Friday Secret Stache Revealed!

The first ever installment of the Friday Secret Stache was truly a study of great moments in mustache history. Four years ago, almost to the day, someone showed up at AEPi fraternity house with a pack of stick-on mustaches, and a party was born. At the time I hoped that this night would be the catalyst for a bumper crop of upper lip growth, reviving a once-proud tradition of mustachioed fraternity men. It was not to be, but I continue to imagine the future reunion where the four of us return to UVA sporting real-life versions of the stick-on stand-ins seen here.
Here's a breakdown of the four staches and their owners:

Stache A: Eeyore sporting a near perfect Chevron - a classic style, matches his hair to a tee making it appear the most natural of the 4., clearly evocative of tremendous pride and satisfaction. Also looks most like aforementioned D-Day.






Stache B: Who has 2 thumbs and a lip curtain? Don't act like you're not impressed with my Lamp Shade. This style stache is comparable to a big black fuzzy caterpillar, known in some circles as a Dad Stache. As the son of a man who has proudly sported a soup strainer since his college heyday, this is an undergraduate mock-up of what I'm supposed to look like when I grow up.

Stache C: The only real name for this is the Schittstashe. Looks like something your grandfather might wear, especially if he's southern and goes by "Colonel." While we're on Colonel, there's the obligatory reference any time a white Petit Handlebar like this one comes out. Like both Colonels, Schittberg is a raving drunk, fights bouts of forgetfulness bordering on Alzheimers, and occasionally soils himself.

Stache D: The Chad's Handlebar shows why this style of stache has endured so long. Eccentricity and balls are both required to rock a proper 'bar, and many notables have hung this type of lip drapery because it so uniquely defines the personality and character of each wearer, setting him apart despite its familiar design. The multifaceted capabilities of the handlebar were embodied appropriately this night by The Chad. No doubt a bold individual, The Chad is also a true man about town - an athlete, socialite, showman, inventor, gentleman and scholar - whose many hats require the only lip accessory capable of matching them all.

To all my people who don't wanna go to work [Friday Jams]

Ten tunes for your Friday feel-good head nod. Download, make yourself a little playlist, name it Schiff Happens: Friday Jams, get down.

Asher Roth - I Love College (because I'm pushing this Heeb on everyone right now, because he's gonna blow up in '09, because Rivers Cuomo should lighten up and because we all love college)

Kanye West ft. Mos Def - Good Night (off The Graduate Mixtape)

T.I. - Message to the Government (from the cutting room floor of Paper Trail)

DJ Bling - King of Rock Mixtape Volume 1 (it's no Girl Talk, but a fun mashup)

N.A.S.A. ft. Kanye West, Lykke Li and Santogold - Gifted (off N.A.S.A.'s new album The Spirit of Apollo)

Cornershop - Candyman (from the new LeBron Nike commercial that's oh so nice)

Jay-Z - Jockin Jay-Z remix ft. Travis Barker (if you know me, you know I'm all about rap meets rock)

Charles Hamilton - Brooklyn Girls

Ludacris - Press the Start Button (off the Dutch bonus to Theater of the Mind. Only Luda could make all those video game references sound so hard.)

Bob Marley - Iron Lion Zion (previously unreleased from Songs of Freedom, in case you're stuck on what to give me this holiday. Honestly, who could brighten up your Friday better than Bob?)

Friday Secret Stache

My affinity for the stache is well known among those closest to me, so I'm gonna try another little something here that I will call the Friday Secret Stache. I'll post a close-up, you attempt to identify the handsome man behind the stache. Post your guesses in the comments and a little bit later I'll post the results and break down what makes that day's flavor saver special. To start things off with a bang, today we have a quartet of crumb-catchers from my personal stache, er, stash (there's your hint). Good luck, stache-gazers.

A.


B.


C.


D.

Why the Yankees should forget CC. What? They signed him? Awesome?

I was all set to wake up this morning and write my "Why I'm over CC Sabathia" post detailing the many reasons why the Yankees should stop waiting around for him to decide if he really wants to play in New York, cut bait with their massive contract offer and instead worry about bringing back Andy Pettitte and signing Derek Lowe to solidify the pitching rotation, and signing Manny Ramirez to protect A-Rod (we're really still pondering whether this would be a good idea?) before CC half-heartedly decides to give New York a shot and ultimately flames out under the glare of the media, his record-setting contract and the endless availability of restaurants offering 24-hour delivery.
Instead, I woke up to learn that not only did the Yankees and CC take the first steps in this direction, but the club sweetened the pot with another year and $20 million. Am I excited that the Yankees now have a legitimate ace? Hell yes, of course. I love CC as a competitor and, by all accounts I've seen, one of the all-around good guys in baseball. It just worries me that a guy who was so on the fence and trepedatious about playing in the Bronx for this long is all of a sudden going to carry the 2009 Yankees back to the World Series. For that kind of money and for his stature, Sabathia can't be stepping to the podium and putting on the pinstripes thiking, "Maybe this will work out ok." This decision needs to come with a world-beating, "Let's make this happen," attitude. CC is known to put immense pressure on himself, which will only compound any potential doubt in the face of the massive external pressures he is about to face. That all being said, I still don't think that he will be a flop (and I don't buy into the concerns of many about his physique after so many years of ardently supporting David Wells, the elderstatesman of big fat lefties). Far from it. He's one of the best pitchers in the league and will be good for the Yankees both on the field and in the clubhouse, where he's known as a great teammate who brings people together (something I believe the Yankees have sorely lacked in the A-Rod era). It's a move the Yankees had to make, and maybe in the end it really did simply come down to money for Sabathia. Fine. The problem lies in the way the process played out and the doubts raised along the way. As a Yankees fan, I'm pretty sure I should be overcome with delerious excitement this morning. Instead, I'm just cautiously optimistic. My only hope is that CC doesn't feel the same way.

Mullet Monday!

In what may already be my favorite feature of this fledgling blog, I present to you the first installment of Mullet Monday! I'll brighten up the start of your week with a new specimen every Monday. As an aspiring mullet hunter, I'm still on the prowl for the next rare, exotic breed. I invite you all to join in the hunt with me, and submit your best work to be featured in an upcoming Mullet Monday. For now, I simply invite you to feast your eyes on a true marvel of nature.

"I'm telling you, if you play Come Together backwards it totally says 'Get er done!'"

Possible Species: British Mullet, Abbey Roadllet, I Am the Mullrus
Habitat: St. Johns Wood tube station, Northeast London
Notes: The first mullet I ever captured in the wild. During my semester in London I decided one afternoon to check out the famous Abbey Road Studios and zebra crossing. I never had any designs at all to hunt mullets until I ascended from the tube to the street and saw this mysterious foreign breed. I was at once amused and shocked by the existence of a Limey mullet, which I had previously believed to be solely an American creature.
Conclusion: This mullet is delicately groomed and maintaining a civil phone conversation in close proximity to the other man. The uncharacteristic lack of American mull-rage suggests the gentility of its British cousin, but could this be a patriot in Doubmull-oh-seven mode, plotting to defame the famously mop-topped Beatles by mulletizing their Abbey Road merchandise? Not out of the question, as a confused mullet may very well have misinterpreted the Fab Four's "British Invasion" of America some 40-odd years ago.

(sh)It's always sunny in Piscataway

Thursday night I had to put on my Jersey hat and defend Rutgers, the State University of New Jersey, against allegations that it is somehow a second-rate institution. I was especially hurt that these allegations were coming from my two roommates, who are both from New Jersey. Rutgers is a bastion of New Jersey state pride, one of the oldest universities in America, the home of the first college football game ever, and breeding ground for the nation's greatest sandwich (officially Maxim's best of 2004, possibly best of ever). Not to mention it's a good school and just a typically fun college environment. My defense was valiant, but fell on deaf ears. Luckily, this guy showed up at the Rutgers-Louisville football game and made us all proud to be from the great Garden State.

Frankly I'm surprised nobody has thought of this move before, at least to my knowledge. But then, not everyone can be as forward-thinking as an RU man.
Apparently this Steve-O/Hank Williams, Jr. lovechild was taking lots of pictures with RU coeds in the stands, so if you have access to any of these, or if you know anything at all about this man and why he has chosen not to shave since graduation, please let us know.

Shit(ter) Happens

Another conversation with The Chad has yielded yet more inspiration.
Earlier today he remarked on the amazing amount of time that can be wasted at work by doing number 2s. In his case, his office is simply a small apartment shared only by him and his boss, so he faces a particularly unique predicament. In most office restroom scenarios, the dastardly deed is committed in a secure stall of anonymity. Not to mention you are almost guaranteed to be well out of range of your manager or coworkers, as well you should be in such a moment.
In The Chad's setup, however, when the boss looks up and sees the restroom occupied, there's only one man that can possibly be in there. My natural first question was, doesn't he fear the huge potential embarrassment in the event of a particularly symphonic movement? In my mind's eye I could see the hangdog look on his face when he responded with only, "Exactly," but as they say, necessity is the mother of invention.
"Thats why i've come up with an idea," he posited. "The musical toilet. A toilet that converts your farts, based on volume and duration, into more pleasant musical notes...This can also make giving blumpkins more appealing."
This is either insanely brilliant, or insanely insane. Would the toilet simply play single notes, or would there be full songs playing based on the tenor of your turds? I would imagine there would be some licensing issues to work through there. Would there be alternate models that played animal noises or hilarious cartoon sound effects instead of musical notes? Is there a USB port for your iPod so you can sync your shit? There are too many variables to account for right now, but The Chad is an engineer, so I am expecting a prototype some time in the near future.

Schiff Happens the remix remix 2.0: Back again for the first time

Sometimes people call me Schiff Happens, and I suppose it does.
The nickname originated in the burbs of dirty Jers in 2000 when I was 16 and started making mix cds. This was at the height of the real Napster, known to us then as the coolest shit ever invented(!!!), but right before mp3 players were sweet. I'd spend hours downloading and listening to songs, then meticulously put them in just the right order to reflect the mood and the tunes that I was feelin at the time. Then I'd mock up some album artwork using Wordart and random pictures from the internet and give each one a snappy title. The first one was simply called "Schiff Happens," and the cover had a cartoon diagram of food's path through the digestive system. After that spark of Da Vincian creativity I continued to crank out the mixes, and soon I had every Jew in my high school rockin out to the choicest cuts on classic mixtapes like Schiff Happens Volume 4: Hot Ish Err Time, Schiff Happens Volume 6: God I'm Huge and right around this time of year, Santa Put Schiff In My Stocking: Steve's Holiday Hits. As we graduated and went to college or Brookdale, we drifted apart until Facebook came out. By then iPods and emo had dooked all over the better place and time from whence Schiff first happened.
But life goes on, and although Schiff Happens went away for a while, it was never really gone. When I was 16, free song downloads meant everyone had to know my freshest learners permit jams. The music was out there, and we all had to hear it, in a particular order from a particular (aka MY) point of view. Now I'm 25, and the boundless interwebs will allow me to distribute not just my favorite music, but the very essence of Schiff - value and fun for their own sake. Use this space to enhance your daily day in a variety of bitchin ways, some of which I have in mind and some of which (I hope) will evolve over time through my constant desire to make a big sarcastic joke out of everything plus feedback from whoever's really alive out there. This includes, but is by no means limited to, creative shit, funny shit, random shit, and shit talkin. In these shitty times, all this shit seems pretty necessary, and that's really what Schiff Happens was all about in the first place. A moment in time demands my contribution, and my vast network of friends must participate. Its Schiff Happens 2.0.
So thank you, Schiff Happens aficionados, for keeping the faith. It feels good to be back.

"It happens." "What, shit?" "Sometimes."

I had wanted to start up a blog for a minute, but I didn't think anyone would notice because of those damn attention-whoring Shiba Inu puppies. My friends and I like to help each other tolerate the workday by sending hilarious electronic mailings, and I figured my 6-man core audience was about as far as things would go. But I recently got some positive feedback on one of my emails, which I give to you now in the form of a cute little Mad Libs. Print it out and fill it in with your friends (click to enlarge).

The first response to this email was simply, "You really should start a blog." Maybe you don't think this is the most appropriate story to hear when you're first getting to know someone, but who among us hasn't been there? Don't act like you've never been victimized by an errant shart or other emergency of the gastrointestinal variety. If you have an especially good tale of intestinal distress, let me hear it. I'll even Mad Lib the best ones for us all to enjoy on our next long road trip or sleepaway camp bonfire. How did this one turn out for you?


Have a nice day.