DON’T TREAD ON SPARKS!

I have very little sense of brand loyalty for major products.

Consequentially, when someone attempts to bring down the one product that I cherish with all of my heart and soul, there will be hell to pay for the guilty party.

Having graduated college with a marketing degree, I realize that advertising agencies conjure up more manipulative BS than the Bush Administration in order to coax the uninformed and unsuspecting consumer into purchasing a terrible product. This realization has given me a skeptical outlook towards most brands.

There is one brand that I live and die for even in the face of this skepticism. If you consider yourself my true friend or loved one, then you know the extent to my undying devotion to the glorious beverage that is Sparks, the hybrid malt beverage/energy drink.

Generally, either one or two cans of the orange-labeled godsend kick off nearly all of my nights out on the town. I initially drank only Sparks Plus (7% alcohol content by volume), but the slight taste differential converted me over to normal Sparks (6%). Under extreme circumstances, i.e. 7-11 is all out of either normal or plus, I’ll resort to Sparks Lite.

My Sparks worship began when I was a competitive long-distance runner in college. A 70-80 mile per week training regime left me exhausted throughout most of the day and night, which meant that going out on weekends was a laborious task. I wasn’t interested in all-night benders, just the enjoyment of a few drinks and socializing among friends. Constant fatigue made this desire pretty difficult to fulfill.

One magical night in DC, scottbrundage.com introduced me to the life-changing elixir produced by the Miller Brewing Company. Among my friends, Scott Brundage holds the record for the number of Sparks consumed in one night: 6.5*. After downing my first Sparks, I was finally able to keep my eyes open while out at the bar. I felt free, as if I was just released from carbonite imprisonment in Jabba the Hut’s lair – minus being blind. I’ve been a ‘Sparkoholic’ ever since.

You can imagine my outrage upon discovering that a number of State Attorneys General have recently banded together to discredit the product’s integrity. (article here)

The evil pack of Attorneys General (AGs) concede that the marketing of Sparks (http://www.sparks.com) and other such beverages is directed towards children. “Non-alcoholic energy drinks are very popular with today’s youth,” Oregon Attorney General Hardy Myers stated. “Beverage companies are unconscionably appealing to young drinkers”.

Miller spokesperson Julia Green argued that Sparks is “marketed at the 27 year old anti-consumer”. The AGs must find Green’s assertion incomprehensible, most likely due to the fact that they were business-formal-attired yuppies upon entering college.

Believe it or not AGs, but 30 is the new 20. There’s a certain demographic of mid-to-late 20 year olds that enjoys interests such as reading comic books, listening to indie music, and consuming energy drinks. Although seemingly immature, the activities have actually been upgraded from their traditional status to accommodate an older generation. Walk into a comic book store and flip through some of the issues lining the walls. You’d be surprised at the mature level of content included in some of the books, most of which would go right over a child’s head.

Speaking as a member of the demographic that has been mistaken for a group of 13 year olds, my friends and I can appreciate a creative, humorous marketing campaign such as the one found on the Sparks website. Although the site comes off as appealing to children, it actually targets 20-something year olds that act like children. There’s a big difference between the two, which the AGs should come to recognize.

Besides claiming that Sparks is being marketed to toddlers, the evil AGs criticized the beverage’s labeled versus actual alcohol content. After lab tests, a sample of Sparks labeled as having 6% alcohol by volume was actually found to have an earth-shattering 6.97% alcohol by volume. (GASP!)

For comparative purposes, each of the AGs leading the Sparks witch hunt should be required to consume one straight shot of Bacardi 151. The shot might help to enlighten them on the insignificance of .97% alcohol by volume compared to the strength of other alcoholic products on the market.

Joking aside, I do appreciate a concern for correct product labeling, but using this .97% is straight-up petty. What does an arguably harmless production flaw have to do with Sparks’s “appeal to children”?

Lets face the facts AGs, high school jocks have been getting drunk and committing misdemeanors for decades. As much as you’d like to blame Sparks for recent occurrences, please refrain from doing so. If anything, blame football and lacrosse for creating slightly brain dead heaps of muscle.

Chuckblog loves you more than the orange Sparks tongue. Come back and tell all your friends!

*Scott Brundage is the perfect example of a Sparks abuser – please refrain from following his poor example. It’s incredible that his heart is still beating after 6.5 Sparks though, so I had to throw it out there. Props Bruno!

Vampire Love: Quick Update

Gothscene has been really dead the last few days. (no pun intended)

I tried to strike up a chat session with a 45 year old vamp last night, but she refused my IM request. I’ve messaged both Normal Girl and Mass Murderer, but have yet to receive any responses. While I was in NYC last weekend, Normal Girl did message me with “The chances of us hanging out next weekend are looking pretty good “, so I’m still optimistic about a potential date for the weekend. I sure do miss dxlphin…RIP.

On a slightly amusing aside, some pretty strange search engine enquiries have been directing visitors to chuckblog. WordPress allows its blog users to view the search terms that have led visitors to the site. Over the past 2 days, some of the more bizarre ones have included:

ever, chuck

who are the 12 apostles

five disciples of satan

water sports blogs

hierarchy of needs+kids hope

match dating

Although chuckblog’s water sports information isn’t very thorough, I’m hoping that the individual performing the search found the site helpful.

Check back later today for a non-gothscene-related post. I’m infuriated by a recent topic garnering media attention. The object under scrutiny hits pretty close to home for chuckblog and most of its more diehard followers like scottbrundage.com.

Chuckblog loves you more than Satan’s five disciples love him. Check back for more and tell all your friends!

Vampire Love: Is Online Dating Really That Pathetic?

 When I explain my gothscene experience to people for the first time, it usually elicits a reaction of awkward, confused laughter and a disapproving shake of the head. This response is somewhat understandable, considering the fact that I’ve paid money to meet freaks on the internet.

Surprisingly though, the reaction goes beyond just gothscene – it comes in a less exaggerated form when admitting membership status to “normal” dating sites like match, eharmony, and www.scottbrundage.com . Trust me, I’ve been a member of each site and proudly professed my site-related antics to anyone willing to listen. Like gothscene, I joined them as more of a goof rather than a way to establish a relationship, but I’ve never ruled out the potential for love.

Upon mentioning my membership to any of these sites, most people are only slightly less judgmental than when I admit membership to gothscene. This poses the question, “Is online dating really that pathetic?”.  Personally, I really don’t think that it is.

The internet’s traditional image - the dojo of nerds or stalkers – has led most people to stereotype online dating as both creepy and desperate, but in reality, the internet is a far superior venue for meeting companions than most other means.

The world wide web allows for a smooth, gradual progression of communication – first through e-mail, then instant messaging - that enables a positive exchange between individuals. In contrast to direct contact, the internet replaces the superficial negativity of judging someone in person with much more objective, personality-based criteria.

One of my good buddies from college was an absolute social abomination back in school. He’s an intelligent, funny, good-looking guy, but social anxiety was his downfall. He would rarely go out at night, and when he would, he would stand in the corner of a party or bar, stone-cold sober, creeping the shit out of anyone that looked his way.

However, when it came to AIM conversations, he was like Vega fighting in his home level in Street Fighter 2. He would climb the internet’s cage, jump down on his prey, and mercilessly claw them to death.  We called it his “10 second window of wit”, as the slight time lag allowed for his creative genius to shine. The internet gave this man a chance, and it can do the same for many more.

People join match, eharmony, gothscene, and scottbrundage.com with the sole purpose of dating, and the similar agenda alleviates a great deal of trouble and awkwardness. Everyone is on the same page, literally and figuratively.

You might be saying, “Chuck, this is incredibly lame…meeting people in person is the best way to find a companion. I’m never visiting chuckblog again!”. However, lets take a look at the most common forms of face-to-face contact before you jump to any rash decisions.

Work: Not only is inner-office dating against most workplace policy, it’s also pretty difficult to pull off. I guess meeting suitable companions at work is easier if you’re employed in a “cool” setting, like a restaurant, bar, or comic book store, but most cubicle monkeys have little contact with anything other than a telephone and Microsoft Office.

The Bar Scene: Anyone at the Galway Hooker in Manhattan on Saturday night knows that my barroom antics repulse rather than attract women. One of my friends even coined the nickname “kryptonite” in reference to my bar persona. Obviously I don’t remember how I usually act; I’m guessing it resembles Pee-wee Herman, but with down syndrome. Blackout intoxication aside, bars are terrible places to meet a potential gf/bf, as superficial qualities are usually the main determinate of a person’s value.

Chance: I’ve been playing lotto every week and I never come close to winning. Chance is bunk.

Being Set Up By Your Mother: Terrible idea.

The internet is a great opportunity to break from the “norms” of finding love. Critics, give it a shot and help end the stereotype!

Chuckblog loves you more than conquering M. Bison in SF2. Come back and tell your friends!

Vampire Love: Chuck Gets Got

Whelp, I officially got got on gothscene this past weekend.

I figured that one of my many degenerate friends would eventually make a phony gothscene profile and initiate contact. When I received a message on Friday night from “dxlphin”, a really hot, alternative-looking girl from Fredericksburg, VA, I assumed that it was authentic since most of my more scoundrelly friends were with me in NYC.

We sent each other a couple of messages; just quick one-liners. I refused to post anything about her on chuckblog over the weekend, because I still smelt something fishy. That, and I was too busy slamming booze and making a fool out of myself in Manhattan.

Last night I engaged in a little online chat with “dxlphin”, and I learned a bit more about this beauty. We had quite bit in common – she ran track in high school and college and grew up on Long Island. All signs indicated that dxlphin would be the future mother of Chuck Junior – I was already checking the map for driving directions from Fairfax to Fredericksburg.

Soon after our conversation ended, I received an AIM message from my young pal Reid, confessing to the heart-shattering lie. Reid is a college freshman/track runner at Cortland University in Ithaca, NY, and we recently hung out in San Diego. The thieving SOB stole my glorious, home-made Flipper shirt; inspiring the user name “dxlphin”. He found the picture of some roller derby chick online and made up everything else in the profile. He’s an idiot for not continuing the lie and easily convincing me to drive to Fredricksburg for a date with no one.

I respect your clever little trick Reid, but you’re still a pathetic creature:

I’ve now implemented some safeguards to defend against a similar prank…so don’t even try it again.

Chuckblog loves you more than he loved “dxlphin”. God rest her soul. Come back for more!

NYC thanks…

Right now I’m sitting in my parent’s home on Long Island, about to head back down to DC after a long weekend of track & field and alcohol consumption.

I had such a phenomenal time in NYC, and I’d like to thank all of those involved: the Georgetown track team for putting on such a good show at the Big East meet; all of my fellow Gtown alums and associated parties (especially Lenny and Wadad…it’s always a pleasure); Joanna Rodgers for the phenomenal races; the Dan Wilson circle; Teebs; Dadday; Yeti; Crazy Mike; Gerry No Game; the Homeless Wizard; www.scottbrundage.com for letting me crash on his floor; the Lagirls; Jack Daniels whiskey; and the producer of my flask.

I would also like to issue my condolences for all the victims of ‘Chuck’s Wrath’; a plague of biblical proportions that swept through the Upper West Side, Midtown and Astoria, Queens. You know that you’re out of control when Dan Wilson tells you to put your shirt back on in a bar. My sister (Tiff) and her boyfriend (Adam) actually refused to be associated with me on Saturday night. Oh, and to the dude who threatened me from the window of his Queens apartment for dry-heaving on the sidewalk, you deserved having those trash cans launched at your front door.

OK, I really need to get out of here, but I’m hoping to get in a gothscene update later today. I’m also hoping to shower later today, as it hasn’t happened since Saturday morning.

Chuckblog loves you more than skipping the bill at a dinner in a drunken stupor.

You know your relationship prospects have hit rock bottom when…

…your mother is on a mission to set you up with a random waitress at a restaurant.

Sadly, it’s true – my dating life has reached a new low.

Early last December, my parents went out to eat at a Cuban restaurant near their home in Long Island, NY. I received a call that night from my mother, raving about a particular female server working at the establishment. I have to admit, I was semi-interested, as she’s never attempted to set me up with a girl in the past.

Mom filled me in on the details: 19 years old; incredible smile; cute face; long, dark hair; classy, seemingly modest personality; and a slim figure. My father interjected that 19 years old was a bit young for me, but I disagreed; nearly any girl over the age of 22 is hesitant to date a broke 24 year old male.

When I arrived home for Christmas break, my mother was intent on convincing me to meet this random, barely-legal teen. I refused her relentless encouragement to visit the restaurant and perform the awkward task. I made a fool of myself enough throughout the year – I figured that I deserved a break during the Christmas season.

One evening, upon arriving home from a graphic novel reading session at Borders, my mother ran to the door, proclaiming that she spotted the girl while walking past the restaurant’s front window not long before I came home. I guess that Robert Kirkman’s “The Walking Dead” comic series gave me some kind of heroic confidence; I actually got in my car* and drove to meet the server.

By the time I got over there and parked, my false confidence dissipated, as I had absolutely no plan for accomplishing the task. I stood outside of the restaurant in the cold, questions clouding my thoughts:

What if she’s not even here anymore?

What if I’m seated at a table that she isn’t serving?

How should I introduce myself?

What should I order?

Does this place have good dessert?

I wonder what the average price of an entree is?

I peered through the restaurant’s front window in an attempt to see the girl – a completely stalker-ish action. I talked on my cell phone to camouflage my intent. No one was on the line.

I eventually realized the desperation and idiocy of my actions, got back into my car* and drove home, a man conquered by fear of rejection.

Why am I writing this, you ask? I’m back home for the weekend, and my mother just placed the restaurant’s menu down beside me, stating, “I went by and asked if the girl is working tonight. Unfortunately, she’s back at school. Want me to make beef stew?”.

Yes mom, please make the beef stew.

*I clearly cannot afford my own car – I’m referring to my parent’s car.

Vampire Love: Chumbawamba, Tiramisu and Water Sports

Gothscene Communication Update

I’ve been exchanging emails with Normal Girl over the past few nights; nothing crazy, just small-talk. However, she seems primed and ready for a date. I’ll be in NYC this entire weekend, but I’m pulling for a meeting next week.

I just sent her the message, “So what are the chances of us hanging out next weekend?”

Pretty smooth of me, right?

Sike. That line sucked, but this is gothscene.com – being smooth doesn’t even matter, just like on www.scottbrundage.com.

As I was browsing the site last night, I stumbled upon an incredible feature:

Chat rooms.

Without the confines of a one-on-one chat, I was able to engage multiple undead users at once. Check out the online party that I attended:

Captain Sloppy

I just realized that I look pretty horrendous today at work.

There are 5 major problems with my attire:

Slacks: I bought this particular pair of slacks from the Gap a couple of years ago, and from what I remember at the time of purchase, they fit quite nicely. Since then, they seem to have lost considerable room in both length and width. Not only are they tight, but a noticeable gap exists between my shoes and the end of the pants. The modified size forces me to either pull them down low enough to fall at a reasonable point on my shoes, or wear them at normal hip-height and walk around with high waters. Considering the fact that the former makes me look like a business casual version of Eminem, I’ve committed to the latter. This leads into my next problem…

Socks: All of my black dress socks were dirty, so I opted for low-cut white athletic socks. Due to the high slack situation, the sloppy white material is clearly visible for all to see. Since the socks are cut so low, my ankle flesh is also exposed.

Shirt: My best friend Ivan and I have a running joke about the poor quality fit of Men’s Warehouse dress clothes. MC Hammer’s fashion influence seems to have had a strong influence on the company’s clothing cut, as everything is idiotically baggy.
Unfortunately for me, I’m wearing one of their dress shirts today. The shirt’s Hefty-bag-like fit provides a hideous contrast to my short, tight slacks. I feel like some sort of medieval jester, clad in tights and a loose fitting gown for comedic purposes. Oh, and the button on my left cuff is missing. Rather than let it flap in the wind, I secured it with scotch tape.

Tie: I’ve been wearing this same tie for the past three days. If this were middle school, I would be the laughing stock of recess for my inability to constantly vary my clothing for strictly superficial purposes. I’m hoping no one actually notices.

Hair: After showering this morning, I quickly dressed and ran out the door with slightly damp hair. I was quickly hit by the cold wind blowing over the frozen wasteland that is Fairfax, VA in February. As I was waiting for my bus, I was left with no choice but to put on my winter hat. The hat matted down my damp hair into odd patterns, creating hat hair from hell. Also, I haven’t shaved in three days. Although my facial hair doesn’t grow that quickly, its current status is long enough to make me look unprofessional.

Any one of these factors alone would make a person look unkempt, but like Captain Planet’s ring-bearing minions, their combined effort creates one incredibly sloppy employee.

SLACKS!

SHIRT!

SOCKS!

TIE!

HAIR!

CAPTAAAIIINNN SLOPPY!

Vampire Love: Surprises in a Sea of Goths

Quick recap:
About 10 days ago, I embarked on my quest to find a suitable companion via gothscene.com, the ‘alternative dating site’. By “suitable companion”, I simply mean someone with low enough standards to date a broke, over-educated, and under-employed 24 year old male. At this point, vampires, zombies, and goths seem like the only beings capable of meeting the challenge. Communication with two users – Normal Girl and Mass Murderer – have indicated potential dates within the coming weeks. All of the “Vampire Love” posts can be found on the sidebar to the right.

Last night, after checking www.scottbrundage.com, I logged into gothscene with the full intention of starting up a chat with the undead to post in today’s blog. I browsed through the list of online users, picked a random profile and got to work.

To my surprise, I began communicating with an articulate writer. From the beginning of the conversation, I knew that it would be a legitimate exchange of words; far from the incoherent, world-hating babble so common to gothscene.

It was a great chat – one that definitely changed my outlook on the site. Out of all the negative BS that I read each day, it showed me that gothscene does have some positive, bright users.

I even broke the cardinal rule of Chuckblog’s “Vampire Love” coverage – telling a gothscene user about the blog. I couldn’t help it though; my chat partner seemed like she would genuinely appreciate the project, and more importantly, wouldn’t hunt me down, rip out my heart through my throat, throw it against the wall, and watch with delight as I bled to death. If she didn’t live so far away, I’d ask her out on a date to read graphic novels with me at Borders.

Thanks for providing some sanity to my gothscene experience K, hopefully I’ll see you around on the information superhighway.

Chuckblog loves you more than free donuts. Come back and tell your friends!

Vampire Love: Sucking the Blood Out of Grammar

Wowsers.

I was surfing gothscene last night and stumbled upon a particularly frightening profile. I can’t stand people who obsess over grammar mistakes, but this profile’s self-description is the English language equivalent of Hiroshima:

bout me:
“What can I say about myself?” I have been called a “Muse” “Cartoon Charter” “Classic Beauty” “Smooth Talker” In my past that I have lived I was a hard blackout drinker, punch fighter kicker fighter or A.K.A EMS and Police knew my Name by heart! Im sort of over that! I still have a dinesty addiude or as I call it Betty Davis Style through my words and the way I can look at people! I have had my fun in life and now Im starting a new one by finding things about my dark past and finding what love is realy about and what I can do for myself through art, fashion, tarot cards and conversation through good words of wisdom! I can see what your soul look like when I rip your heart out of your mouth and through it against the wall and watch you bleed out your love to me with every last drop you

Lets pull this gem apart piece by piece:

bout me:
“What can I say about myself?” I have been called a “Muse” “Cartoon Charter” “Classic Beauty” “Smooth Talker”

Note to gothscene users: a list of the names used by the voices inside of your head is best left off the self-description portion of a profile.

What I’d love to know is, what the hell is a “Cartoon Charter”? If she means “Cartoon Character“, then there’s only one pencilled entity capable of committing such a grammatical hate crime: the Tasmanian Devil high on crack rocks.

In my past that I have lived I was a hard blackout drinker, punch fighter kicker fighter or A.K.A EMS and Police knew my Name by heart! Im sort of over that!

I am 100% confident that this girl was a “hard blackout drinker” in her past, and by “past” I mean the minutes immediately prior to the composition of her gothscene profile.

She’s claims to have been a “punch fighter kicker fighter”, notorious among the law enforcement and emergency medical professions. Thank the Lord that she’s “sort of over that”. Although, the statement does imply that every so often she resorts back to her old self; an alcohol fueled, killing machine.

Does anyone else get the feeling that this girl attends the same dojo as drippingvein? (See Vampire Love: Martial Arts, Beavers, and Republicans) I’m starting to think that there’s a joint plan for world domination between the goth and martial arts communities. Only one sensei is capable of guiding such a conspiracy:

I still have a dinesty addiude or as I call it Betty Davis Style through my words and the way I can look at people!

The term “dinesty addiude” is either derived from a foreign language, or is a 7th grade English teacher’s worst spelling nightmare. If this girl’s style of language is at all representative of Betty Davis’s style, then she’s referring to a completely different person than the singer and wife of Miles Davis. The Davis she is referencing most likely had her jaw wired shut since birth.

I have had my fun in life and now Im starting a new one by finding things about my dark past and finding what love is realy about and what I can do for myself through art, fashion, tarot cards and conversation through good words of wisdom!

In the early days of grammar, there was a horrific battle between run-on sentences. It was a bloody, gruesome war, in which all the sentences were conquered by a single, all-powerful run-on. This statement was the sole victor.

On a serious note, it’s good to see a positive attitude on gothscene. Mad props to this girl for breaking away from the gothscene user trend of unending depression and agony.

I can see what your soul look like when I rip your heart out of your mouth and through it against the wall and watch you bleed out your love to me with every last drop you

After reading this sentence, I’d like to retract my previous statement regarding the positive attitude of the profile. I really hope this girl is writing metaphorically here, because if not, then the fulfillment of her claim will make Hannibal Lecter look like Danny Tanner.

If this self-description analysis comes off as overly harsh, please remember a few key points:

1. This girl is a violent felon, as indicated by her personal repertoire with the police.
2. www.scottbrundage.com
3. She threatened to rip out my heart, launch it against the wall like a Nerf football, and savor the sight of my blood-loss-induced death.

With those facts in mind, can you honestly accuse me of being judgmental?

Chuckblog loves you more than syndicated episodes of Saved by the Bell. Come back and tell your friends!