Night Terrors

// Worse Than The Happening

By Alex Aloise .
09.02.10 // Night Terrors

View Comments / Sep 02.10 / Night Terrors / by Alex Aloise

// Inside the Mind of Gavin ep. 3

By Alex Aloise .
08.26.10 // After Hours

9:31 pm
Oh man, this place is great! It’s packed, cool wall art, great atmosphere, huge bar…
And they’re open till 12?!?!
I’m gonna come here every week.
They’ll have to change the name to TELL GAVIN It’s Friday’s.

10:27 pm
Well hello what’s this?
That girl at the bar is absolutely checking me out.
I knew this would be my night.
And Ross actually told me NOT to wear the tux.
Loser.

10:41 pm
Finally, she’s coming over here.
What took her so long?
Probably intimidated by the tux.

10:42 pm
“Hello Miss, I’m Gavin…”
“Great to meet you Qammie…”
“I’d love a shot, thank you so much…”
Oh no, she got some in her hair
“Oh no, you got some in your hair…”

11:09 pm
This is turning out really well.
She’s hilarious.
Uh oh. She’s about to spit up again.
Poor sweet angel.

11:34 pm
“You’re really cute too…”
“Seriously, I mean it…”
“Like a young Elena Kagan…”

11:55 pm
Shoot, almost closing time.
I need to seal the deal with Qammie.
She’s in no position to drive.
I’ll ask if she wants to stay at my place.

12:01 am
She wants to go to another bar?
It’s after midnight. Everything’s closed.
Did she say 2 am?
My God.

12:21 am
This bar is even more packed than the last.
Where did all of these people come from?
Don’t they have plans in the morning?
Yardwork? Brunch with mom? Anything?

12:31 am
“Qammie, this is great. I’ve never been out this late…”
“Wait till I tell Ross about this, oh wow…”
“I’m sorry, I don’t smoke. And are you British? You hide you’re accent very well…”
“Qammie?…”

1:04 am
“Another crantini please…”
Here’s to another one that got away.
Hurts so good.

1:47 am
This is wild.
I’m not even tired.
Too bad this place is closing soon.

1:56 am
W-w-w-w-w-w-wait.
There’s ANOTHER bar close by?!
And it’s open all night?!?!?!
Time for G-Spot to end this night with a bang

2:19 am
A lot of truckers in this place.
Weird.

2:37 am
I’m not exactly hungry, but that pie does look delicious.

2:58 am
Where are all the chicks?
It’s just trucker after trucker.
What a bologna-fest.

3:16 am
One more piece of pie, then I’ll go.

3:32 am
Definitely time to leave.
Those holes in the bathroom walls were a bit unsettling.
Plus, I feel a little over-dressed for this place.

3:33 am
We’ll get’em next time Gavin.
Next time.

Inside the Mind of Gavin ep. 1

Inside the Mind of Gavin ep. 2

View Comments / Aug 26.10 / After Hours / by Alex Aloise

// You Play Ball Like A Girl

By Alex Aloise .
08.20.10 // The Neighborhood

My neighborhood didn’t have a Sandlot. The kids never got together on a daily basis to play baseball. There weren’t any mythical dogs of monstrous proportions that we ran from in terror. There was no other-worldly-level-hot lifeguard that we fantasized about. We never befriended the once-terrifying old man in the spooky house.

In the movie, The Sandlot, all of those things happened in the course of one summer. Growing up (and still to this day) I loved that movie. I wanted so badly to be one of the kids in that neighborhood. I would have fit in with them perfectly. I was a fat little kid (who has since blossomed into a wonderfully-husky adult). They could have given me a nickname to compliment the rest of theirs. They could have called me “Big Al,” and The Great Hambino and I would battle it out for gluttonous supremacy.

But like I said, none of that stuff ever happened in my neighborhood.

No Sandlot:

In the movie, the kids had a huge, empty lot with a baseball diamond built into it where they would spend every day of their summer. We had a basketball court down in the woods, but it was right outside of Cravenna Oaks – the apartment community that was home to all manner of creepy adult and bullying 6^th grader – so we stayed away from it. There were the fields at Fairview Elementary that we could have used as our Sandlot, but none of us wanted to be at school when we didn’t have to, and the Rec-Pac instructors would give us shit for being there anyway. Instead, we settled for my basement more often than not where we played copious amounts of Killer Instinct and Primal Rage, which naturally resulted in…

Never getting together for organized sports:

Baseball was life for the kids in the movie. We could never decide on just one game to play (that is, whenever we left the comfortable confines of my basement). We tried playing kickball in the cul de sac across the street, but playing that game on a downward incline was never much fun. After The Mighty Ducks came out we gave Hockey a shot. We all bought sticks and pucks, and after about a week and half we realized that A) we all sucked and B) the knucklepuck was a damn lie. Football was our next attempt. We’d play in the front yard of Hank and Shawn’s house. It was a tiny yard, and certainly not enough room for a football game. Not to mention, Hank and Shawn were dicks. After I scored a game winning touchdown only to be met with a punch in the gut by Shawn (who was on my team), I decided to go back to the basement.

No mythical dogs of monstrous proportions:

Nine out of every ten dogs in my neighborhood were Bichon Frises, including my own. To run from those would be akin to crying your way out of a tickle attack.

No Wendy Peffercorn:

The Sandlot kids’ lifeguard was a goddess. Wendy Peffercorn was every pubescent adolescent’s wet dream come true. The lifeguard at my neighborhood pool was a bitch, a horrid, soulless wretch of a teenage girl. One day, during break, my friends and I were sitting on the edge with our feet barely in the water. She blew the whistle and made us stand under her chair, and forced each of us to hit one of the “YMCA” poses for the remaining 12 minutes of break. I was the “C.” My friend’s sister came and picked us up. When we told her what happened she screamed at the lifeguard. We were all pretty sure we were going to see our first girl-on-girl brawl. We never got a straight answer from her as to why she was such an insufferable pain in the ass to us that day. I do remember, however, that she was a fatty and the ice cream man was waaay past his normal time of arrival.

No scary-but-misunderstood old neighbor:

James Earl Jones’ “Mr. Mertle” was the terrifying old man who lived behind the Sandlot. The neighborhood was filled with tales of horror that originated from his property. His dog “The Beast” was on par with the Kraken in terms of sheer brutality and menace. But, by the end of the movie, it was learned that Mr. Mertle was really just a harmless old blind man who kept to himself. Not in my neighborhood. We had Mr. Costello. He wasn’t misunderstood. He was just an asshole, plain and simple. Mr. Mertle invited the neighborhood kids into his home in order to retrieve their baseball and view his collection of memorabilia. Mr. Costello would threaten to call the cops on us if we rode our bikes down his pipestem (that was shared with 2 other houses) one more goddamned time. And then there was Lawrence. He lived in the house at the bottom of my friend Jenny’s court. He was a convicted sex-offender. If anything ever ended up in his yard it stayed there, lest we risk our innocence.

I really wish that my neighborhood had been more “Sandlotic.” It seems like a child’s paradise in the movie. But my neighborhood was what it was, and despite not living up to the lofty standards of Benny the Jet and YeahYeah’s stomping grounds, it was pretty damn good. Baseball bores the crap out of me, anyway.

View Comments / Aug 20.10 / The Neighborhood / by Alex Aloise

// Swing That Music

By Alex Aloise .
08.15.10 // Dance Off

Swing That Music from alex aloise on Vimeo.

View Comments / Aug 15.10 / Dance Off / by Alex Aloise

// The Ultimate Battle Part Three

By Alex Aloise .
08.08.10 // Bears

View Comments / Aug 08.10 / Bears / by Alex Aloise

// The Ultimate Battle Part Two

By Alex Aloise .
08.07.10 // Bears

View Comments / Aug 07.10 / Bears / by Alex Aloise

// The Ultimate Battle Part One

By Alex Aloise .
08.06.10 // Bears

View Comments / Aug 06.10 / Bears / by Alex Aloise

// Strap Yourselves In, Kids

By Alex Aloise .
07.22.10 // Summer Blockbusters

It’s always been a secret dream of mine to be a famous Screenwriter. A few years ago, I wrote my first film. I think it’s got the potential to do AVATAR-like business (without sucking, of course). And lucky for you, I’m giving you a free taste of my masterpiece right here on Blommit. Below are some select scenes from the screenplay. You can thank me later.

Wright & Wong

View Comments / Jul 22.10 / Summer Blockbusters / by Alex Aloise

// You’ll Either Love Me or Hate Me…

By Alex Aloise .
07.12.10 // The Funniest Joke Ever

…but this is my all-time favorite joke

View Comments / Jul 12.10 / The Funniest Joke Ever / by Alex Aloise

// I Suggested This Ad…

By Alex Aloise .
07.08.10 // Competition

…they didn’t take it.

View Comments / Jul 08.10 / Competition / by Alex Aloise

// The Ballad of Jefferson Conley

By Alex Aloise .
06.28.10 // Missed Opportunity

Have you ever been “that close?” Were you ever within arm’s reach of that brass ring? Did you ever think to yourself, “If only I’d done that, I wouldn’t be doing this?”

The saying goes that opportunity knocks but only once. Sometimes lives are dramatically altered by one split-second decision. Turn right or turn left? Yes or no? It’s all about the choices we make and the actions we take.

Take Pete Best, for example. He’s the infamous “Fifth Beatle.” The original drummer for the band, it’s been theorized that Pete simply didn’t gel with John, Paul, and George. They ultimately replaced him with Ringo Starr, just a short time before their worldwide cultural explosion. If Best had just tried a little harder and been the slightest bit more social, he’d be an icon, and the world would have never known “Yellow Submarine.”

Ron Wayne is another example. Along with Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, Wayne helped to found Apple Computers in the 1970s. He was the elder statesman of the trio, the one with all of the business sense. In the official legal trademark documents, Wayne is listed as a 10% partner in the company. His keen business senses, though, told him that the venture would ultimately fail. Eleven days after signing the papers he backed out, taking his 10% share of the company at that time with him: $800. Had he stuck it out and taken the chance, Wayne’s 10% today would be worth an estimated $22 Billion.

Even the immortal Hulk Hogan is not invulnerable to a missed opportunity or two. He and George Foreman at one time shared the same manager. Said manager called Hulk up one day and left a voicemail asking if he’d be interested in putting his name on a new grill that was set to come out. Hogan never got the message until a few days later. By then, the manager had offered the same deal to Foreman, who happily accepted, and has since made an estimated $200+ Million off his decision. By the time Hulk got back to his manager, he was forced to accept an offer to promote a blender – The Hulk Hogan Thunder Mixer.

My point in all of this is that there’s another story of great opportunity missed, one that has yet to be told. It’s the story of this very page that you’re reading right now.

When Blommit officially got started in 2008 there were 7 weekly contributors. We would all meet to discuss the details of the site: how it would run, who would post when, the design, the identity, etc. It was (and still is) a full-time job. Posting gripping original content every week and maintaining the daily goings-on with the site AND trying to finish graduate school was a daunting task. That being the case, we brought on an 8th man to help us out. He was to be our silent partner. He never wanted to be responsible for creating and posting content, but he was more than happy to run the site for us. He was in charge of putting up the polls, archiving the older posts, fielding the comments, and any and all other aspects necessary to running the Blommit on a daily basis.

Jefferson “Jeffy” Conley was our saving grace in the early days. Without him, Blommit may never have even gotten off the ground. The way we met him was sort of serendipitous, to say the least, the 7 of us originals all went to grad school together in Richmond, VA. That’s where we all met and dreamt up the monster that would one day become Blommit. We used to spend a lot of time drinking together at a place called Bogart’s. We would always see this old man at the end of the bar, drinking by himself, night after night. He was definitely a townie, born and raised in Richmond’s city limits, and he didn’t appear to have any plans of ever venturing outside of his hometown.

One night, it was a Tuesday, we were at Bogart’s having our usual discussion about the current state of the site. Out of nowhere, the enigmatic old timer stumbled up to our booth and promptly took a seat. He didn’t’ say much at first. It was probably a good 30 minutes before he piped up. We were initially startled, but eventually we just figured he was old, drunk, and sick of sitting on a stool. After the confusion about our new tablemate wore off we continued on with our conversation. We were in the middle of talking about that week’s topic, “Documentaries.” Suddenly the old man chimed in, “Didja ever see The Horse With The Flying Tail? Now that’s a helluva picture!” and then promptly took another shot of his Wild Turkey.

For the next couple of weeks, whenever we went to Bogart’s, Jeffy would sit down with us and spout off some wisdom that was vaguely related to what we were talking about. When we were going over the posts for “Seven Deadly Sins,” Jeffy spouted, “Ya know who broke every sin in the book? CHURCHILL!” and then called him an English pussy. When we went in to talk about the topic “Business Cards” Jeffy said nothing. Instead he pulled out a crumpled old condom that had a piece of paper reading, “JEFFY – WHY NOT?” stapled to the middle of it and slammed it on the table. No explanation was needed.

The next day, we had an impromptu meeting back at the bar. As usual, Jeffy was there. By this point we were all fascinated by the somehow-still-mesmerizingly-lucid old man and asked him if he’d like to become a contributor to the site. We figured that if nothing else, we could simply film his one-liners and non-sequiturs, unleashing an unstoppable meme unto the internet masses. But Jeffy immediately shot down that idea with a “Nah” and a slow-creeping wet fart. Immediately thereafter, though, he shouted, “I’LL RUN IT FOR YA.” We were all skeptical at first, obviously, but something inside me said that behind the senile façade was a genius, waiting to be released. I convinced the other 6 to let me take Jeffy on as my pet-project-of-sorts. I’d run through everything he’d need to know with him and make sure that he was capable of performing the job. Somehow, they agreed.

I worked with Jeffy for about a week, showing him the ins and outs of running the site. Incredibly, he picked it up in no time. Here he was, a 60-something year old man, perpetually drunk off his ass, and he was teaching me how to maintain a website. The results were undeniable. After just three weeks we saw a spike in readership and Blommit was running smoother than ever. We made the decision to bring Jeffy on full-time. He became an equal partner in the site. It was now an 8-man operation. I think he was excited. When we told Jeffy the news he raised his glass and pissed his pants. That meant he was happy.

For the next year and half Jeffy worked tirelessly to keep the site up to speed. He helped us grow our audience and also put us into contact with a number of the people who eventually became regular contributors (though to be honest, the way he put us in contact with them was usually just another stapled-with-a-nametag-condom. He was like a dirty, drunken clairvoyant). Things were going great. The climb was a little slow but it was steady, and it was consistently going up.

By the Fall of 2010 the site was ready to explode. A few of the original 7 had fallen by the wayside a bit (after we graduated, we all moved off to different cities for work so maintaining the steady flow of communication we had had was near-impossible) but in their places were a growing number of talented and enthusiastic new writers, designers, and makers-of-cool-shit. With the expansion came greater success and more recognition than we’d ever had before. Blommit was a success.

Jeffy, though, never saw any of our newfound acclaim. I’d been trying to reach him for about a month, all with no response. I started to fear the worst: that the crazy old drunkard had finally succumbed to his demons. He never gave us his address or phone number, and he never mentioned any family. Our only mode of communication was through email and the now-occasional visit to Bogart’s whenever one of us was in Richmond. Despite all of my attempts, he’d vanished. The site was finally going to become profitable soon and he deserved a cut of it as much as anyone else. I made it my new job to track him down and get him back on board.

That actually turned out to be a lot easier than I’d anticipated. I was able to get down to Richmond for a weekend in May of 2011. I went straight to the bar. There he was, in the same spot as always. I sat down next to him and asked him why he’d dropped out of sight. Didn’t he want to be a part of things just as they were finally taking off? I told him about all of the incredible things that were happening and made it clear to him that he was still an equal partner. In typical Jeffy fashion, he didn’t say much. He just handed me an old condom with a piece of paper stapled to to the middle of it. All it said was, “Go nuts.” Then he got up and left the bar.

In the 10 years since then, none of us have seen or heard from Jefferson Conley. I know he’s still in Richmond. Friends of mine have seen him at his same spot in the bar. I don’t know why he opted out of being a part of things. We’ve got the production company, the show, the books, and all of the other pieces of the Blommit Universe. Jeffy could have been, and should have been, in on it all with us.

This is the last picture I’ve ever seen of him. I took it that last day. So Jeffy, if you’re reading this. Give me a call, or send a stapled condom.

Originally printed in WIRED magazine, July 2021

View Comments / Jun 28.10 / Missed Opportunity / by Alex Aloise

// There’s A Distinction, You See

By Alex Aloise .
06.17.10 // Just Friends

Being Just Friends is tricky territory. In my experience, there are at least 3 different levels of being Just Friends. There’s:

Just Friends – This is the purely platonic level, literally, just friends.

Just…Friends – This is the one-sided level. One half of the equation has stronger, romantic feelings, but alas it can’t be

“Just Friends” – This is the total BS level. These people are boning, no doubt about it.

That being the case, I wanted to see how many of you could distinguish between the 3 levels, so I made this game:

View Comments / Jun 17.10 / Just Friends / by Alex Aloise

// Consider The Ostrich

By Alex Aloise .
06.07.10 // Secret Identity

View Comments / Jun 07.10 / Secret Identity / by Alex Aloise

// The “Man” That I Am

By Alex Aloise .
05.27.10 // Emotional Trauma

Traumatic experiences unquestionably shape people’s lives. For better or worse, the way a person reacts to the less-than-fortunate events in their life has a direct correlation to the person they ultimately become. The greatest form of emotional trauma that we as human beings all share is death. I’ve been to a handful of funerals in my lifetime already and with each one there are things I wish I’d said or done differently with the dearly-departed, and thus, I’ve altered my life accordingly. Still, I feel like there are other, more unique traumas that everyone must individually face. In preparation for this post I reflected back on some of the most traumatic experiences in my own life.

The Crimson Hand
The first time I ever saw a large quantity of blood was when it was pouring out of my own hand. I was walking with my mom to a playground near our house and tripped and fell on the gravel path, scraping the skin off my mit.
The effect: I have a very weak stomach for my own blood and a low threshold for pain.

Hacksaw Jim Duggan
My mom went out shopping one day with my sister. She brought me home a brand new Hacksaw Jim Duggan WWF action figure. Within minutes I’d snapped the arm back too far, thus rendering his Spring-Loaded Smashing Action useless. I cried copious tears.
The effect: I’m terrified of my own strength.

Tooth Removal
Family vacations to Amish country are painful enough. On this particular trip, I was in a store with my uncle. To pass the time we played Tag. At one point, while I was running between clothes racks, he surprised me and stuck out his foot. I tripped over it, went face-first into the floor, and looked up to see my tooth lying in front of me.
The effect: I hate dentists and I’m afraid to run indoors.

RIP Gingrich
In 6th grade I went to a pet store. A very nice young lady persuaded me to buy a Newt (tiny lizard). I bought the cage, the crickets, the log, everything. I took it home that night. 48 hours later it was dead. The next morning I went to school, and in a haze of snot and tears, warned all of my friends about the dangerous, lying, lizard killing little bitch at the pet store.
The effect: I shift blame and I hate pet stores.

Shirts vs. Skins
I played basketball as a kid. During one practice, when I was about 13, the coaches suggested we play Shirts vs. Skins. I was put on the Skins team. Being the unconfident little pudge that I was, I begged the coach to put me on the Shirts instead, lest everyone see my adolescent moobs. He reluctantly agreed. Then, as I was defending, I stepped to the left and let out a trumpeting wet fart that caused the whole gym to laugh. Coach said it was “the best defense I’d played all season.”
The effect: I never played organized sports again and I shower with a shirt on.

Graduation
Finishing high school was exciting. Finishing college was gratifying. Finishing grad school was heartbreaking. I didn’t want to leave my friends, my city, or my youth. I still miss the all-nighters stressing over a deadline and the middle-of-the-night runs to 7-11 for Red Bull and Pop-Tarts. Aside from my wife, being an adult sucks.
The effect: I DON’T LIKE CHANGE!!

Health Scare
Recently I’ve been going through some sort of mysterious illness. I’ve got headaches, fevers, muscle pain etc. I keep hearing different things but so far no real answers. I feel fine though. It’ll probably turn out to be nothing. Still, I won’t know for sure for another few weeks. It’s been the most frustrating time in my life.
The effect: I know I’m fat. All that’s happening to me and my biggest concern is that, with the new diet I’ve been put on, I can’t eat cake.

LOST Finale
For the past four days I’ve been pining over the loss of my “friends” from Oceanic 815. I’ve never been as emotionally invested in a television show as I was with LOST. Watching the final scene left a hole in gut that still has yet to heal.
The effect: I’m a big, fat, blubbering ninny.

View Comments / May 27.10 / Emotional Trauma / by Alex Aloise

// Goodbye Old Friends

By Alex Aloise .
05.19.10 // Organic

View Comments / May 19.10 / Organic / by Alex Aloise

// Happy Mother’s Day, Earth

By Alex Aloise .
05.09.10 // Your Mom

It’s Mother’s Day.

I don’t know if this is a worldwide holiday or not, but it should be. Mothers around the globe need at least one day of recognition every year.

In America we show that gratitude through flowers, gifts, and Sally Field movies. But what about the rest of the world? Lucky for you, my international nincompoops, I’ve come up with a series of tips:

(I apologize upfront. Things are gonna get real stereotypical real quick)

Great Britain
Prep you Mum a spot of tea, put on Fawlty Towers, and watch her laugh.

France
Bake a croissant shaped like her face.

Sweden
Build something together, like a desk, or a bookshelf, or a futon.

Japan
Have a friendly game of Samurai sparring.

Germany
Drink beer out of the steins you made for her in Ceramics.

China
Count American money together.

Holland
Take her wooden shoe shopping.

Mexico
Spend some quality time together surviving.

Greece
Protest together.

Italy
Spell out “Momma” in homemade meatballs while she takes a siesta.

North Korea
Join hands with esteemed beloved mother and bow to glorious dictator, most revered tiny bouffant.

Jamaica
Write her an original song on your steel drum.

India
Film your own Bollywood version of her life story.

Australia
Throw some shrimp on a barbie and take ya mum on a walkabout.

Canada
Just be super nice to her and make sure she has a super super day, eh?

Russia
Take a vodka shot for all the ways you love your mom.
(Actually, you can do this one regardless of where you’re from)

Happy Mother’s Day Moms!

View Comments / May 09.10 / Your Mom / by Alex Aloise

// Tunes on the Turnpike

By Alex Aloise .
04.26.10 // In The Back Seat

Growing up, my family and I spent countless hours driving between our home in northern Virginia to my Grandparents’ place in Ventnor, New Jersey. On each of those trips I would climb into our minivan and stretch out across the back seat. For the next four-to-five hours, despite all of my best efforts, I was subjected to my dad’s personal playlist of favorite tapes.

I tried to sleep through the noise. I tried reading as a distraction. I would put on my own headphones, but they were never loud enough to drown out the horrors put upon my young eardrums. The music was a mixture of the absolute worst that the early 1990s could offer a young boy, and on every one of those car rides all I could do was sit there and take it.

Now, whenever I hear any of the following songs, I get flashbacks to that back seat. Like a chopper pilot in ‘Nam every Fourth of July, I get cold. I start to sweat. I shake. I need to lie in the fetal position until the fear subsides.

(Click the songs to hear the horror)

“Handle With Care” by The Travelin’ Wilburrys

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As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been able to appreciate this band and song a bit more. George Harrison, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, and Roy Orbison in one supergroup? It’s admittedly great. Still, every time I hear this it takes me back to that back seat, and then I remember the next four songs.

“Something To Talk About” by Bonnie Raitt

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You know how when you’re walking down the street, or in the store, or anywhere for that matter, and you pass a stranger and you both politely smile & nod and keep going? I’ve never done that to a redhead. Screw you, Ginger. It’s not because I’m a dick, it’s because Bonnie Raitt ruined my childhood.

“Holiday” by Madonna

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I respond to this song like Pavlov’s Dog. As soon as the first chord hits I’m instinctively compelled to put on a salmon-colored LaCoste shirt and Dockers, and then proceed to give myself 20 lashes like a member of Opus Dei.

“How Will I Know” by Whitney Houston

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Listening to this track was almost as painful as a tumultuous and abusive relationship, a crack addiction, public scrutiny, and a slow fall from grace all rolled into one. Too soon?

“Sweet Love” by Anita Baker

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More than any other, the smoky sounds of Ms. Baker abuse my psyche. Because of this, I can’t listen to any smooth jazz (not that I’m necessarily complaining about that). Forget “Goodbye Horses,” should I ever find myself in the homemade hole of Buffalo Bill, this will be the song that plays while he tuck-dances above my would-be tomb.

These songs haunt me, and they always will. Thanks Dad.

View Comments / Apr 26.10 / In The Back Seat / by Alex Aloise

// Mark Your Calendars

By Alex Aloise .
04.20.10 // Your 75th Birthday

I will turn 75 years old on March 13, 2060.
That is, if anyone turns anything anymore by then.
By that time the human race may have been wiped out and replaced by Ape-People.
Either that or Apple will have released its iFinity gizmo and stopped the aging process.
My birthday will be on a Saturday.
That means I’ll be able to throw one doozy of a b-day bash.
My wife and kids and grandkids will be there, and my friends will be too.
And if anyone can’t physically be there, they can “Holo-show.”
For my 75^th birthday party, we’ll do all of the things I loved to do when I was 25.
We’ll play Rock Band, but we’ll have to play on EASY, on account of the Arthritis.
Then we’ll watch Anchorman, and ooooh how we’ll laugh.
My grandkids will look at Will Ferrell then like I look at Bing Crosby now.
After the movie we’ll slow dance to classics like R.Kelly’s “Echo.”
Even the cake will be classic. Cold Stone Ice Cream Cake-flavored pills for everyone!
There will be a retrospective shown of my life.
All of the highs. All of the lows. It will be a beautiful reminder of a full, happy 75 years.
Everyone at the party will watch it on their 3D HD LED Eyelids.
My 75th birthday party will be on March 13, 2060.
It’s a Saturday.
You’re invited.
If you’re alive.

View Comments / Apr 20.10 / Your 75th Birthday / by Alex Aloise

// Out of the Shadows: A Blommit Exclusive

By Alex Aloise .
04.14.10 // Store Brand

Frank Stallone. Don Swayze. Seth Galifianakis. All proud men in their own right, who have never been able to escape the shadow of their more famous brothers. But, the plight of the lesser-known sibling is not exclusive to Hollywood.

Go visit any grocery store in America. Walk to the cereal aisle. For every Snap, Crackle, and Pop there’s a Bend, Simmer, and Pfft. The life of the off-brand breakfast mascot can often be a dark, lonely, and under-appreciated existence.

For years, Lucky the Leprechaun has told children across America about red hearts, green clovers, and blue balloons. As the mascot for Lucky Charms, he’s lived a life of luxury. His brother’s life, on the other hand, is a different story.

Today on Blommit we bring to you an exclusive interview with the Unlucky Charm of his family, Lucky the Leprechaun’s brother: Blimey.

Blommit: Thank you so much for taking the time to speak with me today.

Blimey: ‘Tis me pleasure. This is a long time coming for me story to get out.

Blommit: Tell us. What has it been like, living as the “lesser-known” in your family? Has your brother’s success been a hindrance?

Blimey: Ehh, it wasn’t at first. In the beginning it was all OK because we sold ourselves as a package deal. We made heaps of appearances every St. Patrick’s Day on cakes and paper plates and things like that.

Blommit: I see. Is St. Patty’s Day a rough time for you each year then, with the memories?

Blimey: Well, #1: It’s ST. PATRICK’S Day. Don’t ye be blasphemin’ that great man’s name around me. And #2: No, it’s not so bad. I still get free drinks. So that numbs the pain.

Blommit: My apologies.

Blimey: Ay. Anyway, after doing the team thing for a while, Lucky caught his break from General Mills. They said he had a “sunnier disposition,” so I was left to fend for me self.

Blommit: Did your brother ever try to help you along the way? Maybe pointing you towards other cereals?

Blimey: Well…yes and no. He never gave me the numbers to any of the other cereals. He didn’t want us to be direct competitors, lest we add more strife to our relationship. But, he did put me in contact with the folks at Ore Ida a time or two. You know, the whole Irish/Potato thing. But at the time I just couldn’t kick my habit.

Blommit: You suffered from an addiction?

Blimey: Ay. Smack…

Blommit: Heroin?

Blimey: …s. Smacks. The cereal. I knew Dig’em Frog from back in me younger days. I called him up after he landed the gig, to congratulate him, you know? He invited me to his place to celebrate. I walked in and he was sitting at the table with a mountain of this stuff in front of him. He asked if I wanted a hit. After that I truly don’t remember much for about three years.

Blommit: So how, then, did you wind up in cereal, if you were so strung out?

Blimey: There’s something you need to know about the generic cereal industry. They just don’t give a fook. All those people care about is trickery. They trick customers into thinking they taste the same as the name brand stuff and they trick the most desperate people in the world into working for them. Case in point: Me.

Blommit: You feel you were “tricked” into your current position?

Blimey: Well I sure as Hell wouldn’t have OPTED to be on a bag of Malt-O-Meal! Like I said, I was so utterly worthless at the time, on account of the Smacks, that I had no idea what I was doing with me life. One day a rep from M.O.M got a hold of me and said that if I signed with them, they’d take care of me. So I did.

Blommit: And they, in turn, helped you get clean?

Blimey: Well not intentionally! When they said, “take care of me” they meant financially. I’ll get royalty checks till me dying day. And they continuously send me life-time supplies of their generic-brand products. So that’s all I’ve been eaten for the last 17 years. That shite is no where near as potent as the real stuff. Eventually, I just weened myself off of my addiction.

Blommit: Well that’s fantastic, no? I mean, you’re clean. You have a steady income. What more could you want?

Blimey: How about respect, for one thing? Be honest, nobody buys that bagged crap! If people have the option of choosing between genuine Lucky Charms and my, literal, sad sack, they’ll take Lucky 11 times out of 10.

Blommit: Have you ever suggested a re-teaming to your brother?

Blimey: Lifetime contract, love. Couldn’t do it if I wanted to. I’m stuck.

Blommit: Be that as it may, I have a feeling that once this story gets out things may start turning around for you.

Blimey: I sure as shite hope so!

Blommit: Blimey, thank you so much for being so candid and sharing your story.

Blimey: Ay. And thank you, Sunshine, for giving me the opportunity to do it. Lord knows I haven’t gotten me fair shake in a while.

Blommit: Any parting words for our readers.

Blimey: Not to your readers, but here’s something for Dig’em Frog. Fook you, you rotten green bastard!

View Comments / Apr 14.10 / Store Brand / by Alex Aloise

// …Of Broken Hearts and Broken Wings

By Alex Aloise .
04.08.10 // Tantrums

View Comments / Apr 08.10 / Tantrums / by Alex Aloise

// If Only…

By Alex Aloise .
04.02.10 // What Could Have Been

View Comments / Apr 02.10 / What Could Have Been / by Alex Aloise

// No Laughing For Old Men

By Alex Aloise .
03.26.10 // Laugh Tracks

Ben brought up a good point in his last post. Laugh tracks work. They fill the unfunny spaces. THE BIG BANG THEORY is not a funny show. It’s sold as one, but it’s not, not by any stretch of the word. But, when you’re told to laugh at certain points, you can’t help but giggle along.

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN is not a very funny movie, especially the closing scene. But with a laugh track….

View Comments / Mar 26.10 / Laugh Tracks / by Alex Aloise

// Inside the Mind of Gavin ep. 2

By Alex Aloise .
03.21.10 // Booyah!

Alright G-spot, this is finally your chance. Finally gonna get that big laugh. Who can’t resist a good Booyah?

Elevators are the perfect spot for getting group laughs. Intimate setting, captive audience. No way I can screw this up.

Almost at the elevator. Here it comes. The big moment. Let’s do this Gav-man!

Going up? Yes please!

Sweet. Here we go and…empty. That’s OK. Someone will get on at the next floor.

You’d think working on the 12th floor would give me some extra luck. Is anyone here today?

Know what? It’s still early. That’s all. Big day for me. I must not have noticed the time. They’ll start piling in soon.

I’ll go back down to the lobby and wait for the first group.

How early am I? Really need to get a watch. Or a cell phone.

Alright. Finally. Here we go, the ladies from the bank. Mine for two full floors.

“12th floor please.”

“Bo…..have a good one.”

Shit! 2 floors is not enough time!

Back to the lobby.

Oh nice! Those three dudes from the realty office. 8th floor! They’re gonna love this.

“Ohohoho maaan! 8th floor, Booyah!”

What the hell were those looks for? Seriously? Not even a smile? Whatever. They’re just not on my level. Asses. Maybe YOU’RE the douchebags!

Let’s try this one more time. L.

Come on Gavin. Get your head in the game. These are guaranteed laughs. It’s all in the delivery. YOU OWN THIS!

Oh no. Kelly. 6th floor. If I botch it with her she’ll never talk to me again. Or ever start talking to me for that matter.
Not worth it. I’ll just stay here, act like I didn’t see her. I was on the phone or something.

“No I told you, bet on BLACK…”

OK, cool. I think she bought it.

I REALLY need to get a phone.

Oh perfect! Mr. Sedgwick. Best way to a bosses heart is through his funnybone, right? It’s gonna be!

“Morning, Mr. Sedgwick.”

“It was a good weekend, thank you. I finally got the rest of my figures organized and on the shelf.”

“Sales figures, yes.”

No.

Close one. I wonder if he watches SMALLVILLE too.

Focus Gavin! You’re already on the 7th.

“Did you see the ballgame last night?”

“Oh I thought you were a volleyball fan.”

“I haven’t see THE BLIND SIDE, yet.”

“Sounds great! Yeah, she’s a hot one. I loved THE NET.”

“Hahahahaha. That’s hilarious Mr. Sedgwick! I’ve never heard that before.”

SHIT!!

Really Sedgwick? When have you ever said Booyah before just now?

Dammit Gavin!

View Comments / Mar 21.10 / Booyah! / by Alex Aloise

// The Little Guys

By Alex Aloise .
03.08.10 // Best Day Ever

I’m watching the Oscars right now as I write this.

For all of the obvious stars in attendance, this show is more or less expected for them.

It’s their job to become famous enough to be seen at the Oscars one day.

For the really big stars, it’s a surprise if they’re NOT at this type of show.

But for the “smaller” folk in the audience, this is as good as it will ever get for them.

The set designers, make-up artists, sound mixers, and the like.

These are the people who work their entire careers to have their name announced.

It’s the only way most people will ever know their name.

Imagine that for a second.

Everything you ever dreamed of, everything you ever worked for…

All boiled down to one brief moment of recognition.

If that were your life would it automatically rank as your best day ever?

It’s hard to think that anything would ever top it.

You’ve reached the pinnacle, the top of your career.

There is nowhere left for you to go, professionally.

You’ve earned your place at the podium.

Just don’t let it get to your head.

Remember your spot on the Hollywood food chain.

And when you pick up your award, don’t forget, you’ve only got 45 seconds.

There are more important things to get to.

Like Taylor Fucking Lautner introducing a tribute to Horror films.

Because that makes sense.

So enjoy it, you little winners.

This is the moment of your life.

View Comments / Mar 08.10 / Best Day Ever / by Alex Aloise

// Case Closed

By Alex Aloise .
03.02.10 // dogs

It’s the question that the world has been trying to answer since the dawn of the new millennium. A question originally posed by three young men from Nassau, Bahamas. Most people believed that it was a rhetorical question but, upon further investigation, I’ve cracked the case. It was a Baha Man! But which one?

Let’s look at the suspects, pictured in the album cover above (from left to right).

Dyson Knight – Born to Rosetta and Savion Knight, Dyson grew up on a farm filled with dogs. He was well aware of their propensity to roam. A free spirit himself, Dyson loved to run alongside his dogs, within the proper perameters of course. Still, despite his past and knowledge of man’s best friend, it’s near-impossible to trust a man with a dye job like that. His Sisqo-inspired ‘do screams, “Look At Me.” Perhaps his parents showed their dogs more attention than they did their own son. Maybe little Dyson grew up feeling inadequate. And just maybe, leaving that gate open and letting the dogs out was his way of getting the attention that he so desperately craved.

Colyn Grant – The self-appointed leader of the Baha Men. Throughout his life, Colyn always had a problem with authority. He was a bully, often forcing those less powerful than he into uncomfortable situations. It’s not out of the realm of possibilty that he orchestrated the calculated release of said dogs. He possessed a stronghold on the other two Bahas like no one else. It’s completely plausible that he coaxed one of his Baha brethren to do his dirty work.

Two likely suspects, but the real culprit will now finally be revealed…

Anthony Flowers – At the time of the song’s release, Flowers was in dire need of some new glasses. What started as some simple blurriness had quickly degenerated into full-blown astigmatism. Coming from a poor background, Flowers couldn’t afford the necessary eyewear. Thus, he turned to his friend, Colyn Grant – and the Baha Men were formed. On his way to the recording studio, Anthony Flowers mistakenly opened a door to a kennel. According to his account he saw a sign that read “Sound.” In actuality it was “Hound.” The dogs were set free…and a piece of music history was created forever.

There. Now that this mystery has been solved, can we please make a vow to never play this awful fucking song at any event, sporting or otherwise, ever again?

The world thanks you.

View Comments / Mar 02.10 / dogs / by Alex Aloise