It's Hotter Than...

It's hotter than a half-bred fox in a forest fire.
It's hotter than a June bride in a feather bed.
It's hotter than a ginger mill in Hades.
It's hotter than the devil's dick.
It's hotter than a four-balled tom cat.
It's hotter than a flaming bag of turd.
It's hotter than Oprah's underwear during a hot flash.
It's hotter than a snake's ass in a wagon rut.
It's hotter than a two-peckered goat.

And an old favorite...it's hotter than two rats f**king in a wool sock.

Pride Vs. Saving Money

Lately I've noticed more and more people driving Vespas and other motorized scooters to and from their place of work. I can understand why. With gas prices shooting higher than a kite on acid, it makes sense from a savings standpoint. However, I can't think of too many things that are more dorky than riding one of those things, especially while wearing work attire. Even with a helmet to cover your face, it would test the limits of my pride to participate in this activity. I'll keep flushing my money away on gas for my mid-sized SUV, thank you.

Confession Time

Lately I’ve been struggling with a confessional disclaimer, which explains my recent absence from this blog. Dear readers, I know I’m going to be ridiculed incessantly for what I’m about to divulge, especially from my fellow music fans. Due to various factors (okay, one – a chick), I was recently introduced to an artist who I had previously not given a rat’s ass about. For a long time, I’ve viewed “new” country music as nothing more than hillbilly bubblegum pop, consisting of overhyped artists with their young, hip, cookie cutter, gel-headed, cheeseball back-up musicians. To me, country had lost its edge years ago, which was exactly the motive for forming my old band, The Inlaws (see TommyTCoe photo above).

So recently, when I was force-fed the music of (gulp) Kenny Chesney, I initially resisted. At first I thought, “Oh great – another rube with a fake twang and a sleeveless shirt and a cowboy hat.” And on top of that, I always thought his name sounded ludicrous, especially while being hollered by his starstruck fans (“Keeunnieeee Chayusnieee!!”). But I kept listening, only to discover that the dude wrote and sang some pretty damn good songs. The more I listened, the more I liked what I heard. The songs he doesn’t write, he chooses meticulously to fit his beachy, Buffetty vibe that blends perfectly with his more introspective material. Lo and behold, I was becoming a fan. Like Jeff Goldblum in The Fly with his ears falling off, I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered just what in the hell was happening to me. Let’s face it, I became hooked.

The culmination of this newfound fandom occurred last weekend when I went to see him live at Turner Field. It was an interesting lineup, consisting of Gary Allan (sucked), Leann Rimes (looked good but destroyed “I Want You To Want Me”), Sammy Hagar (of all people), and Brooks & Dunn (those vets know how to put on a show). But as soon as Kenny rose from the stage, he blew everyone else away. I’ve been to hundreds of concerts in my time but I must say that from a visual/production standpoint, it was the best concert I’ve ever seen. And the guy knows how to entertain. Not only that, but instead of running off with his ego at the end, he did something that I’d never seen before – he actually walked out onto the ramp and signed autographs while the band was still playing (granted, his band consisted of the same cheeseball types mentioned earlier). The guy is genuine and I like him and his music. So rag on me if you must – but you can bite me!

Classmates

My 20 year HS reunion is coming up and I'm charge of the class DVD, which will consist of old photos along with a "then and now" segment of classmate pics. This job has turned into quite a daunting task since volunteering for it several months ago. By "volunteering", of course, I mean responding to a mass e-mail saying that I'd be glad to "help out" with the DVD. Result? Immediate message in my inbox saying "You're in charge of the DVD".

Anyway, since then I've received digital photos from nearly 100 of my former classmates, many of whom I literally haven't seen since graduation. It's been interesting to see how everyone looks now. There are several girls who were once normal looking but are now quite MILFy; several dudes who were and are still sorta nerdy but now have hot wives (how? $$); and some people that quite frankly look like ass. I'm genuinely interested in seeing and catching up with everyone, but it's a slap in the face reality check to realize that it's been 20 f**king years since I graduated from high school.

Oh, The Horror!

I watched The Mist on DVD this week, based on a Stephen King novella and directed by Frank Darabont. I love Stephen King and Darabont (he directed The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile, also King adaptions). But The Mist is utter crap - a bad premise with a bad story and bad acting. What happened to the good old days of horror films? We went through a gore renaissance of sorts during the 70's and early 80's (a.k.a. the "slasher" films) but nowadays, no one knows how to make a good bloodfest for the screen. The scare tactics are cheap and the editing is too breakneck for my tastes.

I grew up with a genuine appreciation for these types of films. This might explain a lot to those of you who know me, but when I was a kid, my dad would take me to horror movies all the time. We'd wave goodbye to my mom, telling her that we were going to see the new Herbie movie. We'd end up, of course, going to see Halloween, Friday the 13th, or any number of campy classics from that era. And no, I didn't become a serial killer (at least not yet). So you can have your damn Saw movies - I'll take The Evil Dead (see above photo) any day of the week.

Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy

Once promising but often troubled Bama football player Jimmy Johns was arrested yesterday and charged with 5 counts of selling cocaine as well as possession of a controlled substance. Johns was highly touted when he first arrived on campus but spent much of his time in the doghouse, especially once Nick Saban was hired.

Johns’ family arrived from Mississippi yesterday to bail him out of jail. Lee Thomas, who described himself as Johns’ “caretaker”, had this to say to The Tuscaloosa News:

“He may be done here, but he’s not done with football,” Thomas said. “He just got mixed up with the wrong people; that’s it. He’s a good kid. He knows he messed up. It’s his first offense. He’s going to come back."

Huh? First of all, this wasn't a mistake, a bad decision or a case of getting "mixed up with the wrong people". Johns was caught selling nose candy to undercover police officers not once, but FIVE different times. He knew what he was doing. And secondly, he's "going to come back"? To what exactly? The dumbass has been kicked out of school and off the team. Get in a bar fight or arrested for public intox, then you get a second chance to "come back". Not with this charge. In this case, the level of stupidity on his part reached monumental proportions. To see someone with this much talent and potential flush their future down the toilet is senseless and quite baffling. I hope he's able to wake up and turn his life around someday. Sad.

Dumb Slogan

Today I was driving back from lunch and noticed a large tow truck, specifically designed to tow tractor-trailers. I didn't catch the name of the towing company but I did get a glimpse of the company's slogan - "Towing Alabama's Finest". WTF is that supposed to mean anyway? If the vehicles they tow are Alabama's finest, then why the hell are they having to be towed? I just shook my head at the thought of not only the schmo who came up with the tag line, but the company executive who gave it the thumbs up.

Farewell To A Legend

George Carlin was one of those comedians, like Richard Pryor and Redd Foxx, whose albums I had to be sneaky about listening to when I was a kid. You never knew when he would break into a wonderfully nasty story or routine. My dad loved him, too, and as a birthday gift about 6 years ago, I took my him to see George Carlin when he last performed here. We had excellent seats and I was filled with nervous excitement as he walked onstage. Even though he was already in his 60's at the time, he was still as sharp and angry as ever. At one point, I remember tears running down my face as I bowled over with laughter. I seriously thought my organs were going to explode.

He was a legend, a genius and quite simply one of the funniest mofos to ever walk onto a stage. If you've never heard any of his albums, I implore you to listen to FM, A Place For My Stuff, You Are All Diseased, or any of his other works of brilliance. There will never be another one like him. May he rest in peace.

Where Are The Parents?

Two WTF stories in one day:

Reports: Teen Girls Made Pact To Get Pregnant

GLOUCESTER, Mass. (AP) — A pact made by a group of teens to get pregnant and raise their babies together is at least partly behind a sudden spike in pregnancies at Gloucester High School, school officials said.

Principal Joseph Sullivan told Time magazine in a story published Wednesday that the girls confessed to making the pact after the school began investigating a rise in pregnancies that has left 17 girls at the school carrying a child. Normally, there are about four pregnancies a year at the school.

Sullivan told Time that nearly half of the expecting students, none over 16, were involved. Sullivan said students were coming to the school clinic multiple times to get pregnancy tests, and "seemed more upset when they weren't pregnant than when they were."

Some of the girls reacted to the news they were pregnant with high fives and plans for baby showers, Sullivan said. One of the fathers "is a 24-year-old homeless guy," Sullivan told the magazine.

Superintendent Christopher Farmer confirmed the deal to WBZ-TV, saying the girls had "an agreement to get pregnant."...


Former Teacher Surrenders On Sexual-Abuse Charges

BIRMINGHAM, Ala -- A former Clay-Chalkville Middle School teacher charged with second-degree sodomy and second-degree sexual abuse has surrendered to authorities and been released on bond.

Julie Pritchett, 34, turned herself in about 9 p.m. on Thursday, said Sgt. Randy Christian, spokesman for the Jefferson County Sheriff's Department. She has been charged with two counts of second-degree sodomy and one count of second-degree sexual abuse in cases of two boys younger than 16.

Pritchett allegedly had sexual relationships with eight male Clay-Chalkville High School students between the ages of 15 and 19 between February and April.

She was released on $66,000 bond, Christian said.

The teacher started a sexual relationship with a 15-year-old former student, and that relationship led to sex acts with his friends, Christian said. The sex acts were initiated by Pritchett, who used several methods of approaching the boys, Christian said. Some of the acts took place on the school's campus and others at the homes of the victims.

Ok, I Know This Is Gonna Sound A Little Mean Spirited

This is Henry Waxman, a Democratic Congressman from California who's had a distinguished 30 year career on Capitol Hill, and happens to be married. He's also the reason why I look in the mirror at times and wonder how in the hell it is that I'M not married.

Russ

What more can I say about Tim Russert that hasn't already been said all over TV the past few days? I've been a huge fan of this man for years, and his passing was extremely shocking and saddening. He knew his shit better than anyone else who ever covered politics. I would always have The Today Show on in the background while I was getting ready for work and would drop whatever it was that I was doing to listen to what he had to say on whatever the subject might have been. On top of his knowledge and dedication, he was a decent guy who was truly genuine. He will be sorely missed and never replaced. R.I.P.

Memo To Kid Rock

Recently while I was working out, I was mortified to hear a "song" on the radio that melded two classic songs with the often used D-C-G chords - "Werewolves Of London" by Warren Zevon and "Sweet Home Alabama" by you know who - into a whole new version with stupid lyrics and a different melody. I literally stopped pedaling the stationary bike and sat there with my mouth agape, not believing what was coming out of the speakers. I later found out that it was the latest single by Kid Rock, "All Summer Long". And now I'm hearing this piece of crap everywhere I go. Hey "Kid" - I implore you to get some creativity and write your own damn songs. There are more than enough no-talent ass clowns out there (my own unoriginal citing from Office Space).

Noooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!

According to a Tuscaloosa News article, there will be a new company in charge of concessions at Alabama football games starting this season. This company handles many professional sporting events and wants to upgrade the quality of the menu. Fine, whatever. But there's a possibility that they'll do away with a Tide tradition that is every bit as important as Bear Bryant, National Championships, and excessive drinking - the Bryant-Denny Stadium Dog. Say it isn't so! For those of you uninitiated readers who haven't had the experience, there is NOTHING on this earth more tasty and fulfilling as one (or several) of these jumbo hot dogs after a day of pre-game cocktails. I've been known to scarf down as many as four during a game, for a formidable average of one per quarter.

If you're like me and care deeply about this issue, send an e-mail to Crimson Tide Sports Marketing General Manager Jim Carabin at malford@learfield.com. Here's what I sent to him this morning:

Mr. Carabin-

As a longtime fan and supporter of Crimson Tide athletics, I was excited to read about the new company (Centerplate) handling football game concessions but disappointed to read that stadium dogs may no longer be available at football games (http://www.tuscaloosanews.com/article/20080611/NEWS/104954120/1010/NEWS03). To myself and many, many others, Bryant-Denny stadium dogs go hand in hand with Alabama football, and I would hate to see them go by way of the dinosaur. PLEASE reconsider this decision and keep the dogs in the stands.

Thanks for your time and attention,

TTCoe

Hot Chicks With Douchebags

Recently, my buddy Rick turned me onto a site called Hot Chicks With Douchebags, and the site is indeed a perfect mirror of our society as it relates to the lives of young singles. Men- how many times have you seen a hot chick(s) with a complete tool and thought to yourself, "What/how is this dork with this girl?" We all know the answer of course - $$$. Now ladies, before you go ballistic at that last statement, let me just say that going after the green is as much of a product of immaturity as the douchebag dude himself. We all go through such phases at different times during our lives and some - men and women alike, unfortunately - never grow out of it. So feel free to peruse the thoroughly entertaining aforementioned web site and bask in the irreverent glory of youth.

Snake

Yesterday, the collective media of Alabama exploded with orgasmic pleasure over Kenny Stabler's latest DUI (his third). Like sharks in the ocean, the local and state media go into a feeding frenzy anytime one of their own celebrities has a brush with Johnny Law. Everyone has their own opinion about what should happen to Stabler and I'm no exception.

First of all, I must admit that I've always loved Snake, and not just his on-field exploits. Like many others, I've always snickered at the many stories that are out there about this fun-loving ex-QB. In fact, I had my own run-in with him about ten years ago at The Blue Monkey Bar here in the 'ham. He had just taken over the color analyst job for Bama football games and I ran into him leaning against the wall, drinking by himself. I approached him, shook his hand and complemented him on the job he was doing on the radio broadcasts. He was very nice and appreciative. Later, as I was leaving, I watched him half stumbling/half being carried up the alley by a couple of his associates and slung into the backseat of an awaiting car. Part of me giggled to myself but another part of me thought about how sad it was to witness.

Stabler needs to be let go from his position with The Alabama Sports Network, or at least be allowed to resign to save face. It's just not funny anymore. He's been caught drinking and driving three times since 1995 but there's no telling how many times he drove drunk and wasn't caught or arrested. He's damn lucky that he hasn't killed anyone. That being said, I'd be lying if I claimed to have never operated a motor vehicle while under the influence - I have and I'm not proud of it. But I also haven't made a name for myself by being the affable town drunk like Stabler has. He obviously has a problem and I hope he does something about it this time and gets some help like one of my other Bama QB heroes, Joe Namath.

My Mother, The Genius

Recently, I was out of town with my mom and stepdad and we had to find our way to a restaurant in our rental car. I was driving and my mom was navigating from the passenger seat, her Google Maps directions in hand. Here was the exchange as we drove down the interstate through downtown Omaha:

"We're taking Exit 262. Look for 262," she said.
"Okay," I replied.
"There's Exit 256 - we're looking for Exit 262."
"I know."

A few minutes later, she chimed in again. "Here's Exit 258. We're getting off at Exit 262," she said once again.
"I know, you already told me that several times. We'll be there in four miles."
"How do you know that?"

I looked at my mother with what was surely a puzzling expression. "Because 262 minus 258 equals 4. The Exit numbers correspond with mile markers. You do know that, don't you?"
"They do?," she asked.
"Mom, you're 60 years old. Have you really gone your entire life not knowing this?"
She chuckled with that familiar, knowing laughter that says "you three boys have turned my brain into mush - it's your fault." I guess she has a point. But I still shake my head when I think about all those years of car trips when we were little - before GPS and computer map applications, when all we had was a trusty old road atlas. It's a small wonder that we ever made it to any those destinations.

Career = Over

The news out of Switzerland is not good if you're a Shania Twain fan. She and her producer/husband, Mutt Lange, are splitsville after 14 years. If the name Mutt Lange doesn't ring a bell, then his treasure trove of hits certainly should. Mutt has left his stamp on such classic albums as AC/DC's Highway To Hell and Back In Black, The Cars' Heartbeat City, Def Leppard's Pyromania and Hysteria, and Bryan Adams' Waking Up The Neighbors.

But it was his partnership with Shania that took them both into the stratosphere, as he ended up producing/co-writing all of her hit albums. I hope she's happy raising her kids because, other than the occasional nostalgia tour, her career is over. No matter what she or anyone else might say about her songwriting contributions, make no mistake that, at least musically speaking, Mutt is/was 99.9% responsible for her rise to the top. As for her controversial (at least in the country music community) sexy side, she ain't getting any younger. I hope you enjoyed the ride, Shania, because your time is up.

Men Are From Mars, Women Return Things

I had a brain lapse a couple of weeks ago and purchased a steering wheel cover in order to fight the summer heat. I must've momentarily thought I was Mexican - this thing was as cheesy as you could imagine. A couple of days later, I came to my senses and returned the item. That was an extremely rare occurrence. When I shop for clothes or anything else, I have a simple rule of thumb. I buy things that I want and don't buy things that I don't want. Unless it's something that doesn't fit, I almost never return anything.

Which brings me to yet another thing about women that I just don't understand. Women tend to return items rather frequently because they decide that they simply don't like the item that was purchased just days or even hours before. Why is this? How is it that you like something one day and not like it the next? Guys see something they like and buy it. End of story. Women, on the other hand, return items with the frequency of a small hand radio (thanks Dan Aykroyd). Oh how fickle you gals are. And oh how we cannot live without you, dammit.

Ode To An Ice Cream Man

Irvine Robbins, co-founder of Baskin-Robbins, died yesterday at the age of 90. Robbins brought joy and calories to millions of families over the years, including mine. When I was growing up, my dad would bring us a quart or half gallon of Jamoca 2-3 times a week. We'd always run to the door whenever he arrived home from work to see if he brought the goods. Being the oldest of three boys, it's safe to say that we were quite a burden on our poor parents.

One extreme example of this endless strife was the ritualistic doling out of the bowls of Baskin-Robbins ice cream. After dinner, my dad would line up three bowls and fill them with several scoops of goodness. That's when the fun started. We would bicker and fight about who's bowl had the most until my poor father finally lost it. My brother Michael developed a sure-fire method of getting the bowl he wanted - the little shit would grab the one he wanted and lick the top layer, rendering it his own. Eventually, this practice got so out of hand that my dad finally had to use my mom's food scale to weigh each bowl. If one of them was off by even a quarter ounce, we would bitch and moan until he finally evened them out. Like a butcher weighing ground beef, he had to stand there and carefully add or subtract until each bowl contained the exact same amount. This is why I feel so sorry for my parents to this day. Aren't you all glad you didn't raise us?

Yawza!

This past weekend I attended the Berkshire-Hathaway annual shareholders meeting in Omaha. As most of you know, I've been to this "Woodstock For Capitalists" for several years running. This year might have been the craziest, possibly due to the monster buzz I caught Saturday night from about 8 double vodka drinks. However, the highlight of the weekend was having the distinct pleasure of meeting one Becky Quick from CNBC's "Squawk Box" program. All I have to say is Ooh La La. Not only is she extremely classy and friendly, but she also happens to be hotter than Hades. And if you happened to catch her one hour special Monday night, The Billionaire Next Door, you would have caught a glimpse of yours truly (provided you didn't blink). It's an excellent mini-doc on the festivities at this still-growing annual event. Looking forward to seeing more of Becky next year...