Sesame Street Never Rocked So Hard

Not before Stevie, and certainly not after.

Low Caliber Entertainment

Desperate to shake a wicked case of full-blown cabin fever and having recently purchased a new pistol, I did what most people hope to do when the mercury rises above 30 degrees...send some lead. Fellow firearm enthusiast Scott accompanied me to the range where we proceeded to open a can on a variety of targets. This was my first opportunity to heat up the barrel on the new Ruger Mark III 22/45, and I must report that I was satisfied with its performance. Aside from performance, it was just nice to get out and do some much needed plinkin'.

Pre-Bowl Mega Flush

The day we've all been waiting for is here, and the showdown between the St. Louis Cardinals and the New England Patriots is about to get underway. I can't deny the electricity I feel in the air just sitting in my living room. Maybe I need to think about running a humidifier. There's an eerie stillness in our home today....the calm before the storm. I'm pretty sure it's just because the tv's off, keeping my ears Keyshawn Johnson-free.

Obviously I'm the kind of guy who knows a lot about football, and I'm also the kind of guy who'll put his reputation on the line, so call your bookie because I'm gonna give you a free Vegas-style prediction that will surely give you the inside track on tonight's game.

Here's a beautiful picture of a male cardinal.



Here's how it's going to play out...

Kurt Warner will open the game by leading a three-play drive into the end zone. He'll then decide to go for two right off the bat to get the fans into it. Then, on the following kick off, a Steeler special team dude will run the ball through the back of his end zone on accident, resulting in a safety. Warner will jump in on special teams for the next kickoff, and yep, you guessed it, he'll receive the kick and return it for a touchdown. Anyway, things will go like this for most of the game, and to make a long story, short the Cardinals will bring home the trophy to Chippewa Falls.

Kurt Warner celebrating with some of his teamates.

Cards 30

Steelers 17



You can take that to the bank.

Early Work

My mom came up to visit this week, and with her came a couple boxes of precious artifacts from my early childhood. I've always sort of wanted to put together a time capsule, but never felt that I had enough cool stuff to put in it. For all practical purposes this was a time capsule. It was a bunch of 25 year old relics encapsulated in a tote that was stuffed under the stairs.

After sorting through the old pictures, birthday cards and a select few cherished toys, something amongst the pile of construction paper and progress reports caught my eye. It appeared to be some sort of creative writing assignment...wait a minute, I think I...yes. I'm pretty sure I was in second grade, and I remember this project. It was a joint project between our class and the fifth grade class designed to marry the budding penmanship and spelling skills of a fifth grader with the eagerness and expressiveness of a second grader. It was an opportunity for the little kid to get behind the wheel while the big kid facilitated the creativity with the vehicle of literacy. Basically, he was capable of recording whatever I felt like dictating. I must warn you though, it is a frightful tale, so if you scare easily I suggest you hit alt+F4 now. For all of you bold enough to proceed, I offer you a classic Halloween tale from the dusty archives of my childhood literary catalog.

These things happen.

Bromance

The term bromance can be generally described as a friendship between bros, but much like a romance, it involves higher levels of emotion, commitment, and sensitivity. An entry in Wikipedia speculates that "the financial pressure of staying single longer may lead to men becoming roommates for extended periods, fueling the bromance." This may very well be the case in many instances, but it is certainly not the case for Brody Jenner, star of the MTV reality series Bromance.

Brody, son of Olympian Bruce Jenner is not a dude that needs someone to split the rent and utilities with. His longing for the right wingman could have been sparked by the shortage of true homies in the modeling business, or maybe it was all the drama on The Hills that revealed a higher purpose. Whatever it was, it has sent this hunky socialite on the manhunt of a lifetime. Lather up your faux-hawks, put on your distressed Hollister t-shirt, and grab those aviator shades because you are about to get a cologne drenched sneak peek at Bromance.


The format of the show is the same as any other reality show (especially the Bachelorette) in that it presents a variety of challenges to the contestants in order to weed out the weaklings. In the one episode that I saw, Brody gave each of the remaining guys an opportunity to put together a fun activity to show that they knew how to be a super-rad party animal. One guy laid out a Slip-N-Slide, another one taught the others a bit of choreography...you know, your everyday average guy stuff.

"Hey there, muscly arm."

All the fellas were having fun as the evening went along, but things took a sour turn when one young man's stand-up comedy routine missed its mark, making him the butt of the joke. Ashamed of his performance, heckled into submission, and generally sad about stuff, he made his way to the bathroom "can-fessional" to unload his tearful disappointment. But just as soon as it boiled up, all the testosterone vaporized when the others realized how hurtful their actions were. How uncharacteristically non-tender.

Sadly, at the end of each episode one aspiring bro must go, but just before the curtain falls he mutters something about how Brody really made the wrong choice and how they could've had an amazing bromance using Axe body spray to lure hot mamas into their wicked-awesome frat house for the rest of their lives...and then, you guessed it...he cries.

Information You Can Use

I've been receiving a lot of fan mail recently asking things like,

"Why the sharp drop-off in posting...I thought the Oak Lair was the most reliable source for everything I need to know? I'm confused...and scared." "Does Cullen just not care about me?

or

"What did I do, and what would I do without the Oak Lair in my life?"

I'm here to tell you that I do care...crap-tons, and I'll prove it to you right now by sharing with you an assortment of handy information that will be sure to give you the upper hand next time a conversation goes stale. You see, I recently picked up a book called Pocket Ref in response to my growing desire to become a referee. As it turned out, the book had nothing to do with officiating sports...it was even better. This is the most densely packed smattering of miscellaneous knowledge I have ever seen. I don't know if I'll ever need to know the electromagnetic frequency spectrum or the uranium 238 decay series, but if I do, it's all right here at my fingertips. Here's what you'd see with a casual flip through.



Personally I can't tell you how many times I've frantically waved my arms in pure frustration at a crane operator. If only I'd known these simple crane/hoist directions then. Maybe those lives would've been spared.

Holiday Tour '08

After absorbing a heavy dose of holiday hubbub, I'm glad to be back at my desk here at the Oak Lair with the report of the past week's events.

It was hurry up and wait last Saturday morning as I rushed the van to the mechanic in response to a smell Jodi had noticed a few days earlier. It kinda smelled like burning rubber, so naturally I figured it was just the roasted tires from all the drag racing. Turns out it was actually transmission fluid leaking from the filter housing and spraying over the exhaust, requiring a new filter and gasket. Sounds cheap, right? Not the case.

So after an hour or so of Field and Stream, coffee from a styrofoam cup, and the incessant mutterings of a mentally ill guy in the waiting area, I was more than ready to pack up the big top and move this circus on down the road. When we arrived in Lost Nation a glorious reception awaited. Boisterous voices, and the buzz and excitement one would expect to surround an occasion fueled by prime rib, wine, and Christmas cheer.

With bellies full of goat meat...er, I mean beautifully prepared prime rib, we made our way to the sacred area for the gift exchange. Many lovely things were unwrapped as Maura wallowed in the scraps of paper and bows. Before her lie a generous offering of neatly wrapped gifts which awaited their undoing.

Everybody got everything they wanted and more, and we knew it was only a matter of time before Ms. Maura got into the liquor cabinet.

At some point during the next couple days something dreadful happened to our van. Whatever the cause, it soon became apparent that the engine no longer held oil. With 240 miles ahead of us, the prospect of getting home without major repairs seemed doubtful, while the familiar trip home grew ever daunting. After filling up with oil (one quart of which being a $10 "stop leak" formula) we set out on the first leg of the drive. Forty five miles later we stopped for lunch and a status check in Dubuque, at which point we made a grim discovery. There was absolutely no oil on the dipstick, meaning we went through five quarts of oil in less than fifty miles.

Not good.

We grabbed a couple quarts here and there along the way until we got to the Prarie du Chien Wal-Mart where I proceeded to buy four five quart jugs for the drive home. At one point while stopped at a gas station for a complete oil fill up I tried to clean off the rear window with the squeegee/sponge wand only to find it completely oil-covered, thus coating the sponge for the next guy to smear across his windshield. Crap. Seemed like that was the theme for the trip, because I'm sure people were probably spinning off into the ditch behind us as we literally dumped thirty gallons of motor oil onto the highway. With the awareness that comes with being a complete stress-ball and the diligent use of the tripometer, we managed to dock the Valdez in the garage until further inspection.

Aside from wishing I would've asked for a barrel of oil for Christmas, everything was great. I hope you all had a wonderfully less eventful holiday. We'll probably play it safe with Seacrest on New Year's Eve.