Glad I'm Married: Reasons #166 and 167

I know I didn't tell you the first 165; I figured you didn't really want to hear all kinds of gushing about my wonderful wife, the beautiful life I envision us building together and all the Hallmark sentiment that makes people grow tired of newly married couples in a heartbeat.

You're welcome.

What I will do is get started with Reason #166: Middle Aged Strip Club Guy.

Don't get me wrong - I spent my fair share of time watching girls get naked on stage. In fact, I probably spent my fair share, your fair share and most of your extended family's fair share. But I haven't set foot in a strip joint since my buddy Fisher's Bachelor Party more than four years ago.

Why?

Because I can see a naked girl almost any time I want at home... on the Internet. Just kidding.

The textbook definition of this guy was in the bar last night, so while I thank him for the inspiration now, I'm sure it doesn't make up for me laughing at him when he asked me if there was a strip joint in Cranbrook.

See, I laughed because (a) he'd already told a story about strip clubs and strippers and "touching all kinds of fake boobs" way too loud, to which his table of teammates offered up a round of High Fives and (b) if you've ever seen Cranbrook, you know that even if there is a strip joint there, you don't want to go.

I mean really, what could possibly be sexy about a 23-year-old who looks 45 with a handful of shitty tattoos and 12 teeth that has clearly been on the wrong side of one too many benders and beatdowns?

Harsh? Sure, but I'm not the one who was petitioning the bartender for directions. What made it even better was that post-laughter, when I told the table that it "won't be pretty," the response I got was, "We're not looking for pretty; we're looking for entertainment."

You want entertainment? Rent a fucking movie. Go find some live music somewhere. Watch UFC 102 tonight.

A group of seven middle aged douchebags rolling into the strip joint isn't entertainment, it's sad... and Reason #166 of Why I'm Glad I'm Married.

So what is Reason #167 you ask?

Those guys, twenty years later, getting mouthy and loaded in the bar on a golfing vacation.

Being a drunk asshole when you're 35 or so is bad, but being a drunk asshole when you're 55 and up is just ridiculous.

By then you should have some drunken etiquette and know better than to reach over the bar and pour your own mix, especially when the bartender (read: me) is standing right there.

And mooching smokes off me just makes you a total loser... being a "social smoker" is something you do when you're between the ages of 16 and 25. After that, buy your own smokes or give it up, don't get all lippy about "having some loose ones laying around" when I point you to the smoke machine.

Sad...

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Things I Learned This Week

1. The Breakthrough is Coming
Call me crazy, but having two of my original articles appear on Sports Illustrated's MMA & Boxing page in a seven day span is a positive step.

In under four months, Keyboard Kimura and my work as an MMA writer have grown exponentially, thanks in large part to my willingness to shamelessly self-promote wherever I can, but also because the level of work continues to climb.

After what feels like an eternity of spinning my tires and not being overly excited about what I was writing, things are finally starting to take shape and I've found my niche. All that's missing is a regular paycheck.

2. Hello, My Name is Sally
What the hell has happened to me? I used to be able to go out and drink myself stupid, get a couple hours of comatose-like sleep and be ready to take on the world.

Now, a long night of work leaves me laying on the couch in a heap for the better part of the day. When did I become such a Sally?

Granted, I did tend bar at a wedding for 12 hours last night,working into the wee hours of the morning, and getting to sleep at 4:00, but how in the name of all things right with the world can I remain totally sober and still feel like a complete and utter sack of hammers?

Even I want to make fun of me.

3. Four Months? Already?
Happy Anniversary Mrs. Kyte!

How it's already been 1/3 of a year is beyond me, but believe me, I'm not complaining. Well, not right now. I'm sure I will later, probably about something inconsequential.

4. Continuing to Excel at the Completely Meaningless
Last week I told you about the outstanding seasons my Fantasy Baseball teams are putting together, building momentum as the playoffs approach.

Since September is rolling around, that means one things: Football. As such, a couple Fantasy Football drafts have already been completed and while one didn't go as well as I would have liked, I will say right now, before a single meaningful snap has taken place that one of my teams - Team Canada (original, I know...) - will absolutely dominate this season.

And to the victor goes... absolutely nothing. Why must I be good at totally useless things?

5. The Word Star Gets Thrown Around Awful Liberally These Days
There is no more perfect example than this Ryan Jenkins guy who has apparently fled here to Canada after murdering his girlfriend.

They keep referring to him as a Reality TV Star. Funny, I've never heard to this murderous douchebag. Turns out he's on some VH-1 Bachelorette rip-off, which makes him the equivalent of one of the love interests of Tila Tequila and we all know what kind of superstars we're dealing with there.

If he's a star, what do people who are famous and talented now get qualified as? Mega-stars? Superstars?

6. I Need to Write for TV
Why? Apparently there is an insane lack of talent, forcing networks to move forward with such wonderful fall additions as:

• CSI Los Angeles starring Chris O'Donnell and LL Cool J.
• Brothers starring former NFL'er Michael Strahan as a retired player (big stretch) who returns home and hangs out with his wheelchair-bound brother.
• I can only assume there will be more seasons of Survivor, The Amazing Race, various "this single person wants to find a partner" crap and 47 more cooking challenge shows as well.
  

By the way, when did it become okay for the guy in the wheelchair to be the center of all the jokes?

Did I miss a memo or something?

He's a paraplegic, so smashing him in the legs with a door is funny because he can't feel it... really?

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Dishonour Roll: Bro - Anything!

Before getting all surly, lemme wish you a Merry Christmas!

With that out of the way, let us begin, shall we?

The term bro is quite possibly my least favourite colloquialism in the entire English language. As if someone other than Peter Kyte or perhaps Francis Santos calling me brother wasn't bad enough, we had to go and be all lazy, shortening brother to bro, in the process creating the worst word ever.

GQ rightfully called out the word "bro" a bunch of months ago as being the most annoying and obnoxious thing one guy could call another.

Pictured is Brody Jenner, who obviously starts out with a -1 because his name contains the word in question.

What helps Brody fall even further into the negative is his new MTV series that is set to premiere any day now... Bromance.

As if he wasn't already the closest male approximation of Paris Hilton around, Brody is now following in Paris' reality TV foot steps by searching for a new friend to add to his entourage in the most ridiculously named series in the history of television.

Yes, Bromance is worst than Game Show in My Head, but not by much.

You know things are bad when I'm calling you out; I mean, I'm the guy who has confessed his man crushes and openly cops to being metrosexual without batting an eye, but Bromance? C'mon.

If I ever said to my boys back home that our friendship was a bromance, I would be looking for new friends. Anyone with halfway normal guy friends would be and rightfully so.

D'you know you uses terms like bromance?

Douchebags.
Guys with popped collars.
People who still wear visors and still have them cocked to the side a little.
The "My New Haircut Guy" from YouTube.

No one likes any of those guys, except for maybe the guys he's bromantic with...

There, do you see how stupid it sounds?

Don't be a douchebag - just say no to bro!

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Questioning My Coolness

I don't know if that is happening or has happened to anyone else, but I've been questioning my coolness recently.

Not that I was ever the complete epitome of cool, but I like to think that there was a time when I had my finger on the pulse - I knew the trends, the fashion, the music, the style, everything - and did my best to represent that. These were also the years, looking back, where I was know to have sported the D-bag Uniform a time or two as well, so what does that tell you?

Nowadays, my finger is far from the pulse and truthfully, I'm really fine with that. What's cool these days is absolutely retarded. That's why the cartoon batting leadoff on this post is so damn funny.

And that's why My New Haircut has nearly 2 million hits on YouTube.

I walked through the mall the other day with Sarah and had no inclination whatsoever to go into stores like American Eagle or Aeropostale because they sell the exact same crap - frat boy garbage that has their name splattered all over it for ridiculous prices. If I'm going to pay $35 for a golf shirt, I don't want it to be one that I already saw fourteen kids walking around in - collars popped of course - that says American Eagle.

That's not to say that I don't care about style and fashion and looking good anymore - quite the opposite really - it's just that my style and sense of what looks cool has grown up and been heightened.

A really well cut, good fitting pair of charcoal pants and a crisp white button down is my new "Going Out" attire, a great departure from the days of jeans and printed t-shirt with sneakers.

I guess I've gotten to the days where I can actually say, "I don't understand the kids these days..." and tell you that I think Huey Lewis was right all those years ago when he said, "It's hip to be square."

P.S. If you think citing Huey Lewis makes me a total dork - peep Pineapple Express and see who they got singing the theme song... Huey Lewis and the muotherfuckin' News baby!

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The More Things Change...

Two minutes into arriving at Gate 9 and hooking up with my friend Beast (*pictured) today, I knew that nothing had changed.

You would think two years and life would make it a little difficult to fall right back into that old flow wouldn't you? Silly you...

It was like the whole moving to Newfoundland never took place, other than the fact that we talked about my move and life in Newfoundland right off the bat. But you know what I mean.

Witty, entertaining banter with Beast isn't the only thing that hasn't changed in the two years since I last frequented Toronto.

Street meat out front of the Dome is still one of my favourite delicacies in the world. All beef dog, egg bun, lots of mustard. Golden.

Toronto sports fans are still as annoying in person as I remember them being too. We had a collection of know it all wannabes behind us all afternoon who critiqued every pitch and discussed the production of their fantasy lineups all game long. This wouldn't have been bad, except for the fact that they didn't know shit and just kept tossing out douchebag cliche after douchebag cliche, including all the requisite pseudo-cool guy poseur comments about good looking women and how it's not the same sitting amongst the common people instead of being in a box.

Trust me, everyone in the section would have loved for you to have been in a box!

Josie Dye on 102.1 The Edge is still awful. Honestly, she might be the worst DJ in the world. It's as if she enjoys listening to herself, so she never shuts up and what she does say usually contains mistakes. Not as bad as the guy on some nobody station introducing the latest from Millie Cyrus today, but still.

Traffic out of "The City" is still a pain in my ass too. 3 hours from Dome to Home... Garbage! Not that the drive will stop me from making routine trips to the Rogers Centre this season or anything. It'll just be something I complain about every time I go, that's all.

Most of all, the experience of live baseball hasn't changed, both the game itself and how much I love it.

The crack of the bat.
Watching a curveball curve and a slider slide from behind the plate.
The Jays failing to score a run with the bases loaded on two separate occasions.
Beast's insistence that he could hit an 85 mph fastball if he knew it was coming.

Nothing has changed... and that's just the way I like it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Okay, so the picture isn't Beast.
It's Jack Black.
But it could be Beast.
I honestly think they're twins who were separated at birth, which would either make Beast 38 or Jack Black 29...

Go Beast Go!

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D'You Know What I Won't Miss?

The 8 a.m. stomping and shouting matches in the apartment above us.

I mean, it's bad enough that they apparently are on the cutting edge of the fashion industry and are the first to realize that cement shoes actually are a great look, especially when you come home loaded at 2 in the morning, but then how come they can't be like the rest of us after a good drunk?

Sleep in and stay as quiet as possible. Hell, I turned our fridge off two Sunday's back just because it was making too much noise...

Not these people though; they're up at 8 a.m. slamming doors and screaming at each other in between trips to their deck to smoke darts that end up making the yard look like a giant ashtray.

I could handle it when it was the 3-year-old kid; he doesn't know any better and that's what kids do, right? I got up every morning at 7 to watch cartoons and have pretend wrestling matches with pillows as opponents on the L-shaped sectional couch we had for 47 years...

But grown folk should know a helluva lot better than to be up and screaming and stomping that early in the morning, especially when you're in a non-soundproofed house with four other people.

Try to keep it to a dull roar for the poor bastards that'll be moving in underneath you once we clear out.

Or at the very least, take off your goddamn shoes!

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The Rundown: Don't Be A Douchebag!

Since busting out The Rundown back near the start of things, I have had a lot of fun coming up with it each and every week, as for the most part it has either been funny, self-deprecating or self-indulgent. Any way it comes out, it has been good times.

Today we're gonna shift gears a little and drop something helpful. Kind of like when I gave the seven of you suggestions on how to appear cooler via The Hip List not that long ago. This one is male specific though, since I'm tired of seeing large quantities of my gender behaving like giant douchebags. If one guy has a better night because of this, I have done my job.

And so, today's Rundown:

Top Five Ways To Avoid Being A Douchebag

5. Put Away The D-Bag Uniform
This one is just plain easy and I know it to be a truism because, well, I used to sport the D-bag uniform from time to time and had exactly no success whatsoever wherever and whenever I wore it. Be it at work, at play or anywhere in between, the D-bag Uniform is an absolute non-starter. So, if when you're getting ready to dress yourself you decide that the untucked button-down shirt with jeans and a sports jacket/blazer/linen jacket from H&M is your outfit of choice, climb back into bed because it's going to be a bad day. Any day sporting the D-bag Uniform is a bad day. Simply tucking in the shirt makes this wholly acceptable too, so long as you have a belt on. I can't stress this enough - YOU MUST WEAR A BELT AT ALL TIMES, EVEN IF IT'S JUST FOR SHOW!

4. Manscape
You know how we all think we look awesome with our rugged, Grizzly Adams beards? We don't. For the most part, we look like lazy bastards who should have shaved months ago. And we look anywhere from three to ten years older than we actually are. While that works okay for a babyface like me who is pushing 30 and looks 14, on the whole, looking five years older than you are is not recommended. This doesn't apply to facial hair only. The Amazon belongs in South America...

3. The Guy With The Better Story
Let someone else be that guy. No one likes that guy. That guy is a douchebag. When he leaves to go to the bathroom or mercifully has somewhere else he has to be rambling on about how he shot one stroke better than you on the golf course or killed a bear with his bare hands, everyone makes fun of him. Verbal pissing contests are a close second to actual pissing contests on the scale of "Oh Sweet Jesus Get Me Away From These Idiots!"

2. There is More to Life Than Beer... and Rye
This is maybe the hardest one on this list, as I know a lot of us - myself included - are big time devotees to one or both, but sometimes, a man needs to order something other than Bud Light or a Rye & Coke. The tricky thing with this is what to order, as some beers are actually fair game here like Guinness or Kilkenny or Hoegarden because (a) they aren't served in a bottle and (b) you don't just pound them back one after another after another. Plus, you can't be the guy walking around with a Screwdriver, because while you may avoid being a douchebag, you're dangerously close to being a total Sally who becomes the new focus of ridicule, trumping even the hated douchebag. Even my man Bucky, a life-long Rye & Coke / Bud Light guzzler has switched it up. You should too... My suggestions? Martinis work as long as they don't involve too much fruit, swirly straws or sticking your pinky out when you drink it and sipping away at a glass of Tullamore Dew on ice is a great choice too. I've rocked the Vodka Water for the last year or so and have to say I'm a huge fan. Thanks to Vanessa Monteith for the introduction.

1. Broaden Your Horizons
You can't just talk about sports. Recounting drunken escapades doesn't always work either, since you're always running the risk of becoming the guy with the better story or making yourself look like a total piss tank. Conversely, boring someone to death with ramblings about the Canadian Government's Military Spending Habits or the intricacies of molecular biology aren't good looks either. It's like when everyone would fall asleep on Friends as soon as Ross started talking dinosaurs... Movies, music and pop culture in general are always good starting points, just make sure you know what the hell you're talking about, because nothing is more douchebaggy than being the guy who says, "I love Amanda Bynes. She was terrific in Mean Girls."

Author's Note: I know what you're thinking and the answer is Yes, I am essentially the anti-douchebag. You may think that me saying that makes me a douchebag, but you're wrong. Just thought I would clear that up.

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