Archive for the ‘Good Times’ Category


Israel Memories

April 6, 2008

With all of the news coverage of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, many people have the idea that Israel is an extremely dangerous place. I was fortunate enough to visit a couple of years ago on the Birthright program, and I managed to take a couple of videos:

Believe it or not, this was the only fighting I actually saw in Israel. Before the candid video was shot, the kid on the left farted on the kid on the right when the mother wasn’t watching. Listen for the sound effect at the end (I’m pretty talented.)

Israel was the first place I learned about DonkeyPower as opposed to horsepower. Here is an example of a Palestinian motorcade we came across in our travels. Traffic was backed up for a few hours, but I think you can guess why.

This giant sack of shit is Nir. Nir was the medic/guard assigned to our group of 40 university students. Nir always told us about how he wanted to come to America and be on television, so we gave him his big chance on our way to the Dead Sea. If they ever have an Israeli Idol, we’ve found our next William Hung.

Besides all the awe-inspiring spirituality, beautiful sights, amazing people we met and delicious food, that about sums up my trip to Israel (more to come…)


LA Quotes, Pt. 2: Adventures in Dodger Stadium

March 30, 2008

We sat out in Right Field for the Red Sox/ Dodgers game, surrounded by thousands of Dodgers fans (most looking to beat the shit out of us). Fortunately, we met a diehard Sox fan in the row in front of us. Here are a few gems from a true Red Sox Fan.

Red Sox Fan

Dodgers Fan: I’ve never seen so many fake Red Sox Fans.
True Boston Fan: I’ve never seen that much pubic hair on one face!

True Boston Fan: (After Jason Varitek hit a foul ball behind home plate) CHINESE HOME RUN!

Dodgers Fan: Man, free food at Dodgers Stadium. This shit is good.
True Boston Fan: Food’s alright, team still sucks!

Dumb Dodger Puta: The Red Sox suck!
True Boston Fan: Yeah, they sucked all the way to the World Series, honey!

Dodgers Fan: What the hell do Red Sox Fans do in the offseason?
True Boston Fan: Listen to a lot of Neil Diamond and watch the ’86 World Series while we circle jerk with our own tears. What the fuck do you think?


Quotes from LA, Pt. 1

March 28, 2008

1) My brother to Cat, a dancing professional at Cheetah’s Fine Exotic Establishment: “Why did you have a British accent the last time I was here?” Answer: “Because I hate my life…”

2) Drunk New Yorker who took notice of my Red Sox hat: “Joba Chamberlain is going to fuck you like a fly. Right up the poop…”

3) My brother and I having a discussion with Lillith, another dancing queen from Cheetahs:

Dickie: So what made you choose Lillith as a name?
Me: Is it because you like Frasier?
Lillith: Lillith was in the Garden of Eden before Eve, but she was kicked out because she was too naughty, just like me.
Dickie: You have really kind eyes…


Life on the Lake: A Tale of B&E

March 28, 2008
Lake Shot

There’s nothing better than a “lobstah” meal with the family. Cracking shells and shooting lobster shmegma all over family members’ faces are some of those small things in life that bring me ultimate joy. It’s especially entertaining when it shoots right near the eye, but I digress…


The lobstah dinner was only the beginning. I’ve only had a handful of chances to get to know my Uncle Fester. He has a family of his own, and it’s pretty difficult to get together when I live 3200 miles away. On this special night, I not only got to go to a local watering hole and “people watch” all the townies as they drank away their sorrows, inhibitions, marriages and bladder control, but good ol’ Fester made sure I got the full hometown experience.

As we drove home from the bar, we were reminiscing about when I was little and how he used to torture me (or as he calls it being a good uncle.) The one memory that stands out the most is the Wine Bottle… When I was a little “husky” kid, any food or drink in sight was fair game for consumption. Fester took advantage of my youthful gluttony and set out a wine bottle on top of his fridge. Whenever I’d come over the house, he’d say, “Hey snappahead, you wanna try this wine?” Without a second thought, I’d nod my head emphatically, licking my lips and waiting for that sweet nectar. He’d hand me the bottle, making sure it was right up to my face, and uncork it, releasing the smelliest, raunchiest, most pungent fart right into my nostrils. It seriously singed my nose hairs, but I digress…

So we’re driving, reminiscing about family and farts, and Fester pulls a quick louie, almost running the car into a ditch. We pull to a stop:

Fester: “Hey Butthead… you hungry?”
Me: (somewhat intoxicated) “Does a bear shit in the woods?”
Fester: “That’s what I wanted to hear. This is what I like to call Life on the Lake!”

Without waiting a minute longer, we walk up the stairs and pull our own B&E right in the neighbor’s house. Fester b-lines it to the fridge, pulls out a bunch of plastic containers and throws me a jug of apple cider, “Make it a good chug, nibblenuts.” I down a good quarter of the cider, as he starts shoveling left over Chinese food into his mouth. “Food kinda sucks,” he musters between bites. He looks in the fridge and has a look of total disgust on his face, “Where’s the frigging beer? Screw it! Leave the fridge door open and follow me.”

Downstairs we open the fridge to find an open case of Milwaukee’s Best (ugh) and a brand new case of Miller Lite (ehhh). “Beast? What kind of shit is this?” he says as he throws the case of beer across the basement. He rips open the new package of Miller Lite hands me two and takes two for himself.

Back upstairs, we’re digging into Chinese, as he starts to nibble on a sparerib. All of a sudden I hear an enormous belch accompanied by the sound of a sparerib bone bouncing off the window. “You good, buddy?” he asks as he places the empty Chinese containers back in the fridge.

I nod, and we head to the car, driving a good 20 feet to our own driveway. Fast forward about 30 minutes when we get a call from the neighbor, Kenny, as we’re sipping on Grand Marnier: “Hey I’m having people over. Get the hell over here you sack of shit.”

We walk inside the door, looking at the kitchen we had just raided no more than 30 minutes earlier. It’s full of people, laughing and drinking. Kenny walks up to Fester, double fisting a Bloody Mary in one hand and a beer in the other. “What can I get you assholes? Beer? Some Mary Mix?”

Uncle Fester, with a completely straight face, looks at Kenny and says, “Got any spareribs?”


Brotherly Love

March 24, 2008

In all the experiences I’ve been through in my life (from being a fat, lactose-intolerant little shit to almost being robbed by a French pimp in Madrid) I’ve always kept one thing in mind.

I have such an awesome family. In all honesty, I couldn’t be more glad to have my mom, dad and brother. Ultimately, my relationship with my brother, Dickie, has made me into what I am today (more or less, a perfect asshole).

From an early age, I could tell my brother really cared about my well-being. He was always focused on building my character. At the age of 5, whenever I was too loud or obnoxious and disturbed the peace, he would drag me outside and proceed to beat the everloving shit out of me in front of the other neighborhood kids. Thank God the Boystown van never drove by, or he woulda had some ‘splainin to do, Lucy.

Dickie took great joy in having a superspeedy metabolism compared to mine. One of his favorite past times was to heat up two boxes of microwavable french fries and take out a couple packs of Famous Amos Chocolate Chip cookies and gorge right in front of my face, as I sat crying and farting in a fit of envy/rage.

As I got older, Dickie discovered new ways to instill his values in me. Whether it was choking me to near death in front of my best friends or telling my parents that I was buying Spice Channel movies on the television at the age of 9, he really looked out for my wellbeing.

All in all, those loving moments with Dickie led to the El Cappytan that writes for you today. So I guess there is a plus side to having a complete asswipe for a brother. Thanks, bud.


My Best Friend Matt

July 23, 2007

2 years ago, I met the biggest asshole of my life. The kid was cocky, arrogant, and he thought he had the biggest dick on the block (ha). On a beach trip, he ended up swooping in on my date, laying down some thick game and taking away any chance I had at even the slightest kiss. For that, I dubbed him a dousch bag asshole and told myself he wasn’t worth my time.

Fast forward to about 3 months later during I-week, when we’re going through some pretty tough rites of passage. The beginning of the week, I still didn’t like him. The kid was outspoken and thought he was everyone’s friend. By Tuesday night, we were laughing together about the shit we had to go through. By Thursday, we were inseparable.

Since then, we’ve accomplished a lot together. We were on exec for our fraternity together, we went on trips together, we performed for sorority competitions together, we both were voted onto Interfraternity Council and, most of all, we’ve become best friends in the process.

Things haven’t always been great. After some tough personal times with our Fraternity, I felt like a pretty useless President, so I distanced myself from anything Theta Chi, including my friends. For that, I apologize more than words can express. Fortunately, I ran into him before I left for Spain and got to explain why I acted the way I did, but it didn’t make up for the lost time by any means.

It was only 2 days ago that I found out my Best Friend Matt was diagnosed with Burkitt’s Lymphoma, a rare form of cancer ( As Americans, we’re subjected to TV shows and movies that depict scenarios like this… where a friend or loved one is diagnosed with cancer, but no amount of acting on-screen can describe the feeling when I found out. In the middle of work, my jaw dropped, my heart sank and I sat there not even breathing.

Matt has been there for me during my rough times. When I had to put up with some of the biggest assholes I’ve ever met or deal with shitheads in the Greek Life Office, he was there to calm me down and talk me through things. He was there to help me with relationships and to take care of me when I didn’t know my drinking limit. I hate that I can’t be there for Matt during his rough time, but I want him to know that I’m thinking of and praying for him.

Matt, you’re a strong guy, definitely stronger-willed than I am. In the past 3 years, I have come to not only consider you as a close friend but as a true brother. If there is anyone I know that could make it through this, I know it’s you. You and I still have a business to open, and Rick and I have to take you on another Caplan Brother Adventure, so you don’t really have any option but to get better soon. I’ll see you real soon.

I love you, buddy.