I’d Rather Cancel My Ryan Braun Heckle Of The Month Subscription [Friday Thoughts With TeeCoZee]
Alright, afternoon. Your name is overplayed. Also, I feel that noon-time is still kind of morning-esque. You’ve been faking this whole time. I suggest you change your name to AfterTwoThirty. That sounds much better. Let’s try this again.
afternoo— nope, shut up, I’m doing this.
Good AfterTwoTwenty. It’s Friday, May 22, Two Thousand and Fifteen. The weather in Brooklyn is 74˚ & somewhat cloudy and somewhere, somebody is sitting in a boat. He’s got sunscreen on his nose, a cold Beer 30 in his hand and he just came to the horrible realization that when he planned this boat excursion, he forgot to factor in the amount of time it takes to get back to the dock, tie it up and walk 2 miles back to the parking lot. In fact, as he sits there, he’s already late for something. Rule one of boating is “Be Prepared”. The chump didn’t follow that. Oh wait, that’s Boy Scouts. Well, he was a Boy Scout as a child, he should’ve remembered that. I was also a Boy Scout. That’s why I don’t mess around with boats. I also have a few things on my mind.
– I always feel like I should take more advantage of my Spotify subscription. It’s draining my bank account at a slow rate in 8 dollar increments. Or maybe it’s 10. I stopped paying attention to these things, which is a problem. Soon, I will garner enough subscription services that it will take me a whole paycheck to pay off each month. And I would still find myself to be bored. In any event, every Friday I take the initiative to try and use Spotify. I look up the new and latest Pitchfork darling, Spotify it, feel uninspired and forget about the experience completely. This week, I decided to give the new Jim O’Rourke album a spin. But the shit isn’t even on Spotify. I had to YouTube it. Maybe I should just cancel Spotify and subscribe to YouTube. Wait, YouTube is free? Even better. That’s one less thing I have to pay for. Next up, I have to find a way to weasel out of my OJ Simpson Joke Of The Month Club subscription. It’s just not worth the $120 annual fee.
– Top 5 Facts That I Learned From OJ Simpson Joke Of The Month Club Jokes
5) He was the most famous LA Dodger
4) Kato Kalin was in grade school between 9-12
3) He crossed the road to get to the other side
2) We are glad he didn’t say banana
1) Okay, yeah, I’m canceling this subscription.
– In speaking of famously hated, juice-driven athletes that may or may not wear mascara, I was real happy to land right field seats to the Mets-Brewers game last weekend. I was right at the wall, behind the one and only Ryan B. Braun. For those who don’t know, Ryan Braun is a liar, cheater, thief, Christmas Ruiner and self-proclaimed Big Daddy B. He’s also one of the most despised figures in sports today. I couldn’t contain my glee, just thinking about the many heckles I would hear and participate in. That’s the joy of rooting for a team that loses a lot. He took the field to a cadence of boo’s and hisses. Then it was soon followed up with a kid shouting “Braun, go home!”. Then another kid yelled out “Yeah!” as a rebuttal. That was about it. My section was so mild mannered that even sitting behind Satan himself, they let all their kids do the yelling. Once per inning the kid would tell Braun to go home and I died a little inside. I’m sure Ryan did, too. Here he was in New York Friggin Citay and the only heat he’s getting is some vague command from a snot-nosed do-gooder that probably helps old ladies cross the street. No grit whatsoever. No tact, either. The only consolation was that I got on TV. Check it out:
Finally, in the 8th inning, some guy that was presumably buzzed off Diet Zimas shouted, “Hey Braun, keep picking your nose!”. His back was facing us, but I could tell a smile sparked on his face. He raised a fist in solidarity. For the only time in the afternoon, Ryan Braun felt hated and it made all the difference to him. It may had been the best moment of his life. It certainly brought a tear to my eye. That’s baseball, baby!
– I was at a bar a few days ago and I had to pee because I was at a bar. I go up to a bathroom and there’s 2 guys standing there. One asks the other if he’s waiting in line. He says yes. So I ask the asker if there’s another bathroom. He says “of course” and points to one in a hallway. I go to that door and there’s a guy standing there, but he doesn’t look at me. The door’s unlocked, I go in and pee. Upon leaving, the guy that was standing there bolts right in. The other two guys are still waiting by the other door. I am the Solid Snake of bathrooms. Maybe that’s why they call me Lightning. Snake Lightning.
– Youtube is telling me that Faith No More made a new album. Goddamnit. I have to listen to it. It’s so horrible.
Judging from the first track, it sounds like a bunch of Roger Waters enthusiasts decided to make a nu-metal album that sounds nothing like nu-metal. So in other words, it’s a bunch of middle-aged headbangers learning how to play piano and sampling their old chords to make them still sound relevant. Where in the hell is Monster Magnet when you need them? Why do I have a feeling that somebody from high school is going to tell me to listen to this? I should probably just cancel my Facebook subscription.
– This week’s Letter From Coze goes out to
[A person with a name], a girl who [I believed at the time] gave me a fake number:
Oh, sweet! My first fake number! I’m a little surprised that it took me 28 years to get one, but fuck it, I have one now! Everything’s coming up Troy! You know what’d be really awesome is if there was a flaming bag of poop on my doorstep. That’d be a choice event. It’s good to know that these things still happen. It’s like the 90s never ended. Thank you so much for opening my eyes. I hope there’ll always be snow in your driveway. And you get mildly inconvenienced by things. I’m gonna go eat some worms. Smell ya later.
As it turns out, the number was a digit off and it ended up being the best thing I wrote last week. Presumably by sick curiosity, she still wanted to meet me. It was a brief and fun encounter. I enjoyed it immensely. I’ll never see her again. I’m over it. Or maybe not. Nope. At least I can still drink Mountain Dew and listen to Butthole Surfers all day. That’s What’s Up™!
– My roommate is trying to have a business call while I blast Butthole Surfers through the house. I bet he wishes I wasn’t single. Or maybe it’s the other way around. I should probably turn it down a little. Goddamnit. Being single blows.
– Free concerts are bullshit. Unless it’s in a park where there’s a seemingly unlimited capacity, music events should always have an appropriate charge. I’ve been wanting to see Parquet Courts for years and now they’re finally playing in Brooklyn on my day off and to my immense displeasure, it’s free. In this sense, free = sold out. The shit sold out before I even knew it existed. But how does something free sell out? Easy. If they can allow 1000 people in the venue, they’re going to give away 5,000 RSVPs. So even if you “bought” this free ticket, there’s still a 1:5 chance of actually getting in. People that go to free things have nothing better to do, so they’re gonna be camping out at least 12 hours before the doors open. Then the people with lives suffer because they can’t stand in line all day. These are also the people that would pay money to see these shows. So why is it free? Because Vans said so. And with that, fuck Vans. I already wear their shoes, support the bands they want me to support, but they won’t let me pay them 20 bucks to see my favorite band so I don’t have to waste my day standing among a bunch of sweat crustpunk mutants. But wait, I can’t even stand in line. I wasn’t quick enough to get into the pre-line line. Free concerts are bullshit.
Try this trick over the weekend: Sneak me into the Parquet Courts show.
Have a sneaky weekend, everyone!