Da Butcha

I'm considering creating a list of life-goals. I think it could be handy if I ever lose my way; just pull out the ol' list and mosey on to the next line. But perhaps I wouldn't accomplish some and I'd feel like a failure, or my interests could change but I wouldn't want to change my life goals list.

Anyways, I think one item on there has to be compiling some sort of volume of my dad's stories. He has a story for every occasion, and he tells them, so goddamn much in fact that he has a story about how one of his friends, tired of hearing his stories over and over again, took to interrupting him ten words in with a line like "Oh, this is number 33. He locks himself out of the house and has to dig through the snow to find the key." And he would be right.

SO: When my dad was in college, he and his buddies had a set-up for about six months where they would give blood twice a week to earn their food and beer money. Seems like a perfectly reasonable plan, right? Well, there was this one nurse who worked at the clinic who was notorious for her ineptitude at finding a vein. She would stick people again and again before she got the needle in right. Thusly had she earned the nickname "The Butcher."

So my dad and his friends were all down at the clinic, sitting in the waiting room and eating the free cookies, and the first one called is my dad's buddy Rory. Rory goes in and sees that he got...the Butcher. He starts to shake a little bit as he sits down and she puts the tourniquet on his arm. The rest of the crew sees their friend in need, so naturally, they crowd around the glass door to watch him suffer. The Butcher takes the needle and sticks it in Rory's arm...nothing. She pulls it out and tries again. And again. And Rory is just losing it, and my dad and his friends are rolling on the floor, and she has to stick him SEVEN times before she gets a good vein. JESUS CHRIST.



P.S.: Suggest some life-goals for me. Right now I have "have kids" and "write a book."

Have we gone too far?

So, the shenanigans in AP Spanish just keep rolling and rolling, culminating today in a racial slur or two against The Maestra. So I ask, have we gone too far?
The day started by the Maestra referring to me as "El Guero," which, for you unseasoned spanish speakers, means "The White Kid." I laughed, nodded my head, swept kubas’s back with my escoba, and had a few "kind" words to say.
A few minutes after we made fun of white people, the Maestra asks me if I can dance – as if just because I’m a guero I can’t dance. I pump my fists a little in an honest attempt to cut a little rug, but she laughs and pulls up my sleeve comparing her brown arm to my whiteness. I just can’t win.
Not much later, we got on the subject of donating sangre. Mitch Lorenz talked about his blood donation, and the Maestra told us that, unfortunately, she didn’t weigh enough to give blood. And get this – Mitch tells her that no one would even want her Mexican "sangre sucio." That would be the Maestra’s dirty Mexican blood, folks. We actually have a legit racial slur of the dirty-Mexican variety uttered to a teacher figure that happens to have emigrated from Mexico. ¡Ay Caramba!
Not much else happened in the hour...no, wait. We had a "skit," which involved kubas as a professional football player, Tim Yeh as a prominent doctor, Cameron and Mitch as god knows what and yours truly as a janitor. And check this out – we end the skit by kubas yelling, "Maestra died!" Shortly after we danced and had a fiesta.
Methinks Borat should come to our Spanish class.


In lighter news, I’ve lost 100 dollars at the casino in two separate trips with Mr. Kubas in the last week. It’s safe to say I will never return.

turkey soup

during our synthesis project in lang today, one of the office aides came and delivered a note...addressed to mr. andrew kubas.

i think his "sentence" under the "story description" reveals quite a bit about the talent within the FSJ.

above and beyond all of this, i hope that some of you noticed that the story is about "drama club."

i'm not in drama.

josh bundy, a prominent figure/editor of the FSJ became somewhat pissed that i'm going to blow this guy off. my reasoning:

if he doesn't know WHAT he's doing the story on, is there any reason for me to give him the time of day? i say no. then again, i'm a heartless conservative.

mustache out!

The Nationwide Cabal Of Honorable Persons

Bad news dudes. CSI: Miami has lost the magic it once had.

Time was, a man couldn't get through a single episode of CSI: Miami without piling up three or four bodies, a smattering of one liners, and at least one passable villian. Also, if he wasn't careful, he just might of learned something about how fun and exciting laboratory procedure can be and how utterly sexy painstaking analysis of phsyical evidence is. Now, things have changed. You might get one good warehouse raid per show, if you're lucky. And Horatio hasn't shot anyone/saved a child/saved a child by shooting someone for weeks!

Oh well, I guess it's just House from here on out.

I gave at the blood drive yesterday. It was a good thing to do, and I needed to get over a minor anxiety I had about giving blood. It went fine, but I'm still a little sore. I feel...stretched thin. Like butter scraped over too much bread.

My already formidable books-to-be-read list grew by three last weekend when I picked up a few books from my aunt Sarah's "free pile": Maniac Magee, Slapstick by Kurt Vonnegut, and Dr. Strangelove: the novelization. Solid.



I'd love to stay and chat, but OH SHIT! The Gorgon patriarch has been corrupted by a Fused Shadow, and now he's running rampant through the mines! The solution to this situation is clear: IRON BOOTS.

P.S.: Whoever's first to call my LOTR reference in the above post gets ten bonus points.

Have You Ever Noticed How All Poor People Are Fat?

Max: I wonder if I could paddle upstream against the Mississippi in a canoe. I guess it'd be easier with two, but still.
Sam: Max, I'm sure you could. After all, Lewis and Clark paddled up the Mississippi in a canoe all the way across America.
Max: That's not true.
Sam: Yes it is.
Max: Sam, they had a huge crew. They traveled on large barges which were pulled by oxen on either side of the river.
Sam: Well, after all the other guys died it was just Lewis and Clark in a canoe.
Max: Only one guy died. It was in like the second week. He fell into some rapids. Everyone else survived.
Sam: Well, Lewis and Clark always traveled slightly ahead of the crew, in a canoe.
Max: I once read a Time magazine article on this subject, and I highly doubt that.
Sam: Max, my dad is a Lewis and Clark scholar.
Max: Okay that I believe.
Sam: Actually, more of a Lewis scholar. Clark may not have even existed.
Max: Oh, so he was a Lewis and Clark conspiracy theorist.
Sam: No, he was a legitimate scholar!
Max: Sam, saying that Lewis and Clark traveled in a canoe might be legitimate scholarship. Suggesting that they were different personalities of the same schizophrenic individual? Not so much.
Kelsi Herwig (under her breath to Anna Zimmerman): Are they always like this?

Tune in to 3WI from 10-11 a.m. tommorow for more such exhilirating rapid fire exchanges on Koeping with Government. Also featured: uber-liberal Sara Swenson and wishy-washy Kara Richard. In order to keep things interesting, I think Sam is gonna socialist-up his viewpoints, and I may have to adopt a new persona, similar to that of Stephen Colbert, only more abrasive and meaner.

Will Mary notice the difference? We'll see!

Max, The Hero Chosen By The Gods

I now have a Wii, thanks to this man:No, wait...this man?No, that's not it either. Let's try again:Well....close enough: Mr. Carter Kuehn, ladies and gentlemen.

He was down in St. Cloud dropping my sister off at on the train at 5 a.m. Saturday morning, so he decided to check a few of the stores down there for Wiis. Long story short, he ended up waiting in front of Best Buy for 3 hours in the cold, but he GOT ONE. Best dad ever, am I right?

Twilight Princess is engrossing, but I have a feeling that it's going to feel more like a chore than a game. Also, it doesn't really use the bitchin' controller system as much as it could; you can swing the controller to swing your sword, but really, stab or slash, left or right doesn't make a difference. But you can choose a name, heard throughout the dialogue, for your character and your horse. I named the horse Sam, and it turns out the horse is a girl. HA HA HA!

Wii Sports makes much better use of the controller, especially in tennis and boxing.

Wiish list:
Red Steel
Another controller
Some other game?
Internet hook-up cable

The Trifecta (Part Two)

I bought nothing on buy nothing day, yet I managed to see Casino Royale. Muy mysterioso, no?

1. Poker can make for and exciting, interesting movie--See: Rounders. But I didn't come to this movie to see Bond trade raises with our blood-crying, Danish, supervillian...banker? You'd think with a two and a half hour running time, they coulda cut some of the extended, chip-fingering staredowns and still had enough footage to move the plot along and satisfy the populace.

2. Best scene: either the parkour chase seqence at the beginning or the hilarious, excruciating torture scene.

3. I kept waiting for the Bond music to drop in, but those bastards held out until the very last scene. Sam tried to convince me that this made it more special, but I think Bond's more badass moves always look better when he's backed by an orchestra.

4. Don't worry about the initial plot with the bombs and the airplanes and all; it has virtually nothing to do with the rest of the movie.

5. As JM said of Daniel Craig, the new James Bond: "I just wanna jump in bed with him right now."

turkey sandwich

on thursday i lost a lot of money at grand casino hinckley, but i think being with my family made up for that.

in this picture, three generations of kubas men are hard at working earning a living.

my grandpa struck it rich! we're best buds. seriously.

on friday i lost a lot of money at grand casino mille lacs with josh bundy. but i think the djarums made up for that. haha.

as soon as i got back, this boy named adam pelkey happened to give me a jingle.

AP: "hey, fred midge and i are in town and we wanna do something. right now."

that was enough for me. we saw borat. then went to perkins. 'twas amazing. i don't think i've laughed that hard for...well...since training at meyer's.

next up: visiting the other college folk at buffalo wild wings! exciting, no?

mustache out!

Buy Nothing Day

So I was planning on just getting up really early yesterday morning and trucking out to Target in search of a Wii. In fact, I'd even made a plan with Mr. Graham Lampa (who was planning on going to Best Buy early this morning anyways in search of more nerd supplies) to watch for Wiis over at Best Buy and contact me if one was available.

I got home from my cousins' house late last night and was just falling asleep when my phone started ringing. It was none other than Graham, calling to present me with his master plan: we would just stay up all night, first at Perkins for some bottomless coffee and milkshakes, then out in front of our respective stores. In my sleep-deprived state I was unable to resist his wheedling, so I was off to Perkins at one in the morning.

I drank about six cups of coffee with entirely too much Splenda, ate a plate of onion rings which burn my heart even now, and had a generally bleary-eyed good time until about 2:30. Graham had scoped out the siti ahead of time: Target was looking like I could afford to wait, but the line at Best Buy was rapidly circumnavigating the store. We decided we would keep each other company in the Best Buy line until I saw fit to drive over to Target and hop in that line for the home stretch.

Despite the belligerent drunk (and his store security escort) just ahead of us, the line proved to be an enjoyable experience. Graham had a microphone for his iPod, so we walked the line and asked people why they were there and what they wanted. A surprising number had no real plan or specific item they desired; they were just there because it was the place to be. We went up to the front of the line and interviewed those hardy souls (the very first had been there since 2 p.m.), then began a count of all the people in line. Number 15, an older, crustier gentleman in blaze orange, gave us his count of the first fifteen, which a number of people disagreed with (we got quite a bit of the argument on tape). The vast majority of the line, however, was good-natured and friendly. Only numbers 44 and 48 were also in controversey. When Graham and I reached our own spots in the line (Numbers 119 and 120), it suddenly, for no apparent reason, became time to stand up and form an actual line around the building, so we never got a proper count.

Word went round that Best Buy had no Wiis, so about 5 a.m. I headed over to Target to try my luck there. For whatever reason, the line there was much shorter. I was about 10th or so. We eventually got a crowd of maybe a couple hundred. When 6 rolled around, there was a rather jumbled rush to the door. I sped in, cut a hard left turn, and jogged down the aisle to electronics, where a balding man in a red polo informed me that Target had recieved no Wiis in that morning's shipment.

So in the end, despite my efforts to purchase somthing at the earliest possible hour, I made it through "Buy Nothing Day" unscathed, down to sneaking in to James Bond last night.

What a good hippie am I.

voices in my head...saying yes and no...

today after school (after jazz band and going to the bank) i went to the Y to play basketball.

upon closing my locker and turning around...who else should i run into...

except for the one and only mr. folkeringa. he gave me a VERY awkward double-take, and then in his typical fashion (towards me at least) he looked down at the ground, made eye contact with me, looked at the ground again and said, "hi."

i did the male "head-nod" thing and was like "hey" but by the time the words came out he was well on his way to the members-only portion of the locker room.

fun times!

for those of you who haven't heard: over christmas break, i will be hosting a "POST-PELKEY-POOPING-PARTY." (in celebration of pelk-master-flex getting rid of his bag) think that you're not invited? YOU ARE! the only real requirement is that you have said at LEAST one word to pelk and/or have touched his muscles. i've developed a creative list of fun/entertaining things to do (centered around a bag/poop theme) but i'm guessing it'll be more of a thing for us high school folk to get to visit/see you college folk. (and...i think the schedules clash...so pelkey still might have his bag, but that'll be all the more fun!)

in other news, itunes is selling "the very best of supertramp" for $6.99. who could possibly pass that up?

i wish all of you the best over these next few days. i hope you get to spend quality time with friends/family/food/football. enjoy yourselves!

mustache out!

Hey, At Least I Can Spell "Senior"

In ninth grade over at the ole' Missy Ho, we had to write a letter to ourselves as seniors. This assignment had of course passed out of all memory, but today, nearly three years to the day later, I recieved a letter from Mrs. Schulte with a couple of old stamps on it. There was a smarmy little essay about my goals (three out of four ain't bad) and a sheet of notebook paper filled with memories. The other side is more entertaining but slightly more self-incriminating. We'll see if I post it or not.
Click for a better image. Man, look at that childish handwriting.

I propose that any MHS alum seniors who recieve their letters post them on their blogs, provided they're part of this community. So Kurt and the Tabasco Sisters and that's it. Oh, and Sara Swenson, right? And Bundy if we want to count him...which we do!

Koeping W/Government is coming back to BHS, sans Stu Lade. Pritschet asked the German class and I signed up, but as far as I know no one else is on board yet. We've clearly got all the manliness and rational liberalism we need, so think broads and conservitives. Sam expressed some interest, but I'm pretty sure that was just to piss me off.

Right now, I'm honestly thinking Catherine Lepel and Arielle Schnur. With any luck, they should cancel each other out like matter and anti-matter, although I hope they don't obliterate each other into pure energy, at least not while I'm in the room. Oh man, Lepel and Schnur trading barbs on air would be priceless. Lepel will quote Scripture, Schnur will quote Oscar Wilde, I'll quote Tupac, and it'll all be good.

Hangtime

I'm officially signed on

not all at once now

i forgot to mention:

i have senior pics for sale. and by "for sale" i mean you can have one. for free.

it's going to be a first-serve-first-come basis. (yes, i know i said that wrong)

i went reallllly cheap and didn't get too many, so if you want one call it now.

by the way, i look really cute. "cute."

mustache out!

oh how shall i receive thee?

ladies and gents,

i have a stalker on my hands.

i'm talking. STALKER.

it's kind of like this guy:



except, it's not a guy, and a lot younger.

what shall i do?

in fun kubas land: i'm kind of hitting wave 2 of depression. help me.
tomorrow = not fun
thanksgiving break = could save my life
god that pedofile/stalker guy in the picture is just amazing.
plus, i hope you can make out the wording, but it reads, "mustachioed and feelin' good"
i love the emphasis with the italicized "good"

jazz band started today, and the thing is frickin' huge. big melby didn't hold any real auditions...which pretty much bummed me out because there are way too many kids in JB. with that in mind, i'd like to say: i should've played trap set today. seriously. it would've made my day. maybe even my week.

another day, another adventure.

mustache out!

People: They're The Worst

Further proof that I have no idea what Mrs. Niemi is thinking:

So last week we wrote a prose-analysis essay based on a passage from Jennifer Price's "The Plastic Pink Flamingo: A Natural History." I didn't like the question, and from what I heard, everyone wrote about something different. I didn't connect anything to anything else and I included just about the ugliest paranthetical statement of all time. The only thing I felt alright about was my last sentence, which was a half-page monstrosity with 6 commas and a dashed off statement--you know, a real Tay sentence--but which had a little hustle and flow.

The next day, Mrs. Niemi talked about all the "really good sixes" she was reading. Translation: These papers were well written, but their authors failed to read my mind and thus are to be punished. Naturally, I thought that my paper would fall into this category.

Grade time today: I'm expecting a 6, would be happy with a 7. The paper arrives--9.

Mrs. Niemi--This was very well written. Very nice.

She later described it--along with the other two nines--as being "like putting something very delicious in your mouth...like a piece of chocolate. That very carnal feeling...we get from eating food."

Creepy. But back to the essay: if you don't believe me about this essay being bad, just ask Sam Walker. I'm sure he has a complete list of faults somewhere.


P.S.: Today, while discussing where the best place to punch someone is, Pritschet restated his claim that a mere four pounds of pressure is enough to crush a human windpipe. I tend to doubt this assertation, but am mysteriously reluctant to test it.

David Caruso Parks His Car

I found this while watching Hannah's hilarious CSI: Miami clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_sarYH0z948.

The Trifecta (Part One)

I'm probably going to have a lot of free time over the ensuing weeks, what with the holidays and all, and seeing as how I didn't get a Wii (despite my father's Herculean efforts in my absence), I'll need some way to fill it. After eliminating the usual (memorizing derivatives, transcribing the Oselund Brothers' comedic monolouges), and the improbable (learning the guitar, making out, doing backflips), I have decided that in an effort to fill at least5 hours of this need, I will see three films in the coming month or so:

-Stranger Than Fiction
-Casino Royale
-Tenacious D in: The Pick of Destiny

Today I saw the first of the three, Stranger Than Fiction. I enjoyed it. I didn't "fall out" of the movie's universe and start thinking about the real world (hmmschooltommorowonlythreedaysthisweekiwonderhowmuchshiti'm
gonnahavetodofuckfuckfuck
concentrateontehmoviedamnitihatewhenthishappens) until about three-quarters into it, which is a good sign for me. Will Ferrel was suprisingly convincing in a very dramatic role, so good for him. Even so, I'm hoping we get to see his belly again in his next picture. Or he'll have a mustache. Or both. The film was very complex and often very pretty and I think it would benefit from multiple viewings.

That said, if I had to choose between seeing this movie again or seeing Borat for a third time, I would hesitate, then watch Borat.

THAT said, if I had to choose between having all the knowledge of the universe revealed to me in a single blinding flash of insight or seeing Borat for a third time, I would hesitate, then watch Borat.

P.S.: The Manly Mustches fantasy congress team has rolled into 3rd place in the Criminal Masterminds league. I'm hoping for a strong showing this next week from purported "ringer" Ken Salazar, who has thus far produced nothing but carbon dioxide and increased sales of cowboy boots.

(P.P.S.: This was the silliest picture of Ken Salazar I could find. It was part of a news story and had a sweet caption: "Colorado Democrat Ken Salazar, with three pairs of cowboy boots, gets ready for his Senate race against Pete Coors." The story had nothing to do with cowboy attire. Perhaps the writer assumed that the Senate race would take the form of an actual footrace, and the Hon. Mr. Salazar was trying to pick out some approprate footwear.)

bowl

this morning (and by morning, i mean 2:15 PM...after i got out of the shower) i began consuming a "magically delicious!!" cereal. and...what would you know...but the newest marshmallow resembled a dead sexy max kuehn.

max kuehn: lucky charm.

aside from the gophers scoring 62 and 63 points, respectively, with him in attendance, they perhaps had their biggest win of the year today. ...and maxwell was there. so, mr. mason, while you're spending your "hard-earned" millions of contract-extension dollars, please remember maxwell kuehn, the man who single-handedly assisted in 1/2 of your wins.

in other news, i just got the greatest phone call ever.

EVER.

mustache out!

a tale of legendary proportion

i would hope that you are aware of the foundation of this blog. (obviously, this blog was created a few months ago as a follow-up for the intramural-basketball-revolutionizing-team....the manly mustaches)

perhaps some of you are unaware that this year many mustaches have branched off into their own different ways...

the intramural season is fast approaching...and right now there are 6 senior teams:

jared mueller's team
the caucasion invasion (same team as last year...add phil granley)
josh johnson has ventured into the creation of his own team...
the gangster nation...which has been depleted to only 4 people (as of right now)
team hang time (my new family)

and...for my main point of emphasis:

SURPRISINGLY...joshua bundy has broken away from his mustache counterparts. he, in accordance with les austinmeister, tom keller, rob mcmullen and crew, have developed a new senior team.

team hang time was...arguably...looking like one of the better intramural teams heading into the pre-season. we signed sam gallu, acquired tom hennen from the gangsters, followed that up with the crew of cody hummer and nick anderson, added myself from the 'staches along with tom day, (hopefully we can sway kurt away from johnson??) and THOUGHT we had a well-rounded team...with the inclusion of mr. bundy.

but, alas, no.

he broke away from us. without any word. without any pre-existing knowledge that he was feeling uncomfortable with us.

and now we are left trying to make these pieces of the puzzle fit...without (possibly) the actual picture itself to use as a reference point.

i just went from having an excited, potential championship run, to looking at a sub-.500 season. dang.

i don't know if i have discussed this yet, and i'm too lazy to go look back at my previous posts. but, this thanksgiving, the kubas family is doing something new. my grandpa/uncles decided to rent out some rooms at GRAND CASINO HINCKLEY. wooot. for all of thanksgiving day...i will be "giving thanks" to the casino gods for granting me the opportunity to win money. then, after returning home early friday morning, i will be taking the NEWLY-TURNED-18-YEAR-OLD joshua bundy (wish him happy birthday!) to grand casino mille lacs. and--above and beyond this--it sounds like i will be making yet another run on saturday.

addiction? no.

mustache out!

The Song We Listen To In German Class Every Day

Ancient Chinese Secret?

I'm getting in the Christmas spirit. That is, I'm feeling both generous and covetous at the same time (does the word "covetous" imply that someone else has it and I want it out of envy, or is it just like greed or materialism?). In that spirit, this post will take two tacks:

1. What Max is giving this year
Okay so I plan to burn DVDs I have for people who want them. I'm only gonna do one more set of Arrested Development though (maybe two, but probably not). The AD set will go where it will do the most good. I've already got one in Minneapolis with Amelia, so the next one...I dunno. Outside of davids (a good nickname for dvds; it's a syllable drop), I guess I'll just watch the lists of others.

2. What Max DESIRES this year
My incomplete list, in no particular order:

Underarmor (shirt and tights)

Wii controller

Wii games: Twilight Princess, Red Steel, Call of Duty 3, Super Mario Galaxy

Tennis racket

Speakers

External hard drive

DVD: South Park, Anchorman, Strangers With Candy

Aaaand I may ask my grandma for some tickets to some t-wolves games with my cousin Sam, but I gotta do some price checking on that. Any suggestions on packages/specific games?

Also, what kind of speakers and hard drive should I get, which Wii game should be highest priority, and is there anything neat and art history related I could be asking for? Posters I guess...

No Flamers

Only those who attend BHS may go to X-mas ball.

Why? Because outside dates would present a "fire hazard."




Graduates=Highly flammable


P.S.: Dudes: So I'm not sure if everybody knows it, but a big part of Heise's "new sheriff in town" rebranding campaign has been a new focus on school spirit. We've started having more pep-fests, and now everybody's supposed to stand up and sing along with the school song. The words are even back up on the wall in the gym.

Anyways, here's the important part. An earlier grad has informed me that way back in the day, students had their own lyrics which they would belt out when the time came to sing. Details were sketchy, but the first line is:

Brainerd's high,
So am I

and the final line is:

So give a cheer,
Down a beer,
We're behind you Brainerd HIIIIGGGHHH!

I think it would be pretty hilarious to get everybody (or at least the seniors) singing these lyrics instead. I wonder how Heise would react...BUT: we should get some more complete lyrics. If anyone has any ideas about juvinille, stoner-y lyrics, let's hear 'em.

I suppose we could also use the old lyric for the "school spirit above the rest" part:

Brainerd High,
You're the one,
With the tomahawks gleaming in the suuuunnn!

Too bad they cut out the bridge:

The pale faces shake with fear and fright,
at the braves,
of the tribe,
of blue and white

from way up on the 100th floor...

i think it's safe to say that a majority of our readers no longer attend BHS...

and, although it's great to get out of here, i think some of you may have forgotten about the many sights/sounds/smells at the school.

fun sights:

the awkward conversations between myself and mr. melby. today i was walking through the lunchline...and mr. melby plowed through the line going in the OPPOSITE direction. (he's quite talented) while passing by a few random BHS lads he managed to look my way, nod, and declare, "why HELLO sir."

that SAME random goth couple continues to drag one another by a leash.

that one vice-principal lady (or whatever she is...ms. russ? rusk? russel?) announcing on the MU that we have "too many public displays of affection." <--serious? i thought procreating in the middle of the hallway was perfectly acceptable.

fun sounds:

during first hour (ap stats with pelkey) one of the special ed rooms nearby has a fun autistic boy. he never fails to let out random yelps, sprint down the hallway, or play fun games of "hide-and-seek."

walking through the B-wing in the morning...there are about 20 different cd players/stereos going off...each having its own unique punk/goth/"let's-go-commit-suicide" genre.

fun smells:

today...not one, but TWO stink bombs "exploded" into our hearts and nostrils. one strategically went off at 8:10...the other...3:10.

god, i love BHS.

A Joint Max Kuehn/Jason Houle Venture

When I think of my credit union, I think of many things.

I think of its fantastic achievements nationwide and its important contributions in my own community.

I think of its wise, powerful elders and their unerring judgment on the many vital matters which they must weigh each day.

When I think of my credit union I think of opportunity, a chance to succeed, a sliver of hope in an unrelentingly dark world.

When I think of my credit union I think of the noble farmers who strove to maintain their way of life in an increasingly impersonal, mechanized society, and the banks who did their best to help them.

When I think of my credit union I think of Jesus Christ blessing the money changers in the temple for their role in efficiently financing the peoples of ancient Jerusalem.

When I think of my credit union I think of a snowy wood by moonlight.

When I think of my credit union I glimpse the Godhead.

To paraphrase John F. Kennedy: Ask not what your bank can do for you, but what you can do for your bank. A bank is not merely a place of business where one can exchange money for goods and services (primarily services involving money itself); no, it is something much more. It is a modern day meeting house, a temple to fiscal stability, a place to ponder life’s big questions and search for truths within yourself. It is also a place where you can store money, earn money, lose money, see money, smell money, and hear money. But NOT print money. That's not what a bank is. That's called a mint. No, bank is like a great 3-ring circus of money, where a young man can go to watch the mighty strongmen and the graceful trapeze artists perform feats of fiscal wonder. Later, once he is of age, if he studied well as a lad, that same young man can go on to become the king of the clown parade in a monetary circus of his own.

No matter what kind of trouble I get into, I know my credit union will be there to bail me out. It is my sword and my shield, my helmet and my poniard*. In my thrusting, furrowing quest for greatness, I know my credit union will be a strong, trusty lance.

*A poniard is a form of dagger with a slim square or triangular blade. It was primarily used for stabbing in close quarters or in conjunction with a rapier**.

** A rapier is a relatively slender, sharply pointed sword, used mainly for thrusting attacks, developed in Europe around the 16th century. Although used on the battlefield, the rapier’s main place was at the side of the civilian gentleman and nobleman, just like a credit union. It was often used in conjunction with the poniard*.

mama mia!

for some strange reason, i have been approached many times this week with a common question:

"are there plans in the making for a second italian party?"

each time i am asked this, i never quite know how to respond. although we haven't had open discussions regarding another italian party, i think it would be a great way to re-revitalize this blog. also, it might be the next link to rekindling our italian-american friendship.

a question for people who know what they're talking about: if i go onto myspace...and they have songs available for downloading...is it legal? it seems like something is missing there but hey--it's free music.

word on the street is that mr. melby was seen smoking the other day. can this be true? DEBATE.

if you're interested in my opinion, i say "no."

George Orwell and Orson Wells: Different People?

At the National Honor Society banquet (I always assumed the whole "cult" thing was a little overstated, but I really do think that requiring sacred oaths by candlelight probably scares away more people than it attracts), I, Max Kuehn, was placed, for unknown reasons, between Megan Jordan and Megan Kummet. I knew Megan had commented on this and other blogs before, but I'd never met her in person. She seemed nice, but I, in my inscrutable manner, was a total dick to her. Sorry Meg. I'll be nicer next time I see you.

I guess it was just part of the whole blogs-real life seperation I tend to make. I know they're the same people, but I can struggle to make the connections sometimes.

So...the NHS banquet. It was put on by the Credit Union, and they were handing out these applications for some scholarships. The winners will be judged 25% by their ability to spell their name right and know what street they live on, and the remaining 75% through a 500 word essay beginning with the words "When I think of my credit union..." (I think those were the words; I don't actually have a packet. Does somebody?). This prompt is just ridiculous enough to tempt me to write such an essay. I'll wait on comformation of that opening line first, but this one could be fun.

Time's best inventions of 2006: Sweet, Sweeter, and Sweetest.

Opportunity Cost's A Bitch, Ain't It?

When I walked through Gregory Park on my way to my grandma's house at about 5 p.m., things were looking ugly. No leaves, no sun, no snow, everything grey and mushy. Comfort Eagle rattled in my ears as I thought "Max, keep this in your mind. This is just about as bad as the middle of Gregory will get. Remember it so you can compare it to a beautiful snowy Gregory, or a bright blue sunny Gregory."

Three hours later I walked by the same spot. Only a couple things had changed (the Cake album [Prolonging the Magic] and the number of pugs [I was down to one]), but combined with the gentle snowfall and the orange streetlamp lighting, they made a world of difference. Walking through falling snow at night is one of my favorite activities (screw the beach), and Thor picked just the right weather to give me a little pick-me-up on a Sunday evening.

I have a feeling this is going to be a good week.

Treasure Hunt brainstorm: teams are blindfolded and driven to somewhere in Brainerd. They must find their way, on foot, to a nearby landmark.


WEEKEND PLANS: I drive down with Sam (Friday afternoon/eveing or Saturday morning), curse Capelle for coming a weekend early, I guess maybe stay with Josh (could I dude?), attend the Iowa-Gophers game (utilizing the extra ticket of Mr. John Valesano [Quick aside here: It has been unbelievably sweet to be able to go to all of these football games for free. I've spent the more getting into Warriors games this year than I have getting into Gophers games...and I'm in the band. Seriously though, thank you Pammy, Gracia, and John {and Josh and Amelia for letting me crash}], perhaps hit the MIA somewhere in there, and probably come back to B-town by Saturday night.

Why no second night, you ask? Why, because this Sunday is November 19th, otherwise known as the WII LAUNCH DATE SPECTACULAR. All sources point to Minneapolis being a much harder place than Brainerd in which to find a Wii. By "all sources," I mean Sam Walker's intuition, a tip in Time magazine, and the wiiseeker, according to which Brainerd will have approx. 173 Wii's available (96 of those at Best Buy). I have a feeling that this supply will more than fulfill the demand of Brainerd residents (I mean, there's only one Logan Mohs, after all), whereas the Twin Cities probably contain enough geeks to snatch up every available Wii by about 8:24 a.m. on Sunday morning. Thus, it would behoove me to be in the hub-city on Sunday morning. Hell, I'd even purchase a Wii for a desperate, lazy Minneapolisite or two, provided they were to provide me with the moolah, and Best Buy allows multiple purchases per person, and they had some way of getting it back to Minneapolis.

Happy Birthday to Me

what?

what do you know, i'm still alive. it's good to be back in the blogosphere. however, seeing as i have no interesting information to relay to the mustache nation, i'm out. look forward to the next homoerotic postings from yours truly, the chef. peace out.

Nibble or Nosh?

From Detectograms And Other Puzzles by F. Gregory Hartswick (sweet name):

Once upon a time there was a stretch of road 20 miles long. At each end of this road lived a bicyclist, and at exactly the same instant, they started riding toward each other at a constant speed of 10 mph, continuing until their front wheels touched. At the moment they started, a fly, perched on the front wheel of one of the bikes, started to fly toward the other at a constant speed of 15 mph. He flew until the touched the front wheel and instantly started back, always with the same speed, till he touched the front wheel of the first, and so on, flying back and forth between the wheels until eh was crushed as they met. Each journey naturally was shorter than the one before.

Now: Exactly how far did the fly fly?

Note: Due to both his excessive nerdiness and the excessive regularity with which he checks this blog, Jason Houle is hereby banned from solving the above puzzle, or at least answering it in a comment.

The Cave Our Cave Is A Jealous Cave

Much like Augustus, the Mustache Blog must constantly strive to be all things to all people, I've decided to introduce a new, utterly original feature: Found At BHS. Mustache contributors will post images of interesting/hilarious/revealing notes and drawings they find laying in the halls of BHS. We decided to do this so that, um, "everyone can check out all the strange, hilarious and heartbreaking things people have picked up and passed our way." Yeah, that sounds pretty good. Also, because it's so FRESH and NEW and ORIGINAL.


I found this is econ. It may be a little blurry, but you should be able to make out the various bits and pieces of this individual's daydream, all properly labled: "Waterslide," "Pool," "Muffin," and, of course, "Rocket." Especially interesting is the image of "Mikey in Juvie," more precisely in "HARD ASS Cell #12." I can only assume that this was in reference to young Mike Valesano's run in with the authorities (Mark the Janitor) over a youthful indiscretion (lunchroom fight!) earlier in the day.

Why I Hate The Fuzz Face

ladies and gentlemen,

today after school, we had our first combined indoor marching band practice. i decided to drive max and myself to washington middle school...so obviously we had to park the neon. i wanted to be as close as possible, so i parked on the side of the road...directly next to washington middle school.

now, being that we were running a little late, this was an AMAZING parking spot. the general public may have been thinking, "that's an illegal spot, isn't it?"

no.

strategically placed on the side of the road was not one...but TWO signs. they read as follows: "no parking between signs."

i parked, walked out of my car, and maxwell and i both verified that i was indeed OUTSIDE of the zone, therefore i had parked legally.

as soon as our practice was over, we walked out to the neon, and this female-dog-of-a-lady said, in a VERY rude manner, (in fact, i'm guessing she called the PO-lice) "I THINK you better check your windshield. You MIGHT have a ticket."

placed perfectly under my windshield wipers...was a $25 ticket.

granted, $25 is nothing. (if you're in high school) but, REALLY, look at these pictures--tell me--AM I BETWEEN THE SIGNS?

This is a picture of the first white sign--the neon is parked a few feet to the right. ----->

This is the 2nd sign...CLEARLY the neon is not between the signs! (if you're wondering about that handicapped thing in the background--it's NOT handicapped parking--that blue sign is indicating where the "oak street handicapped entrance" is for the school)

it looks like this is the only reasonable thing to do.

some people call me "douchebag"

today in physics james voelker (i think that's how you spell it?) was campaigning.

jv: "you should write-in my name for baxter city council."

so today when i voted...and it came to the part for baxter city council...i knew none of the people. so what did i do?

i wrote in "James Voelker" for baxter city council.

i'm not even sure if that's how you spell his name. regardless, someone named "James Voelker" received a vote for baxter city council today. if you don't believe me--hopefully the newspapers will show the FULL results. it's doubtful, but maybe they will.

in other news, i'm not too sure what's going on in lang, but i've just been on a tear lately. if i'm feeling productive, i might post my college app essay on here. it's fairly witty.

two days until the BRAINERD SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL INDOOR MARCHING BAND CONCERT. (wow, caps lock is annoying) you should all come and support the brainerd music department. otherwise, i will kill you.

on that loving note, i hope you all take care and enjoy yourselves.

mustache out!

The Hunted Wumpus

Mrs. Niemi was talking to the class about our doom-spiral synthesis question project, and she asked a few people what their topics were. I, being a jackass, immediately started thinking about a fake-out project. The idea was, if she called on me, I'd deliver it deadpan, she'd start moving on, then do a little verbal double-take. Hey, I was bored.

My mind raced, and I came up with: Neonaziism in South America.

I was dissatsified at first, and I came up with a short list of other gag topics ("Magic: The Gathering", "Coors v. Pabst", "Ford Trucks: How Bad Do They Suck?"), but really, Neonaziism in South America is my favorite.

Are they still around? What do you suppose they're up to these days?


I have 1.2 days worth of music which describes itself as "Alternative & Punk" (yes, they all included the ampersand), but only 7.1 hours of just "Alternative", and a mere 7.9 minutes of simply "Punk." What does this say about me?

Old Lights/ New Lights

Sighted today, for the first time in months: Mr. Stuart Lade. I was at the YMCA with Anna, and who but Lade-dog himself should drift by the weight room? He condescended to walk in and talk to us for a little while. He has been visiting art museums and traveling in Europe and doing AP stuff and drinking fine wine while doing crossword puzzles (I made up that last one, but you know it's true [unless if maybe Lade is a Sudoku guy?]).

Can you imagine all those poor kids taking AP US History without Lade at the helm? No William Jennings Bryant burns? No fun with Andrew Jackson? No Nixon impression? Too bad, so sad.

I guess now they all get to deal with Peterson, or for some lucky few, Christian Barnett.


Okay, this was on Superblog but I feel it warrants mention here, where at least a few of the unwashed masses will see it:

The class song results are in: Burn This City, by Cartel. I found it on thissee here website, and it sucks just as much as I thought it would. I'm trying to think of a protest for graduation that will be serious enough so people notice, but silly enough that it fits the inanity of organizing a protest for our high school class song. My best idea right now is to have everyone lift up their chairs and face away from the stage when the music starts, then turn back afterwards. I know, it's not that great, but this is tricky. It would have been so much easier if fuckin' Toolmaster would have won...Oh well, I guess we can always just hope a pack of ballsier malcontents pulls something a little more risque`.

I'm going to start writing that expose` and see if anything comes of it. I mean, isn't there some kind of rule against lyrics this insipid?


P.S.: Hey Matt Capelle, when the fuck are you gonna be back in Hub-City?

P.P.S.: So Kubas, do you think we should organize some sort of event to try to break the record of 11 Mustaches in the Palace, or would that violate the spirit of the counter?

flu-free is the way to be!

immediately after school today i "took in" my annual flu shot. you may ask, "who...of all people...would give you a flu shot?"

none other than ms. wendy walker.

so, while she was poking me with needles and injecting (hopefully) some good medicine, i thought to myself,

"how could such an evil child come from the womb of this kind-spirited and gentle-hearted woman?"

ahh...the complexities of this life.

in other news: i LITERALLY just got off of the phone with a new friend. her name is cindy. the phone call went as follows:

"hi...is andrew kubas available?" (pronounced koo-BISS----amazing! she got it right!)
me: "yes...that's me."
c: "hi...i'm cindy calling on behalf of the minnesota republican party reminding you to get out and vote tomorrow for tim pawlenty, mark kennedy, paul gazelka, paul koering...." [she went on to list every republican candidate in minnesota]
me: "well thank you for the reminder! i will CERTAINLY do that!"
c: "thanks for your support! i hope you have a WONDERFUL evening!"

oh man. the joys of making new friends!

"you could win a MILLION pesos!"

some things i have learned:

• 'tis impossible to pound down an entire box of zours.
• when you DO pound them down, you're in for a rude awakening the next day.
• apparently "non-oxygenized gasoline" doesn't belong in the neon. (whoops.)
• i'm (almost) a professional driver.
• parking can be expensive.
• pelkey has a girlfriend.
• my heart is bleeding a little bit.
• oh well.

fun facts:

• the neon can make it to the cities on 4 gallons of gas.
• that's like $8 to go to the cities.
• i am a professional NAPA football player.
• my middle name is "john".

things that bother me:

• a dome dog + a coke = $9.00.
• physics answers not in the back of the book.
• 14: (the number of "are-you-gonna-come-to-the-U" type of related questions.)
• yes, i counted.

things to do right now:

• look at the moon. seriously. wherever you're sitting right now while you read this, just look at the moon.
• give jeff + 10 bonus points for not asking if i'm going to the U.
• give jeff + 10 bonus points for letting me room with him.
• i suppose it's time for some homework.

the best way to close this post:

• mustache out!

Single Large, Or Several Small?

I think the Gophers' season can still be saved. Unconvinced? Check out this stat:

Average point total for the Gophers in games attended by Maxwell Kuehn: 62.5 points.

Think about that.


Congress may be in recess, but that doesn't mean they can't be exciting! I am all set up to dominate in my Fantasy Congress league. It's like fantasy football or basketball, except instead of atheltes, you choose congressmen and women, and instead of points and assists, you score when your representitives get bills passed. Hooray!

The Manly Mustaches are poised to own league Criminal Masterminds: I mean, Barney Frank AND Katherine Harris? Ted Stevens AND Barack? This team is the definition of balanced, and lean, and mean. 'Cause, you know, Katherine Harris can be a real bitch, and Barack is quite slim, and Barney Frank has really an excellent sense of balance.

The only bad part: Apparently, there's no real "drafting" system. We pick who we want, but everyone else can also pick those same people, so that's a little weak. Also, Pelkey apparently just formed a database using all the stats the site offers and selected the MCs (Members of Congress) with the highest point totals. In other words, I'm gonna have to work just a little bit harder to overcome some Carlson douchbaggery.

Ooohh, a tantalizing tidbit from the FC FAQ:

Stay tuned - we're working hard to bring you new features that include exclusive drafting, trading and bench-to-field substitution.

Mmmm. Now if I could only get this excited about my Fantasy Basketball team. You know what, I think I might have some character named "Garnett" on there. No Vince Carter though, sadly enough.

Step 1: Remember my username...Seriously, can someone in my league find that out for me?

P.S.:
Click here for important information about zombies. Also, Sam Walker.

P.P.S.: Matt Capelle, here is a short list of stuff you should play for Xmas ball:
-Cripple Fight
-Strokin'
-The DOTA song by Basshunter
-Some Neil Diamond
-You Sexy Thing

More to come, no doubt.

T-minus 80 minutes...

well...that's when we're leaving.

yesssss.

something exciting in the life of kubas? it can't be!

dear pelkey, please don't poop on me.

mustache out!

I'm Back To Set The Record Straight

Borat is gonna be sweet. I can just feel it.

I'll post more later, I promise.

For now, I leave you with this image of the copy of Groundhog's Day I burned for Jason, which I will be exchanging for Player Piano at some point this weekend.

Young, Strapped, And I Don't Give A Fuck

All-Hallow's-Eve Highlights:

-Scaring a bunch of little kids.

-Sam Walker, wrapped in a black cape, sitting in a tree in my front lawn, alternately hooting like a cartoon owl and quacking like Daffy Duck.

-Josh Johnson wearing the Devo suit and beard, yelling instructions to kids through a karoke machine while he stood in the other room with the mic, peering through the glass door.

-Sam Walker declaring his love for capes, and showing off his cape wielding skills by swooshing around the yard. Seriously, he was like the goddamned Sandman, but with a penguin hat on.

This pumpkin:


So it's been getting cold here lately, and that means Pug jackets.

We Kuehns love our pugs, but we draw the line at clothing. No sweaters, no hats, no smart little suits ala` Frank from Men In Black.


Really, all we have for pugs are the bare neccesities: jackets. We tend to get some cool air up 'round these parts, and pug dogs just t'weren't designed with such freezin' cold in mind. Therefore, we just gotta bundle em up like little sausages. It's science; it's boring, but it's part of my life.
I mean, we didn't even dress them up for Halloween, which is basically the Holy Grail for obsessive dog owners. Here's one example (I want you all to admire my resolve for narrowing this down to just one):Okay, just one more: