Underpants On The Outside

Last season, I got into 24 quite a bit. Most people I know say it’s the best show on television, and I have to admit, I see their point. I’m mostly impressed by how much Jack Bauer manages to squeeze into a day. To illustrate, I’m going to compare each hour of Jack’s day to the corresponding hour in my own day.

Jack Bauer’s day, 10-11 AM: Ten o’clock was a big hour for Jack.  At the top of the hour, he was on his knees, hands tied behind his back, a dozen gun-wielding terrorists in his face.  By the end of the hour… not so much. 

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Okay, so I’ve really been slackin’ on my pimpin’.  I’m two hours behind on 24, an episode behind on Lost, and I’ve been meaning to put more comic book-related material up here (the site is called Underpants on the Outside, after all).  I wish I could say there have been technical difficulties, but the most technical difficulty I’ve had all week was when my boxers got twisted and I was rooting around in my pants for a good thirty seconds just to find my dick.

Think of this post as a fart, with all of the promise that real substance is on the way.  Stick around, folks!

Does Hallmark sell a card that goes something like “Hey, babe, I’m sorry I forgot you were coming into town this weekend and planned to play videogames Saturday Night.”?  Cause I think I’m gonna need one of those. 

Also, one like “I’m sorry you just found out that you date the kind of dude who plans a Saturday Night for videogames.”

In my defense, I was going to play Madden to determine the outcome of this weekend’s football games, and I guarantee there are millions of Y-chromasomes who are going to do the same thing.  It’s not nerdy if everyone else is doing it.

(Follow up: After Sunday’s (not really) thrilling conference championship games, me and my friend Matt sat down to determine the outcome of the next meeting between the Bills and the Dolphins.  Some might say that the fact that I last played Madden in 2000 had an outcome on the game, but I still feel confident predicting that the Dolphins will throw interceptions on their first four passing plays and be trailing 21-0 at halftime, when their coach decides to go home because it’s one in the morning and he really has to get some sleep before work tomorrow.  You can bet the farm on that.)

Last season, I got into 24 quite a bit. Most people I know say it’s the best show on television, and I have to admit, I see their point. I’m mostly impressed by how much Jack Bauer manages to squeeze into a day. To illustrate, I’m going to compare each hour of Jack’s day to the corresponding hour in my own day.

Jack’s day, 9-10 AM: This is a relatively slow hour for Jack; he spends most of the episode in an air duct assessing the hostage situation at ONTARIO AIRPORT.   It’s not good.  Terrorists are knocking off hostages left and right, and Jack looks antsy.  Personally, I don’t think he likes being left out of the killing.  Still, I’m positive Jack has a plan to wrap this thing up in an hour.  Two hours, tops.

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This has nothing to do with anything, but I just overheard a guy say “y’know, you’ll never find a wrinkle on a fat person.”

I would imagine that’s because I’M NOT GOING TO LOOK… but still, isn’t that like saying it’s awesome to have a prosthetic leg because you never outgrow your shoes?

Last season, I got into 24 quite a bit. Most people I know say it’s the best show on television, and I have to admit, I see their point. I’m mostly impressed by how much Jack Bauer manages to squeeze into a day. To illustrate, I’m going to compare each hour of Jack’s day to the corresponding hour in my own day.

Jack’s day, 8-9 AM:  Many of us wake up and make a to-do list.  Well, Jack just made his, and the first thing he’s gonna do is find out who killed his friend.  To the scene of the crime!

The scene of the crime: a hotel, swarming with federal agents because Jack’s buddy was an ex-president.  Don’t forget, Jack is the prime suspect.  Whatever!  Jack breaks into high-security areas for breakfast.  (Or at least, instead of breakfast.)

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Last season, I got into 24 quite a bit.  Most people I know say it’s the best show on television, and I have to admit, I see their point.  I’m mostly impressed by how much Jack Bauer manages to squeeze into a day.  To illustrate, I’m going to compare each hour of Jack’s day to the corresponding hour in my own day.

Jack’s Day, 7-8 AM: Jack, living under an assumed identity as “Frank”, is a hard-working, blue-collar type trying to find work on an oil rig somewhere near Los Angeles.  At 7 am we see Jack denied for work today.  He goes home, dejected, to find out that a friend of his has been assassinated.  First unemployment, now this??  Man, what a rough day!  Oh, right.  We’re just getting warmed up.

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Lost has a habit of setting up dozens of mind-boggling mysteries and solving NONE of them.  My friend Jordan, whose use of imagery is nothing short of genius, describes the experience of watching the show as frustrating as “Dry Humping a Supermodel”.

Before Wednesday’s episode, I got the following email from my roommate Kat:

“i saw evangeline lily (kate) on regis & kelly [Wednesday] morning. regis was trying to say that the thing that is killing everyone on the island is a dinosaur. she asked him how much money he wanted to put on it and said that the bet would be settled tonight…”

Well, after watching the episode, I hope the following letter shows up in Evangeline’s mailbox.

Evangeline,

Watched the show last night.  We certainly wrapped up that mystery, didn’t we?  I can’t BELIEVE I didn’t guess “noxious black gas that doesn’t do anything except make burping sounds and defy the laws of fluid dynamics”.   After all, all the clues were there.  It was so OBVIOUS. Case closed.   

Until you tell me what the hell that thing is, I’m calling it a dinosaur.  Flatulasaurus Rex.  You owe me a dollar.

 XOXO,

Reege 

P.S.  Michelle Rodriguez is the worst thing about the show.  By far.  Does she realize that “Girlfight” stopped filming like five years ago?  Since she can only play one character, shouldn’t they just change the credits to read “Michelle Rodriguez as herself”?  I hope she gets eaten by a Flatulasaurus.  Her or her character; I’m good with either.

So this is my launch post.  It’s one in the morning, I’m topless, and I’m wearing the official Batman lounge pants of underpantsontheoutside.com.  It all seems appropriate, somehow.  Like how Bruce Wayne would start a blog, if he had a gut.