A walk-off is baseball’s equivalent of a buzzer beater. Except it’s better than a buzzer beater because there is no time limit in baseball. You can’t simply run out the clock. You can have two outs and be a strike away from losing and still win the game. It’s not over until it’s over. A walk-off can only happen when the home team is at the plate either in the bottom of the 9th inning or in extra innings. It’s awesome when your team wins in a walk-off and it’s agonizing when they lose in a walk-off because there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s one of the best things about baseball. There’s nothing quite like experiencing a walk-off in person. Everyone in the stands is screaming and going nuts while the winning team rushes the field and pummels the clutch hitter as he touches the bag. They jump on top of him and slap his helmet and you see grown men acting like little kids. It’s all smiles and pure joy. It’s why they play the game and it’s why we watch it.
People like to eat nuts. Peanuts, walnuts, and cashews seem to be the most in demand, but very few people can resist a good pistachio. Energy Club Salted Pistachios are Roasted & Salted to Perfection, and my taste buds will agree to that statement. Most brands of pistachios have a ratio of one unopenable nut per ten openable nuts. Energy Club has a ratio of one defective pistachio per twenty-five regular ‘stachios. I don’t have the numbers to back it up, but it seems like Energy Club gives you more accessible pistachios than the competition. And pistachios are expensive these days so you want to make sure you get your money’s worth. They are all natural and the ingredients are simply pistachio nuts, dry roasted with salt added. The package also carries a warning” “Contains Pistachios.” I certainly hope it does, otherwise what the fuck am I paying for?
My name is Brendan. Not Brandon. It’s Brendan. Brendan Young. I like my name. You have to learn how to spell it and how to say it, and anyone who doesn’t know how to say it right is not a real friend. It’s a filtration system. Plus I can introduce myself as B. Young: That’s my name and that’s my motto and that has a nice ring to it. The only problem with my name is that there are a few other Brendan Youngs in the world. One of them is a convicted felon serving time for a drive-by shooting. I realized that I needed some way of differentiating myself from all the other Brendan Youngs out there. So I created a pen name. Well, not so much as a pen name as a fake middle initial. I decided to become Brendan H. Young. H. is a powerful middle initial. It’s not a natural sound. You have to pause slightly to say it correctly and it makes what you’re saying seem more prestigious. Brendan H. Young. You have to admit that it has a nice ring to it. It’s fucking fancy, bro. I thought about being Brendan X. Young but X. is kind of cliché. We’re all about originality here and H. is way more unique than X.
Hot Pockets Pepperoni Pizza is the frozen microwavable pizza pocket that you grew up with. It’s glob of melted cheese, grease, and meat with a terrible tasting dough holding it all together. The end result is a turnover that tastes somewhat similar to a slice of pizza. The filling will be hot enough to burn the roof of your mouth with one bite and will be ice cold with the next. There is no such thing as a perfectly cooked Hot Pocket. It simply can’t be done. Or so I thought. I was looking at my Hot Pocket wrapper and I noticed that there are instructions for cooking the Hot Pocket in the oven, so I tried baking it instead of nuking it. It takes about 28 minutes to cook in the oven (not including preheating) and that’s a ridiculously long time to wait for a fucking Hot Pocket… but the filling was consistently hot throughout, the crust was nice and crunchy, it was as close to perfection as any Hot Pocket could be. But there’s not point using the oven to cook microwavable food. It defeats the purpose of buying microwavable food.
You’re at the bar, a few drinks in, and you’re silently debating to yourself whether or not you want to sneak away. Then suddenly the bartender plops down a few glasses in front of your group and declares that the next shot is on the house. Now there’s no escape. Free shots are both a blessing and a curse. Don’t get me wrong, I will never turn down free booze… but if I wanted a shot I would have ordered one. Free shots usually contain the worst alcohol in the bar, but the bartender always acts like they are hooking you up. They aren’t hooking you up. They are getting rid of an unwanted product and they think that disposing it on you will lead to a higher tip. And it usually works because then you feel obligated to open your wallet. Nothing good can come out of a free shot. It leads to regret and blacking out and possibly throwing up in the bathroom. Free shots are the adult form of peer pressure. Everyone’s doing it, you might as well too.
Popcorn chicken are bite-sized pieces of chicken that are deep-fried. They make a mediocre meal but a significant snack. It’s probably made of all the rejected pieces of chicken that weren’t good enough to be served, but the taste is all that matters. Who doesn’t like fried chicken? Especially when they are bite-sized and boneless? You pop one after another into your mouth and enjoy them… until they get cold and gross and you ask yourself why you bought Popcorn Chicken. It’s kind of a fucking oxymoron, it doesn’t even make sense. It always seems like a good idea until you order them, then you start to regret your decision pretty quickly. I first experienced popcorn chicken at KFC, and they’ve since caught on and I’ve seen them on a few different restaurant menus. They are usually listed as an appetizer, but you shouldn’t have any qualms about ordering them as your entrée. Popcorn chicken: because bones are so yesterday.
I’m an American of the 21st century and I rely on electricity. Sometimes the power goes out, mostly because of freak accidents involving weather or vehicles hitting utility poles, and occasionally it gets shut off because of neglected electrical bills. It’s always good to be prepared and have a flashlight or candles handy in case of an emergency. A source of light is comforting and it’s also nice to be able to see what you’re doing. Just be careful if you’re taking a piss by candlelight: dripping hot wax on your junk isn’t that fun. It burns and you’ll probably drop the candle in the toilet. When I was a kid, a power outage was a time to gather around the kitchen table playing cards and board games while eating ice cream before it melts. These days everyone gathers around the iPad, hoping it doesn’t run out of battery because then they would actually have to talk to each other. And kids are already too fat today; they don’t need any more ice cream.
If you’re in middle school, a charley horse is when you punch someone else in the thigh so hard that they can’t walk for a few minutes. If you’re grown up and somewhat mature, a charley horse is when you have muscle cramps or spasms in your legs. They fucking suck. It’s just a sudden explosion of pain as your muscles seize up and constrict uncontrollably. You can’t walk, you can’t think, all you can do is cry and wait for the sensation to pass. Consider your lazy ass lucky if you’ve never experienced one. You don’t get them from sitting on your ass, you get them from a physical activity. It’s a downside to being active and enjoying life. Sometimes when you run around, your leg will cramp up (especially if you don’t stretch first). Just remember that pain is good and that you earned that pain.
I ordered some food the other day and was waiting in line to pick it up when I noticed a guy sitting at a table savagely picking his nose. He was digging for gold, silver, platinum, diamonds, one ring to rule them all… I mean he was going at it. Most public nose pickers try to be subtle about it. This guy was not ashamed at all. He was picking with so much gusto that I was afraid his nose would start gushing blood. He really had no sense of shame about it. I couldn’t look away, I was too fascinated. Picking your nose in public is slightly taboo, but this guy turned it into an art form. It made me feel inadequate about my own nose picking skills. I didn’t know how good some people are at it. This guy could teach a class.
I wish I knew how to whistle with my fingers. I know how to do a basic whistle, the normal whistle that everyone can do. But it seems like only a few people have mastered whistling with their fingers. It’s much louder and far more impressive. It’s a piercing shriek that demands attention. You’ll hear it at sports events during celebrations and in cliché movie scenes where they hail a taxicab. I’ve watched YouTube instructional videos where they teach you how to finger whistle. They break down all the steps so I can pinpoint the exact moment where I fail. I can spend about three and a half minutes blowing spit and saliva between my fingers before I get lightheaded and give up. Maybe I’m not supposed to know how to finger whistle. I would only use it for evil anyway.
I had a lot to drink last night and I felt it this morning. I woke up in pain. I tried to lie in bed and pretend that I was ok, but I couldn’t keep up the charade for long. As soon as I heard my roommate leave the bathroom, I ran in, raised the toilet lid, and shoved my finger down my throat. I was feeling much better after a couple of heaves. There’s nothing wrong with throwing up after a night of drinking. It will make your stomach feel better and you’ll feel less hungover. Drinking is fun, hangovers aren’t, and if puking relieves your pain then go for it.
Monster Energy is not an energy drink; it’s an energy supplement. It says so right on the label. There are a lot of energy drinks/supplements on the market, and this is one of the big three. If Red Bull is Coke and Rockstar is Pepsi, then Monster would be RC Cola. It has a sweeter taste than Red Bull and Rockstar, but there’s something weird about the flavor. It’s hard to describe, it’s sweet and slightly fruity but I have no idea what fruit flavor it’s trying to emulate. It has caffeine, taurine, ginseng, B vitamins, L-carnitine, and a shit ton of sugar. I have no idea what L-carnitine is or what it does, but if it keeps me from passing out I’m all for it. You feel like your heart is going to explode if you chug it too fast. That can’t be a good thing.
I am a nerd and every few months I get the inkling to watch Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace. That’s a mistake and I know it, so whenever I started fiending for that shitty prequel I go online and search for Red Letter Media’s Phantom Menace review. This is a comprehensive and humorous video review that showcases and highlights all the things wrong with the movie. You always knew that The Phantom Menace was a terrible movie, and Red Letter Media explains why. They go into detail bashing the story, the lack of a main character, the rest of the characters, the plot holes, and how George Lucas started powertripping and lost his vision. And once you watch it, you can never look at Episode I the same way again. They have a lot of valid points and any film buff would appreciate watching this scathing review. The review is narrated in voiceover by an unseen creepy old man with a penchant for kidnapping young white females. It’s a seven-part video; each segment is about 10 minutes long. It’s better than watching The Phantom Menace and you learn way more than you would with the DVD commentary. Now you can get your Phantom fix without suffering through the actual movie.
It’s baseball season and I love every minute of it, so I’m warning you now that I’ll be writing a bunch of shit about baseball for the next few months. Today’s baseball topic is bringing a glove to the game. Bringing a glove to the game means that you are either really optimistic or six-years-old. I’ve been to over two hundred baseball games in my life and have never caught a ball. I’ve had three major chances, and I would have caught them if I had my glove. I’ve only brought my glove to a few games. One time I was sitting in premium foul ball territory right along the third baseline, so I made sure to bring it. Not a single foul ball came anywhere in the vicinity of me and I almost left my glove at the bar after the game. Wearing a glove is only acceptable at the game, you look like a tool anywhere outside of the stadium. It’s a Catch-22, you’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t. I might never catch a foul ball, but one time I saw a guy get smashed in the face with a loose bat. That almost makes up for it. I just want to catch one ball in my life. I don’t even want to keep the ball. I want to catch it, have my five seconds of glory, and then give it to a little kid nearby. He’ll treasure it more than I would. Unless he throws it back.
You’re not a real fan of a team until you get a jersey. Picking a jersey is like getting a new tattoo. It’s a commitment and you have to be sure you’re making the right choice. Which team are you supporting? Which player represents you? Are you going to wear the number of current athlete or a retired great? Home jersey or away? Limited-edition commemorative jersey or a standard issue one? You can have multiple jerseys, but you always remember your first one and you always have a favorite. I love going to games and seeing my fellow fans decked out in familiar names and numbers. I see the little kids rocking the current roster and I see the old folks wearing the names of legends, the heroes of their childhood. Something about rocking a jersey makes you feel like you’re apart of the team. After all, you’re wearing the same uniform. Rocking a jersey makes the game more real, whether you’re in the stands or watching at home.
Red Bull is the undisputed king of the energy drinks. But even they feel the need to shake things up a bit every once in a while and so they have created Silver, Red, and Blue Editions of their signature product. Silver is lime flavored, the red is cranberry flavored, and The Blue Edition is blueberry flavored. It’s not overly sweet and its taste vaguely resembles blueberries. It tastes sort of like a diet drink while it’s on your tongue, but there’s no lingering aftertaste. It takes some getting used to, but I like it more and more with each sip. If you like regular Red Bull, you’ll also like this. It also has a cool blue can with cool graphics and appearances are important. You’ll make friends if you buy The Blue Edition Red Bull.
I went out to the baseball game the other day. It was my first game of the season and I was meeting up with an old friend. Our pact was simple: You buy the tickets and I’ll buy the beer. Naturally I was going to get inebriated. Gameday rolls around and we meet up at the stadium. I buy the first round, and I finish my beer before he’s even halfway done. So I bought another beer and finished it as he finished his first. I offered to buy another round and he said no. So I bought another beer for myself mostly because we had to kill time before first pitch. It was a hot day too, and I don’t need much of an excuse to crack a brew. It took until my fourth beer to realize that I was drinking with someone who doesn’t drink. I suddenly felt sloppy and like an alcoholic. But then I looked and noticed that the line for Budweiser was longer than the line for hot dogs and realized that he was the weird one, not me. Props for having restraint and self-control, but I’d prefer a few bottles of suds over soda any day of the week. Drinking with someone who doesn’t drink is ok as long as they don’t judge you and as long as you don’t judge them. It’s like eating a burger in front of a vegetarian; you don’t talk about how amazing it is because they don’t want to hear about it.