Your Friday Haiku

What's your name again?
Thanks for not cheapening this...
Oww!! wrong whole! wrong whole!

OVER THE LINE!...Mark it Zero.

Working out is a hobby of mine. I like to mix in the occasional pick-up hoops game, or perhaps some racquetball. I love the facilities at my gym, and for the most part everyone there is good people. However, the locker room is a different world that, after years of exposure, I have yet to acclimatize.

I am not a “never-nude” like Tobias Funke, but I always wear a towel in the midst of nude males. It is a good rule. Feel free to adopt it.

My problem lies with the men who insist on exceeding their time for acceptable nudity in the locker room. There are many things you can do with a towel on: Brush your teeth, comb your hair, shave, and put on deodorant. Nudity is not a requirement, so slap on a towel.

As annoying as these guys are, I can deal with them. I will not make eye contact in the locker room with anyone whose first name is not known by me (feel free to adopt this rule as well). Even if the first name is known, any conversation has to have a towel involved.

The locker room guys who I cannot deal with are the old dudes who blow-dry their balls. Seriously. For like 5 minutes. I am in my mid-20s, and at no point have I ever considered this technique. A towel has always done me right. Is there something that happens genetically at the age of 40 that provides your taint with rice patty-like moisture that even the finest Egyptian cotton cannot quench? Are the colon/prostate check ups required by adult males actually annual commercial-grade grundle cleanings by a medical professional? I can unequivocally express that I am not looking forward to the day my nether regions require a daily ritual of heated air to keep my underwear comfortably dry.

The positions that these men put their bodies in to accomplish this feat are impressive, but ever so disturbing, and need to be done in the privacy of one’s home.

Oh ya, one last thing…children should be required to wear at least a bathing suit at all times when in a locker room setting.

This is not ‘Nam, there are rules…or at least there should be.

A Hearty Welcome

After an exhaustive search, thorough screening process, and extensive interviews, we have added a new writer to our staff. Being, "The most interesting blog in the room," and all, we have experienced such resounding early success that this was an inevitable need. So, we would like to welcome Wolfram to the blog.

To date he is the only reader to know the story behind the title of our blog, and we were comforted in our selection of him, when we immediately caught the pop culture reference of his pin name. He is quite intelligent and with his sharp wit, we fully expect him to exceed us in posting popularity.

We anxiously await your inaugural posting...if it sucks we'll just cut-off your access...no pressure.

Libertarians

Despite the fact that the Ron Paul Revolution has been squashed, we're still seeing a number of bumper stickers and signs each day. Frankly, we're curious as to what planet these people live on, or at least what country they've been living in. We'd love to be Libertarians, believe us, the basic tenets sound so great: Life, Liberty, Property, agrarian society, Don't Tread on Us, etc. In fact most of our political-related heroes were either Libertarian or at least preached it's value; Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Paine, de Tocqueville, John Stuart Mill just to name a few. The thought of a minimalist state that emphasizes the individual sounds awesome...but have you looked around at the "individuals" recently?

Libertarians put a lot of faith in us humans. The entire success of their belief system is not only that people are inherently good, but that people are also intelligent, responsible and have common goals. We say wake-up and smell the coffee. The majority of people are idiots, many would steal from there own mothers, and there is a good number that, either do to their own deficiencies or a lack of opportunity, just plain-and-simple can't take care of themselves. If the individuals were left to be kings of their own castles, we'd be left with so much destitution that it would eventually drag down the quality of life of the wealthy and highly educated folks that makeup the foot soldiers of Ron Paul's Revolution.

We can see how perhaps, Libertarianism would be a viable option in wealthy, homogeneous countries with small populations, such as those with Scandinavian crosses on their flags, but we find it funny, that these countries--whom always seem to lead quality of life lists--are as close to socialist states as can be.

My Morning Jacket

Our most anticipated album release of the year is My Morning Jacket's, Evil Urges which will hit stores in under two weeks. For our money, MMJ is the most underrated band around. When they first hit the scene, about ten years ago now, they were a good Southern rock band. They had the standard rock/country sound along the lines of an Allman Brothers or Black Crows, but over the years they've grown musically to the point where they are just about without genre. They've kept their Southern roots, but have gradually mixed in a strong indie feel, helped by they're growing psychedelic sound and lead singer, Jim James ethereal voice. We're always surprised at how many people have never listened to them, or even heard of them. So check out My Morning Jacket over the next week or so, we're confident that if you have any music taste at all you'll be joining us this June 10th at their iTunes page.

Eastern Conference

We are sentimental. Our favorite movies, books and television shows are all from our childhood, so it should come as no surprise that we are pulling for the Pistons. As Colorado middle-school basketball superstars, we won a contest to attend a Magic Johnson basketball clinic, free-of-charge, in Denver for the best basketball playe...errrr local news stations, of the state. Also in attendance was a high school sophomore named Chuancey Billups.

Back then Chauncey rocked, not one, but two lightning bolts in his hair, and as the best player at George Washington High School, he was the best player in the state. We were in awe!!! And for good reason, he dazzled us, he dazzled Magic, and he dazzled the crowd.

We have loved Ray Allen (one of our all-time favorites) since his UCONN days, and KG has won us over this year, with his heart and fire, but when push comes to shove, we will always push for Chauncey, lightning bolts or not...

Regrets

Disclaimer: This post is longer than our usual quick-hitters, but in celebration of our 50th posting, we thought we'd test your attention spans. It is one of our favorites, so if too long, read some and just come back for more later.

We were talking to an old acquaintance the other day, whom we rarely see. Over a beer, or five, the topic of discussion surprisingly, and unfortunately, shifted from small-talk bullshit, to regrets. Now, we are far too shallow, and content with our current state of affairs, to have been able to join in on this part of the conversation, but we did our best. As our companion rambled on about lost chicks, lost opportunities, lost hair, etc., we eventually tuned him out and went searching into the depths of our memories to find a good regret; of course throwing-out the obligatory, "Oh no she di...int!" when the timing was appropriate.

We gave it our best shot and came up empty. We have no:

"She's the one that got away."

"This itching and burning will not go away!"

"Oh, I could do that fifteen pounds ago."

"Damn! I shouldn't have married that bitch."

"I shouldn't have shot that man in Reno, just to watch him die."

"Fuck, those highlighted tips looked stupid."

So, with regret on the brain, we called the staff together to see if everyone here at No-Look had a similar lack of regrets. While no one had any real juicy ones, we did come up with a solid list of things that, while they lack long-term ramifications, they are regrets nonetheless. The kinds of things that when you do them, that internal voice (usually in your mother's voice) calls out, "You shouldn't be doing this..." Here are the most common staff answers:

Hooking-up with someone you meet after 1am
Face it you're drunk, and the reason you're out in the first place is because you're horny. This is not a good combination for selecting anything but the "Wounded Buffalo" from a group of girls. Her friends are pushing it, and are so excited, because SwampDonkey is just so nice, and it's about time a guy (a guy who's not hot enough for them to fight-to-the-death over...and they would) shows her some attention. Your friends are pushing it, because well, they're your friends...and it will be hilarious for you and SwampDonkey to get-it-on.

Cigars
They always sound like such an awesome idea. What better way to bond with your boys, than to act like big-timers by puffing on cigars. We always get pumped when the cigars get brought out. We get so stoked that with the accompanying buzz from the obligatory whiskey chaser, we've been known to choke down two. Ughhhhhhhhhh... nothing makes you feel worse the next day, well, save for waking-up on top of a mustachioed (female) Mexican tramp, than a cigar(s).

Starting conversations with old people
Outside of our grandfather, who is easily one of the saltiest dudes alive, we don't like old people. Now before you get all jumpy, please realize that we're not discriminating here, we pretty much don't like anyone who isn't smokin-hot with long-legs and at least a B-cup, but today we bring attention to the elderly. From time-to-time, usually when trying to make one of the above referenced vixens think that we're sensitive, we'll strike up conversations with old people, and we always immediately regret it. "Hey blue hair!!! Have you ever heard of a two-way conversation. I know you can't hear, but do what I do to you--ask a question you already know the answer to, and then just pretend to listen for awhile with some, 'Well I'll be's' and head nods sprinkled in every once in awhile."

Indian Food
Over the last few years globalization has brought to our Central Texas hamlet, a number of Indian people (red dot, not red feather). Always the champion for cultural and ethnic diversity, we have welcomed our new neighbors with open arms and empty stomachs, because with a growing Indian population has come a growing number of Indian restaurants. We looooooove spicy food, love it, and therefore we love us some jalfrasi and vindaloo, but damn!!!! that shit kills us. We once thought Lone Star Beer was king of The Mookies, but it's got nothing on Indian food.

Saying "I do"
Purely speculative...

Writer's Block

We have fallen victim to writer's block today. So to inspire us, and you, here is the most inspirational TV theme song of all-time:



It's my life, and my dreams,
and nothings gonna stop me now!!!

Memorial Day

We are neither team players nor good with authority figures, so it should come as no surprise that we don't really get the whole military thing. Not that the thought of tearing down ones individuality to reshape them into a highly-trained, easily replaceable piece, doesn't sound awesome, but it's just not for us. However just because we don't get it, doesn't mean we don't respect it.

A few years ago, we were backpacking through France, and decided to make a pilgrimage to the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial. You may know it as the cemetery at the beginning and end of Saving Private Ryan, where old Matt Damon, and his smoking hot granddaughters, visit Tom Hank's grave. Anyway, the cemetery was part of a tour we took that included visiting the historic beaches and bunkers of D-Day. It was an incredible experience that was made even better because our sole accomplice that day was a young man named Danny, from Riverside, California, who had just finished up his commitment to the Marines, and a tour in Iraq.

He was not like us--a minority, tough-as-nails, no college, strikingly handsome, well-spoken and of-course a Marine. He was just like us--early 20's, pensive, cynical and skeptical of the Iraq thing, nuts about French chicks (there are none sexier), and unsure of how he'd react to the picturesque hills of white crosses (and Stars of David) which we were about to see.

Like Danny, we arrived with excitement but were fearful of a star-spangled propaganda outpost, but our fears were quickly vanquished, because the cemetery could not have been more beautiful and appropriate. The reverence and veneration that the place inspires is incredible and getting to be there with a serviceman of our generation was truly Memorable.

We plan on spending the remainder of this holiday watching Band of Brothers, while horizontal and intoxicated, but before we go, a whole-hearted thank you to the men and women who have put their lives on the line, for causes (right or wrong, just or unjust) bigger than themselves.

Put a cork in it, Zane!!!

Isn't Titanic like the highest grossing movie in history? We tried watching it for the first time today, and just couldn't make it through. We like DiCaprio, and with it being such a popular flick, we wanted to like it--but we couldn't take it seriously. Every time the villain, a Mr. Billy Zane, appeared on screen, all we could think about is Zoolander.

Jackpot

Pizarro had his El Dorado, Coronado, his Cibola, and we've long searched for a legendary land ourselves. But ours is not of gold-filled streets, but rather of golden-tanned legs. We've long heard legends of places where flocks of stunning women regularly congregate, but outside of the sorority houses of "safety schools" and Jack Johnson concerts, we've been unable to find them.

That is until this morning at Gateway Community Church. It was incredible!!! Droves and droves of gorgeous young women, and many were attending solo. Just as surprising was this house worship's dress code, or rather the lack thereof. Cleavage-wielding necklines and thigh exposing dresses were all the rage. So much so that we felt compelled to let out a rousing Hallelujah!

Friday Haiku

Bad luck with women
Either foreign or too young
Love escapes again.

;-)

We can't think of anything more gay than including one of those colon-parentheses smiley faces in an email, but we just caught ourselves putting not one, but two, in an email to a girl we like. We hate that we did it, and stared at the computer screen for a good 20 minutes, debating whether or not to remove them. In the end, we decided that, gay as they are, it was the only way to make sure that said girl would recognize that a few of our statements were sarcastic and written in jest.

We're between the proverbial rock and hardplace -- go with the smileys and feel like an asshat and run the risk of looking like a pussy, go without smileys and run a greater risk, since she doesn't know us that well, of looking like a jerk.

We know that the No-Look has a strong female following and we would like to ask you if it's better for a guy to come across as insensitive (sans smiley) or gay (smileys)?

To the male readers, should we just castrate ourselves now, or are we just out-of-touch with the times? Are typed smiley faces common practice and acceptable when e-courting?

Ice Cube's got Nothing on Us

Our temp job ended yesterday, we've got an open ended weekend, and this morning HBO has greeted us with this:

Funny Link

We don't really particularly like "The Deer Hunter," and pretty much think Robert DeNiro is the most overrated actor around, but we found this site today, and had a big laugh. Maybe you will too:

http://thesportshernia.typepad.com/blog/2008/05/pau-gasol-still.html

Kobe is too Good

Kobe has never played better than he's playing right now. When he fits into the "team" like he did tonight, and is raising the level of play of each his teammates, he's as good as anyone We've ever seen. He has no limits on the basketball court which is not something we can say about Jordan, Magic and Bird. We almost hate to say it, but it's true.

Drinking Alone- Ale

Alcohol related advice so good, that if you take heed, you won't need anyone else around to enjoy the experience... You can even be alone in your parents house, where you are "temporarily" living, while you "save money".

We get a lot of emails, from you the readers, asking for advice. Most are regarding love and relationships, but since We've started this column We get asked a lot about Our favorite beer. Now, We are quite the beer connoisseurs, and we respect the huge difference between ale and lager, making this a rather impossible question, so we will start with ale and next week divulge our favorite weasel piss.

Five, maybe even three years ago, We would have told you we didn't even like ale, but after years of overly spicy food and binge-drinking, We've pretty much destroyed the majority of our taste buds, and now love the stuff. And our ale of choice is easily Newcastle Brown.

"Dog" or "Brown" (sounds more like "Broon" when our English friends say it) is a very young beer, having been brought to life in 1927, but what it lacks in experience it makes up for in taste. In fact We're enjoying one of their ace (there's a fine Northern England superlative for you) pint bottles as we type this.

So next time you think that you're in the mood for an ale, don't buy the hype -- put down the Sam Adams, and get yourself a Newcastle Brown.

Happy Hour

We generally make a concerted effort to avoid getting to know our co-workers. We figure the less we know about them, the less we will not like them. Usually the only time we speak to a co-worker is to say something along the lines of:

"No it's not a flask."

or

"If We hear another Nickleback song from your computer, you're getting punched in the throat!"

So it only stands to reason that we don't participate in the American institution, that is Happy Hour. We do not really understand the attraction and this is perhaps another, of about a thousand reasons why we often feel out of place in this country. The only reason we can foresee us attending a Happy Hour is if we had the hots for a cute co-worker, and wanted to get her dru...errr get to know her in a social environment.

We're a bit baffled about the whole social drinking thing too. We've never needed alcohol to have a good time. We can be endearing and charming, and have even been known to cut-a-little-rug too, and all alcohol does is hinder these skills. We don't drink to have fun and loosen-up, we drink for the reason all of us should -- to suppress our fears and forget our problems.

On that note, we better get to this week's edition of Drinking Alone.

"My density has brought me to you."

Just now, on our nightly trip to the local Diamond Shamrock, while shopping for the perfect Bordeaux, we heard one of the lamest songs of all-time. A song so cheesy that we couldn't help but bob our heads, sing-a-long and smile. Smile because the song is both, unbearably catchy, and because it brings us back to childhood. We are of course talking about The Power of Love by the absolutely ridiculous, Huey Lewis and the News. Now Back to the Future is without question one of our top 10 favorite movies ever, but we are totally confused as to how Huey Lewis had a following. But whatever, the song put us in a great mood, and since we're the sentimental type -- we drove 88mph home through the neighborhood. If only our Jeep had a flux capacitor.

How bad ass is this movie trailer?!?!?!

Personal Paradox

At our current temp-job, there are an inordinate (at least it seems to us) number of homosexual men. During our brief tenure at this current bastion of pain and suffering, we have caught two of them having a case of lingering eyes when we pass by, and not the- "Oh that's a nice shirt, I wonder where they got it,"kind of glance. We're talking, the kind of stare that makes us feel guilty (not really) for the countless times we've undressed girls with our eyes. This on the heels of a rather flamboyant gay dude, outright hitting on us, recently when out-and-about downtown.

We are no friend of the homosexual, but we are no foe either. Frankly we don't give a shit, but we do give a shit as what kind of signal we're giving off, and wondering if we should be flattered or alarmed.

Maybe it's that we've been wearing our white flip-flops and capris a lot lately..?

Aging Gracefully

Our little sister graduated from the University of Texas this weekend and as part of the festivities, she threw a kegger. Her graduating from college officially makes us old, so we were hesitant to attend a shindig that would probably have a handful of 19 and 20-year-olds present, but she insisted, on multiple occasions, so we relented and went.

It turned out to be a very enjoyable experience. Not only were there three kegs, but we met a number of nice people, and there was a mulleted midget, speaking a foreign tongue, to boot. However our highlight by far, was when our sister introduced us to a fetching sophomore to be. After the long-legged vixen heard we were siblings she asked, without a hint of sarcasm, "Older or younger?"

The fact that we are so pumped, to have maintained our boyish mediocre looks, and to have gotten this response, means we're even older... We're starting to sound like middle-aged ladies.

On the topic of age, we pose this question to you, fair readers: How do you determine an acceptable range in age difference between yourself and a potential girl or guy? When in foreign lands, all bets are off, and we go with the "Don't Ask Policy," but when home, we like to use the- (1/2 your age + 7) equation.

Your Monday Ogle

We have been known to fancy women from the Far East. If we were less culturally sensitive we might even say, that we've always had a case of "Yellow Fever." So for this week's little piece of Monday eye-candy, we present to you South Korea's stunning Sung Hi Lee.

Office Birthday Cake

We're working in an unusual office setting right now. We are basically drones being paid to ingest words on a computer screen, process, judge and then press a button. There is no need for team work of any kind, or really any human interaction. Relationships are not cultivated and the sharing of personal information, such as birthdays are not divulged. But even in a work environment such as this, an office birthday cake crept in last Friday. We detest the tradition of the office birthday celebration-- the half-assed well wishes, the obligatory smalltalk, and of course the forced singing of Happy Birthday, but this one stood out as by far the worst, because the dude told people it was his birthday and brought in his own cake.

Office Space, The Office and many comedians have joked about office birthday cake much better than we can, and one of the best is Jim Gaffigan's here:

A Symbol of Hate

We have worn baseball caps all our lives. Inside-outside, day-night, it just has always felt right, and since our domes are rather large, we stick with the New Era brand official MLB cap. We've tried other brands and it just doesn't work.

Our hat selection has never been because of any allegiance to the teams, but rather just because of style. Over the years we have worn the hats of many different teams simply because they go with our outfit. I guess we're kind of like rappers in that regard.

A few months ago we bought our first NY Yankees hat and the results have been fascinating. Being the lovable considerate people we are, animosity is not something we're used to, but this Yankees hat has brought us random angst wherever we wear it. We live in one of the most laid-back cities around, people here don't really get mad at anything, that doesn't involve the Democratic Party, and on multiple occasions complete strangers have told us to have sex with ourselves--and to use the hat. We'll meet someone at a party or just out-and-about and midway through the conversation they'll pause, curl their lips and ask incredulously, "Do you really like the Yankees?"

For the first few months we gave an honest answer: that we were indifferent about the team and that we simply liked the art-nouveau logo, and that the navy and white went well with our outfit--to which was met with the, so you're a poseur and a fag look. Now we just say, "Hell yeah!!! Paul O'Neil... wooo!!!"

Slacking off at Work #5

In the final installment of this week's series, Slacking of at Work, we look at the gold standard - the classic, alt+tab. It stands the test of time thanks to it's simplicity and genius. There's nothing terribly flashy about it and we have no personal anecdote that stands out above the rest, but alt+tab is something near and dear to our hearts.

In case you've been working under a rock and are not familiar with this legendary tool of unproductively, alt+tab is a key command for Windows systems. By holding down the "alt" button and then tapping "tab" you can seamlessly, quickly and inconspicuously toggle from window to window.

Coworkers were always giving us suspicious looks when they'd walk past and our mouse hastily moved North and East, to minimize the object of our attention. But once we discovered alt+tab, the looks went away and so did our workday happiness.

So if you haven't been using alt+tab, get crackin, you'll be better able to peruse the "series of tubes" at your leisure -- enjoying websites, personal email accounts and even "The Most Interesting Blog in the Room".

Insider tip- #5 works best when accompanied by #4, The go-to Spreadsheet.

Your Friday Haiku

Hey, we need to talk.
Things are just not working out...
ummm, for old times sake?

Nike SPARQ Training

We'd like to thank Nike for this commercial:


It gets us CRUNK!!! It's been coming on during games since the NCAA tourney and each time we see it, we have to start doing push ups, or at least jump up and aggressively slap a doorway.

We have the song on our iPod, List of Demands by Saul Williams, and during our neighborhood runs, we like to make our way to the local soccer field, crank the music up to 11, and haul ass. We like to pretend we're that Sooner-Turncoat-Cunt Adrian Peterson from the commercial, and we're certain that's who the CYO soccer teams would relate us to, as they see us sprinting across their practice field.

We're praying the commercial never airs after we've had a tequila shot or a Red Bull-Vodka... we would probably have to punch someone.

Side note- We also like that the spot features our man crush, Steve Nash.

Slacking off at Work #4

The fourth installment of our five-part series takes a look at the Go To Spreadsheet.

We took inspiration for this tactic from the CBS Sportsline "Boss Button" (pictured left) that started three years ago with their live online NCAA tourney streaming. It works so well, because, as we all know, "perception is reality"-- and nothing is perceived better than a detailed spreadsheet on your computer screen.

Even if you're not a numbers person (hell, we can hardly add and subtract), don't worry, MS Excel is easy as can be to figure out, and even if you don't work in a numbers environment, fear not, spreadsheets can be related to anything.

We have three in our rotation, for when we want to just sit there and stare across the room at our marginally attractive coworker with the stellar rack. The key is to have drastically different colored fields on each and to make none of them readable from more than four feet away.

Public Service Announcement

As the staff of a daily blog, we need to stay fit and healthy. (Doing this shit everyday is harder than we thought it would be.) A few times a week we like to get out in the neighborhood and jog around. And of course we only jog with a soft j.

From time-to-time we'll encounter an unleashed dog with it's owner, and this always pisses us off. We don't care if, "It doesn't bite." Leash the damn dog. Just because it doesn't bite doesn't mean we want it sniffing, drooling and rubbing up against us. And just because it's never bitten before doesn't mean it won't bite today -- maybe we had ribs for lunch and haven't felt like washing our hands since.

So if you own a dog and are walking it within the city limits, please leash the thing.

Drinking Alone - Dark & Stormy

Alcohol related advice so good, that if you take heed, you won't need anyone else around to enjoy the experience... You can even be alone in your parents house, where you are "temporarily" living, while you "save money".

Every few months we like to buy a GQ. You know, to see if the "Gentleman" are keeping up with us. In this month's issue, a drink called the Dark & Stormy is profiled, and since they call it the perfect summer drink, we were persuaded to give it a try.

Step 1- collect ingredients: sturdy glass, lots of ice cubes, dark rum, ginger beer or ale, limes

Step 2- fill glass with ice, 50% rum, 50% ginger beer, and a couple crushed limes

Step 3- Stir and disregard mom's scowl

Our Verdict: While we don't think it's the perfect summer drink (that would be the Kitepirinha) it is very good. And it's interesting that the Dark & Stormy has the same characteristics we look for in women - easy (to make), dark, bubbly, and they go-down smooth... hi-ohhhhh.

Things we are Scared of.

After the popularity of this weekend's Things We Hate, we've decided to round-up the entire staff again and take votes on what frightens us. As a disclaimer, if any of our readers associate themselves with any of our results, please note that by making it on this list, it doesn't mean we don't like you or harbor any ill feelings towards the list items. It just means that you scare the shit out of our staff. Here are the results:

1. Lesbians
2. Kentucky Fried Chicken
3. The state of Mississippi
4. Pregnancy
5. Guys who play competitive softball

Also receiving votes: suburban malls, single mothers, sharks

Video HOF

Possibly the one thing we enjoy more than racial stereotypes are cultural/country stereotypes, and since we've been in a geopolitical mood, we present to you one of our all-time Youtube faves, End of Ze World.



"But I am le tired... Alaska can come too!!!

Slacking off at Work #3

In part three of the five part series, we teach you the reader, the importance of Calling Yourself.

Whether your title or job description says sales or not, you're a salesman, because a key to slacking off at work is selling your superiors that you are much more productive than you really are. One of the easiest ways to do this is by having a phone that is ringing off-the-hook.

Now if you're like us, and played The Emperor, in your fifth grade classes performance of The Emperor's New Clothes, and are confident in your acting skills -- go ahead and dial your desk number from your cell, when the boss is milling around nearby, and carry-on a conversation with a nondescript middle-of-the-road client. If you're not ready for the big leagues of faux chit-chats then at the very least make sure your ringer is distinguishable from others and get that phone ringing when your leaving for lunch, are on a smoke break or using a G2E.

"That No-Look, No-Catch reader is sure doing a great job. They've got clients/customers/question asking co-workers, calling very consistently throughout the day. I'm going to disregard those naps they take after lunch."

Remember When Baseball Players Looked Like This?

In case you haven't noticed, we like lists and on-running series's. In this one, we are going to look back at the golden-age of baseball, the 1980's, and reminisce about what baseball players should look like- sometimes fat, sometimes goofy, sometimes mulleted but always AWESOME!!!

We start things off with our personal favorite, and the subject of at least half of our lame fantasy baseball draft day jokes... Mr. Chris Sabo.

Slacking off at Work #2

In part two of our five part series we examine the, Go-to Excuse.

The G2E is like your ace-in-the-hole when you have something come up last minute that you want to do, but that just so happens to fall within work hours. Say for instance you forgot to ask for time off (or just didn't want to because you have a G2E) for a UEFA Champions League match with your favorite team, Arsenal, going up against AC Milan starting in an hour. (This is all hypothetical of course.) If you have a G2E, you could leave work, and not only will no one think any less of you or be suspicious, but many will even feel sympathetic.

Our G2E- We actually do suffer from migraine headaches and make a concerted effort to warn our employers about this during the interview process. We get about two actual ones per year, and they're hell, but our boss thinks we get them all the time.

Our back-up always involves something breaking-down on our little sister's car on some highway about an hour away. Little sisters always have faulty cars, and who doesn't respect a big brother that comes to the rescue?

Critics of the G2E call it lying, but... shit it's nothing but lying, but they lied to us when they said, "Sons, you're going to love working here."

We are all that is Man!!!

We are not mechanically inclined, and have never "fixed"anything. Nor have we ever held a firearm or caught a fish. Couple all this with our morbid fear of things creepy and crawly, and we would not fault you for calling us -- well, pussies. To fight this label, and give our self-esteems a boost from time-to-time, we like to do things that we think are manly for no other reason, than that they make us feel like MEN!!! Here is a quick list of our favorite manly pastimes:

Eating an entire pizza- and we're not talking a little Totinos or one of those faggoty frozen kind that are like $10 and made by Wolfgang puck. It has to be at least a medium and you have to feel like shit for at least three hours after consumption. (but don't get us wrong, we love us some Totinos http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gMLrH_qOE68 )

Changing our own oil- with all the discount oil places around we only really save a few bucks, but it makes us feel as one with our 91 Dodge Stealth. It's also a good chance to give back to the neighborhood a little by going shirtless out in the driveway.

Cheating on a girlfriend

Playing with fire- all sizes

Making fun of those less fortunate - what better way to forget your own deficiencies than by pointing out those of others.

Casting Error

We are currently enjoying Gladiator on HBO. It is a bad ass movie, no doubt, but we can't help but think how much better it could've been, had a certain undercover detective from Astoria, Oregon, played the role of Maximus.





There is no bathroom!!!

Quick Take on Obama

As champions for diversity, and liberal Democrats, we have wanted to get behind Obama, but we just can't. He comes across to us as smug and arrogant, and as his critics keep saying, we just don't see much substance. However we're not writing about this, but rather, in our confusion over why the African American community is getting behind him with such fervor. Over 90% of African Americans voting in the primaries are choosing Obama and it seems a bit ridiculous to us.

Raised by his white mother and white grandparents, with an absentee Kenyan father and a Malaysian step-father. He split his childhood and adolescence between Honolulu and Jakarta. His undergraduate tenure at a preppy liberal arts school (Occidental) and the Ivy League (Columbia) before topping off his education at Harvard Law. How is this representative of the African American experience? Add to this that Clinton's platform is more in-line with the needs of the majority of African Americans, and the only thing I can think of is that Obama's skin color looks the same.

Slacking off at Work #1

Part one of our five-part series in examining the essentials of slacking off at work, shines light on a strategy we like to call, Printing with a Purpose.

If you haven't done any "real" work in 40 or 50 minutes and you see your supervisor occupied, but near the printer, send something (anything) to the printer and walk briskly over to collect it. Give a huff, or an exasperated puff, as you pass your supervisor on the way back, giving off the impression that whatever you are working on right now has got you super busy. So busy that you had to print some shit. Voila, you've got yourself another 20 minutes to stare off into space, plus some fantasy baseball rankings to keep you company next time you hit the restroom.

The Monday Ogle

We don't watch reality television, but after reading a host of news feeds regarding last night's Survivor winner, we regret not watching this season of CBS's version of, how much of the world lives everyday.

Her name is Parvati Shallow, and she is smoking hot!!! Her bio says she's a waitress living in Los Angeles (cliche). We would at least consider tipping her 20%.

We're guessing a spread in some guy rag, like Maxim or FHM is imminent (there you go Horse). And we await anxiously.

Sad

We've been fans of Weezer for a longtime. Their first albums is undoubtedly one of the top two or three 90's alternative albums, and with our history with half-Japanese girls, how can we not like Pinkerton, but honestly each album has gotten progressively worse. We heard the first single off their new album today and it was sad. It sounded like a cross between a Weezer cover band and Sugar Ray.

If you're inclined to listen: http://weezer.com/

This is what happens when bands don't evolve. They just become lame impressions of themselves.

Get Crunk, it's Monday!!!

To get everyone pumped up for the start of another workweek, here's the best goal from our all-time favorite soccer player, Mr. Dennis Bergkamp. We would also like to point out that it's against our good friend Rob Dixon's beloved New Castle United.

You're Killing Independent Steve!

It started with bringing in Shaq, and yesterday it was finalized with Mike D'Antoni leaving (he was forced out) for the Knicks. Independent Steve is dead.

For three and a half seasons the Phoenix Suns were the most entertaining NBA basketball team we've ever laid eyes on, but when Shaq came to town, that started to fade. Everyone has attributed the Sun's success to Steve Nash, and rightfully so, but it's not that simple. The secret behind the Sun's brilliance has been that Nash has been allowed to play basketball without his coach and teammates getting in his way, hence the Independent Steve title (and because we like Seinfeld references). Nash is a great ball-handler and probably the league's best all-around shooter, but what separates Nash from everyone else is his vision, the ability to see that which isn't yet visible or apparent. Mentally he's always a step or two ahead of everyone else on the court.

D'Antoni figured that the best way to use Nash's vision was to sit down on the bench and shelve any ideas of plays and "offenses" and just let Nash do his thing. It worked out great, because the personnel was conducive -- their only decent post player was Amare (the perfect pick-n-roll partner for Nash), Marion could play the perimeter on offense but guard posts on defense, and the rest of the team shot the lights out.

The so-called experts, and new GM Steve Kerr, have determined that the reason that they haven't made it to the top is their lack of a traditional post man and lack of defense. When really, it's that they've lost almost all their perimeter shooters over the years and now have Shaq getting in Nash's way.

Nash will still be good, but he'll go back to the player he was in Dallas (only four years older), a creative offensive point guard, who's a great shooter and poor defender. The days of him having the freedom to be the maestro that he can be are over. R.I.P. Independent Steve.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hp1tohmTx40

Things We Hate

"Hate" is a strong word, and we use it very conservatively, but after a birthday party we recently attended, we have felt a need to explore the emotion. We polled the entire staff and compiled a quick list of things we hate. These answers were most common:

5. Mayonnaise
4. Bug Bites
3. Waiting til marriage
2. Pink-polo Guy -- You know him, he's a close relative of Striped-shirt guy, and also a member of Team Hair Gel.
1. The boyfriend of the girl in the red dress -- We think her name was Joy, and she smiled, danced and sang her way into our hearts. Equipped with a body sent from the heavens (her ankles were exquisite), cynicism-melting eyes, and the kind of uninhibited spirit that makes us swoon, she has left us enchanted. Too often the girls we meet are either shy or sluts, and while we do enjoy a good slut (who doesn't), they never make our hearts go pitter-patter, the way Joy? does. As we were dancing with her, we were getting too close and her smiles were lasting to long, because her voyeur boyfriend swooped in, whispered a not-so-sweet nothing in her ear, and like that she was gone. So to the girl in the red dress, you will always have our heart, and to your boyfriend, you're a cunt.

Also receiving votes: math, UNC, last-call, Manchester United, menstruation, severe weather warnings during the game, Jay-Z

A Gentleman's Toolbox

Today we present the "Fake Text Message." The FTM, is essential when wanting to "conveniently" put yourself in the path of an attractive member of the opposite sex, and not come across like you meant to. It is a staple of ours, in fact it is directly responsible for our date scheduled for tonight, and we feel obliged to share it with you. Here's how it works:

You've determined your target but thanks to desk placement at work, a cock-blocking wedding reception seating chart, pack of angry-looking friends at the bar, etc. you've failed at smoothly wedging you're way into their attention. You've already caught their eye a time-or-two, or better yet a had a conversation at some point in the past, so he/she knows you exist (this is important). It's time to start predicting movement- Perhaps they always take a coffee break at a certain time, or maybe they're gathering items (ie a purse) around them with an eye on the restroom -- when you feel that movement is immanent, jump their move and quickly wander over to a spot their path will lead them to. Now take out your cell phone and start pretending to be typing a text message. Hopefully you've selected a spot where you will be the only distraction to their destination. As they approach peek up from your text, look pleasantly surprised to see them + smile, and start-up a quick conversation (remember they already know you exist, you can move beyond a simple greeting). They will think that not only are you popular, you must be, someone is texting you, but also that some mystic-love-fate has made your paths cross. Wrap-up your quick conversation with an assertion that you'll talk to them later, and when you do so, ask them out.

Video HOF

With our addiction to the "Series of Tubes," we've seen a lot of great videos over years. From time-to-time we will post one of our favorites. Today we present our all-time favorite. We love the music, we love the emotionless donkey, and above everything we love the villagers ridiculous disregard for physics.

Casual Friday Confusion

We are working for one of those hip, trendy companies that has a "Casual Friday" policy. The spirit of "Casual Friday" is to relax some of the company rules so that employees will, for at least one day, forget that they hate the place (Hawaiian shirts are powerful). We are temporary employees of this hip, trendy company and today was our first "Casual Friday." We assumed the dress code would be relaxed and wore flip-flops and shorts. We were right. We assumed the rules on the page in the employee handbook titled, Alcohol, Narcotics & Firearms would also be relaxed. We were wrong... we are on probation.

Your Friday Haiku

Boss yelling at us,
"You listening to me, Son?"
'hmmm, nachos for lunch?'

This is a Man's World

To your left is Doris Burke, who is running color tonight for ESPN's coverage of the Hornets v. Spurs. She's been working sidelines on "Big Monday" (college hoops) for the past three or four years, and done a fine job. We hate all sideline reporters not named Craig Sager (and his technicolor dream coat) because really, their jobs are ridiculous and unnecessary, but we've found a soft spot for Ms. Burke. Not only does she hold a striking resemblance to our date for the Sr. Prom (hey, she had a great personality), but she really knows what she's talking about. We are huge basketball fans who pride ourselves in our immense knowledge of basketball strategy, and we give it up to Doris -- she knows her shit. Couple that with her transparent love for the game and decent wit, and we've got a great analyst. The chauvinist in us wants to write her off as a quota-filling skirt, but talent is talent. Cheers Doris!!!

The Condom Conundrum

No two ______'s are alike. Snowflakes, students, performances, etc. This is a common proverb relayed by all kinds of people describing all kinds of things. Here at No-Look, No-Catch, we would like to add, "dick, rod or johnson" (to quote Maud Lebowski) to the mix. See we have a bit of a problem and we are curious if anyone else is also a victim of penile profiling.

Since, no two members are alike, it sucks that condoms pretty much come in two sizes -- regular and rapper. When you triumphantly reach the condom aisle, thinking to yourself, "Yeah, that's right, I'm buying condoms... yeah, I'm fixin to have some sex... with a girl!!!" You are faced with a number of questions: "Will 'ribbed' really bring 'her pleasure'... or will she think I'm a pervert?", "What the hell is Spermicide?", and in our case, "Am I man enough to rock the Magnum?"

We are extremely proud to report that a regular condom rolls-up like a hatchback to a drive-up window, but we're not too proud to admit that, after a trial box, the Magnum was as loose as our 10th grade art teacher (we warned you Mrs. Mauck).

We're not sure what to do, however we're just happy we aren't these guys... http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/south_asia/6161691.stm

Poor bastards!

Drinking Alone

Alcohol related advice so good, that if you take heed, you won't need anyone else around to enjoy the experience... You can even be alone in your parents house, where you are "temporarily" living, while you "save money".

For our Gringo readers out there who may be unfamiliar, this weeks tip is for you to start drinking Argentina's wonderful Malbec red wine. We were recently informed by our friend Chris Cain, that Malbec was invented in Hungary (Cain is a huge nerd), but it was undoubtedly perfected in the Andean foothills of Western Argentina. This full-bodied and deep colored red, displays blackberry and plum aromas combined with toasty notes from oak ageing. It can be enjoyed with grilled meats, cheeses, pasta or in straight-from-the-bottle-pulls while looking at Internet porn.

Recommended:

Bodega Renacer Reserva $20
Bodega Renacer Classico $12
Trapiche $9

A Few of our Favorite Things

We love the band Radiohead. We love the NBA. This years playoff promos featuring the split-screened players speaking simultaneously over House of Cards from the new "In Rainbows" album has combined the two. They are very cool spots and we like them very much.

With prodding from the commercials we have been listening to the song a lot lately and we feel inclined to draw attention to the first stanza of the song.

I don't want to be your friend, I just want to be your lover.

No matter how it ends. No matter how it starts.

We've been thinking about this a lot lately because this piece of art mirrors our lives very closely, because we don't really have any friends of the female persuasion. We have had platonic relationships with the fairer sex from time-to-time, but before too long we always seem to end up inside of them... Kissing mom, kissing!!! Which of course ruins the friendship, and leads to them eventually developing a drinking problem.

It got us thinking about how, if we were the lead singers of Radiohead, our lyrics would be slightly different...

I don't want to be your friend, I just want to have sex with you tonight.

Lets go to the Seven 11 parking lot, the hotel stairs or the hostel bathroom.

Watch your back Thom Yorke.

Fortuitous Picture Find

On the heels of our Heroes posting. We randomly came across this gem of #3 and #5 kicking it prior to a Mets game at Shea. Shibby!!!!!!!

In the Presence of Greatness

Last Night we made it down to Stubb's BBQ (recently listed as one of the Top 5 music venues in the country by Rolling Stone) to check out The Raconteurs. It was night two of their local double-nighter and we are very happy we decided to shell out the $4o it cost to see them.

In case you are unfamiliar with The Raconteurs, their lead guitar player and co-front man is Jack White. As in Jack White of The White Stripes, as in Jack White the most talented musician in the world. If you couldn't tell by that last statement, we're big fans of the dude. He is a virtuoso plain and simple, and we were able to see him in all his glory last night, from about 30 feet away.

We are enormous fans of The White Stripes, owning each of their six albums, but have never been able to see them live. Last year when they were scheduled to visit our hometown, Meg freaked-out over her sex tape errrrrr, I mean she "got sick" and they were forced to cancel. This upset us greatly, because we had seen Jack as a Raconteur, two years ago following their debut album at a festival, but had come away less than thrilled. For one reason it was scorching hot and we were far from the stage, but mostly because we just didn't like their music much. Funny thing was, it didn't really seem like Jack did either. He was off to the side of the stage and quiet, in time between songs and in body language, seemingly content to just kick-ass on his Gretsch.

So we had decided to be huge White Stripes fans and just blame the whole Raconteurs thing on the other four guys. This was until their new album, Consolers of the Lonely dropped last month. A local radio station played a few tracks the first day of release, we heard them, and immediately jumped on iTunes, bang bang bang. To be honest there are a few of the 14 tracks that we don't really care for but more than half are good and we'd go as far to say that five are great, with two -- Carolina Blues and Solute Your Solution being classics. So despite our lackluster introduction to The Raconteurs, we like them now and felt compelled to check them out last night.

As good as the new album is, it really gives the band no justice. The concert was incredible!!! They were so good and Jack White is more of a phenomenon than we had even imagined. We are music lovers and have been to hundreds of concerts, and we dare say, that last night was top five. It sounds stupid and blasphemous but we're going to go ahead and call the Raconteurs, Zeppelinesque. The way they take a blues and country influence and make it the outline for their music and then melt your face off with screaming rock-n-roll brings nobody to my mind but Led Zeppelin. Add to it that Jack White's screeching voice has a little Plant in it and his ability to dominate a guitar without dominating a song has a whole lot of Page in it, and the comparison is inevitable.

Having the high profile that we do, we at The No-Look, No-Catch meet celebrities all the time. It kind of goes with the territory, and so we are rarely starstruck. But we were last night. Jack White was THE MAN. He was a true front man, a presence, and what rang true most was that he looked like he was having the time of his life. With a constant grin, he joked with his band and spoke with the crowd as if he was at home with friends. In a day of manufactured and manicured stardom it was refreshing to be in the presence of sheer talent, and even more refreshing that the talented individual had embraced his talent and was having a blast sharing it with others.

Your Friday Haiku

Hot girl at market
Seller of cold Red Stripe beer.
Tell me you're 18?!?!

Heroes

We here at The No-Look, No-Catch would like to start things off here in blogdom by letting our audience get to know us, and what better way to do this than by profiling our heroes. You know, those who have impacted and shaped us.

We're not really the type to choose fathers, teachers or coaches - if they had done such a great job, we wouldn't have the time to write this. No, our heroes are those that everyone knows, legends of pop-culture, who possess the quality that we value above all - brazen confidence and that "I don't really give a shit what you think about me" attitude.

5. Jerry Seinfeld- The man who dominated our Thursday nights throughout adolescence. Yeah, he's an incredible comedian (who we've quoted enough to annoy a few) and all, but what always stuck with us was the way he ran through hot woman after hot woman. He got dumped time and time again but it never really mattered. He'd just go get another. We too go through smoking hot woman weekly, and thanks to lessons learned from Jerry, once they're gone they're gone.

4. Burt Reynolds- A bit old school for us, but we've done our research and we're confident he is not only a top-drawer dude, but that he'd also kick Chuck Norris's ass. Owner of a sweet mustache and had the machismo to pull this off http://adweek.blogs.com/photos/uncategorized/burt.jpg. Some fun facts about Burt: he's half Cherokee, played halfback at Florida State, and once jumped from an air boat on to a running deer.

3. Keith Hernandez- Another proud mustache owner, and his mustache is so famous that he does those surprisingly awesome Just for Men commercials. He too was a good 1st baseman and has been able to keep his job as Mets broadcaster even after saying, on-air mind you, that women not only don't belong in the dugout, but they should get back in the kitchen. But really what puts him on this list is this http://www.urbandictionary.com/ (search I'm Keith Hernandez, for some reason it won't link). Getting your name in Urban Dictionary is tits enough in our book, but then having that definition too, well that makes you immortal.

Extra credit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PkCQ8qR5-i0&feature=related

2. Ferris Bueller- The definition of, "Men want to be him and women want to be with him." Popular, only dates younger woman, laughs in the face of evil, sings Wayne Newton songs, can pull-off wearing sweater vests, defies authority, Cubs fan, art aficionado, "Sausage King" of the Midwest, we could go on. As you can gather from our blogs title picture, he is the star of our favorite movie of all-time, and if it weren't for two words uttered by our next man he would undoubtedly top this list.

1. Han Solo- We are not Star Wars geeks here but we do love us some Han Solo. He's cocky, reckless and charming all at the same time. We're guessing a woman never said no to him and that he could drink Wade Boggs under the table.

But more important than any of this is what he told the princess at the end of Empire Strikes Back. He's about to be frozen into carbon for the rest of eternity, the girl of his dreams says that she loves him, and his straight faced response is - "I know."

It is the phrase we live by. Of course she loves him, he's Han f@#$ing Solo. He's got the sweetest ride in the galaxy, and when he's tired he makes the wookie drive.

When we're walking from our '99 Jeep Cherokees to the doors of our flavor-of-the-week, before we knock, we always run this scene through our heads http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sO-KR-14uXM. Han, you've always been there for us.