Let's Break Down Dude Love's Entrance Video

Dude Love is most remembered as Mick Foley's most forgettable persona (although Mick Foley considers his run as Commissioner as his favorite persona, but I'm just going to focus on the big three for this). He didn't make the early impact of Cactus Jack and Mankind is one of the top five characters from the Attitude Era. Still, I wouldn't discount the impact of Dude Love, as he was the first "Reality Era" character. Jim Ross's interview with Mankind where he revealed that he always dreamed of being more like Shawn Michaels resonated with fans so much that his Dude Love dream became an entire alter ego and made him more popular no matter which character Mick Foley was portraying.

But I'm not here to focus on all of that; let's just keep it simple today and focus on Dude Love's entrance video because it is awesome, and I enjoy awesome things.

Let's start off with that song. That is one happy song. Now I'm not necessarily saying it's a good song, but it is tough to have a frown on your face with this song playing. That puts me in a good mood to watch this video. But Dude Love manages to do a lot of traveling to far away lands to show that he's the coolest cat in the land. Let's try to tag along on this epic journey.

First off, Dude is having an epic time as a mime while on a late night prowl.

Why is this man trapped in a box? I don't know, but he looks like he's having a blast. Also, the moon is jumping around in the background. Does this have something to do with the control of the invisible box that Dude is partying in? Yes, the moon controls the tides, so I believe it has to be closely related to invisible mime boxes.

But trapped in an invisible box is nothing when you can dance inside of a lamp.

And that ain't no regular lamp. That right there is a bonafide lava lamp. It's the ultimate in cool hippy decor, and Dude even got himself a fancy hate to celebrate as he rolls along in a life of lava.

It can get pretty hot being in that lava, so it only makes sense to cool off.

Dude went from lava to swimming with the fishies, and as you can tell, he can't believe his eyes. I mean that's the definition of guy who sees a hot babe at the beach, but Dude is totally pulling it off. Also, that fish looks high.

This video is slightly insane, but Dude actually finds a way to take it to another level...literally.

Dude Love can fly. Instead of focusing on the beautiful sunset, he'd just like to say hi to you. This is incredibly dangerous, because Dude is clearly still learning how to fly. His arms rock back and forth to give him balance, and immediately after waving to everyone, he starts to plummet back to the Earth. I guess if he could plummet from the skies, jumping off Hell in a Cell had to be a breeze.

Here's a disturbing Dude Love gif to haunt your nightmares.

Did I say haunt your nightmares? I meant consume your dreams. Your wet dreams. Hey-o!

They only spliced together about 25 seconds of clips for this video, and then just put them on repeat, but man, did they pack a lot into those 25 seconds. I mean, they put in not one but two flying scenes. The budget of this thing must have been through the roof.

Fly away, Dude. Fly into the land where you can live in lava lamps, hang with the fishies, and live your dream as the sexy beast that we all know and love. Godspeed, Dude Love.

I Had a Blast in Vegas...I Hope I Never Go Again

So after the fiasco of Iowa laying an egg at the Rose Bowl, there was only one thing to do change my luck: Drive four hours to Vegas. You're not going to believe this, but it didn't work. But that doesn't mean that I still wasn't able to make the most out of it.

The four hour drive was fairly miserable, mostly because my friends listened to country music the entire way, and now that I'm not a stupid high schooler, country music is complete garbage and should not be listened to by adults. But then I got there and started drinking, and that is the most reliable way to feel better. Oh, another really nice thing was when we were able to get in our hotel room, as a shower probably helped even more than the Bud Lights (judge me if you must, Natural Light wasn't available).

After I got cleaned up, it was basically time to go check out UFC 195 as our buddy, Tony Sims, was going to be fighting on the card that night. Although there were about 15 of us going, only three other guys wanted to go early with me. We walked in and went to our seats, which were of course nosebleeds. I quickly decided that these simply would not do, so we moved down to the third row into some empty seats. It is a way more baller way to watch fights.

We got to stay in those seats until the final three fights, which was bittersweet, as they were great seats, but it unfortunately gave us a great view of seeing our buddy get caught in a guillotine. After we got kicked out of our seats, we had to move up 25 rows, but we still had a great view of seeing a first round knockout by Stipe Miocic, and then one of the best fights in UFC history between Robbie Lawler and Carlos Condit. That fifth round was one of the craziest things I have ever seen, as I was literally jumping around and started hugging strangers when it was over, because none of us could believe what we had just seen.

Props to Tony for keeping his sense of humor and meeting up with everybody at a bar called Losers at Mandalay Bay. The unfortunate part was that it was a country bar, but at least there were two single, Australian women for a half dozen guys to hit on and be denied by. It really hammers home one of the best parts of being married is never having to hit on women. This was evident as the women asked me if I was married, and I said yes, ending any possibility of seducing them or them seducing me. Still, in my mind, I can assume that I dashed their hopes of hooking up with a Bonafide American Stud, even though they were likely just making small talk.

Luckily, I had two buddies that were tired of a place called Losers with overpriced drinks and wanted to go to the club where Tony had a VIP table. Even if he wasn't going, there was no reason we couldn't go and enjoy some free booze and scantily clad ladies in cages. When we got there, it was really fun, but that was simply because of the free alcohol. Like, you could have given me free booze in a dive bar with convicts, and I could have at least as much fun. At 31 years-old, I am not a club guy. Still, I did start to get down, had one girl who thought she could get down better than me, and then I proceeded to twerk her right off the stage. She was obviously impressed with the power of my dance moves, and also that I was dedicated enough to harm a girl with said dance moves.

Outside of the booze and booty shaking, my highlight was having a conversation with a guy who looked like the bad guy from Daredevil; he knew all of the girls that worked there, so I'm going to assume that he was an evil mastermind, and I was a pawn in his plan to take over the world.

After that, my buddy played some Craps, and I took advantage of more free drinks. After that, we headed back to the hotel, ran into people at McDonalds and took down some sausage burritos for sustenance. I usually hate McDonalds, but them having Sausage Burritos at any time can be really clutch when you are drunk and just need something that will help you not feel like shit the following morning. Bless you, Sausage Burritos.

It was 4:30 AM when we got back to the room and passed out. Then I woke up at 6:00 AM to catch my flight. Shockingly, I did not particularly enjoy my cross country flight back to Florida, especially since my body has decided that that I will never be able to sleep on an airplane.

This was by far my most positive Vegas experience. I had a great time, and I still felt a little empty when it was all said and done. Although free drinks are one of my favorite things in this world, gambling and glamour just don't do it for me. I can make the best of any situation, but Vegas is at the absolute bottom of places I want to see again.

I wish my friends would give me an excuse to go to Austin.

The Birds Are Back In Town

I am not a hateful person. I'm far more likely to just let things be than to hold a grudge. Remembering who you hate and who is your rival is difficult for me, as I really just don't care about holding onto negativity. Yet, there is one enemy where my hatred runs deep and is hotter than a million suns. No human is worthy of this hate, but another animal is: The Red-Winged Blackbird, aka the worst thing on Earth.

These birds are assholes. There is no other way to put it. Actually, there is one other way to put it: They are stupid assholes. Stupid, because they are birds yet they choose to build their nests on the ground. Now, let's think about this: If I had the ability to fly, do you think I would spend a lot of time walking around to places? Do you think I would just stay in traffic, because DURRRR, I don't know no better. No, I wouldn't. I'd use my damn high flying abilities to stay above the fray. Yet these birds are so stupid that they put their nests on the ground.

Because of their nesting grounds, they like to act as if others are at fault for coming near their nests on the ground. This is when these dumbasses get into asshole mode. They are incredibly territorial, and they are more than willing to attack human beings. When I lived in Iowa, I would run near the river, and these birds would take turns swooping down to attack me like it was a scene from Mad Max. But these birds are not brave; they're cowards. They only attack the crown of my head, and they always come from behind. That's a bitch move right there.

One of the best things about moving to Florida is that I felt I was finally rid of these stupid assholes. I hadn't seen any of them since I moved down here, and I was able to run in peace. But with the new move, I have not just seen these assholes; they live in my backyard.

So far, it has been a feeling out process. They seem to be nesting far enough into the marsh that we don't have reasons to confront each other, but they still hang out in my tree. They have not tried to harm me or my dog while we play in the backyard, and I have not gotten out my tennis racket and started swinging for the fences.

What I'm hoping is that these are Florida birds, so they have retired from family life and are just retiring out their final days. That's cool by me, but the second they start to puff out their chests and come swooping at me, they're going to get a mouthful of tennis racket, and I'm strapping on my boots to go nest stomping.

Messing with people like me is the reason that "birdbrains" is such a terrible insult. It isn't wise, and I will have my revenge.

Hell hath no fury like a Hott Joe pecked.