Tuesday, February 21, 2006

An Open Letter, to Ben

Dear Ben,

I was sitting around my apartment early last night--West Virginia still couldn't figure out Syracuse's extended 2-3--and I was bored. You're familiar with this feeling, I imagine, living in Greensboro brokering mortgages and crushing Sudokus and watching an obscene amount of ESPN's college basketball coverage.

So I pick up a pizza, a six pack, and the remote control, and prepare to melt my ass into the cushions of my couch. The only problem was this: there was nothing on TV. People say that, there's nothing on, all the time even when there's an SNL rerun on E! or a decent B movie they've seen a thousand times on HBO, but last night there really was nothing on. I just sat there for minutes, eating pizza and staring at some commercial, hoping that God would see my plight and put something watch-able on the five hundies--I wasn't even asking for Casino or Deerhunter, hell, I would have been satisfied with Con Air. He didn't. Ben, I'll be honest, as I exhaled and sank back into my couch with crusty tomato sauce clipped to my chin, I thought of you.

There I was sitting around doing nothing, like you're probably doing right now (I should state, though, that later on, maybe an hour or so after, I ended up going downtown to drink while you were asleep). And do you want to know what my boredom brought me to do?

I watched my first episode of House. You might remember my recent article about the show House, MD (which can be seen on this very blog a few posts down). And let me tell you, even though, at the time of my initial review,I had never seen the show, I was dead on. There is however, one important thing I missed; something that makes much more sense when you stretch it out thin and look at it against the light. In the previous House article, I ridicule Dr. House and his unorthodox ways, and now think I know why.

I'm jealous.

Dr. House (1) always has the perfect amount of facial hair to make him look grizzled, but not to have a beard. I would like to mediate my facial hair in this manner, but this Greekness I've been handed won't sanction it. (2) Dr. House never wears the conventional doctor's scrubs, rather, opting for a colorful t-shirt wrapped inside of sports coat. Certainly, as I pass the period of my life where accumulating cool t-shirts is a priority, I dream of sitting at a conference table in a t-shirt surrounded by heads and suits. I bet you wish you could wear your go-to Vail shirt to work, don't you? Most importantly (3) within Dr. House's human exterior lies a volcano of sarcasm constantly on the verge of eruption. He's got something smart to say to his boss who doesn't approve of him, the other doctors who question him, even the guy who's daughter is in a coma (a House induced coma, I might add). Shoot, this is guy is sarcastic to the measly assistant who is getting House a cup of water! It's a nonstop sarcasm parade! I want to be that sarcastic in my natural, daily speak, but I often come up with stupid lines that fall flat, or I mess up the delivery by giving away the punchline too early, or I try and get it out too fast and stumble over the words, becoming, in essence, unintelligible.

Ben, at this point you may not understand why I'm writing this letter to you. After I watched House, I went upstairs to change, brush my teeth, and write a quick article about how I watched finally caught an episode of House, and now envy Dr. House. And I did, and proceeded to go downtown and drink cold cans of p-binski, among other beverages while I played Ms. Pacman.

Because I watched House, and decided to write about it, I put my other article to the side for a minute. That other article was tenatively titled BCS Redux. Yes, a sequel to my infamous Burrito Championship Series. I only consider myself slightly self-absorbed, but BCS Redux would certainly have been the greatest article in human history.

Forget the fact that I coined the term Burrito Championship Series (BCS), that I came up with scientifically designed formula which calculates it's standing--including the world renowned Aluminum Foil Test, where I discovered that the size of aluminum foil used is an industry standard thus creating a constant in the scientific method. Forget that I wrote the first article on the BCS, bearing the brunt of the attacks of those who disagreed with me, people would approach me on the street and say things like Moe's rules you jackass or You must have been drunk when you wrote that Qdoba is better than Barberitos. Forget that I can't even get a burrito in this town without thinking about taking a picture of it or calling Fred to tell him how huge it is, that burrito eating is more than consumption to me, it's a ritual, a rite-of-passage, a monument to success--whatever.

I just wanted to write you this open letter to tell you that I understand. You, stuck pretending to be jungle gym in North Carolina where there is more Pepsi, less Dawgs, and that weird kind of barbeque--you know, the kind that has an almost clear sauce and has a distinctly different taste (I'm sure it has a name, something like Carolina Style Barbeque)--needing to write about a familiar place in order to relieve each and every burrito bite.

I'm sorry, no matter how unlike Athens a city like Greensboro is, you can't have the Burrito Championship Series. Sorry, it's mine. Earlier in this letter I wrote that I was jealous of Dr. House. I get jealous all the time: at guys talking to hot chicks in bars, at people who make more money than me, at anyone who has one of those new video iPods. Well I'm jealous significantly less than I'm selfish. Mine, mine, mine. I'm not jealous that you decided to write a BCS article, I'm just self-centered, unwilling to share any of my BCS magnificence.

So if you're going to call me selfish as I file a CEASE AND DECIST ORDER to you're weaker, flimsier, BCS article, at least do it to my face so I can smile, and continue to bask in my own egotistical glory.




El Dude-a-rino said...

......The zing of the day........

HisBallenness said...

was it?

HisBallenness said...

I didn' realize that you were writing a sequel to your lame ass burrito championship series, and seeing how it was nearly the year anniversary, I thought I would stir the pot a little bit. Apparently mission accomplished. And your briliant aluminum foil test is not that brilliant.

Chad said...

Glad to see you've joined in on the admiration of Dr. Gregory House. Also, I will reply in the same fashion to one of your last blogs, this time in reference to your tv plight last night: Buy A Tivo.

El Dude-a-rino said...

fuck tivo... just download shit for free