, thanks to my boy Scalia.

Anyhow, enough of that. Here’s something I know no one will care about: Chuck Todd was on "Meet the Press" today. It wasn’t like he was on a panel of journalists or anything. It was just “Chuck Todd – Political Director, NBC News” as one of the featured “guests” on NBC. That’d be like Glimmer being a featured guest at McGinley’s place. Or perhaps two Miller Lites as featured “guests” of AMG’s hands on a Friday night. Makes no sense.

Well, it’s sad that Russert is gone from "Meet the Press," despite his liberal slant. I think The Godfather should take his place as host. He would be sufficiently knowledgeable and would add a jovial and entertaining twist to the drab that is Sunday morning talk. I even think he could be better than that John Fortney guy on ONN that never blinks. I can see it now - The Godfather would do umpire signals to react to guests’ answers. For example, when asking Obama “why did you abandon Rev. Wright?” and upon receiving BHO’s response of “he and I didn’t see eye-to-eye anymore,” the Godfather would respond with the classic foul-tip-into-the-catcher’s-glove-for-strike-three signal with a thunderous “he’s out!” Obama would just chuckle.

"Meet the Press" would be renamed “Meet the Ump.”

Anyhow, I know this post doesn’t make any sense, but I hope to do better if kept on the staff here at Blog on the Run. Peace.