Manic-Depressive Preview: This might be the weirdest Cocktail Party ever.

The Dawgs now have three consecutive dominating victories under their belts, and Manic Doug is kind of over the moon about it -- to be exact, he had to be physically restrained from whipping his junk out and pressing it up against the window of the last car he saw with a Gators license-plate frame. You'd think that even Depressive Doug would be heartened by this recent turn of events, but this is Florida we're talking about, so . . . no dice. In this week's Manic-Depressive Preview, we'll find out if Manic's "Woohoo! We don't suck anymore!" can overcome Depressive's relentless focus on 3-17:

Manic Doug: THREE IN A ROW, BABY! And second place with a bullet in the SEC East! Can you believe it?

Depressive Doug: Now that you mention it, no.

MD: Dude, we're about the hottest thing going in the division right now. Meanwhile, the Gators have lost three straight and are basically tripping over their own shadows on offense. We're gonna leave our cleat prints all over their Pro Combat asses and give 'em a taste of their own fuckin' medicine.

DD: Wow. Congratulations.

MD: On what?

DD: On coming out of the coma you've apparently been in for the past 20 years. Does our modern technology confuse and frighten you? It's OK! This thing I'm typing on here is called the In-ter-net, and look, you can use it to get thousands of songs and put them in this tiny little box!

MD: You're mocking me, aren't you?

DD: Brilliant deduction, and yes, I'm mocking the shit out of you. Seriously, have you forgotten everything that's happened over the past two decades in this rivalry? Three-and-seventeen? Do you seriously not get how retarded it is to be taking a win for granted?



MD: I'm not taking anything for granted, but come on, man -- have you seen Florida this year? These aren't the Gators of the Tim Tebow years. Frankly, I'm not convinced they're even the Gators of the Ron Zook years. They're godawful in literally every phase of the offensive game, and they're meeting up with Georgia right when we seem to be hitting our stride on defense.

DD: We gave up 31 points to Kentucky last week. That's what you call "hitting our stride"?

MD: OK, first of all, a lot of that was bullshit points they scored after we'd already gone up 41-17 in the fourth quarter and took our foot off the gas.

DD: They were moving the ball pretty well on us even when we supposedly had our foot on the gas, though. Nine-of-fifteen on third downs? Even third-and-long?

MD: But see, Florida doesn't have the playmakers to pull that off this year.

DD: Don't have the playmakers? So you've never heard of Jeff Demps? Or Trey Burton, who straight-up murdered Kentucky at the goal line a few weeks ago? Or Chris Rainey?

MD: OK, Demps is a gamer, but we've got a guy who scored five TDs against Kentucky, too, and he ended up with a ton more rushing yards than Trey Burton did. And don't even talk to me about Chris Rainey -- he had all of 16 rushing yards this season before he got himself "suspended from team activities." It's gonna take a lot more than Rainey to turn this offense around. What they need is another Tim Tebow, and they don't have one. Turns out Tebow's departure killed this team even more than anyone thought it would, which sucks for the Gators because John Brantley can't do half of what Teebs did, and sucks for everyone else because now we don't get to see pictures of his girlfriend, Erin Drewes, all over the place.

DD: Hmm, I sense an Associated Hottie coming. You do know she wasn't actually his girlfriend, right?

MD: Yeah, but when she got mistaken as his girlfriend while she was at UF, she did what any hot chick in her position would do -- got body-painted up and appeared in Playboy.



DD: (witheringly) A true virtuoso of the segue, you are.

MD: You know you're the only person I know who can still be that sarcastic when he's looking at a chick wearing nothing but paint? If you'll allow me to continue, there's a guy the Florida program might be missing even more than Tebow right now, and it's Dan Mullen, their former offensive coordinator. The new guy, Steve Addazio, is trying to run a Tebow-centric offense with only a John Brantley under center, and it's clearly not working; he's pissed off so many people in Gainesville that he's probably one or two botched snaps away from having to hire someone to taste his food for him.

DD: His offense does look wretched, I'll give you that.

MD: Meanwhile, ours is clicking -- everyone's healthy, the offensive line finally seems to be coming together, and we've now unloaded 40 points on three straight SEC opponents for the first time in Georgia history.

DD: Yeah, but you don't seriously think it's gonna be that easy against the Gators, do you? They've been OK against the run, but straight-up murder against the pass -- 15 interceptions in seven games, top 15 in the nation in terms of both yardage and efficiency allowed. You know as well as I do that the only way Georgia's been able to win this game recently is to score bucketloads of points, and you can't think that's gonna be easy this weekend.

MD: It won't be easy, but it's not impossible. First of all, none of the teams Florida has beaten gave them an A.J. Green to worry about. A.J.'s gonna stretch the field and open things up for the running game, which gets Caleb King back this week, by the way. Second, Aaron Murray has been a straight-up baller this year -- you ask me, I think he's even more poised than David Greene or Matt Stafford were in their first years. And honestly, I kind of like the fact that he's a freshman -- it's almost like he's coming into this game fresh, not knowing or caring about Georgia's baggage in this rivalry.

DD: Wow. As intangibles go, that's a bit of a stretch even by TV-pundit standards. I'm sure Kirk Herbstreit is very impressed.

MD: Fuck you, dude. You're determined to be depressed and miserable about this game, aren't you? In spite of the fact that Florida's weaker than its been in decades and Georgia's got an awesome opportunity to beat them down?

DD: An awesome opportunity, sure, but let's be real here. Urban Meyer may be a megalomaniacal asshole and perhaps even a sociopath, but the guy's no dummy -- you know he's been spending their bye week coming up with new wrinkles to try and give this offense some kind of spark. And regardless of Addazio's incompetence, he's got the playmakers to pull it off. Given how our offense is struggling to stop the pass and defend third downs, I think he's gonna find a way to break just enough big plays to put some points on the board. And if their defense plays up to its potential and finally makes Aaron Murray look like the freshman he is, then that'll be enough points to win. I'm calling it Florida 27, Georgia 17.

MD: That sucks, man! You really think they're gonna make it three-and-eighteen? Who wants to live in a world like that?

DD: I don't like it any more than you do. But this has been an ugly rivalry for us lately, there's no way around it. I've been burned too many times to believe otherwise.

MD: Don't think like that! Open your heart, man! This rivalry can change! Let the Cocktail Party love you! . . .

(extremely awkward pause)

DD: OK, now I'm just embarrassed for you.

MD: Whatever. For those of us who have faith in the mighty Bulldogs, here's how it's gonna go: Florida's offense continues to suck, while A.J. burns the Gator secondary on a couple big plays. That forces Florida to move their defense back and Georgia gets to open up the run and the short passing game, and they hold off a late Gator rally to win, 31-23.

DD: That's a nice story.

MD: Thanks.

DD: But tallying up our respective predictions, I see they average out to . . . a 25-24 Florida win.

MD: You Judas! I can't believe you still managed to screw this one up! I want a do-over on my prediction.

DD: Nope. Too late. You can put up another picture of painted-Gator-fan-chick, though.

MD: You know what? No. No. You don't deserve it. When Georgia comes home from Jacksonville victorious, you'll get to see my bare ass running up and down the street screaming and waving a Georgia flag, that's all you're gonna get to see.

DD: If Georgia comes home from Jacksonville victorious? I'll run up and down the street naked with you.

MD: I'm gonna hold you to that.

DD: Please don't say "hold," but yes, fine. Whatever.

MD: You got a deal.

Manic-Depressive Preview: Putting on a brave face is easier when you're drunk.

Needless to say, neither Manic Doug nor Depressive Doug were all that happy in the wake of the Dawgs' agonizing loss to Colorado last week, but they each went about it in different ways. Manic Doug went downtown, got lit up at a bar, and made increasingly overt (and surreal) come-ons to girls he really didn't have any shot with; Depressive Doug stayed home and got drunk, and we're not sure what happened after that, but we think it may have involved him trying to contact a bunch of his ex-girlfriends over Facebook so the less said about that, the better. Somehow, Manic managed to coach Depressive back for another one of these little talks, so here they are, hung over and a little bit bruised in the pride department but otherwise not nearly as worse for wear as they probably ought to be.

Depressive Doug: Dude, don't make me go through another one of these. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.

Manic Doug: Aw, come on, man, you look like someone just ran over your dog or something.

DD: Someone did just run over my Dawgs. Four someones, in fact. And somehow each of them has managed to be less talented than the last, yet they still manage to pull out the victory. What's the point, man? Why do we even exist?

MD: OK, first of all, I'm way too hung over for you to be springing this existentialist shit on me right now. Second, it's football, which we still like, even when it nearly kills us. Third, our girlfriend is expecting to be up for Georgia-Tennessee Hate Week, and I'm not gonna disappoint a chick.

DD: Wait . . . does she know about us? Both of us?

MD: Well, she was around for the Georgia-Florida game last year, where I ran screaming around the house and gave the dogs upside-down belly rubs when Georgia kept it close in the very beginning, and then you went upstairs and passed out drunk on our bedroom floor when the game got completely out of hand, so . . . yeah, I'd have to say she's made both our acquaintances.

DD: Oh, God, so does that mean she knows what I did after last week's game?

MD: Probably, but because it was both pathetic and futile, she a) saw it coming and b) didn't think it was getting worked up about. Now can we please get on with the football talk before I seriously start questioning why I even hang out with you?

DD: Fine. Go on and give me your ridiculous reasons why you still hold out hope for a win this weekend.



MD: Hey, I've got perfectly good reasons, not the least of which is Tennessee sucks. But there's an even better one, and it is that Georgia actually looked pretty good last Saturday while A.J. Green was in the game. Which, of course, he will be on Saturday. You're telling me you don't even find a little joy in that?

DD: All I can think about is just how completely dependent the team is on him. What if the Vols find a way to bottle him up? They certainly did last year.

MD: Yeah, but that was a different Tennessee defense. They're not nearly as good this year -- they're actually ninth in the SEC right now in opponent passing yardage and 10th in efficiency, and that's after having faced only one truly elite QB. They let UAB's backup quarterback go off for 373 yards on 'em, and the very next week against LSU, they even let Jarrett Lee have an OK game. I'm sorry, but if you play a game against Jarrett Lee and you don't come away with a single pick-six, I don't know how you can call yourself a defense.

DD: You really think it's gonna make a difference, though, with all the offensive line tinkering we've had to do lately? You can't tell me you're totally confident about that.

MD: Again, it won't matter if A.J. keeps the Vol defense honest and frees up some running room for Caleb King.

DD: Oh, great, another awesome weekend of Guess Which Running Back Is Going To Fumble The Game Away. I love that game. You do know we're back to a negative turnover margin on the season, right? Whereas Tennessee is already +4?

MD: All I know is we were a pretty damn good team last week when A.J. Green wasn't cramping up. I'm going to assume that we won't be running into that problem again this Saturday, hence I'm optimistic.

DD: Remind me to tell you what happens when you assume after we get done here. OK, let's say you're right about everything and the offense does start clicking with A.J. firmly in the lineup. What about our defense? After all you've seen over the past few weeks, are you really confident that Tennessee won't be able to keep up with us on the scoreboard?

MD: Of course.

DD: And why is that?

MD: Because Tennessee's offense sucks. After all you've seen over the past few weeks, how have you not picked up on that?

DD: Two words: Tauren Poole.



MD: Is that a band?

DD: He's Tennessee's starting running back, and he's pretty damn good. Went over the century mark against Oregon and against LSU last week. Rarely goes down on first contact, also catches passes out of the backfield. After the way that we've been shredded by both itty-bitty running backs and mobile QBs the past couple weeks, I can't believe you're not terrified of this guy.

MD: Baby, Manic don't get terrified, particularly when the other team is starting an infirmary ward on the offensive line. No, make that a children's hospital, because Tennessee was starting three underclassmen on the line, and that was even before guys started getting hurt right and left. Now the depth situation has gotten so bad that Derek Dooley is talking about fielding an offensive line that only has four guys.

DD: Dude, he's not seriously gonna start a four-man offensive line.

MD: Why not? He already tried fielding a defense with thirteen. And they're at a point now where if Dallas Thomas goes down for whatever reason, they're almost certain to replace him with a guy who's never played left tackle before. Tennessee's already fourth from the bottom in the nation in sacks allowed this season, and it looks like it could get even worse.

DD: Look, I know Tennessee's not a good team. But neither was Mississippi State, and neither was Colorado, before they played us. And as much as it hurts to say, we're not a good team right now. On paper, we've got a big talent advantage over nearly every team we play, but they're not being utilized well, they're not playing smart, they almost look like they're waiting for the next disaster to happen rather than believing they can win --

MD: Wow, that last part actually sounds kind of like you.

DD: Hey, I'm a reflection of the circumstances around me, all right? As horrific as it is to contemplate the Dawgs being on a five-game losing streak, I'm done believing that our talent advantages are going to carry us through, or that we can't lose to this team or that team or blow X number of games in a row just because we're the Georgia Bulldogs. The stats say we can lose, our record says we have lost, so . . . sorry, I think it's highly likely we get our hearts ripped out again. Tennessee scores a late touchdown, stuffs us on our last-gasp drive -- again -- and wins 26-20.

MD: It must be so depressing to be you.

DD: Uh . . . have we met?

MD: Sadly, we have, and if I could un-meet you, I think I'd give it a try. Not that I don't understand your fears here -- even manic dudes get the blues every now and then -- but you've got to take some good from the Colorado game and think that it really has a chance to manifest itself here. A.J. Green has another career day, he opens things up for the rest of the offense, we hold onto the ball in critical situations and win going away, 38-20.

DD: So our two predictions average out to . . . a 29-23 win for Georgia, which, wow. You really think we're gonna win by eighteen? We'll be lucky to score that many, if the last few weeks are any indication.

MD: Vegas has us favored by two TDs.

DD: Really? OK . . . why?!?

MD: Beats the crap out of me, man -- I don't know how they calculate that stuff, I just bet on it.

DD: Not this week, I hope.

MD: No, not this week -- I think one of those chicks I tried to pick up at the bar Saturday night lifted my wallet. Shoulda known that little five-foot-nothing blonde was trouble on heels.

DD: Actually, that reminds me, does our girlfriend know about that?

MD: No, and she won't, unless she asks me to pay for a bunch of shit this weekend.

DD: Wow. This girl must have the patience of a saint.

MD: Or she's just realized it's futile trying to rehabilitate me, but either way, yes.

DD: So she's OK with the Associated Hottie, too?

MD: Yes, especially this week, because I'm picking one that's near and dear to both our hearts: Dolly Parton, who received an honorary degree from UT last year.



MD: I don't care if she's 64 years old, the lady's got some pipes, and she's still fine as fuck.

DD: Interesting. Not that I don't agree, but I wouldn't have ever pegged you for a country fan.

MD: Honestly, most of it I could take or leave, but I know what I like.

DD: The way you said that makes me think you're talking about something other than music now.

MD: Why, I don't know what you could possibly mean.

DD: All right, fine.

(pause)

MD: I do like boobs, though.

DD: Of course you do.

OK, but seriously, whoever invented that should be shot.

Construction of the Friday Random Ten+5 has been delayed by technical issues (and a plate full of writing assignments that turned out to be a lot fuller than I anticipated), but in the meantime, here's a funny for your Friday morning:



Now, here's the part where you stop laughing: That "Cami Secret" thing is a real product. Whose sole purpose appears to be hiding cleavage. And not in any kind of straightforward way, either, but in the cruelest manner possible: "Oh, look at my low-cut top! You like these? WELL, TOUGH LUCK, ASSHOLE, because look at this lacy pin-on bra dickey I'm about to put on." Seriously, that's the kind of thing Mormons would look at and go, "OK, now that is a weird undergarment."

Also available from this same company: the Countertop Coffee De-Caffeinator and the Air Ferry basketball shoe, which is specially weighted to keep you from jumping too high.

I weep for our future.

The Friday Random Ten gives its annual salute.

Next week's Friday is Christmas Day, at which point y'all will certainly have more fulfilling things to do than read a blog post (I'm damn sure gonna have better things to do than write one), so the Friday Random Ten will almost certainly be taking a hiatus. So this week seemed like a perfect time for one of Hey Jenny Slater's annual traditions: a tribute to the Sexy Santa costume.

We begin with Lucy Pinder, Rosie Jones, and Chanelle Hayes, ringing in the holiday season the way the British do best.



Here's the beloved Tennessee Titans cheerleading squad, decked out for Christmas (and for an unholy mudhole-stomping of the Rams) last week.



Holly submits this teal-and-rhinestone'd take on the Sexy Santa outfit, as observed on the Jacksonville Jaguars cheerleaders during the Jags-Colts game last night



Followed by Alessandra Ambrosio, also an annual HJS tradition, for obvious reasons.



And Katy Perry, whom Holly is gonna kill me for putting up here:



And . . . whoever these chicks are:





Finally, this might be stretching the definition of a Sexy Santa outfit somewhat, but hey, they're Australian and it's summer down there, so whatever.



Merry Christmas, everyone -- may your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be low-cut and marabou-trimmed.

Here's the Ten:

1. De La Soul, "Say No Go"
2. Beck, "Replica"
3. The Who, "Squeeze Box"
4. Underworld, "Faxed Invitation"
5. R.E.M., "Daysleeper"
6. Beck, "High 5 (Rock the Catskills)"
7. Richard Cheese, "Sunday Bloody Sunday"
8. Peter Gabriel, "Steam"
9. Opus III, "It's a Fine Day"
10. Beck, "Soul of a Man"

It's the holidays, folks, so go nuts -- Random Tens, Christmas wishes, Sexy Santas to whom you might be partial -- in the comments.

The Friday Random Ten +5 gives thanks for the little things, again.

I've given thanks for some of the bigger and more important things in my life on this blog, including y'all, my loyal and incredibly patient readers, but now it's time to give shout-outs to some of the little things that may not get top billing when we're going around the Thanksgiving dinner table talking about what we're thankful for but make life a little better just the same. This week's +5 is Five (More) Little Things I'm Thankful For This Holiday Season:



High-alcohol-content beer
For nearly the entire time I lived in Alabama, I was deprived of beer with an alcohol content any higher than 6 percent, which has made me that much more appreciative of the fact that Georgia has allowed you to buy Duvel, Kasteel, Chimay, and all those other wonderful imported suds for years now. It's so nice to be able to buy a beer that, you know, actually tastes like something.



Patton Oswalt
The funniest human being alive right now? I say yes, and while his first two stand-up albums already have been staples of my iPod shuffling for years now, his latest, "My Weakness is Strong," has kept me entertained for at least part of nearly every road-trip I've taken over the past few months, and there have been a bunch of them. From "I HAAAATE" to the story about the comedy magician, it is an hour of profane, literate, brilliant magic which, if it doesn't make you laugh, you have no soul.



The Wii Virtual Console
Finally getting the Wii hooked up to our wireless Internet connection enabled me to dive into the laundry list of "classic" games you can download and save onto the machine's hard drive, which in turn allowed me to relive some of the greatest triumphs of my child-/preteenhood by beating Super Mario Bros. and Super Mario 3 within a few days of one another. Honestly, this is about as good as it's gotten for me lately in the personal-achievement department.



Bacarri Rambo
As frustrating and spirit-crushing as this football season has been on a vast number of occasions, there is hope for the future in an incredibly talented, hungry group of new recruits and underclassmen we have coming up on the roster. One of the brightest glimmers of hope is Rambo, the one sure-fire playmaker we have in our secondary and an awesome football name to boot. Rambo, you'll recall, is the kid who made the game-saving pass breakup against Auburn a couple weeks ago, earning a concussion and a night in the hospital in the process; he's already on his way to Georgia folk-hero status, and he's still got three more seasons of eligibility ahead of him. I'm desperately in need of a new Georgia jersey -- my old #4, God love it, is starting to run out of mojo -- so if anyone wants to get me a #18 for Christmas, I would be overjoyed to accept it.



Boobs
Boobs in general are the best body part and God's greatest gift to mankind; I don't think anybody disputes that. But I've been graced with access to one of the nicer pairs in existence (above) almost whenever I want it, which I think deserves extra-special mention on this list as 5(a) and 5(b). Truly, I am blessed.

And now the Ten:

1. Venus Attack Project, "Riviera Paradise"
2. Enigma, "Return to Innocence"
3. Gorillaz, "Re-Hash"
4. Cee-Lo, "Childz Play"
5. Nat King Cole, "L.O.V.E."
6. Pet Shop Boys, "So Hard" (KLF vs. Pet Shop Boys remix)
7. Underworld, "Unruly July"
8. Gnarls Barkley, "Who's Gonna Save My Soul"
9. Everything But the Girl, "Before Today" (Chicane mix)
10. Orbital, "Acid Pants"

Happy belated Thanksgiving and, since I guess it's OK to start in with the full-fledged holiday greetings now, merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, kick-ass Kwanzaa, slammin' Solstice, whatever you happen to observe. Leave your own Random Tens, along with the little things for which you're thankful, in the comments.

Dougie does Dallas.

Or, a Sociological Examination of Athletic Prowess, Eating Habits, and Preponderance of Certain Female Characteristics (viz. the Human Barbie Doll) in the Greater Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex.



Between various stories I'd heard from friends who'd spent time in east Texas and my driving hatred for the Cowboys, I'd assumed Dallas would be this sun-blasted, paved-over suburban hellscape in which we'd go see the Texas-Oklahoma game, spend the rest of the weekend pinballing between various chain restaurants and overpriced bars, and then fly home. We did end up sampling the delights of the northwest Dallas Olive Garden (this has become an official Crazy Rivalry Game Road Trip tradition for reasons to obscure to waste your time with here), but the rest of our time in the city was way more fun than I'd anticipated.

I got into Dallas on Thursday afternoon, met up with Kristen at Love Field, and we set about exploring the various nether-reaches of the Dallas metro area. This took us to Cafe Brazil in Deep Ellum for a late lunch and then out to Grand Prairie, about halfway between Dallas and Fort Worth, where sheer morbid curiosity drew me to the new Cowboys Stadium. I still hate the Cowboys and have no use for Jerry Jones other than the possibility that he and Dan Snyder might one day end up in a broken elevator at an NFL owners' meeting and proceed to murder one another, but I will say this: Like Sarah Palin and those massive gymnastics demonstrations put on by the North Korean government, Cowboys Stadium is impressive to look at, even if it does go against everything I believe in. When we drove by the old Texas Stadium in Irving on our way to pick up the third member of our party at DFW, it looked downright puny by comparison.


I'm fairly certain that at least one type of storm trooper in "The Empire Strikes Back" wore helmets that looked a lot like this.


This picture is probably in at least the 95th percentile of pictures that have ever been taken of me, and I'm a little pissed that it's got Cowboys shit in the background.

From there we had drinks at the W Hotel bar downtown, followed by a jaunt over to a dive called Lee Harvey's on the other side of downtown where we guzzled Jack-and-Cokes while "Papa Was a Rolling Stone" played on the jukebox and I felt more like I was in a Tarantino film than I've probably ever felt in my life. The next morning, we went to pick up Mark at DFW, and it was while we were walking through the Delta terminal that something completely random and awesome happened.

My phone rang and a number with a 540 area code showed up in the caller ID. I was worried it'd either be a wayward junk-debt collector or freeloading semi-friend asking me for money, but I answered it anyway, and it turned out to be a member of the search committee at Virginia Tech charged with hiring a new editor for their alumni magazine. Apparently he'd e-mailed me earlier in the week and I didn't see it because I'd been spending so much time either on the road or in the air; he wanted to do a preliminary phone interview but had a full schedule the following week, so we agreed to talk later on that afternoon. We picked up Mark, paid a visit to the Sixth Floor Museum (named for its location in the Texas Book Depository in downtown Dallas), and then headed back to the hotel to recharge, at which point I chatted on the phone with the gentleman from VT for 30 or 40 minutes. It went pretty well, I think, and I'll keep y'all posted on where that goes.


The infamous "grassy knoll" at Dealey Plaza, which I am hoping will not end up serving as a metaphor for my employment prospects.

Speaking of the hotel: There was, as the comments on the Hotels.com review had warned us, a strip club more or less in the parking lot (next door, actually, but there was no difference in practical terms). The hotel was much nicer than such complaints would lead one to believe; the strip club, though, was . . . strange. It was huge, and had the fake-stucco-and-colored-mood-lighting exterior that, as Kristen pointed out, is exclusive to strip clubs and (ironically enough) southern Protestant megachurches, but it turned out to be B.Y.O. with respect to alcohol and the female talent on a Thursday night was -- well, I would charitably describe it as "disinterested." All the dancers looked like they'd just popped a couple quaaludes, and let's just say that not everything's bigger in Texas (I'm referring here to boobs, of course). Though we did have the unique experience of a stripper using racial/ethnic humor to try and close the deal on a lap dance, which was definitely a new one for me. I'm a little offended that she didn't stop for even a minute to consider that I might have African-American or Hispanic blood, but then again the lighting wasn't good in there so maybe I should just give her the benefit of the doubt. At any rate, we left the establishment feeling enlightened by a new experience, yet very much discomfited at the same time.

That also pretty much sums up our experience sampling the culinary delights at the Texas State Fair, which surrounds the Cotton Bowl stadium and for which the Texas-Oklahoma game is more or less the grand finale each October. As Kristen pointed out in her Facebook photo essay of our trip, "In Texas, the question is not should we fry this. But how can we fry this." I couldn't even begin to list all the food items we observed for sale in a fried, barbecued, or otherwise innovatively larded state; I'll simply run down the fried items I personally sampled, reviewing each one in order of preference from "that was awesome" to "I'm not sure what I just put in my mouth":

Fried S'More
Other than the "mushy" graham-cracker section, reviewers had universal praise for this "sweet, gooey" confection, which "literally bursts with marshmallow fluff" and adds a "melty," "delicious" layer of chocolate to boot. The "crisp outer shell" adds another "layer of awesomeness" to this "brilliant" take on a beloved campfire treat.

Fried Green Tomatoes
Fried green tomatoes may no longer be exotic, but the crowd gathered at the Gina's Restaurant booth in the Coca-Cola Food Court waited for them "like teenaged girls waiting for the Beatles to get off the plane in New York in 1964." The food didn't disappoint: From the "thick," "crispy" breading to the "deliciously seasoned" tomatoes inside, Gina's offering "sets a new bar" for fried-tomato excellence.

Fried Nutter Butter
While the Nutter Butter inside was "rendered rather mushy" by the frying process, tasters praised the "crispy" shell and the way the deep-frying "didn't overpower" the "essential peanutty/chocolatey goodness." Be careful, though, as the goo inside may be "hot enough to melt your teeth."

Fried Butter
"If you love the taste of pure butter, you'll love these," said our diners, who confessed to being "not exactly sure" how these "salty-sweet dough balls" were created but called the "unmistakable" blast of butter flavor "enough to make your hair stand on end." They were divided, however, on whether the "decadent" taste was worth the "feeling that your arteries are hardening" even as the butter-"saturated" dough "slides down your throat like a topless Spring Breaker on a K-Y slip 'n' slide."

Fried Coke
If fried butter was a mystery, then fried Coca-Cola was "downright confounding," as the dish appeared to be nothing more than "mysteriously flavored dough balls" soaking in "Coke syrup" or "some other sugary liquid substance." Perhaps the "dough balls themselves are made with Coke syrup," one sampler posited, but either way, the overall taste is reminiscent of "when you'd be almost finished with lunch in elementary school" and would "mix your leftover food and beverages together" just to "experiment." One tester said she "devoured every bite"; another said he was "frankly terrified" of the "concoction."

In between our adventure deep in the gummy, wheezing, sclerotic heart of Texas, there was a football game, in which I noticed four things:

1. Texas is far from the best team in the country, if what we witnessed Saturday afternoon was accurate. Maybe it was the amped-up Oklahoma defense, maybe it was nervousness induced by the hype surrounding the game, but the Longhorn offense was just as likely to give up a sack or incur an exasperating penalty on a high-school-caliber mental error as they were to break a big play. Perhaps more likely, actually, as Colt McCoy averaged a measly 3.3 yards on 39 passing attempts. If the 'Horns' offense can rise to the level of their aggressive D, this is a national-title-caliber team; if they keep starting off slow like they did against OU (and several teams before that), they've got a loss waiting for them somewhere down the stretch this season. (Be that as it may, however, they easily established themselves as the superior trash-talkers in Dallas over the weekend.)

2. Oklahoma is even further away from the best team in the country, which might have been true even before a crushing sack re-aggravated the shoulder injury Sam Bradford suffered in the opener against BYU and knocked him out of the game. The Sooner defense is every bit Texas's equal, maybe even a little better, but their re-jiggered offensive line paved the way for a miserable -16 yards rushing and frequently left Landry Jones to run for his life in the backfield. The defense alone will keep the Sooners in every remaining game they play, but unless the offense grows up in a hurry and overcomes the losses of Bradford and star tight end Jermaine Gresham, they may not actually win enough of those games to earn a decent bowl bid -- or, potentially, any bowl bid at all.



3. There is a fine line between "gorgeous day for football" -- which, as you can see from the photo above, last Saturday definitely was -- and "skin cancer risk." I crossed this line to the point where even the TSA agents at Love Field on Sunday were going, "You must've been at the game yesterday, huh? Man, you got SCORCHED."

4. Barring some sort of hardship exemption or letter of recommendation from one's Congressperson, being brunette evidently disqualifies female applicants from admission to the University of Texas. The brunettes all go to Oklahoma -- where, if OU's RRS contingent was any indication, they are admitted almost as grudgingly -- or, as Dawgs Online informs me, to SMU. And there is evidently a human-genetics laboratory somewhere in the DFW metroplex (perhaps funded by UT?) that has succeeded in creating life-sized, human, walking, talking Barbie dolls, because everywhere we went Dallas was stacked to the rafters with tall, thin, tanned blondes packing suspiciously perky breasts. Upon finding that much of Dallas was in fact tree-lined and attractive, I found myself thinking, "I could probably even live here"; upon seeing the range of female talent on display, I found myself thinking, "There's no way I could ever live here, because there'd be no end to the trouble to which I could subject myself around these Fembots."

As it turned out, the Red River Shootout was not the last football game we got to see in person that day. Thursday evening, during our random exploration of Dallas proper, we'd taken a quick spin through the Southern Methodist campus and found the Navy football 18-wheeler parked by the football stadium -- the Midshipmen were in town to face the Mustangs. Kristen, who used to live in Annapolis, asked if we could go to that game as well, and after a short beer/burger fill-up at Snuffer's, we did. Entry to the game was every bit as cheap and simple as you'd expect for a program that's had only one winning season since getting the NCAA death penalty in the late '80s, but the overall futility of the program was not enough to keep the game from being blessed with a three-F/A-18 flyover before kickoff (the RRS only got two), nor did it scare off some very famous guests:



Yup, that's Bush 43 his ownself, who probably would've been perfectly content with a crisp evening of brush-cutting had his wife, an SMU alumna, not dragged him up to Big D. Crushing NCAA penalties notwithstanding, SMU still appears to be the prime drop-off spot for the children of conservative Texas bluebloods who make more money than you or I will ever see in our lifetimes; I have no doubt that every one of the smoking-hot (and, indeed, overwhelmingly brunette) coeds in attendance left the game in an expensive foreign car and will likely leave SMU with a husband who has a trust fund and a country-club membership.

We were treated to another close game, which, unlike the Red River Shootout, came as a surprise -- the Mustangs had some success early in corralling Navy's triple-option attack and went into the halftime break up 21-7, but Navy either adjusted at halftime or just wore SMU down physically, because they stormed back to take a lead before the Mustangs tied it with a late score and sent the game into overtime. SMU proceeded to execute about the saddest overtime series I've ever seen -- rush for 1-yard loss, incomplete pass, incomplete pass, miss a 43-yard field goal -- and Navy had little trouble kicking an FG on their possession and trotting off with a win. Still, I give Southern Meth credit for a) the female scenery and b) having Coke Zero at the concession stand, both of which put them a cut above most gameday experiences.

All in all, it was a great experience, and I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to the people of Dallas for showing us more generosity, courtesy, and good times than I could've ever expected from a bunch of fucking Cowboys fans. I tip my woefully undersized hat to you all and smear another dose of steroid cream onto my disgustingly sun-shriveled face in your name. And I look forward to your future advances in the fields of deep-frying and female-humanoid development -- both of which, as you know, are near and dear to my heart.

Hook'em, Big D.


And now please excuse me while I retire to the bathroom to peel the rest of my face off.

Monday Morning Cage Match XIII:An age-old debate resolved. Well, not really.

As a very wise man by the name of Jim Tressel once said, "Side boob is the new under boob, but not as good as boobs-pushed-against-glass-view boobs." Jimbo hasn't been blogging a lot over at Tressel's World since the Buckeyes got their collective faces rocked off in the 2006 national championship game, which is a loss for all of us, but his sage wisdom lives on and still holds true for us today. But I wanted to know: Is sideboob really the new underboob? Goaded on by Holly, who should really know better by now, I decided to make this age-old question the subject of this week's Cage Match: Sideboob vs. Underboob.

	Sideboob	Underboob
Urban Dictionary definition	"A view of the female breast seen from a side; generally under loosely-fitting clothes. Very titillating (pun intended) and sexual without showing any overt nudity."	"Hands down, one of the finest aspects of a woman's anatomy that can be enjoyed in any public venue. "Underboob is achieved by wearing a very short halter top or cropped tank, also known as an underboob shirt, which exposes the bottom areas of a woman's breasts. "Much like the combination of low-rise jeans and a thong, the underboob shirt can only successfully be worn by select few women."
WINNER: Underboob
Common habitat	Awards-show red carpets	Panama City and other Spring Break locales; various Bike Weekends
WINNER: Sideboob
Well-known practitioner	Lindsay Lohan	Lucy Pinder
WINNER: Underboob
Advantages	Easy to pass off as an accident or "wardrobe malfunction," if necessary	As signs of sexual interest go, it's hard to misinterpret
WINNER: Sideboob
Drawbacks	Less flattering in many instances; association with Lindsay Lohan	Can only be pulled off with breasts of a certain size; more likely to result in a public-indecency charge
WINNER: Underboob
First result on Google image search
WINNER: Tie
Social acceptability rating	5	2
WINNER: Sideboob

FINAL SCORE: Sideboob 4, Underboob 4. There's no need to rank or quantify here; clearly, when it comes to alternative boob views, there are no losers, only winners.

The Friday Random Ten+5 puts itself even further out there.

With all the upheaval in my life of late -- have I mentioned that I'm being sued? -- I completely whiffed on the fact that the second anniversary of the Random Ten +5 came around a little over a month ago. Not that this milestone is necessarily as deserving of a celebration as, say, Kiribatian independence or even Disco Demolition Night, but still, y'all seem to enjoy embarrassing revelations from my personal life combined with random glimpses into my iPod, for some reason. So in commemoration of the second +5 I ever did -- the "From Russia With Love" of the series, if you will, the one that really made the series what it is, the one that made people sit up and say, "Ha, this is kind of a funny feature, and by the way, you're a sicko" -- I'm rehashing an old idea and making this week's +5 Five More Chicks I Shouldn't Think Are Hot, But Do.



Jane Curtin
Watched "I Love You, Man" the other day with my mom. Jane Curtin played Paul Rudd's mom. Looked her up on Wikipedia and it turns out she's almost 62. You believe that? Not bad for someone who was being called an ignorant slut on "Saturday Night Live" more than 30 years ago.



Bristol Palin
Yeah, her mom's a complete ass, but I've seen interviews with Bristol and she actually seems like she's got a pretty good head on her shoulders -- at the very least, she's someone who's learned from her mistakes, which, sadly, is rarer these days than you might realize. Plus she's good with kids. The thing is, no matter how cute she is, I could never be one of Sarah Palin's in-laws; I clearly don't like her, and she wouldn't like me. Even if I did score a date with Bristol, I'd give it two weeks before I'd find myself running through the wilderness being chased by Sarah leaning out the side door of a helicopter with a high-powered rifle.



Britney Spears
After a substantial hiatus for whatever reason, Brit's been out and about lately, and you know what? She doesn't look half bad these days. Granted, her abs haven't quite returned to their "Baby One More Time" heyday, but she's still way far ahead of where she was a couple years ago, when the paparazzi never had to wait outside of a Starbucks for more than 30 minutes before they could snap pictures of Britney waddling out the door, braless and dumping another Frappuccino down her gullet. Where'd all her lost poundage end up, you might wonder? Well, I do have one theory.



Phyllis from “The Office”
She has nice cheekbones. And she's apparently a complete animal in the sack, as evidenced by the "Blood Drive" episode in which she and her husband went on a double-date with Jim and Pam and then promptly snuck off to the handicapped restroom to screw. I'm not saying she's as hot as Pam, mind you, but as far as Dunder Mifflin goes she's a solid #2 in the rotation.



Jessica Simpson
I know, I know. Yes, she's given every indication that she's dumber than a box of nails. Yes, her dad is a freakshow. Yes, she probably still has some of Tony Romo's stank on her. And I could sit here and tell you that all those factors combined are enough to make me not want to have anything to do with her, but as Samuel L. Jackson said in "Pulp Fiction," "That shit ain't the truth." Look, we all remember the police-station scene from "The Dukes of Hazzard," and in spite of the room-temperature IQ, in spite of the creepy dad, in spite of the Romo-taint, I'd still hit that. I'm a dude, and a none-too-complex-or-mature one at that; blond hair and fantastic boobs make me do silly things.

Thank you for listening, everybody. I hope you can still respect me in the morning. Now, the Ten:

1. The Clash, "Somebody Got Murdered"
2. U2, "Pride (In the Name of Love)"
3. Groove Armada, "I See You Baby"
4. The Beastie Boys, "To All the Girls"
5. Buzzcocks, "Noise Annoys"
6. LTJ Bukem, "Demon's Theme"
7. Pet Shop Boys, "I Want a Dog"
8. Gorillaz, "Dracula"
9. Foxy Brown, "Letter to the Firm (Holy Matrimony)"
10. Ice Cube, "Dirty Mack"

Your turn to 'fess up, readers -- which members of the opposite sex (or same sex, if that's your thing) should you not be attracted to but are? Those lists, along with your Tens, are welcome in the comments.

Pimpin' ain't easy*.* except where otherwise noted

I'll be honest, when reports first started surfacing that the 0-16 Detroit Lions had their eye on Matt Stafford as the first pick of the 2009 draft, I felt a little sorry for him. Then, of course, he signed a six-year contract with the Lions for $41.7 million, and I started feeling a little better for him.

Now, with the start of the NFL season less than a month and a half away, I'm pretty confident that regardless of what happens on the field, the kid's gonna be all right.



GATA, indeed.

(Hat tip: the great Senator Blutarsky.)

Monday Morning Cage Match VII:Puppets vs. strumpets.

Last night we were at dinner, and I don't know how we got on this particular subject, but we got into a disagreement over the release date of "Debbie Does Dallas," the kind of hotly contested but completely meaningless debate that only a rapid iPhone-assisted Web search could solve. Turns out it was released two days after Christmas in 1978, making the film only six months younger than I am. To what could we compare such an iconic film? In the spirit of the Monday Morning Cage Match, it would have to be a film with which it has only the most superficial, irrelevant similarities, and I think we've found a good one: Prepare yourselves for "Debbie Does Dallas" vs. "The Muppets Take Manhattan."

	Debbie Does Dallas	The Muppets Take Manhattan
Goal of protagonist(s)	Getting to Dallas to try out for the "Texas Cowgirls" cheerleading squad	Becoming huge Broadway stars
WINNER: Debbie
Goal achieved?	Who the hell knows	Yes
WINNER: Muppets
Stars	Bambi Woods, Robert Kerman, Rikki O'Neal	Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy, Gonzo, Fozzie
WINNER: Muppets
Percentage of action that takes place in titular city	Zero	75 or so
WINNER: Muppets
Sex acts captured on film	More than 40	Only the scene where Rowlf gives Miss Piggy a Dirty Sanchez
WINNER: Debbie
Hands up asses?	Shockingly, no	Yes, if you count all the puppets
WINNER: Muppets
Sequels	"Debbie Does Dallas" 2, 3, and 4; "Debbie Does Dallas: The Next Generation"; "Debbie Does Iowa"; "Debbie Duz Dishes" 1, 2, and 3; "Bang the Debbie Slowly" (seriously)	"The Muppet Christmas Carol," "Muppet Treasure Island," "Muppets from Space"
WINNER: Debbie (although "Muppet Christmas Carol" is a great film)

WINNER: Muppets 4, Debbie 3. Somehow I don't think this is likely to end the debate over which is the more iconic film, but whatever.

This is how it's done, Akron.

Since I've duly excoriated the city of Akron, Ohio, for their crimes against the integrity of the exotic-dancing industry, I thought it might be time to balance that out with some good news from a town that knows how to do strip clubs right: my former home of Atlanta.

First of all, some dancers at the Cheetah have challenged one of Georgia's many idiotic "blue laws," this one saying that under-21 strippers can't perform at clubs that sell alcohol -- and they're taking it all the way to the Georgia Supreme Court. As someone who had to watch the decline of one of his favorite strip joints (Topper's, oh-so-conveniently located across from what was then the Red & Black offices on Jackson Street in Athens) after Athens passed a ridiculous law saying strip clubs couldn't sell alcohol if they went full nude, I applaud the Cheetah girls' courage. If the good people of Atlanta can't convince their dumbass legislature to let them buy booze on Sundays, they should damn well be able to see a 20-year-old pair of boobs while they enjoy a beer the other six days of the week, by God.

Secondly, the building on Ponce de Leon that houses the infamous Clermont Lounge looks like it's fixin' to get foreclosed on, but fear not, Atlanta hipsters, curiosity-seekers and assorted pervs -- "the place where strippers go to die" ain't goin' nowhere:

The dank, smoky strip club is known for dancers old enough to be many patrons’ mothers, or even grandmothers. The most famous dancer, Blondie, is known for reciting poetry as she plies her trade.

In recent years, the Clermont has been adopted by urban hipsters who pack the venue for DJ dance parties. Recently, the actors Woody Harrelson and Bill Murray were seen taking in the sights at the Clermont.

Even if the hotel falls into foreclosure, the Clermont Lounge should stay open, said attorney John Ayoub, who along with Mansour represents Fairway Capital.

“There’s no reason to stop them,” he said. “They have a business. They make money. They pay rent.”

Yes, regardless of what happens to the building's ownership, you'll still be able to watch Blondie crush beer cans between her cartoonishly prodigious ta-tas. It's nice to see some people respecting Atlanta's heritage.

And yes, I know I'm defending a place that boasts at least a couple strippers who have to be in their 70s, even though I tsk-tsked Akron for having a strip club that hired a 52-year-old. But you know what? This is different. There's nuance here. There's a difference between "It's a Saturday night, I want to do something nutty, let's go down to the Clermont and pound some PBRs while we watch strippers who are collecting Social Security" and "Man, let's go to a strip club, I want to see some boobs, and OH MY GOD WHO IS THAT, HOW IS HER TITTY IN MY LAP, SHE'S STANDING UP FOR CHRIST'S SAKE." And the Clermont, Lord love it, embraces the crazy and falls on the proper side of that line.

I sure hope my mom's reading this. She'd be so proud.

The Friday Random Ten+5 gets wistful. Or maybe just pathetic.

The other day Orson Swindle announced that he'd gotten an advance copy of Phil Steele's legendary preseason college-football publication, that lucky rat bastard (except for the whole, you know, breaking your back and ending up immobilized for weeks thing). Between the imminent release of the annual Steele opus and the preseason top 25s that have started popping up on various Web sites over the past few weeks, I've really been reminded just how much I'm starting to miss football. It was acute enough when we still at least had the distractions of National Signing Day, spring games, or the NFL draft to distract us; at this point we've basically got three more months of nothin'. And it hurts.

But that's just one of the things I've been missing lately. There are plenty of other things I've found myself pining for, or at least wishing they'd pop up again, and thus this week's +5 is Five People, Places, And/Or Things I've Been Missing Lately:



Alfa Romeo
Originally, this Italian car company, which had stopped selling in the U.S. in 1995, was supposed to return to the American market in 2007. Then it was 2008, then 2009. And now that the economy has gone in the crapper and the auto industry is on life support, it looks like they've pushed the date back to 2011. That may actually be a good thing, since it'll probably take at least that long for me to pay off the rest of my credit-card debt, but once I get that off my permanent record I want to be able to buy a Brera (above) or, barring that, a 159, particularly the station-wagon version. Speaking of which, I miss station wagons.



Getting to visit the cockpit
I can remember flying on Piedmont Airlines as a little kid and getting to go up and say hello to the pilots (and no, none of them ever asked me if I liked movies about gladiators or had seen a grown man naked), and then getting my "pilot wings" pinned on me by a flight attendant. Post-9/11, of course, you practically need security clearance to get anywhere near the cockpit, and I'm kind of bummed my kids are never going to be able to have that experience. And at the risk of sinking into "What's the deal with airline food?" humor, I also miss decent snacks on airplanes. I can remember when Piedmont would give you a bag of smokehouse almonds even on a short hop over the Smokies; then airlines throttled back to honey-roasted peanuts, then regular peanuts, and now you're lucky if the flight attendants fire a bag of goldfish at you with one of those compressed-air guns they use to launch T-shirts at people at basketball games. And why don't they just make the whole airplane out of the black box?!? OK, I'm done now.



Mike Wallace
Wallace is/was the standard-bearer for a dying breed of journalist: the investigative reporter/interviewer who wasn't afraid to be a complete asshole. Once upon a time, interviewers were less concerned with currying favor and being best buds with their sources/interviewees than they were with actually asking tough questions and getting relevant information, and when you sat down across from Wallace, you knew you were going to get some shots across the bow (or maybe right into your gut). Who has that kind of balls these days? Hardly anybody on the Sunday-morning talk shows, that's for sure, and not even Wallace's own son, Chris, who is a dead ringer for Dr. Leo Spaceman but has yet to do anything else to distinguish himself.



Punk rock
Watched the movie "24 Hour Party People" the other night, about Factory Records and the Madchester music scene of the 1980s, and it was awesome. And it reminded me how much I miss good music in general, but also punk rock in particular. And I'm not talking about bullshit pseudo-punk like Fall Out Boy, or even goofball pop-punk like Blink-182, I'm talking about genuine, angry, garagey punk like the Clash or the Sex Pistols or the Buzzcocks (above) or Iggy Pop. I mean, the economy's in the shitter and nobody can find a job, which was a defining theme in a lot of the British punk of the late '70s, and just like the people in that period, we're coming off a long stretch in which pop music has sucked out loud and desperately needs someone to rebel against it. Somebody give me an oi.



Boobs
Yeah, it's been a while.

And now the Ten:

1. Richard Cheese, "More Human Than Human"
2. Flight of the Conchords, "The Prince of Parties"
3. Naked Eyes, "Promises, Promises"
4. Radiohead, "Paranoid Android"
5. Big Country, "In a Big Country"
6. Elvis Presley, "Suspicious Minds"
7. Sting, "Seven Days"
8. Underworld, "Shudder/King of Snake"
9. John Phillip Sousa, "The Liberty Bell"
10. U2, "Lemon" (Bad Yard club mix)

Your turn, punks. Random Tens and lists of stuff you've been missing lately go in the comments.