The Four Lokos

I'm a coffee drinker. So naturally, it was only a matter of time before I experienced a Four Loko. [Four Loko, for you Spanish speakers out there, is spelled "Four Loko." Get past your spelling issues and follow along.] Four Loko is a 12% alcohol by volume energy drink served in a convenient 23.5 ounce can. That basically equates to 6 beers and 4 cups of coffee. I know! Rad, right?!

A few weeks ago, Sarah and I listened intently as our friends Jeff and Emily regaled us with the tale of Jeff's first and only Four Loko experience. His story included mystery, intrigue and made-up words like "drizzunk."
"I must try this stuff," I expressed.
"No you don't," Sarah answered.
"You totally should," Emily suggested.
"YUP!" Jeff recommended.

Last Sunday we got home and found a brown paper bag adorned with a hastily tied yellow ribbon resting on our front porch. I tore through the thoughtful wrapping to find a Lemonade Four Loko inside. "This is the universe repaying me for being awesome," I thought.  Knowing that Jeff might have been behind the mysterious gift, I elected to not drink the whole thing at 9 am on a Sunday and decided to save the fun until the upcoming party on Friday.

[Friday arrives]

Jeff and Emily came over to our house and I proudly announced with a flourish that my evening will start with a [da da da daaaa] Four Loko! Sarah rolled her eyes, Jeff fist pumped and Emily grinned maniacally. After my first sip, it was incredibly apparent that there actually are four lokos and Jeff was willing to help define them.

The first loko: The taste. Even straight out of the fridge, it burns. The Four Loko hits your palette like the cheap scotch that you found in your garage in August. Then the taste changes. It becomes foot. Perhaps I grew accustomed to the overwhelming sting of alcohol, or perhaps the flavor changes once the beverage has had a chance to breathe. Either way, it tastes like foot. Don't try to read into this and think, "Maybe it's a foot that has just been bathed in lemon water and lovingly toweled dry with Egyptian cotton." It's not that kind of foot. It just tastes like foot.

The second loko:  Loss of confidence. Thoughts of "I don't think I can finish this" and "I don't want to drink any more of this footy crap" will begin to overrun your mind. Don't give in, though. You have two more lokos to experience!

The third loko: Disappointment. It didn't taste that good. You've muscled your way through 23.5 ounces of intimidation and the end result was...meh. You're not that intoxicated and the caffeine isn't that strong. What a waste of time. Oh well, just move on to the beer.

The fourth loko: HEY! YOU GUYS WANNA PLAY A DRINKING GAME OR..I KNOW...LET'S GET ON TO THE ROOF!! Dude. It happens and it happens big. Four Loko is the instigator of instigators and the cause of awesome (read: horrible) ideas. My night ended with gambling at 4 am and mixing drinks with stolen oranges.

I plan to try the other flavors soon.

A Polarizing Issue

You and I are not going to agree on everything.

[What?]

You may feel very strongly about some random political issue that I, before you mentioned it, had always assumed was the name of a store in the mall. "Proposition 28? I think that's between the Urban Outfitters and the Nuts on Clark."

[A possible disagreement]

You and I will disagree on a favorite band. I probably won't ever tell you that your musical idols are tone deaf losers (PROBABLY) but, let's face it, if your favorite band isn't Tom Hanks and Robert Loggia playing the huge piano at the toy store in the movie "Big," you're totally fucking wrong.

[A respectful disagreement]

You and I might disagree on fashion. I think that this shirt matches these pants but I had three nice ladies approach me on separate occasions today to inform me that the pants, in fact, did not match the shirt. It's nice to know that I'm approachable though...hags.

[They were all wrong]

You might not realize it, but during my meetings, I tend to be the one who speaks. The "speaker," if you will. (I prefer "commander of tidings both awesome and informational"). Sometimes, I take people out to dinner. The dinner meetings are great. Loose schedules and a few drinks have proven to lead to extremely productive meetings. I have eaten at some nice restaurants and have had some very tasty beverages.

[But lunch meetings suck]

You and I will have a productive encounter whether it be at dinner, in a conference room, on an airplane, or during lunch at Applebee's. It's the lunch meeting that I do not enjoy as much as the others. Everyone has to get back to the office, right? Tighter schedules and no drinks make the meeting's effectiveness more challenging. The bill will come and I'll glance down to see my grilled chicken salad (with croutons and dressing on the side) mostly untouched. I haven't eaten my lunch for a few reasons: I've been talking most of the time, I didn't even want the stupid salad, and the dude sitting across from me lets fly a double dose of boneless buffalo wing spittle onto my plate each time he says the word "pharmacy." (It tends to come up in conversation).

[Potential disagreement]

You might think I'm being overly irrational and picky. You might think that the phrase "agree to disagree" is something acceptable to say...ever. You might think that this shirt clashes with these pants.

[Whatever. Stop being such a judgemental dork.]

Hunting is hard work

I made a trip down to Texas to go hunting this weekend. I'm not going to pretend to know how the mind of a deer operates, but I think that if a hunter is sitting behind a tree a few hundred yards away from a highway, the deer is not going to notice you. With muffler-less vehicles speeding by, a buffoon with a beer chest should have a chance to see some deer. Do I have proof? Well, on Saturday, four of us decided to go hunting together. I immediately became bored and decided it was time to step up the drinking. I drank a beer.

Not satisfied with just sipping a Miller Lite, I devised a plan. "Wanna shotgun a beer?" I whispered. "Fuck it." Charlie answered.

It should be noted that, less than 30 minutes after this lightning round of drinking, we saw a very large deer. A skilled hunter was in direct competition with a deer's ability to not be hit by a bullet. The majestic animal stood completely still as the practiced eye of The Hunter leveled his rifle's crosshairs well away from what could have been a successfully fired round. I drank a beer. The Hunter did not take the initial shot but instead deftly stumbled his way through a pile of empty beer cans and rested his field-tested rifle on a tree limb. The rest of his group snickered in amusement. The deer, being a deer and all, did not pay attention to the four morons giggling behind the tree. The rifled sounded. The Hunter celebrated. Yelling through a whisper he cried, "I got him!" The others watching congratulated The Hunter on once again verifying his manly ability to provide. I drank a beer.

The group remained poorly hidden behind the tree, reflecting on the size of the animal. We discussed which direction he went after being hit by the deadly bullet. The Hunter, hands shaking with adrenaline, stated, "We'll wait 20 more minutes and then track him down." I drank a beer.

With plenty of daylight left, we began what we anticipated would be a short search for a monstrous animal. The initial check of the area the buck originally stood did not show any obvious signs of a wounded animal. I drank a beer. We searched. "Hey, has anyone seen 'Inception' yet?" I asked. The Hunter did not respond. His superior tracking skills were driving his senses to superhuman levels. The Hunter's experience has taught him the skills necessary to find a camouflaged animal. I drank a beer.

After an arduous search, we found something for which we did not know we were looking. "Hey guys," a member of The Hunter's group called. "I think I found something." Winding our way through the brambles and thick brush, the group converged at the site of the discovery. We had certainly found something. I drank a beer.

The discovery proved that The Hunter's bullet had deceived him and not done what he had asked. Instead, the deadly projectile ripped right through a perfectly healthy tree. Someone stated the obvious: "You missed." The Hunter received the news with a heavy heart and admitted that he would take full responsibility for the failure. Then he cleverly blamed the wind, the tree, a jet that flew overhead, and Obama.

The Hunter's group returned to the lengthening shadow of the cooler and drank a beer.

Circus Minimus

Today I saw a billboard advertising a circus coming to town. The Greatest Show on Earth? Squirrel piss.

Given that the zoo in my hometown was of the grocery store parking lot "petting" variety, the first elephant I ever saw was at the circus. Today, if I want to see an exotic animal, I can just pull up a video online. Want to see an elephant sticking his trunk up another elephant's butt? Search YouTube. The circus was exciting because that was the only all-inclusive place where one could experience exotic animals, death-defying acts and overpriced plastic light-up swords that got taken away because my little brother didn't think it was as funny as I did when I hit him in the face with it. The circus today sucks. If someone is going to wear a safety harness to do a cartwheel, I'm not going to lean forward in my chair nervously driving my elbows into my shaking knees while covering my face with my hands because I'm too overwhelmed with the anticipation of what could happen next (like I did when I watched "My Best Friend's Wedding"). I blame overexposure to the dipshits backyard wrestling with barbwire-wrapped folding chairs.

Here are a few things that I find more entertaining than "The Greatest Show On Earth."

Quoting Ferris Bueller while pulling away from the rental car lot - {Doooo oh oh}...If you had a car like this, would you take it back right away? {Chick} Neither would I. {Chickachickaaahhhhhhh}

Armpit farting - It usually takes a while to find the sweet spot, but once you do, you will be warming up with "Mary Had a Little Lamb" and finishing with a stirring rendition of "O Canada."

Creating a Paper Air Force - The citizens of Hampton Inn Room 308-ica can rest easy tonight knowing that are 23 somewhat uncrinkled paper airplanes with varying sizes and functionality scattered random...errr...strategically throughout the area.

A nose pimple - This is not a pleasant experience, but it certainly can be entertaining. That zit will take up a whole afternoon as you try to find a private place to weep openly as you jam your thumb up your nostril and try to pop that little fucker.

Practicing spit-takes to radio commercials - "Macy's One Day Sale is this Saturday only." "PPPPPPPPPPPBBBBBFFFFFFFFTT!! WHAT?!"

Go see the circus if you want, but you'll just come home and wish you had spent the evening perfecting "The Ride of the Valkyries" on the armpitfartophone.

How to travel without pissing everyone off

Along with the holiday season comes crowded airports, full flights and hotels at capacity. This handy reference is meant to assist those that don't travel often.

Arriving at the airport:

• Just pick a parking spot. There is no need to circle the lot several times in hopes that a sacred parking spot will appear like the Room of Requirement (this is a good tip for life in general).
• If you're checking a bag, don't be shocked and make a scene if your bag exceeds the weight limit (50 pounds) and you are required to pay an additional fee. You are the one that over packed. Deal with it.

Security:

• Yep. The line is long. Deal with it.
• While waiting in line, begin putting your cell phone, watch, keys and change into your carry-on. This will save you some time once you reach the scanner. The line is still long. We get it. Get over it.
• Have your ID and boarding pass ready to show the TSA agent. Don't fumble around looking for things once you reach the front of the line. This is not a surprise inspection.
• Once you reach the conveyor belt:
• Take off your shoes. Yes. Take off your shoes. This has been a rule since 2001. Don't act shocked.
• You may place your shoes directly on the belt. Your shoes do NOT need their own bin.
• Your bag does NOT need its own bin.
• Your laptop goes into a bin BY ITSELF.
• If you realize that you accidentally brought a water bottle, throw it away. Don't hold up the line to drink the rest of it before you pass through

At the gate:

• Check your ticket. You're in seating area 3. They just called seating area 1. Stop standing around the gate blocking other passengers.
• Don't be shocked if someone tries to get by you to get on the plane. They aren't being rude, you are in the way.

On the plane:

• The armrest goes down. Use the armrest if you want. I don't give a shit, but the armrest definitely goes down. It helps establish an official boundary of your sacred 17.2" of seat width.
• Wearing headphones or reading a book are the official symbols of "do not talk to me." If the person next to you is reading a book, don't grin like an idiot and say, "Business or pleasure?"
• The flight attendant is right. I don't care if you think the flight attendant is being an asshole, put your seat up for takeoff. I'm behind you and the slightest bump will drive my forehead into the back of your skull...something that I imagine would be unpleasant for both of us.
• Yes, you have every right to recline your seat and it is understood. However, before you press the button and slam your seat back to its full 3" decline position, please look behind you. The guy in the seat behind you might be on his laptop and a quick warning could prevent you from snapping his monitor.
• Alcoholic beverages cost money. They aren't as cheap on the plane as they are at the bar by your house. We get it. Please get over it.
• A small child just boarded the plane. There is no need to elbow your neighbor, sigh loudly and say, "Ugh! Every time!" Chances are, you won't even notice the child.
• A baby is crying on the plane. Get over it. Whining about it, spinning around in your seat to locate the kid and loudly whispering, "Shut that baby up!" is much more annoying than the baby just being a baby. 

Retrieving luggage:

• It takes a while. Get over it.
• If you see your bag on the carousel, there is no need to shove your way closer to it. Your bag will miraculously make it to you.

At the hotel:

• There is someone in the next room and, while it may be unintentional, they can hear you. I don't know, maybe that's why you were being so loud.
• Don't use the in-room coffee maker. It has most likely been used as a urine receptacle at some point.

That's it. Travel safe! Oh, and put the map away. You look like an idiot.

You guys have plans?

This past Saturday, my dad called and asked if Sarah and I had any plans for Christmas. We told him that we'd planned on staying in Denver. He then asked, "Hey, wanna go to Panama?" He confessed that he had not looked into flights or hotels, was unsure of the country's primary language, and knew nothing more about the area other than the existence of a canal of some sort. I had to ask. "Dad, why Panama?"

My dad has two great passions in life. This first is taking a random idea and running with it. When I was in high school, he decided to open an oil change/mechanic shop. Since my father was somewhat familiar with the locations of both the glove compartment and the hood release on his 10 year old Mazda, this was an obvious business venture. Lipka's Kwik Kar Hwy 6 North opened in 1996. My dad came in every Saturday to offer advice on how to keep the shop as clean as possible. Ideas such as "Try not to get any oil on the floor" were met with nods of approval and mumblings of "Great idea, boss. Wish we'd have though of that." The shop was successful and sold for a profit in 2000.

A few years later, he chose real estate as his next project. This was before HGTV began airing episodes of "Ew, This Kitchen is Soooo Dated" and "These Drapes Just Won't Do," so his jaunt into flipping houses came prior to it becoming a trend. Again, my father proved to be successful. He retired from his primary career in the oil and gas industry and has started a home building business to keep from driving my mom insane (it's kind of working).

The other aspect of life that brings my dad the greatest joy? Puns. A few years ago, he took my mom and brother to Belize for a week. Pretty cool, right? But why did he choose Belize? We think it was just so he could tell my mom, "We're going on vacation. You better BELIZE it." Any time our family dined out at a seafood restaurant offering halibut, my dad would light up like a five year old that just discovered bubble wrap. He would unsuccessfully suppress a grin as he ordered, "Oh, what the heck. I'll have the special...JUST FOR THE HALIBUT." He will also undoubtedly instruct the waiter at a sushi restaurant to, "Sake it to me!" This does not get old for him.

As excited as I was to go on vacation, I was overrun with curiosity. "Seriously, Dad. Why Panama?" I could hear my dad's smile over the line as he said, "Should I call my brother [my Uncle Allen] and ask Panama if 'AL CAN' come?" The line fell silent as he waited for what was sure to be uproarious laughter from my end.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?" He chuckled.
"'Ask Panama if Al can come?'"
"Crap! I meant..."
"Dork."
Undaunted, he went for a second attempt and giggled, "Hey, Panama! Can Al come?!"

He followed that with hiccuping laughter and desperate attempts to catch his breath through fits of involuntary, high-pitched squeals.

Panama should be fun. I hope he comes up with a pun for Munich.

Emergency Exit Row Seats

I walked down the jet bridge and glanced down at my ticket to double-check my seat assignment. *10D Exit* I shuffled to my seat over the wing, stowed my carry-on and claimed my spot next to a friendly, smiling couple. After a quick greeting, they informed me that they were flying to Denver to celebrate their 65^th wedding anniversary. He was 90 and she was 89 years old. 

I smiled and congratulated them but my initial thought was not of admiration, but of: “They are seated in an exit row!! How in the hell are they going to assist during an emergency?!” 

I don’t dislike old people, I just don’t think they should be responsible for roughly 1/6^th of the lives on the plane in the event of an emergency as this particular aircraft had 6 emergency exits. 

People seated in the exit row are now required to verbally confirm that they are able to assist other passengers should the laws of physics decide to pull a fast one on the 737 and cause the jet to plummet from the sky and end up surrounded by twisted, burning shards of metal. (Rethinking flying in flip-flops?) The flight attendant went through her this-is-what-you-do-if-you-survive-the-fiery-crash spiel.  She then turned to the village elders as they were paging through the Sky Mall in amazement of the upside-down tomato garden and asked if they were “Ready, willing and able to assist in the time of an emergency.” They simultaneously responded, “Absolutely!” ABSOLUTELY?!  Liars!!! I seriously doubt that either of them could lift a 40 pound door and THROW it clear of the wing.

The adorable airline employee might as well have asked, “Are you able to do a handstand while dribbling a basketball and updating your facebook status?” ...because no. They wouldn't be able to do that.