Funny Heineken Commercial

I was checking out Adverblog today and came across this kick-ass Heineken commercial.



I love it. My only problem is that they should have saved this idea for the SuperBowl.

Oh yeah, by the way, Happy New Year and Drive Drunk!!

Whoops, I mean 'don't drive drunk' during amateur night.

He Ain't Puffy, He's My Friend.

I've got a lot of friends. And by a lot, I mean, probably, ten.

Due to the fact that my fiance' and I have two kids under two years old running around the house, neither of us have had any time to get out and see our friends. So, with the exception of e-mail and phone calls, I haven't had the chance to actually see a lot them in person for quite some time.

Which leads me to.....

A couple weeks ago, some of my buddies went on a week-long fishing trip to Canada. Of course I was invited, but I had to pass due to the fact that my girlfriend was giving birth on one of those days. I know, I know. That is very gracious of me.

After the weeklong trip was over, I was curious to see what I had missed. So I shot off an e-mail to one of my friends:
"Hey man, how was the trip? Send me some pics."
A couple days passed before I received an e-mail with pics of all the guys drinking, fishing and having a great time.

Then something caught my attention.

Lately, I've noticed that there's been a significant transformation in everyone's appearance - including my own. It wasn't until I viewed the photos from my buddy's fishing trip, that the light bulb went off.

We're All Getting Puffy.

And by puffy, I'm not talking overweight, fat or rotund. I'm talking puffy. You know, maybe one too many beers mixed with one too many cheese steaks and not a lot of exercise.

That type of puffy.

I e-mailed my buddy about my casual observation.

His response:
"Hey fucker!!! YES, I am Puffy, Goddammit!! I have three kids to keep me puffed out. And you’re just one more shot past the goal to achieving similar levels of puffiness!"
The man made a lot of sense. I responded to his e-mail by saying that, in fact, it wasn't him who I thought was puffy, but the rest of the crew.

His response:
"Yeah. Some of them are Baby Puffy (because they have a baby) and others are Booze Puffy (from drinking too much booze)."

Ahhh yes, the wonders of growing old.

This weekend, I'm heading to Toledo to attend my friends' daughter's first-birthday party. A lot of other friends are showing up to celebrate this grand occasion.

Oh sure, I'll watch the little girl open her gifts, stick her hand into the cake and get all messy why everyone laughs and oohs and ahhs.

But the one thing I'll really be looking at is...how puffy everyone has become.

Beers...at the zoo

A couple years ago, my girlfriend and I were looking for something to do in Columbus, Ohio. It was Saturday. It was a nice day. The weather was warm and we wanted to do something different. After ruling out a gay bar - we decided to go to the Columbus Zoo.

Before we hit the road, we decided to get a six-pack for our trip. I popped open a couple 'road pops' and guzzled them down. Say what you will about 'road pops', but - in my opinion - they are as Americana as baseball, apple pie and cocaine.

We arrived at the zoo and exited the car. Like a college dude on Spring Break, I shot-gunned two more Milwaukee Best Light’s before we got to the ticket booth. Suffice to say, I was a little buzzed.

The zoo was fun. It was a bright, sunny day with puffy, white clouds dancing in the sky. We saw the monkeys. We saw the reptiles. We even checked out the big-ass manatees. Then the doldrums set in and I started to get sleepy. I suddenly realized that, slowly but surely, I was losing my buzz.

That sucked because, quite frankly, I didn't want to lose my buzz. In fact, I wanted to add to my buzz. More importantly, maybe - just maybe - I wanted to get DRUNK AT THE ZOO!

Now I can understand why the Columbus Zoo doesn’t really announce to the world that they’re selling beer at the zoo.

In all honesty, I did see a number of white-trash couples and their kids (complete with the brown dirt-rings around their face) mixed in with the majority of Dublin-centric crackers. My theory is the zoo doesn’t really want either demographic getting drunk.

Some will think they're at the Memorial Tournament, take off their shirts and hoot and holler for Tiger Woods while others might think it's the state fair, take off their shirts and hoot and holler for Conway Twitty. Undeniably, they'll both make complete asses out of themselves.

I mean, just imagine a bunch of free-loving moms and dads hanging around the zoo, with their Dr. Suess hats on, smelling of beer breath? How dare the adults have a good time while staring at monkey’s mating or flamingo’s farting. How dare we have fun, I say! HOW DARE WE!

Enough was enough. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed a beer and I needed one now.

Out of pure curiosity, I approached this pimply-faced zoo worker who was sweeping up cigarette butts with a broom and a dust pan. He sort of looked like that pimply faced guy you see on The Simpsons:

“Hey man,” I asked looking back-and-forth like I was involved in some sort of drug deal. “You know where can we get some beer around here?”

The guy's face lit up, he smiled a mouth full of silver and pointed toward a small, snack shop next to the big lake in the center of the Zoo.

“It’s over there," he said slyly. "While you're at it, have one for me. Snk. Snk.”

We dashed over to this run-of-mill snack shop. Don't quote me on this, but I think it was the Prairie Outpost.

“Hey there," I asked inconspicuously. "Do you have beer?”

The teenage girl looked around (once again like it was a drug deal), smiled and nodded.

I slammed down a $20 bill and bellowed to the world with glee “Madam, I'll take four of your finest beers. Chop. Chop.”

So when you’re at any zoo, either solo or with the kids, why not make the event a little more bear-able (heh, heh)? Go up to the first pimply-faced kid worker you see and ask...

“Soooo, where’s the beer?”