CHRIS COEN

Snow.  If you live north of the Mason-Dixon line, it’s a part of life.  It sucks, unless you’re a student, in which case you cheer the falling flakes as you plan an orgy of video games and sled riding.  What actually sucks about snow?  People.

1) Conversation.  If I had a dollar for each “Heard it’s going to snow tonight!” I engaged in, I could almost pay for my drinking habit.  In fairness, I use because it’s easier than other conversation starters.  “You like broccoli?”  “How about that figure skating last night?  It was crazy!”  See what I mean?

2) The news.  The news people get more worked up than a 14 year old boy finding a box of Playboys in his uncle’s basement.  Weathermen froth and twitch as they relay the news of the impending disaster, even though it will in a reality be less than an inch.

3) Drivers.  The problem isn’t speeders or blue hairs, it’s the fact they are on the road at the same time.  Some teenager is texting his girlfriend at 70, passing people on the right, while granny is white knuckling the wheel going 22 in the far left lane because she can see the yellow line better.  It’s getting to be so I can’t update my Facebook page while I’m driving!

I hate this snow.  It’s completely useless.  Then I found out if it’s a level three, I legally can’t drive to work…snow, damn you, snow!  I have video games and sled riding (read video games and drinking) to do!

Anyone can break down the Super Bowl – it sucked.  However, I can comment on the commercials.  Subway – don’t show world class athletes, then sell me a sub with Fritos and BBQ sauce.  Kind of insulting.

I can see a Chevy commercial from a mile away.  Cowboy, check.  Horse and/or cattle, check.  Now show truck and play country music.  There it is!

You can always count on whatever network has the game to plug the shit out of their average sitcoms.  Also, I’m watching the game.  I’m sure Bruno Mars will do great.  I don’t need to be reminded of it every 14 seconds.  I’m not a goldfish, forgetting my entire life every half minute.

I also learned car companies have about 40% of the airtime.  Even more importantly, I learned that if I want to self-reliant, young, bold, and a grab life by the balls guy, I should drive ________.  Thanks, car industry!

Tim Tebow doing a commercial for T-Moblie is the most fitting celebrity/company marriage ever.  If you don’t get this joke, you’ve never had T-Mobile.

Bob Dylan said, “We will make your car.” I don’t want Bob Dylan making anymore music, let alone my car.  Also, I resent them saying let the Germans make my beer.  I’ll take a dirty thirty over a sixer of Beck’s any day.  USA!  USA!  USA!

Not me, but I watched the show on TLC.  So much hate and sarcasm hit me the second the show started, I nearly had a stroke.  I recovered, and here’s the blog…

The show was about a bespectacled middle school mustachioed pedo creep who had an “emotional and sexual relationship” with his car.  How do you have sex with a car?  Answer?  A lot of rubbing.  Not much reciprocation either, apparently.  They say we have nothing to learn from history, but I disagree.  In 1300, a man smearing his crotch on a carriage would have been burned at the stake.  Today, it’s cool.  I feel the answer is somewhere in the middle as to how our society reacts, but after watching this show, I’m leaning 1300.

Second, this guy has a mid-90’s Chevy.  I had an 89 Celebrity.  Trust me, it’s not going to be around much longer.  Even weirder, the guy said he was straight…but his car was referred to as Chase and a male.  Is that gay?  Is that straight?  Does it matter?  I don’t know, but it’s definitely not normal to call yourself one sexual orientation and then bang something inanimate referred to in the other sex.  “I love women…but also my toaster Ralph.”  What?

Then he broke the news to his dad and his dad was pretty laid back about it.  Ah, nothing like father/son bonding.  “So son, how’s your family?”  “Pretty good, dad.  I dry humped my Lumina in my driveway then had Taco Bell.”  “Great!  See you next week!”  (Gunshot)  Is there a stake around here?

I had a couple shows Saturday that hit the wide range of the comedy scale.  Show one was hosted by my pal Sumukh Torgalkar – he came up with the idea to dress like a ref and have a “Laugh Rumble” with what turned out to be 18 comedians.  The five minute mark was marked by an air horn, then the next comic ran up to tag in.  I debated doing a character, but I’m lazy and didn’t have any (thankfully) wrestling tights laying around the house.  Nick Glaser went Hacksaw Jim Duggan with the American flag and a 2×4 and Dustin Meadows used a belt as an assault weapon and chugged a beer, ala Stone Cold.  If they combined those characters, the patriotism and masculinity might have created an explosion.  Close one, America.  Close one.

I then rolled down to a comedy/burlesque show.  In terms of theatrics, probably even more grandiose.  There was fire, costumes and dancing – the comics brought only jokes about alcoholism and genitals, but it’s for the best there is no crossover.  Most comics can only model for police lineups or before pictures.  I never knew until the show that there were male burlesque dancers.  Now I can never unlearn that, because I saw it and it’s burned into my cortex.  Thankfully, as I type this, the Grammy awards are on.  The combination of stuttering presenters and 75 year old musicians trying to stay relevant are doing their damnedest to wipe away my entire weekend’s memories though.  If they let Yoko Ono sing, it may work.

My lady bought tickets to the Ohio State basketball game, which was awesome, although I nearly had to set myself on fire to survive walking from the parking lot to the stadium.  The game itself was close, with lead changes and excitement.  Of course, the best part was people watching…as long as they didn’t interact with me.

One of my mysteries of life are people who wear the other team’s colors and go nuts during games.  There was a man to my right wearing a bright orange shirt (Illinois’ colors) jumping up and down for the Buckeyes, heckling the refs relentlessly.  I have more of problem with the bright orange shirt in general, but you would think someone going that ape for a basketball game would actually think about stuff like that.  Or it’s very Bravo channel of me to notice.

The guy behind me was OK, until a bad call caused an explosion of spit to hit the back of my neck.  Thanks, hope you don’t have swine flu.  That almost bothered me as much as the lady in the front row.  She watched the game only to take pictures and text them to her pals.  She was tweeting and chit chatting with everyone, dancing around, making a spectacle of herself.  The topper was when the high schoolers behind her brought some hot dogs to their seats, she turned around and said, “Watch out for my coat, it’s real fur!”  I was actually disappointed, because they were perfect gentlemen.  Kids these days.  I would have definitely smeared relish on her coat when she turned around.

Arby’s has one with a “famous detective” interviewing a fisherman.  On a boat – “Do you really get your fish fresh like this?”  Yes.  “Really?”  Yeah!  “Really?”  WOW.  That is amazing detective work.  “Did you kill that woman?”  No.  “Really?”  Oh God, you’ve broken me!  I’m guilty!

I saw a pet commercial showing a housecat, then shifting to a lynx.  Apparently, if you feed this cat, it turns into a dangerous predatory beast…not the best message.  Also, my dog sleeps 14 hours a day, I doubt Blue whatever is going to make him run up mountains.  Plus pushing the taste is a wasted effort.  I have seen my dog eat his own vomit multiple times.  Not much of a refined palette.

Any car commercial that shows someone getting a car for their significant other’s birthday or Christmas present relates to about 2% of the US population.  “Hey honey, I figured I’d sneak a $35,000 car past you with no trade in.  Good thing I started saving coupons from the Sunday paper last month or I might not have had enough pocket change to buy it.”