Why I'm a better sports fan and all-around bigger idiot than you

Okay, so I didn't watch the AFC Championship Game. But I'm still a better sports fan than you. Why? I just took a shower. IN MY BRETT FAVRE JERSEY.

Why? Because the Packers are going to Super Bowl XLV, and I love to do ridiculous challenges for no apparent reason (milk-gallon challenge, saltine challenge while driving, etc.). So this children's medium jersey that I got for Christmas circa 1996 is staying on until the completion of the big game.

That's why I'm a better sports fan than you: I'm sacrificing cleanliness, friends, sex (Just kidding, I usually have sex with my jersey on anyway. Dick pics work, people.), swimming, and sun-tanning for the next two weeks. And the Packers are my SECOND-FAVORITE TEAM. The Rams are actually my favorite NFL team.

My dad is from Wisconsin, so in the first four-ish years of my life when the Rams were still in Los Angeles and the Cardinals were long gone, I was brain-washed as a cheesehead. And it sure helped that when the Rams came to St. Louis, they sucked with the suckiness of 1000 Orecks (fuck you, Tony Banks) while the Packers reached back-to-back Super Bowls. Yet, when they play, I have to pull for my hometown squad. So, I'm suffering through mesh-induced nipple chafings for 14 days for my second-favorite team. That's like paying for dinner when you go out with your second-favorite girlfriend. (Sorry, that's a ridiculous comparison. Why the hell would you ever pay for your girlfriend?)

And let me tell you what, I SMELL GREAT. Sure I showered with Scope and dried off with cologne, but I've yet to hear any complaints (maybe because I haven't left my room...) — and I just ran two miles, did an ab workout, and played racquetball in this enduring piece of childhood.

That's why I'm a better sports fan than you. As a friend pointed out, I'm quite literally putting the team on my back. And you're not.

At least, for the sake of your sanity, hygiene, friends, nostrils, and sun-tanning schedule, I hope you're not. GO PACK GO.

Spusic and Morts

I don't really know how to start this post. Possibly by breaking the ice by breaking the fourth wall. If you acknowledge breaking the fourth wall, are you breaking the fifth wall? Maybe by apologizing for not blogging in a while. I honestly should have written this over two months ago. Maybe I'll just try to be funny instead of actually coming up with a smart lead. When did Jim Gaffigan start narrating my blog?

Seriously, how does one begin writing about everything? Because that is what this post is about—at least, everything this blog is about: music and sports. That's only two things. (Shut up, Jim.) That's right boys and girls, it's the first-ever music AND sports post! So I guess I'll just start with the obvious: The Best Weekend Ever.

I suppose the seeds of this weekend's greatness were planted last spring. My friend Joel and I wanted to go to Lollapalooza. We did the research, figured out how much everything would cost and how we would pay for it, and Joel's parents said he could go. Only one thing was standing between us and the greatest road trip of our lives. Actually, it was two very overprotective things: my parents. And I had just the stone needed to take down these fun-opressing Goliaths: a very organized, convincing, visually-pleasing (I'm talking animations and everything) PowerPoint presentation. There was no way they could say no. But, of course, they did. So while Joel and I were recovering from not seeing Arcade Fire, The Strokes, and—most importantly—Lady Gaga, among others, we were consoled by the light at the end of the adolescent tunnel: COLLEGE. Where you don't have to ask your parents to do anything (except pay your tuition, of course). Like go on road trips. We saw that LCD Soundsystem was going on tour, apparently for the last time, and decided that we could not miss it. The closest location was Milwaukee, and goddammit we were going to go. Especially since the opener was Hot Chip. But wait, there's more. The night before that concert, of Montreal was playing in St. Louis with Janelle Monáe opening.