I'm back bitches
Mood:  d'oh
Now Playing: Espn
So I just watched the national championship game and I have to say that I am impressed. UNC beat Illinois 75-70. I would like to discuss the MVP of the tournament, Sean May. The guy came to UNC three years ago and was a flabby, out of shape, junk-food eating machine. Well, he still is pretty flabby, and word is that he eats so many cookies that he is called the cookie monster. I have decided to compare the two. First, let me show you proof that Sean May, much like the cookie monster, has an unhealthy obsession with cookies.

Sean May's obsession with cookies has even caused him to eat cookies DURING his games.

Of course, all of this talk of Sean May being the Cookie Monster has left the REAL cookie monster pissed.

We will see what is going to happen in this rivalry.

The Ultimate Conspiracy Theory
Mood:  mischievious
Now Playing: Jurrassic 5 - Concrete Schoolyard
So the super bowl is coming up this sunday. The Patriots play the Philadelphia Eagles, a team from a pretty patriotic city, and I know the Patriots are gonna win. And I feel like shedding some light on a conspiracy that effects us all. Let me set the scene. Three years ago a seemingly unkown 6th round draft pick replaces an all-pro QB and leads his team to a Super Bowl victory. Last year, this same QB leads the same team to ANOTHER Super Bowl victory. How does this guy, who is not the most physically talented QB in the league, and his team, that lacks any superstars, keep winning? Because the government rigs the football games they play in to insure that the New England Patriots win. Don't believe me? Lets examine the evidence.
In 2001, America gets attacked. Mass patriotism and blind faith in the country and our idiot president ensues. Following the attack, the Patriots, A VERY mediocre team, starts winning...A LOT. They get to the Super Bowl. They WIN! HOORAY! HAZAA FOR AMERICA!
That same year that the Patriots win the Super Bowl, a really shitty, unholy, unconstitutional, unpatriotic bill was passed and signed into law. The name of that bill? The Patriot Act. Coincidence? I think not.
Flash forward to 2003. The All Pirate Super Bowl. Bucs vs. Raiders. I find this ironic because it was around this time that we were raiding and stealing a country from its own people. Coincidence? Again, no fucking way.
Now this brings us to last year, 2004. The Patriots vs. The Panthers. I am going to make a comparison here, so try to follow me. Now if these teams were to represent countries, the Patriots would obviously be America. The Panthers would be the entire muslim population according to the Bush administration; dark and mysterious, evil and most of all, they are panthers. Guess who wins? Thats right! America! er I mean the Patriots!
SO now the conspiracy becomes obvious. And this goes all the way to the top. It is even written in the Patriot Act. Look it up. Lines 57-60 section 7-G "And to increase Patriotism and gain votes from morons for all members of the Bush family, the Patriots games will be rigged in their favor. And Dubya has to stay 50 feet away from pretzels at all times."
Here is a chart that illustrates the power structure involved with this conspiracy.

Ever notice how the Cleveland Communists never do well in the league? Further proof that the conspiracy exists!

More proof that there is a conspiracy. When Tom Brady was in college, he didn't have a butt chin, but now that he is in the spotlight he does. Odd? Yes. The reason? Brady tried to shed light on the conspiracy and he ended up losing a chunk of his chin for it. These people are BRUTAL!

Please people, fight the power. Root for the Eagles...Wait a minute...Eagles...national bird...DAMNIT THEY GOT TO THEM TOO! DAMN YOU, DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL! SAY IT AIN'T SO T.O. SAY IT AIN'T SO!

Miracle on High Street
Mood:  energetic
Now Playing: family guy
Some of you may not know what dodgeball is. For those of you who don't know, let me explain the game. The premise of the game is to pick on the weakest member of the opposite team, scarring them for life. But seriously, prison dodgeball, the kind we play at western's intermural league, eight players face off on a basketball court. 5 rubber balls are used to throw at opposing players knocking them out of the game. You can catch a thrown ball to get an opposing player out, and then throw that ball to a teammate who has been knocked out to get them back into the game. You can also throw the ball into the opposing teams basket to get a jailbreak, freeing all of your captured teammates. This is where my story begins. So tonight I played Dodgeball for two different teams. The Average Shmoes and Quick Hits. During the fourth and final game for quick hits, something amazing happened. The other team was beating us down. Suddenly, I was the only player left and the other team had six guys. I stalled them, catching a few balls to get some of my guys in but they kept getting out. Time was running down. Under 20 seconds left. I heave a ball towards the basket from the baseline, it rims off. 10 seconds left, I dodge a ball thrown at me and toss a prayer from the far corner of the court. SWISH! JAILBREAK! WE WIN! GAME OVER! FUCKING AMAZING! BRILLIANT! The greatest thing about that was the look on the other team's faces. Combine shock with dumbfoundedness and anger and you get their looks. High fives all around for Quick Hits. It was good times. Good times.

Here is a diagram of the shot...

After hitting that shot, I felt cool. Cooler than this guy. But minus the ability to give yagoogalies.

I can only attribute the luck involved in that shot to two things: Wearing Larry Johnson's Charlotte Hornets jersey, and possibly having the fleeting grace of a higher power.

Of course, this now means that I will suck at dodgeball because of my blatant blasphemy. Oh well. It was good times. Rumor has it a video of the shot exists...

Why it is cool being Freddie Mitchell
Mood:  hungry
Now Playing: Superfly - Curtis Mayfield
Recently, if you have been watching tv, in particular, sports television (espn, fsn, etc) then you have probably seen and heard of Freddie Mitchell. If you DON'T know who this guy is, let me fill you in. Some people might say that Freddie Mitchell went to UCLA where he was a star wide receiver and was drafted by the Philadelphia Eagles where he has been playing for the past few years. To those people I say YOU ARE FUCKING WRONG. Look at the facts: Freddie Mitchell has the ability to make ungodly catches, he wears bow-ties WITH cool hats AND can pull it off, AND he wears corn rows with a mowhawk. So what do all these facts mean? That Freddie Mitchell is indeed not of the human race. Much like Elvis and James Brown (to name a few) Freddie comes from a place I like to call Funkytown. Some government agencies may call them extraterrestrials, I like to call them muthafucking p-i-m-p's. Need proof? Here are some undoctored photos of Mitchell, and maybe Elvis and James Brown.
Here is a chart showing the planets of our solar system. Funkytown is appearantly by the small bodies of the system.

Here are the Funkytownians in their true forms:

Freddie Mitchell, my new favorite receiver. "I'd like to thank my hands, for being so good."

A salute to the greatest man ever
Mood:  on fire
Now Playing: Pink Floyd - Time
Although I doubt I can do the man justice, I have to try. Homer Simpson is not only the greatest cartoon character ever, he is also the funniest. Without him, there wouldn't be a Peter Griffin or some other fat dad characters that I can't think of. Since my dad lived 2,000 miles away from me while I was growing up, and my step dad was kindof a dick, Homer became a sort of surrogate father for me. I think I turned out alright. Enjoy the quotes and pictures!

I would be pretty pissed too if some lameass did a half-assed attempt at a tribute. Even if that guy was using his whole ass to make the tribute.

atleast homer and I have shared the same headline.

homer obviously doing his best Joe Namath impression "Agent Scully, I...I wanna kis you."

Here are some of My favorite Homer Quotes, and believe me, there are tons more that I left out.

Ah, beer, my one weakness. My Achille's heel, if you will

Well, maybe if he had had better arch support, they wouldn't have caught 'im. ( about Jesus wearing sandals ).

Ah, the college roadtrip. What better way to spread beer-fueled mayhem?

All right, brain. You don't like me and I don't like you, but let's just do this and I can get back to killing you with beer.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that life is one crushing defeat after another until you just wish Flanders was dead.

And how is education supposed to make me feel smarter? Besides, every time I learn something new, it pushes some old stuff out of my brain. Remember when I took that home winemaking course, and I forgot how to drive?

Aw, Dad, you've done a lot of great things, but you're a very old man, and old people are useless.

Bart, a woman is like beer. They look good, they smell good, and you'd step over your own mother just to get one!

Dear Homer, IOU one emergency donut. Signed Homer. Bastard! He's always one step ahead

Facts are meaningless. You could use facts to prove anything that's even remotely true!

Here's to alcohol : The cause of ... and answer to all of life's problems

I like my beer cold ... my TV loud ... and my homosexuals flaming

I saw this movie about a bus that had to SPEED around a city, keeping its SPEED over fifty, and if its SPEED dropped, it would explode! I think it was called, The Bus That couldn't Slow Down.

It's not easy to juggle a pregnant wife and a troubled child, but somehow I managed to squeeze in 8 hours of TV a day

Marge, it takes two to lie. One to lie and one to listen

Marge, please. Old people don't need companionship. They need to be isolated and studied so that it can be determined what nutrients they have that might be extracted for our personal use.

Remember that postcard Grandpa sent us from Florida of that alligator biting that woman's bottom? That's right, we all thought it was hilarious. But it turns out we were wrong. That alligator was sexually harassing that woman

No, no, no, Lisa. If adults don't like their jobs, they don't go on strike. They just go in every day and do it really half-assed. That's the American Way.

Oh, Lisa, you and your stories ... Bart's a vampire, beer kills brain cells. Now let's go back to that ... building ... thingie ... where our beds and TV ... is.

This perpetual motion machine she made is a joke : It just keeps going faster and faster. Lisa, get in here! In this house, we obey the laws of THERMODYNAMICS!

A big mountain of sugar is too much for one man. I can see now why God portions it out in those little packets

What are you gonna do? Sick your dogs on me? Or your bees? Or dogs with bees in their mouth so when they bark they shoot bees at me?

What's the point of going out, we're just going to end up back here anyway?

You tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is 'never try'

Marge, don't discourage the boy! Weaseling out of things is important to learn. It's what separates us from the animals ... except the weasel.

Marge, you're as pretty as Princess Leah and as smart as Yoda.

Step aside everyone! Sensitive love letters are my specialty. 'Dear Baby, Welcome to Dumpsville. Population : you.

Son, when you participate in sporting events, it's not whether you win or lose : it's how drunk you get.

Marge send the kids to the neighbors. I'm coming home loaded.

Oh, well, of course, everything looks bad if you remember it.

I felt a surge of power, like god must feel, when he's holding a gun.

I know what is going on here. They did it to Jesus. Now they are doing it to me.
Marge : Are you comparing yourself to our Lord?
Homer : Only in bowling ability.

Pffft, English. Who needs that. I'm never going to England.

Homer : Your mother has this crazy idea that gambling is wrong. Even though they say it's okay in the bible.
Lisa : Really? Where?
Homer : Uh ... Somewhere in the back.

No matter how good you are at something, there's always about a million people better than you.

Homer : Well, he's got all the money in the world, but there's one thing he can't buy.
Marge : What's that?
Homer : [thinks] A dinosaur

Homer : I can't fake an interest in this, and I'm an expert at faking an interest in your kooky projects.
Marge : What kooky projects?
Homer : You know, the painting class, the first aid course, the whole Lamaze thing.

Marge : Homer, please don't make me choose between my man and my God, because you just can't win.
Homer : There you go again, always taking someone else's side. Flanders ... the water department ... God ...

I hate all the programs Marge likes, but it's no big deal. You know why? Whenever Marge turns on one of her "non-violent" programs, I take a walk. I go to a bar, I pound a few, then I stumble home in the mood for looooove.

They took the foam off the market because they found out it was poisonous, but if you ask me, if you're dumb enough to eat it, you deserve to die.

Marge : It looks like there's going to be twice as much love in this house.
Homer : You mean we're going to start doing it in the morning?

Marge : Homer there's a man here who thinks he can help you!
Homer : Batman?
Marge : No he's a scientist.
Homer : Batman's a scientist.
Marge : He's not Batman!

Marge : Have you noticed something about Bart?
Homer : New glasses?
Marge : No. It seems like something could be troubling him.
Homer : Probably misses his old glasses.
Marge : I want to get more involved in Bart's activities, but then I'd be afraid of smothering him.
Homer : Yeah, and then we'd get the chair.
Marge : That's not what I meant.
Homer : Admit it Marge, it was.

Homer : Kids, Kids! I'm not gonna die! That only happens to bad people!
Bart : What about Abraham Lincoln?
Homer : Err ... He sold poisoned milk to school children.
Marge : Homer!
Homer : Hey, I'm just trying to make it easier on them.

No offence Apu, but when they were handing out religions you must have been out taking a whizz.

Homer : You know, when I was a boy, I really wanted a catcher's mitt, but my dad wouldn't get it for me. So I held my breath until I passed out and banged my head on the coffee table. [cheerily] The doctor thought I might have brain damage.
Bart : Dad, what's the point of this story?
Homer : I like stories

Marge : Homer, is this the way you pictured married life?
Homer : Yeah, pretty much. Except we drove around in a van solving mysteries.

Flanders : I think we just hit something.
Homer : I hope it was Flanders!

But Marge, what if we chose the wrong religion? Each week we just make god madder and madder.

Lisa : 'Tis better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.
Homer brain : What does that mean? Better say something or they'll think you're stupid.
Homer : Takes one to know one.
Homer brain : Swish.

HERE is a site that generates random Homer Quotes

Speaking of being 10 foot tall and bulletproof...
Mood:  special
Now Playing: Snow Patrol - Run
That is correct folks, I am officially back from the dead. Not quite like Lazarus, or 2pac, but back nonetheless. I think it has been something like 2 weeks since I've posted. I think that sets a new rantombanderings record for futility in posting. I now own all of my site's records. Good times. So now that I have conquered Mononucleosis AND a liver infection like some Crusading Templar Knight crusading for immune systems, I feel it is safe to say that I am invincible. Not immortal, or infallable, but just invincible. Like Colosus from X-Men, or Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry. Yes, I fealt like I was near death for over a month, and I lost 25 pounds, but I'm back now bitches. Back with a vengeance. The only problem is that I am as weak as a kitten now. Still invincible though. Note to all diseases: DON'T FUCK WITH CHRIS!

Hooray for everything! But not for being sick. Boo that.
Mood:  irritated
Now Playing: The Music-Breakin'
Well, I still have not found out what I am sick with...Actually I have...BUT, aside from the mono, i'm getting bloodwork done to see if my liver and spleen are ok. Appearantly my spleen is three times larger than it should be. And my liver isn't functioning properly. Giving me some pleasant side effects. Seeing as how it is still the holiday season, and because this illness has turned me into the Grinch, I have decided to write my own catchy little jingle.

You're a sick one, Mr. Chris.
You really need to heal.
You're as energetic as a sloth,
You're as charming as an eel.
Mr. Chris.

You're a sad panda
With a greasy black heel.

You're a carrier, Mr. Chris.
Your liver's an empty hole.
Your spleen is full of spiders,
You've got mono in your soul.
Mr. Chris.

I wouldn't touch you, with a
thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole. (and you shouldn't)

You're a vile one, Mr. Chris.
You have termites in your smile. (not true, I brush AND floss)
You have all the tender sweetness
Of a seasick crocodile. (crikey!)
Mr. Chris.

Given the choice between the two of you
I'd take the seasick crockodile.

You're a foul one, Mr. Chris.
You're a nasty, wasty skunk. (actually racoon, but you try rhyming racoon)
Your heart is full of unwashed socks
Your lungs are full of gunk.
Mr. Chris.

The three words that best describe you, are as follows, and I quote:

You're a rotter, Mr. Chris.
You're the king of sinful sots.
Your heart's a dead tomato splotched
With moldy purple spots,
Mr. Chris.

Your immune system is an apalling dump heap overflowing
with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable
rubbish imaginable,
Mangled up in tangled up knots.

You nauseate me, Mr. Chris.
With a nauseaus super-naus.
You're a crooked jerky jockey
And you drive a crooked hoss. (Actually, I drive a Toyota)
Mr. Chris.

You're a three decker saurkraut and toadstool sandwich
With arsenic sauce!

Alright, so I got lazy with the last parts, so sue me. Here is a new picture of me. "And some say that Chris' spleen grew three sizes that day."

Well, shit happens...
Mood:  smelly
Now Playing: Dune Buggy - The Presidents
Well, just to recap my christmas, I feel that I had a very good haul this year. Usually, I can gather what my family thinks of me by what they get me. This year, I think my family feels that I need a new wardrobe. I got several sweaters/jackets, some boxers (some risque martini girl ones from my mom), wool socks (which are a must have in cold weather, and a scarf which I plan on wearing every waking hour of every day just in spite of my raging heterosexuality. I also got a cool aquarium for my fish, new tires for my truck (hooray! no more wire tread sticking out!), a sweet gym bag, and some other ultra cool stuff. I also gave some sweet gifts. The complete Stevie Ray Vaughn collection for my mom, a $75 gift card to the gap for my sister (simply because I want her to be trendy and because she is too young for victoria's secret and too good for hot topic), a badass michigan shirt for my dad and an anthology rock and roll collection for my mom's boyfriend. I would say this has definitely been the best chrismahunakwanzikuh ever. Moving along to other things in my life. So I have been sick for atleast 2 weeks now. Every morning I wake up with a mild fever (99-101 degrees), neck pain and a migraine headache. Every night I go to sleep with the same damn symptoms. Well, tomorrow I finally get to see a doctor and start to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me. I don't have health insurance so I get to pay for this visit out of pocket. But I would like to know what is wrong with me; bubonic plague, herpes, the clap, mono, or some other assorted venerial disease. Hopefully I can treat it and go back to being a normal human being. I feel like i'm in a bubble. Everything feels and sounds so far away. I fucking hate being sick. On to other news. SO today, as I was preparing to go get the new tires put on my truck, my dear mother plows into my truck while backing down the driveway in her van. My truck didn't really stand a chance. It was really like David vs. Goliath except in car form. And there were no biblical miracles. Oh well. I just spent $700 fixing the passenger side, now I get to fix the driver's side. Shit happens. For some reason though, this doesn't really bother me. It seems like there are SO many bigger things in life to contemplate. Why fixate on a fucking truck? On the plus side, this means I get to drive the van for awhile. Which also means I get to re-live my high school days. Which means I will get terrible acne, stay at home on weekends, run from girls, and play video games. Now that I think about it, life really hasn't changed that much in three years.

So, since I am really, really, REDICULOUSLY good...at explaining my life in picture form, I have decided to make the next two sequences for people that may have felt either lost when reading the previous passage or just plain too lazy to read it. I like to think of my blog as a website for mentally challenged college students or really gifted 3 year olds. Either way, pictures help.

Here is me in picture form right now. If you can figure out what it means, you win an end of the year blog award*.

This next picture, or sequence is how I would visually describe the battle between my truck, and my mom's van. I feel for the crippled heap of scrap metal that is my truck right now.

*actual guarantee of an award not guaranteed. No purchase necesary, for a gamepiece please send in a self addressed envelope with 2 upc codes to "Chris's year end blogapalooza" c/o Chris Hahn Inc. Bringing you shitty ideas and filling awkward silences since 1984.

So I guarantee this post will get me killed...again
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: The Zutons - You will You won't
OK, I realize I have used that title on a previous post. So what. This is my blog, I do what I want. If you don't like it then start your own blog and try to make it better than mine. I dare you. Ok, now that I used my body's entire testosterone supply to provide that tiny sample of machismo, I will move on to my post. So I finally saw Napoleon Dynamite in its entirety. And you know what? I think it was pretty good. NOT THE FUNNIEST MOVIE OF ALL TIME like some people make it out to be. Sorry, this movie is NOWHERE near Monty Python's Search for the holy grail, Dumb and Dumber, Half Baked (when stoned, or even when not stoned), Zoolander, The Big Lebowski, and honestly, I could probably name another dozen or so movies that are funnier than Napoleon Dynamite. That does not make it a bad movie. In fact, I think it is the funniest movie of the year. And I laughed a whole lot when I saw Team America: World Police. Something about puppets having wild sex that makes people laugh. I dunno. This movie had its spots. When he got the suit. When he danced to Jamiroqoui. When his tots got smashed. There are many more. But frankly, this movie had WAY to many stupid moments of silence or scenes that lack dialogue. What am I supposed to be doing during those moments? Laugh at the character's appearance? Sorry, but there is only so much I can do of that before I start feeling like a manipulated dumbass. I get the jokes. No seriously, I get them. They just are not that funny. Caleb, don't try to insult me for not thinking so highly of this film, in fact YOU are the one I am blaming for me being disappointed in this film with your "greatest movie of all-time" and "I laughed like a little girl" lines. You gave me grandiose dillusions. This movie gets a rating of pretty funny from me. I like the Lafawnduh thing. The way he gets manipulated into wearing gangsta clothes. That is hilarious. Or whenever Napoleon has to feed tina. I guess the biggest disappointment has to be Napoleon (who is actually played brilliantly by Jon Heder). You would think that the title charcter would be the funniest right? WRONG. DEAD WRONG. Everyone around him is so much funnier. Especially his dead-pan buddy Pedro. And Uncle Rico. He was funny too. This movie definitely wins my soon-to-be awarded biggest disappointment of the year award. The hopes were so high, so marveslously high. Then, like everything else in america, they came crashing down. So sad. Good flick though. You won't see me wearing a Vote for Pedro shirt anytime soon. But it was good.

DON'T BELIEVE THE HYPE!!!!! MAKE UP YOUR OWN MIND!

I don't know how I keep doing it, but soon I will have offended almost everyone and will have succesfully alienated myself from all people on the planet. Hazaa!

Why you should not be blasphemus
Mood:  down
Now Playing: Macgyver
Well, in case you missed it yesterday, the Lions showed why they are a cursed team. After tying the game late in the 4th quarter, the Lions let the Vikings march right down the field and score. With no timeouts, only 1:29 left and starting out on the 20 yard line, it looked like the Lions had blown another game. Or had they? Looking on the sidelines, you could see a glazed over (and bearded) Joey Harrington want to vomit. He had the flu and required IV fluids prior to the game and during halftime. You knew he had some sort of heroics in him. You knew he had done it numerous times at Oregon. However, you also knew he played for THE LIONS, destroyers of all hopes and dreams. Anyways, he gets on the field and leads the Lions all the way down the field and throws a TD pass to Roy Williams. Things look good. All that was left to do was kick a simple extra point and send the game into overtime. Prior to the kick, Caleb said that it would really suck if they missed the kick. I said "yeah, that would really suck." Sure enough, the snap is terrible and the holder, Nick Harris (a punter), can't control it and gets tackled. Game Over. Lions lose. SO LAME. SO INCREDIBLY LAME! DAMN YOU DAN MUHLBACH!!!
Here is Joey Harrington showing the "Why must I play for the Lions oh lord? Why?" Face

Here is why the Lions lose every game. Because they are cursed. Notice the demon football.

In other news, Caleb, Matt and I became ordained ministers over the weekend. I guess this means that we can say that we are holier than thou. See for yourselves: