Dan H. wants vacation advice.

My wife bought me a three-day vacation in Vegas for next month. She knew I needed a break and she wanted to spend some quality time with our two boys.  My question to you is, should I go by myself or should I see if any of my friends want to tag along?

I have some friends that might be able to go and I’m sure we would have fun BUT the thought of getting to spend three days by myself is awfully tempting. You both have children so you understand how little alone time we get on a daily basis.

Ed:

First of all, A+ in the wife department, Dan. Only a quality woman would give the weekend pass and, on top of that, give the weekend pass to Vegas. Couples that do everything together quickly hate each other. Time apart is as important as time together. A few days away from the kids is pivotal for overall mental health.

As for being by yourself for a few days, I’m conflicted. I love being by myself. One of the underreported things about having kids is you never get to be by yourself – not even on the can. So, anytime I get a chance, I take it. Whether it’s the movies, sporting events, going to a bar solo, even a few weddings, I’m happy to fly solo. But Vegas could be tough.

Just like eating alone or drinking alone, the rate of consumption is exponentially higher when there’s no one else there to slow you down. There’s nobody to bounce off of. There’s nobody to comment about the terrible fake yam job across the craps table. There’s nobody to count the number of jorts being worn. There’s nobody to slow down the bleeding when you’re taking a beating at blackjack. Vegas by yourself could be a rapid fall into the depths of hell. By 4:00am on night one, you’ve reached your ATM withdrawal limit, maxed out all credit cards, and are doing speedballs with strippers near a dumpster behind Spearmint Rhino. Vegas can be a lot of fun but you’re better off practicing the buddy system.

Then again, you might be one of those spend-the-day-by-the-pool guys. If that’s the case, I can’t help you. Between boredom and my pasty, Irish skin, lying around in the sun (beach or pool) is about as fun to me as high school calculus.

 

Brian:

Don’t bogart the Vegas, Danny boy. Are you trying to go out like Nic Cage? Just because your special lady is all kinds of chill doesn’t mean that you get to hoard the good times like Francis Buxton.

Sure, it would be nice to kick it solo poolside with a well-worn copy of Infinite Jest and a frosty-cold Heineken lager, but alas, yours is a bigger burden. You have despondent buddies whose lives have deteriorated to the point that they actually look forward to things like Little League practices and “hanging with the neighbors.” Your browbeaten bros are in a slow-motion death spiral littered with three-hour dance recitals and cases of Costco TP all the while being serenaded by a Saturday morning lawnmower symphony. You have the opportunity to be the magnetic pull that frees one of your miserable mates from the orbit of Planet Bitch and you’re considering going alone? THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU, DAN. Do your duty. Make that call.

 

 

Chris P. wants to talk underwear.

Can we get a ruling on the proper undergarment for a man? I grew up on briefs (tighty whities), ditched them for boxer briefs at the beginning of high school, and was in regular boxers by the time I graduated. My preferred type is the knit boxer. They are comfortable and breathe much better than their counterpart, the traditional woven boxer. Thank you in advance for your input.

Ed:

Like every guy, I also started on tighty whities. The ending was a little sooner than yours though. In middle school, I had a lecherous gym teacher who forced us to shower after each class. Aside from the fact that piece-of-shit Mr. Measley should’ve been sent to jail for watching 12-year olds shower, the big revelation from that class is some guys had moved on to boxers. You never want to be the last guy in the room wearing briefs. For the past quarter century, I’ve been a regular boxers guy.

I’ve tried the others but with subpar results. Gave boxer briefs a shot once but, let’s face it, boxer briefs are just for guys who like undergarments smashing their balls but don’t want to feel like an old man. Right before college I dabbled with a pair of silk boxers, thinking it would be cool. One morning of wearing them and it was like having a thong. Those things slid upward with every step. They were in the garbage by lunch. I’ve also dabbled in knit boxers but feel they sometimes would creep up on one side for no reason.

So I’m a boxers man. I like them about two sizes too big. Plenty of room in there. What I want most out of underwear is to barely feel it’s there. Most of them have goofy pictures on them like reindeer, stick figures fighting, or today’s pair, bananas with the phrase “Peeling Good!”Don’t you dare fucking judge. My body. My choice.

 

Brian:

For me the proper choice of undies now and forever will be “none.” Look, I’m not saying I don’t occasionally rock a pair of briefs with jeans, or boxers with a suit, but my day-to-day, go-to undergarment is a none-dergarment. From an early age my genitals have eschewed encumbrance, and really who am I to stuff them into a cotton cage? Have you seen Blackfish? Shamu is forced to live in a world that’s way too small and uncomfortable. Sea World is an asshole, I am not. Free the orcas, and your balls.

 

Dave asks an important question.

What is the worst?

Ed:

Glad you asked, Dave. That would be the movie Avatar.

 

Brian:

Good question, Dave. It’s actually one of two things: clamshell packaging or the Dave Matthews Band.

Geriatric NASCAR drivers, minor league baseball assault, coroner drops a body in the road, Portia and Ellen on the rocks, How Fucking Old Is This Guy and The Bachelorette fantasy suites. WE’RE THE SPORTS SHOW OF RECORD.

 

Paul A. asks about the effect crummy names will have on hurricane warnings:

Do you think the mindset-based-on-gender thing will take a turn and female hurricanes will be taken more seriously in the years to come once we are faced with male hurricane names like “Hurricane Caden” and “Hurricane Kodi”?

Ed: Paul, you bring up a very important point. The stupid name epidemic isn’t just an annoying thing in our lives. Stupid names could help destroy civilization.

Fast forward to 20 years from now. The governor of New York warns residents to leave Manhattan. Hurricane Jaden is picking up steam and heading right for midtown. Nine million people think of Jaden Smith.

9 million people shake their heads and continue their day. 9 million people are killed as the eye of the storm hits the Empire State Building.

There are two parenting rules to live by in this world: 1) never assume other people want to hear about your kids; 2) if your son’s name can’t be found on a souvenir license plate rack in 1995, he will endure a lifetime of scorn.

Brian: What’s scarier, Hurricane Kenzi? Or Supreme Court Justices, Jayden, Kayden and Ayden?

 

Chris has created the first Baller Lifestyle drinking game:

1. Take a drink or shot every time Fancee’s accent slips out.

2. Take a drink or shot every time Ed uses a simile or metaphor.

3. Take a drink or shot every time Brian either makes fun of a (fellow) short person, or verbally spoons Fancee.  

Ed: Excellent work, Chris. It’s a shame your keen sense of observation was wasted on something as terrible as a drinking game. You’re like the fastest horse in the glue factory.

Brian: A) Fancee has an accent?

2) If Ed’s metaphor includes a reference to 1980s pop culture do I have to pound the whole beer? Because I don’t think my liver can handle that.

J) I’m (world) average height and verbal spooning is a genius description.

 

Ben906 went to the most disturbing airport bar in the world:

I’m sitting at the airport catching up on #hetero things like the Baller Lifestyle podcast and having a beer or seven before my flight. However, I saw something and need you all to weigh in. 

What are your thoughts on two bros sitting on the same side of the table at a restaurant? There’s enough room, no seat shortage in sight, yet Bro A and Bro B are sitting on the same side of the table.  Not across from each other. They clearly aren’t a couple but decided to get intimate while pounding down some fries. Isn’t this crossing a significant line of bro etiquette?

What’s the deal?

Ed: Whaaaaaa?!? I’m thoroughly perplexed. That just isn’t done here on planet earth. This isn’t a hetero thing either. If my wife sat next to me at a restaurant, I would immediately file for divorce. Here are the only times people are supposed to sit next to each other and converse:

1. At a bar.

 

2. On a talk show.

 

3. Against their will.

 

Ben, I sincerely hope you did the right thing and began screaming until homeland security hauled the bros off to the pokey.

Brian: First things first, great job imbibing at the airport. The airport is like the international waters of booze. It’s the only place (except for maybe the bar in Deer Hunter) where a guy can order a 32 oz. Budweiser with a Wild Turkey sidecar at 7:30am and nobody even turns their head (mostly because they’re on their third double Sark and Sprite). I’m always amazed when I walk into an airport and there are people not drinking. Like, how pathetic are these people’s lives that they don’t even realize that you’re supposed to get silly prior to flying.

Now, to your point about the two bros going hip-to-hip on a side of fries. This is a phenomenon I cannot speak to, not because I haven’t seen it, but more because I simply can’t conceive of a world where such behavior exists. We all know the universal rule of triangulating your position to the furthest urinal and leaving that empty seat between yourselves at a movie. I can’t imagine a scenario where two dudes would ELECT to booth up next to each other like two teenagers at the malt shop. The only conclusion one can draw is that Alfredo up-sold you one too many $3 Jameson shots with those tall Heineken drafts, because what you’re saying happened never happened.

 

Finally, Chris has a few names for our “How Fucking Old is That Guy”segment:

1. George Gaynes (dead or alive?)

2. Otis Nixon  

3. Richard Kline

4. Fonzie

5. Marv Levy

 

Ed: Brian and I have provided our answers below then looked up the real ages after the fact.

 

 

Gaines – That dude was way advanced in age when Punky Brewster and Police Academy came around. It was disturbing hearing his voice warble as he tried to teach orphan Punky life lessons or Mahoney about becoming an effective police officer. Both of those movies were in the 1984 range. Let’s say an even 30 years ago. Considering he was at least 70 then, I think George Gaynes would be ringing up triple digits these days. I say 100 and dead. – E.

There’s no way Commandant Lassard is still alive. He was 73 in 1987, which would make him a cool hundo today. I was worried that he might stroke out when that prosti fellated him under the podium. I agree with Ed, 100 and dead. – B.

(note: 97 and alive! Fuck yeah, Commandant Lassard!)

 

Otis Nixon – Nixon was so old in the mid 80s his face looked like it was the same material as the Easter Island Statues. Then again, I remember ol’Otis had an advanced relationship with the booger sugar. http://www.tmz.com/2013/05/06/otis-nixon-arrested-crack-cocaine/ I think I had a 1985 Topps card of Otis and, if I’m being generous, Otis looked to be 38. I say Otis Nixon is now about 68. – E.

Otis Nixon just looks old…like really old. Based on appearance, he was in his mid-70’s when he was roaming center field in Fulton County Stadium, but since he was an athlete we sorta know his age. He was probably in his early-mid 30s in the early 90s, which makes him about 53 or so. – B.

(note: Nixon is the double nickel, 55. Get some sleep buddy.)

Richard Kline – Larry was in that prime age of wily veteran at the singles bar (The Regal Beagle). I’ll say he was about 40 in 1978. That was 36 years ago. Larry is now 76. And I bet still slaying it at the RB. – E.

Wow, Larry. The Three’s Co. crew were supposed to be in their early 20s, right? But Larry Dallis looked about 47 at the time. I’ll round down and say that he was 40 in 1983, which makes him a spry 71 years young today.

(note: Kline is 70 and thrice married.)

 

Fonzie – The Fonz was a mechanic or bathroom attendant hanging out with high school kids at Arnolds. I’ll be generous and say he was 26 at the time of the first season which was probably 1975. I’ll also be generous and block from my memory that the coolest guy from my youth was hanging out with kids a good 10 years his junior. Arthur Fonzarelli is now 65. – E.

Fonzie was 40 playing 25. He was also mouth-sexing coeds on the jukebox, and playing Svengali to a team of high school boys in a diner’s latrine. He’s in his early 70s. – B.

(note: Henry “Fonzie”Winkler is actually 68. He was 29 and hanging out with high school kids.)

Marv Levy – Marv looked older than the wise old Chinese dude in Gremlins when the early 90’s Bills made their run. He HAD to be 75 in 1990. At the very least, Marv Levy is now 99 years old. Hang in there, Marv. The Today Show announcement is just ‘round the corner. – E.

Marv Levy was 79 in 1990. He’s 103. – B.

(note: Marv is only 88. Wow. That means he was in the 65-68 range during that Bills run.)