Thursday, January 15, 2009
One of my friends claims to have had an out-of-body experience. You know, where your "astral" body disconnects from your physical body and floats around.
"Yeah man, I just woke up in the middle of the night and my face was like an inch from the ceiling!"
That's because you sleep in a bunk bed. Clearly you can't handle the top bunk. I bet if you got a big-boy bed your paranormal experiences would greatly decrease. Seriously, you're 30...it's time to upgrade to a car-bed or something.
I used to sleep on a bunk bed, and I noticed that there are several pros and cons to being on the top.
PRO: Nobody's gonna pee on you.
CON: Sometimes you think you're traveling through time and space.
PRO: Somebody is probably paying your rent.
CON: Somebody is breathing right beneath you. Creepy.
Speaking of car-beds. I think the creepiest one you could have would be a molester van.
"Why does your bed have tinted windows?"
...also, you are now lactose intolerant. Not too big of a deal, I just thought you should know..."
So by that same logic I would like to claim that I, Mike Brody, WILL NEVER DIE!!!!
...unless I fall off a cliff...
...or Huey Lewis...
But first off, let's get something straight. If The Big Bopper hadn't died with two vastly more famous and talented people, nobody would remember who he was. Need proof? Who was the song "Surfin' Bird" by? See? (Answer at the bottom of the blog.) This was the age of screaming, lusty teenage girls in the audience. Meanwhile, the guy looked like Gomer Pyle from Full Metal Jacket. I wonder how they got the girls in the above video to cheer even a little bit for a guy with the sex appeal of a Waffle House cook. But I digress...
I went to a dueling piano bar in downtown Minneapolis the other day called The Shout House. I feel pretty bad for those guys at the piano because they have to keep up the appearance of spontaneous gaity and yet every night they get the same songs requested over and over. Oh awesome, The Piano Man by Billy Joel AGAIN! So in order to shake up their night, and to amuse myself, I decided to request songs that don't exist by bands that don't exist. And by putting a ten dollar bill down, they HAVE to play it. But how? Ooooo, conundrums!
About an hour after I dropped my request on his piano, I suddenly see one of the piano guys pick up a sheet of paper and say:
"I don't even know who 'Level Four Funk Offender' is? Or the song....'Uncle Jimmy's Pantaloons'? Uh...I don't know how to play this. I don't know the words."
I was prepared for this part.
"FLIP IT OVER!" I yell.
The piano man flips over the paper and much to my delight, awkwardly reads the impromptu lyrics that I scribbled on the back.
Uncle Jimmy's pantaloons
He's been dancing since half-past noon
Uncle Jimmy's pantaloons
Gonna have to change them soon
He didn't actually play the song, and for that I want my ten dollars back, but it weirded him out just enough that I think it was pretty much worth it.
This past Thanksgiving, my extended family and I went to the lavish "Prime N Wine" restaurant in Mason City, IA, located next to "Papa's Bar & Grill" and a field. I shouldn't complain in a town where the most popular place to eat is literally called the "Rib Crib".
Being Thanksgiving, it was quite packed as we waited for our name to be called in the lobby area. I was busy trying to count the dialysis machines when I heard it:
"Boinkin - party of 19! 19 for Boinkin!"
I was standing next to my uncle Steve just then. Something you have to understand about my family is that we're that generally straight-laced Swedish family that doesn't get too rowdy and is polite to a fault. No mullets and sleeve-less shirts and hooting at monster-trucks here. But BOINKIN!!! My god! Steve and I started giggling like little school-girls.
I tried to shush Steve, but it only made things worse. "Shhhhh! There's 19 of them! There could be Boinkins anywhere!"
Then Steve lets all Scandianavian discretion go out the window and exclaims quite loudly: "Don't bend over in front of the Boinkins!!!"
I was crying at this point.
Just then a guy in his thirties walks by and goes "Excuse me, I'm a Boinkin".
That was it. I lost it. I basically had to hide behind a fake tree while I laughed my ass off.
He said it with such dignity, but also a sense of defeat that can only come from having your name laughed at your whole life. Also, I love that phrase "I'm a Boinkin." Like "I'm A-Boinkin on down the road." Sounds like something the Seven Dwarfs would do.
But to their credit, since there were 19 of them, it seems as though the Boinkins have truly lived up to their name.