Friday, February 26, 2010

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Ch-Ch-Changes are in order. Thanks to Dub Jeezy for the warm welcome. It's certainly a privilege to be apart of the AWMD corporation. After hours of negotiation we were finally able to reach contract agreement...which ended up being the Rolling Rocks I happily consumed during the time of discussion. My two cents on the diary will cover anything interesting and current in the world of sports...So without further ado I give you my debut post.

The 38-19 Denver Nuggets are showcasing some of the best basketball the league has to offer. Not only have they proved themselves as major championship contenders. Their starting five also collectively represents the craziest looking squad ever to hit the parquet floor. (Click the links to make sense of the post) Carmelo Anthony, the Syracuse icon seems most innocent compared to the others. Don't be fooled by his suave style of play...Just know his tattoos are worth about 4X my yearly income.

Then there's center Nene Hilario. Not so much inked up like the rest but the beard and hair certainly compensate (along with standing at seven feet tall). Running the PG we have Chauncey Billups. There's nothing too intimidating about "Mr Big Shot" aside from his pure dominance over the Boston Celtics in the double 0's after we drafted him in '97...Damn.

Kenyon Martin. What more can you say? He's a guy with the same name as a shopping center. I think the lips tattooed on his neck leave everyone utterly confused in any situation. And last but not least there's Chris "Bird Man" Anderson. If you ever could spot him off the court you might just say hey, what a stand-out young professional?...But as soon the lights switch on and the wings come out you start to wonder if the dude should check into an insane asylum. Message to Anderson: If you're gonna go all out like that, might as well get some endorsements (this is how he should have spent his time in the tattoo shop).

So there you have it. The baddest crew in sky blue. In the scenario that my beloved Celts don't go all the way I think I'd wanna see Denver pull off a championship. Let's see how they do Sunday against the Lakers.
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#1.) The Valentine's Day Vegetarian

Note to self: Don't order beef stew when taking out a dainty vegetarian girl.

Is it really a big deal? I think not, but needless to say me and vegetarians don't go well together. Conversation is poor at best. "Soo, why don't you eat meat?", "Well I read this book and it was like all about ousfbvwlrb animal rights lqhfouhwc and like some much blood ljhcojceniqhfei and I was like OH MY GOD! That's soooo gross and ojheoeifiefwbiu." …..Please stop talking. I don't even like beef stew, but after having Assorted Cheeses for an appetizer I needed something that had cow in it. Better stew than steak right? Maybe? No? I Still got a little makeout sesh at the end of the night but in my attempt for round 2 a few days later I got the text back reading, "Sorry, I really didn't feel a connection." You would think Valentine's Day would be a layup, but to me it seems like judgement day. Watch yourself fellas because on this day women are sizing you up, picturing the relationship, the wedding, the house, the kids… I'm just trying to get to date #2 and/or score a little action. As for the V-day Veggie… chalking up a loss on this one.

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Dub J once told me that any man could walk up to another man and by simply saying the word "Women," the two men could find themselves bitching, sharing stories, tips, emotions, and the two strangers would see how similar us men really are. Of course this wouldn't work if one of the guys were gay but you get the point. Straight men don't know women and Team Men is constantly fighting a losing battle. With that said, Dub has asked me to write the guide for young men like us to gain the upper hand on our opposing team. Throughout my weekly posts you will hear tales of failure and tales of glory (that then turn to failure), and with the use of Dick Palmer's Guide To The Forbidden Fruit, you may be able to take my experiences and see what could've been done right. Odds are you will not gain any positive knowledge from this but hey, who knows. So to my fellow male teammates, this is our time to strategize, and to the women who most likely aren't reading this, please post your contact info below so we can hang out …I'm desperate.

-Dick Palmer

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And by expanding, I mean adding two new writers. I'm getting carpal tunnel here and it was only right that a couple of guys stepped up to give me a little assistance.

Dick Palmer and Craw are going to be the new writers for the site, so give them a warm welcome.

Don't worry, I still going to be up to my usual tricks, but these guys will take up the necessary niches of sports and relationship advice respectively. It'll be fun.
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It's an action packed weekend on all ends of things. I'm involved in some stuff and missing out on plenty. One of those rare situations when the world can use 2 clones of Dub Jeezy, so I can be in three places at once.

To my friends in NYC, stay safe and have a great time. Don't lose anyone and make sure that cellphones are charged. Can't say that enough, but we're all idiots and forget anyway.

To my brothas from another motha out in Syracuse, enjoy the game and rock out hard. I'm reppin' hard for 'Cuse v. Nova and the TKE house.

Lastly, don't tangle your webs this weekend and make sure not to end up like this kitten on the edge of the bar tonight or tomorrow.
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I'm sweating, I'm sick, and I've vomited like 9 times, and still nothing has been accomplished. The sock I put in the hamper has mated with dust and created like 27 dusty ass socks that have overpopulated my floor. I didn't even know I had that many socks and it's downright impressive that they got so dusty without any part of my house really being dusty.

There are receipts a'plenty from weekends past, and meals eaten from god knows when. I took out my contacts the other night and somehow ended up with barbecue sauce on my elbow. It was some David Blaine magician shit, but it actually happened. I don't know how to do it. On the outside it looks really easy. A couple clothes here, a few wrappers there, lots and lots of beer bottles. A job that your standard Glad bag should be able to take care of, but not this time. Maybe it's the ill-fated concoction of my willpower combined with the lack of need to clean this room. If I am fine with it, does it need to be cleaned? A question I have presented to my parents at least one thousand times. Do you need to make a bed if you're just going to get back in it at the end of the day? Do you need to make a bed when you have a full sized blanket with a king sized bed that'll frankly look ridiculous if you make it? I sprained my ankle trying to clean my desk off a minute ago. Ok, kidding, but I mentally sprained my ankle because it was so damn taxing to clean my desk and watch Tyra Sportscenter at the same time.

I'm losing hope much to the same extent that I lost hope in "Heroes" after season 1. No matter how hard you try to like it, it's just not a good show anymore. It's sad that at the ripe age of 22, I straight up have no idea how (refuse) to clean my room.

No point getting rid of the Rolling Rocks on the ground when I told them that I was going to throw a mixer for them with the beautiful beers of the Busch Light sorority.
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I've been there pigeon. People are like, "It's a nice day, why don't you walk home", I can only respond with a head shake and a confused glare. This pigeon must have dealt with the same song and dance after eating some bread crumbs by the Commons. "Hey dawg, let's fly out of here and start pre-gaming for tonight", "Nah, I'm probably just going to take the train." I mean, if the pigeon has the monthly link pass, it'd be cost inefficient not to use it.

Wait a second, this method of public transportation looks calm, relaxed, and easy..this video can't be Boston. I know this because the pigeon doesn't have bruises from being pushed up against the window for the evening rush hour or a defeated look on it's face from a terrible ride.

I am historically known to hate pigeons seeing as I get crapped on at a 5 times/year clip, but this one is doing all it can to bring them back into my good graces. It's all about respect, and I respect the hell out of this pigeon.

Thanks to HotClicks
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I walk into so many walls that can be described as violating man laws. It’s like I am Mr. Magoo out here. I had a friend text the ex of another friend and all hell broke loose. While he’s not officially dating said girl, he still feels that he has perma-dibs on her. Dibs is one of the major components to said law of the man. You can dib the last double cheeseburger in the bag or even dib a Kit-Kat bar, but when you dib girls, it becomes a little questionable, especially for Mr. Magoo cats like me that run into any/all available walls. Hated the cartoon Mr. Magoo by the way. How did his blind ass end up in construction yards or military firing ranges without taking a hit?

I’ve sent a text or two to a fine lass, that was immediately followed by an angry text from a dude saying, “That’s my girl man” or “Yo man, what’s the deal.” My only basis these days for relationships is facebook statuses. I’m sorry, I am a product of my generation. So much so, that I find all this shit out via text. No real words are ever exchanged. Some call it anti-social; I call it protecting my ass. Tomato-tomato (e) really.

Frankly, I could give to shits what another guy thinks or says. Unless the facebook status says you’re in a relationship and you have 2-3 profile pictures together, the girl is fair game. Times are hard out here in the concrete tundra that is Boston, so I’m definitely going to hoist up some ill-advised threes out there. You can find me at

I’m going to stop with the statements as websites joke in a little while, but right now it feels a good level of fresh.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

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(UPDATE: Sorry about the confusion on that. The wrong name with the wrong post. It happens to the best of us. Sucks but I recovered, like Arnold S. at the end of Terminator 2)

Here I am sitting at my desk, seven Rolling Rocks at my ankles, a torn dollar bill next to my computer, and a bunch of friends coming to visit this weekend. Oh yea, there is an empty Capri Sun that resembles a small lifeless human body. Really creepy. What I am trying to iterate is that I live in a hole of shit otherwise known as a shithole.

These friends are not expecting much, trust me, but I want them to have a decent time. What allows for a good time you ask? I’ll raise my hand and answer, comfort. Can’t have comfort in a house with no heat. We never renewed our oil and I’ve trapped myself in my room with my space heater for the past 2-3 weeks. I only emerge to forage for food and chill with George Foreman. And to do some real work in the bathroom. Aside from that, I am at this desk with my other crew Rolling Rockz, Ripped $, and Capri-Seezy (I really stretched for these names—took at least 2 minutes of thinking, which is about 300% longer than I think about anything with this blog).

Four guys-one girl. While it sounds like the name of an awful video, these are the people that I need to take care of this weekend. I know it’s going to come down to sacrificing at least a part of my king size bed, which is making me nauseous to say the least. Why people think I am a nice and considerate person, I don’t understand, because there is no way in hell I am sharing that bed. My hospitality meter cuts off there. Yes, this means the only option I am presenting them (without them knowing yet) is to sleep on the floor of a heatless apartment with no pillows/blankets. If you’re thirsty, take your chances with the tap water guys. I’m sorry, we’re just not Brita guys..that shit ain’t baller (or is it? My research hasn’t proven anything to me yet). Food? Hahaha. There’s raw chicken, hamburger meat, and some eggs in there. Knock yourself out. Oh you want to bring someone back? All I’m saying is there are going to be some cold rumps in the morning.

Basically what I am trying to say is, you guys will have a terrible time while in my house. While we are out, it’ll be better, but not really. Consider this the “Welcome Mat” friends!!

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

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I had to go CAPS LOCK all over your asses for this one. This is for sure to be a good time at best, and if you're like me 20-something-ers, good times are hard to come by. So, um, come by, get Wednesday wasted and sing/dance/chill in the corner to my roommate's band. They're legit and they have a violinist that may or may not be attractive. You'll have to come to find out.

If that intro wasn't awesome enough, I hear there will be special guests joining them on stage for a few songs. Wouldn't want to miss that either. So break out your change buckets, shell the $3 cover, come say hey to your very own hardworking blogger and listen to some quality jams.

Show starts at 9. Get there at 7:30 and crush long-islands.
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Seriously, just give a dawg some cake, I've been eating off the Foreman for weeks and I've been in the market for a reliable pet since the infamous opossum incident of 1 month ago. I need night rustling I can trust. I'd much rather this content little fellow rummaging through the garbage for some cake, than a (o)possum terrorizing all of my lady guests.

I had a heartbreaking moment with a cat, so I guess I am in the market for a dog. If this one's for sale and you read this blog, please send me a message with information of your address, time when you're at work, and what kind of cake this dog likes. Thanks a bunch.
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College Humor does it yet again.
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Don't know how this girl didn't rise the ranks of internet celebrity, like the "Numa Numa Guy", "Chocolate Rain Guy", or the "Sketchy Hamster/Gerbil/Guinea Pig." It must be strict guidelines or something.

I thought you had to be at the least, obese, obscenely weird looking, or a cartoon/claymation thing to even have a chance. This girl has one of those going, but still can't catch a call. Either way, this song speaks to me, because my lips go unnecessarily crusty at least once a week because I wore jeans and left my chappys in my sweatpants. I'm going to stop talking now.

props to CBells for showing me this video.
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-exactly what I imagine my internet to look like if it was a real person.

What the hell? I'm not trying to make excuses for not blogging anything yesterday, but my ball and chain of a router/modem "wasn't feeling it". In all honesty, the internet just arbitrarily picks and chooses when it wants to work at my house. Like, "hey baby, what's wrong? Are you ok?" and the hypothetical internet girl responding with "It's just, ughh, I don't know." Now I am stuck in the typical guy situation where you know you did something wrong but you have no way of ever finding out what it was until the girl randomly snaps. In this case, the internet just turns off. No warning, or sign. Just shuts the fuck off. I don't know what I did. Was I surfing too many questionable sites? Blogging way too hard (if that's possible)? Or just being too cool for school?

The internet though, like a moody girl, will never tell me.

PS. I wrote this on Microsoft Word like this shit was a "To Kill A Mockingbird" essay. Whenever this gets posted, that's when my internet stopped being mad at me, or I bought it a really expensive gift.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

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For some reason, I really miss Big Z.

Friday, February 19, 2010

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Let's gooooo.

Have a good weekend everyone!
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(An interesting play on words based on the show "Friday Night Lights")

Here we are again. Another Friday and we are left with more questions and no answers. What is the successful Friday Night for the marginally (emphasize marginally) successful 22 year old bachelor? I hang with my friends, celebrate the week's accomplishments over beers and have favorable interactions with the opposite sex. There seems to be this mass confusion though. I feel like I am starring in the 2010 version of the craptastic movie "The Happening" where instead of people killing themselves in hilariously creative ways, there are a bunch of 20-somethings wandering around straight up confused as fuck. Pardon my French.

I just had a friend over who was going on a date tonight. It was as if we never took a girl out before. Took me right back to age 14. Cologne distribution, outfit selection, girl prettiness all came into question. A classic shitshow. This lead me to think of this post. Now is the goal of a guy my age to get the number of a girl they enjoyed the company of to hopefully enjoy an encounter in the future? I see a Catch-22 (bee-tee-dubs(btw), what the balls is a Catch-22, I heard like 37 definitions for it and have no real basis to even be discussing one) therein, how do you know you're compatible with said girl if you have been drinking heavily. Don't say you're not going hard on Friday night because you are fellow 20-something-ers. This has happened to me the past 3 weekends. I interact with said girl following, let's say 10-15 some-odd drinks. I'm not to be trusted, understood, or legally trusted at this point. I acquire a number through some will of the Gods and low and behold, after careful calculation (and the girl revealing how much she sucks), I realize she's not a girl I want to take out.

I don't know how to solve this problem, or know if it is really a problem at all. I'm just filling up lines here at this point. Kind of like Tetris, but with words, err something. I've also been getting pumped up with a certain theme song of a certain show. Show being Friday Night Lights--best theme song on television. One 45 second song has never invited so much emotion. I feel happy, sad, angry, and excited after one listen.

Here's the link to the site that plays the song continuously. Yes, I've listened to the song the whole time I wrote this post. You can probably see all the emotions previously mentioned throughout this whole rant. I recommend you watch this show immediately.

PS. Don't click any of the links in the post. They most assuredly are riddled with viruses. The site is straight though if you just want to listen to just the song.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

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--Vlade Divac...6th kid from the left.

Ok, you may be wondering why/how I have this picture. And I, like the tell-all blogger that I am, will fill you in.

1) I am friends with Vlade Divac on's completely normal.

2) I friended him. You can friend former Sacramento Kings centers only so many times.

3) This picture stumbled into my newsfeed and I couldn't help but pass this along.

There you have it. You're creeptastic bastard of a blogger has uncovered another hidden gem (or a really personal picture of a former NBA star without his permission?!) that can't be held back from any of his 2.4 readers.

Andddd, I am going out drinking. See you tomorrow, knuckleheads. Wilbonism
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EMBED-Cute Model Falls Through Stage - Watch more free videos

When I get my strut on I first make sure to watch for a suspiciously leafy set of floor panels or a hole for that matter. You should also be on the look out for invisibility cloaks, ninjas, and the occasional proximity mine.

Modeling isn't about coke, drugs, and coke, there's way more to it than being really, really, ridiculously good looking.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

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It may be in bad taste to promote this game shortly after the Haiti earthquake, but it was fiction, and it ate quarters. A lot of quarters. For those of you that have never played this game, the idea was simple. Drop a quarter into that little metal slot just above the handlebar (?) and just pray you got what it takes.

There was a vibration function in the game that played in accordance with the will of God. If you were having a good day, the quarter would slowly shimmy and you could easily guide it into the 60 or 100 ticket slot. Bad day meant that your quarter was ricocheting off of everything and like a flash it was game-over. The game was also kind of morbid too. Aside from the whole, earning tickets from a fictitious earthquake thing if you got the quarter in the day-care center you were awarded like 5 tickets, but if you got it into the skyscraper, you got 60. I don't know what that means, but I know I don't like it.

There is an estimated $5000 lost somewhere within 100 some-odd Aftershock machines throughout the country and I am completely fine with that. I probably won at least $32 dollars worth of prizes, but the thrill of the game can't be surpassed.

I can't decide between game-deciding free-throws or down to your last two quarters in Aftershock. Yeah, they're being sold for $200 on Amazon. Just saying...

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

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You will start seeing a new post every 35 seconds because Boston started to pick it up in the "snow is really starting to come down, this shit's kind of scary" department.

It'll be like twitter, but in blog form. Hope you're all as pumped as I am. LOLZ!
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Sometimes things are what we call "a wrap." 20 point leads with one minute to go, the bar's closing up and you haven't even gotten the girl's name, and when dudes fall into volcanos. What is the best case scenario here? Doesn't lava destroy everything. I remember back in the day when I went with that stereotypical baking soda/vinegar science fair project in the dirt, aka, the volcano project. Everything was destroyed. The desk, the spiral notebook on the desk, and the poor soul's Gameboy color that was near it too. There's no way that guy survived.

I'm sorry gang, call off the dogs. My 4th grade science fair tells us all that this guy is pretty dead.

Monday, February 15, 2010

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^ wonder what the chowder would have tasted like

Call me hasty and uninformed, but scientists are pretty worthless.

The Jetsons told me that by the year 2000, we should have hover-cars, pellets that contain three-course meals, robot maids, and sprockets. Where are we now? I’m still getting the common cold every 3 weeks, there hasn’t been a device created to help me find the remote when it’s stuck somewhere in the couch, and I still have to cook food. COOK I tell you!

Now you guys are killing 400 year old clams that were most assuredly wise as hell. Those clams could have been the modern day Zordon to my Red Ranger. But nooo, you guys had to immediately cut them in half because you assumed they were dead. Sounds pretty inept to me. Wait a second. Now that I think about it, I should be a scientist. High pay, no real expectations, and tons of notoriety.

Maybe they’re not so worthless after all…
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-Charles Barkley appeared in 97% of the commercials on TNT during All-Star coverage. Looks like somebody's getting close to paying off their millions in gambling debt. Not going to prison, it rocks, it rocks. On the real, I will have that $5 box in my hands before next week.

-Drake, just refusing to come out with an album. Just happy to be there I guess. Anyone who watched this in high definition definitely saw way to much of what this guy looks like though. It made Sprite significantly less appealing. On the real (part 2), I will have a Sprite with that $5 box that I will have in my hands before next week.
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^...I'm on to you Zach Randolph.

In what can be donned as the “blackest event” of the year (that isn’t the BET Awards or the now defunct Source Awards), the NBA All-Star game came to Dallas last night.

NBA All-Star Weekend tends to kick the shit out of all other sports’ all-star events. The Pro-Bowl was laughable, baseball sucks, and I’m pretty sure the NHL can’t afford to have an all-star game. Oh, the NBA can afford it. When you combine Mark Cuban and Jerry Jones, at least 10 million get tossed around for no reason.

Celebrity game: let’s watch T.O., an uncomfortably old Dominique Wilkins/Clyde Drexler, Lisa Leslie (playing the role of Juwanna Mann), and random shit actors struggle to dribble and hit lay-ups (sorry Turk). Not my cup of tea.

Rookie-Sophomore Game: aka All-Star game Jr. It is by far the most selfish, arrogant, display of basketball played all year. It was awesome. Michael Beasley lost his mind and shot roughly 46 shots while recording zero passes. Brook Lopez was wayy to chill to be pissed though.

Skills Challenge: No one really tries and Steve Nash is the man, so he deserved to win.

Three Point Contest: My money (none because I have none) was on the youthful Stephen Curry. He literally has 2 of the most awkward patches of pseudo-goatee I have ever seen. He needed that trophy to get into the bars and after-parties that night. Too bad Paul “I must be tripping balls on ‘shrooms because I said I am one of the best shooters in NBA history” Pierce won.

Slam Dunk Contest: Awful. DeRozan did have a very legit dunk with that between the legs, 2-handed reverse, but everything else was borderline pathetic. I don’t care what any of you say, but, Gerald Wallace was shitfaced from the moment his plane landed in Dallas until Monday morning. He did two 2-handed dunks and called it a Saturday, because there were more drinks to drink. In the game itself, he air-balled a shot and dribbled out of bounds. He played it exactly how I would on my first all-star game appearance. Good man.

The All-Star Game itself: Made up for everything pretty much. A phenomenal final song in an otherwise shitty concert that made you forget about the 10 other shitty songs the band played. Err something. I feel like every player (except drunk-ass Gerald Wallace and old-ass Tim Duncan) had 20 pts. Everyone was flying around, hitting shots, and entertaining the crowd. It was truly a display of the best basketball players in the world on one court. I wish the game went about 7 overtimes, forcing Kobe to sub in and take 13 shots in a row with a sweater vest, sprained-ankle, and Lebron-Wade double teaming him. Oh yea, Dwight Howard hit a 3. Good Sunday.

Oh yea, I guess Valentine’s Day happened too. Must have missed the memo on that one.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

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J. Beiber killed it.

Friday, February 12, 2010

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The artists include (and this is for real): Lil Wayne, Kanye West, Will.I.Am, T-Pain, Bizzy Bone, Kid Cudi, LL Cool J, Snoop Dogg, Drake, Mann, Nipsey Hussle, Busta Rhymes and Swizz Beatz, as well as, Miley Cyrus, Wyclef Jean, Jamie Foxx, Josh Groban, Keri Hilson, Zac Brown Band, Akon, Brandy, Melanie Fiona, Mya, Musiq Soulchild, Katharine McPhee, Trey Songz, Faith Evans, Joel and Benji Madden, members of Sugarland, Jennifer Hudson, Jason Mraz, India.Arie, Mary Mary, Tyrese Gibson, Raphael Saadiq, Rob Thomas, Usher, the Fray's Isaac Slade, pianist Ethan Bortnick, Enrique Iglesias, Robin Thicke, Maroon 5's Adam Levine, the Jonas Brothers, Nicole Scherzinger, Julianne Hough, Barbra Streisand, Carlos Santana, Natalie Cole, BeBe Winans, Orianthi, Heart's Ann and Nancy Wilson, Freda Payne, Harry Connick Jr., Earth, Wind & Fire, the Beach Boys' Brian Wilson and Al Jardine, Tony Bennett, composer A.R. Rahman, "American Idol" judge Randy Jackson, Patti Austin and Gladys Knight. Actors Jeff Bridges, Vince Vaughn and Jimmy Jean-Louis were there, as well as some "WATW" offspring: Nicole Richie (Lionel's daughter), "Parks and Recreation" star Rashida Jones (Quincy's daughter) and the members of 3T (the sons of Tito Jackson), Taj, Taryll and TJ Jackson.

Not even kidding. This may be the most epic song of all time. When you put Justin Beiber, Isaac Slade (of the Fray), Randy Jackson, Nicole Richie, and T-Pain in the same studio how can this go wrong.
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^pretty baller heart, huh?

In all honesty, I put no solid effort into getting a date unless you count sloppy bar number exchanges and poor follow-ups as effort. It would be tough to meet a girl the week before Valentine’s Day anyway. That would instantly set me up for disaster: “No, we aren’t going out to dinner; I don’t even know your last name”, “Oh yea, I got you some chocolates, but you are bat-shit crazy if you think I am not going to eat half of these”, “Roses? Are you kidding me? In this economic climate” and lastly, “What’s your last name again?” So I guess it’s for the best I don’t have a date. It saves me a huge smack mark across my face and water getting spilled in my lap…even though that could lead to a sympathy date if I muster up enough old-school strength to put on a quality sad/defeated/puppy-dog face.

It looks grim, but I am a fighter, and what do fighters do? They channel the “Thomas the Engine” mentality and eliminate “can’t” from their vocabulary. I’m going to use this failure as fuel to make this a memorable weekend nonetheless. I am going to terrorize the bar scene as well as dress my ass off. If neither of those things succeeds, I might as well just mail it in.

This guy, though, doesn’t plan to lose.
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Everyone in the world let out a collective, “Damn” when this thing was all said and done. We really didn’t know how to react because it was kind of terrifying. South Park explained it best, that the Chinese are probably going to take over the world if they are able to put together a ceremony like that. Plus they outnumber us by about half a billion people.

I’m not getting that same worried feeling from Vancouver. Call me crazy, but I don’t think 4000 French-Canadians are going to put together anything close to the terrifyingly spectacular performance that was the Summer Olympics. Additionally, the Winter Olympics suck. Shaun White’s going to win like 8 golds, some figure skater is going to fall and then have an unsuccessful magazine shoot circuit, and viewership will dwindle as the days go on.

I’m sorry, but you can’t get that excited for the JV game when you know what the Varsity is capable of.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

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Since it's apparently video day on the blog, I am going to throw out a home grown selection made not but 10 minutes ago (not the song, the video), with some of the strangest, most oddly nostalgic (for a guy that wasn't in any of the pictures) composition of photos. Kind of made me feel like I was in the band.

Anyways, check them out. I like the song a lot, but I am a sucker for a violin.

Leave some comments on how they sound...or check the box that says "interesting" or "cool."
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Can I call FanDango (does that still exist) and put myself at the top of the list for tickets to this movie? I'm so golly gosh darn excited, I can burst!

On a serious note, we are at crunch time and I still have no date for the showing of "Valentine's Day" tomorrow...looks like it's about that time to pull the goalie.
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Solidfest 2010.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

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As I get word of this impending storm that is apparently going to destroy Boston leaving only myself and cockroaches alive, I had to reminisce a bit about the pure joy of having a snow day.

Snow day buzz began well before snow or rain touched the ground. Whenever the weatherman mentioned “freezing rain” it was on. I’ve been blessed with being from area of inexplicable weather changes and extreme cold, so places were well prepared for snow. If it was snowing 3 feet, the plows were on it with the quickness. Freezing rain, though, was the bugaboo of any vehicle. Freezing rain leads to black ice which leads to vehicular stagnation and hilarious spills.

As a kid (from K-12) I would wake up on a potential snow day with unusual excitement. It can best be equated to betting a shitload of money on a horse knowing it was going to win. I’d pretty much sprint out of bed and push my mom over in an effort to check the school closings on TV while simultaneously blasting all radios. Both sight and hearing were at full attention. Of course I’d be too jazzed up on all the Trix I ate the night before to actually see or hear my school’s name. Then the moment it showed whether it was, P.S. 106, M.S. 180, or Clinton High School (Boston College hasn’t closed for anything since like 1898 during a bread crisis or something), the moment would be nothing short of spectacular. Mom’s look was a straight concoction of shock, fear, and defeat, especially when I was little. Just mad video games, Nick Jr, and extra sleep. The life really.

Now I have a commute that doesn’t stop through rain, sleet, and apparently 4 feet of snow.
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^standing a little too close there...

It literally is exactly what it sounds like. Koalas are rampantly contracting AIDS (though scientists now call it KIDS, which I'm positive won't present a problem at all) and Chlamydia at an outrageous clip--like a whole lot more than any creature should be contracting such diseases. Borderline becoming extinct because they can’t keep it in their fur. Chill out guys.

For the sheer feeling of me being ridiculously uncomfortable posting this, I am just going to leave it here, look at it if you want.

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By some act of God, I survived the night. Let me tell you, waking up unable to walk because of an impossibly stiff back, sprained knee/ankle, and overall lack of will is pretty liberating.

It also makes me feel great to wake up and see that Lady Gaga was pretty hot back in the day (excluding that little kid picture because I am not creepy, and she looks pretty pissed) and my confusion behind her could finally be put to rest. No, not what her gender is, but if she is actually hot. She’s confused me for some time now. She looks great 33% of the time, looks awful 33% of the time, and looks strange 33% of the time. The strange percentage is the wild card. If I am digging it at the time, she is deemed hot, if not, she is awful.

These old pictures fill that HUGE 1% void and give me some real closure. As coach Dennis Green would say, “She is what I thought she was!!”
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It just hit me today, when I was having a fireside chat with my immune system. They basically told me that they've started taking plays off out there. Pretty much, within one hour, I breathed in and felt something wasn't right. Minutes later I got a sour throat. Seconds following that, I was coughing up a lung and my index finger was bleeding because I aggressively tried to rip open a Rice Krispy Treat. It's like c'mon. You can't take god damn plays off out there immune system.

I take two vitamins a day, I work out at a regular clip, and participate in sports leagues year round. Two weeks ago, one of my toenails (big toe) was pitch black. Literally dead. Next morning I tried to put on my socks (NOTE: this gets gross) and heard a slight crack noise. I took off the sock and realized my toenail was gone. Just plopped right off. Hmm. This bridges me into what happened tonight. My left toenail (big toe), seemingly in good health, just decided to come off too. This one wasn't pitch black, so the gumshoes were of no help to me in this situation. I'm a big ball of concern and confusion. Like, why are my toenails coming off and why do I get violent flu-like symptoms within minutes. I saw this shit happen once. It was in the movie "The Fly" starring the immortal Jeff Goldblum. Am I turning into a fucking bug? Or is it a wrap for me. I'd rather be like a scorpion or a praying mantis, but I'm cool with being the gigantic, still somehow studly, fly on the wall.

On the real though, I think work league basketball is the main cause. In the span of four game minutes, I was bleeding from my lip, got undercut and fell very hard on my back, and bumped knees with someone extremely hard. I think my cerebellum is crashing too. My balance and coordination is just haywire.

Needless to say, I need to see some progression on this toenail growth, or I am probably going to die.

Happy Blogging Everyone!!!

Monday, February 8, 2010

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--oh please's resistible.

^(By saying this is the “WTF Movie Of The Week” I imply that I will be doing this every week. I won’t, I’m too lazy and forgetful, like a chubby puppy.)

Air Bud. What the eff guys?! How did this movie slip through the cracks? I need to give my dad a call and thank the shit out of him for sitting through this with me when I was little. He must have hated every second of that experience. It’s like bizarro world in this movie where nothing makes sense and rules aren’t recognized, kind of like Mexico.

Welcome to Smalltown, USA, where a shitty basketball middle school is the setting. Insert lonely kid with heart of gold as the title character. While shooting hoops outside, said kid just stumbles on the fact that, “Oh my dog can make it rain, that’s weird. I’ll ask coach if he can try out for the squad.” Coach pulls the ol’ “I dunno, I better check the rule book” thing, the league commish comes in and can’t find a rule against it, Bud makes the squad. Dog proceeds to drop 37 a game, break the all time basketball record of allowed travels without a whistle, improve the spirit of Smalltown, USA, steal Michael Jordan’s nickname, and get looks from Coach K. and Tom Izzo (I just made that up, but they’re scoundrels and wouldn’t be above signing a dog).

Snap back to reality. What the HELL is going on? No thumbs on a dog, not one. Same amount of hind legs. Crippling colorblindness. Lack of ability to reason. The list goes on and on. Dude’s got intangibles. You can’t teach that. If that wasn’t enough, Bud is also an all-state wide-out and shortstop. Is this dog just rolling in dimes, cocaine, and Escalades? The movie didn’t even try to look into the recruiting this dog underwent, his anxiety issues, his inevitable drug problem, his distrust/mistreatment of women (calling them “bitches” all the time—Get it? It was a smart joke), and lack of commitment to the team concept. Forget “The U” ESPN. I want a 30 for 30 on Air Bud. Where is he now? Dominating the NBDL, CFL, and the minors? Or is he balls deep in a pile of coke somewhere wondering what could have been?

Now that’s a movie dad and I can see.
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Ok, maybe babies aren't that bad after all.
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When I hear this, I think, “whoa, so I can sleep in the clothes I am going to wear tomorrow, so I can wake up like 15 minutes later?” Yes, thoughts like that get my engine revved these days. Yes, my life sucks, its cool.

What worries me though is the fact that girls are going to start slacking out there. In college, you knew a girl was slacking when she wore those spandex pants, uggs, and some sort of fleece/winter coat combo (because I live(d) in the tundra). That was enough for us. Now girls are going to be strolling into class with PajamaJeans on, confusing the hell out of all the hormone driven college guys needing a pick me up. Granted, I wasn’t much to look at rolling to class every day with literally the same sweatpants and ill-spirited grimace on my face, but people knew what they were going to get out of me. If girls switch up the routine on the guys out there, class just might not be worth going to anymore.

You may have made several observations that I will clear up. Yes, I wore sweatpants or basketball shorts to class everyday from October-May (I dressed like the god damn President the first month of school—only get one chance to make a first impression *LIFE LESSON). Yes, I was that guy that just stared at every girl (not obviously..but sneakily) that walked into the room when I sat down. I was what some would call, creepy. And yes, I am going to test the bounds of PajamaJeans as soon as they come into the mail.

We’ll see how quick I get kicked out of the club after an uncomfortable conversation following dancing with a girl in those pants.
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^It is going to be more or less a scene from Resident Evil on Bourbon Street in like 10ish days.

Congratulations to the New Orleans Saints on doing what my team couldn’t do. Props need to be given where they’re due, but let’s think about the repercussions of this victory. Sure the team and the city needed it, but did they really…need it? If you didn’t know, Mardi Gras is about 8 days away and they don’t half-ass it down there. Beads, fires, alcohol, broken glass, and livestock is what Merriam-Webster has defined as Mardi Gras. People are hungover for at least 72 hours, jail is the best sleep option, and shit gets robbed, pillaged, and burned…the “I’m in a pretty bad situation” trifecta.

I’m not saying that they shouldn’t party it up, but I am saying maybe take it easy. You have nearly made a full and relatively flawless recovery from Katrina; it’d be terrible to stunt the progress by destroying the city. I don’t want to pick up a paper 10 days from now and read, “Zombies have completely taken over Bourbon Street”, even though that’d be sweet. New Orleans reminds me of that kid that sprained his ankle really badly, ices the injury for like 4 days, and then tries to play an intramural game 3 days later (i.e. me back in ’07).

Party safe, rep your Saints jerseys, earn some beads, but just don’t burn shit down.

Friday, February 5, 2010

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--In the meantime, let's watch some Dwight Howard highlights as the Magic take on the Celtics this SuperBowl Sunday.

Seriously, I am rooting for the Saints this weekend. Drew Brees is awesome and Mark Sanchez hurt Dwight Freeney's ankle. Life is good.

Have a good weekend...

Thursday, February 4, 2010

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-as long as there is a statue of this image somewhere on campus.

To no one's surprise, Sean "P. Diddy" Combs has come up with another scheme to get another substantial sum of income. This one though, is something I am potentially interested in. Like, I'm cool with Ciroc if it wasn't like $80 a bottle. I'm fine with Rubinoff for $11.99 thank you very much. And I don't have the willpower to apply for one of your reality shows. I couldn't deal with the fan mail and facebook thumbs are too sensitive to keep clicking accept/ignore/messaging hot girls. This new idea is a bandwagon I can hop on. Diddy U: The Entrepreneurial School aka. Another Bad Boy Joint: Take that, Take that.

Sign my ass up. What do you need, like a 27 on the GMAT to have a chance? That's like 45% of my first name and I could probably get into Diddy's school. Instead of going to work, I'd love to attend a 9am--Make ALOT Of Money Without Any Discernible Talent 101, or a Life Without Biggie 200 class. It'd be really important to gain those valuable tools in my quest to become the top blogger in the world (haha).

Not looking forward to office hours though. I'm not down to sit in room, have a bald dude, and a panel of about 7 people I've never seen before tell me, "I can either take that test, or not take the test" with Diddy emerging during the final and expelling me from the school. That wouldn't be good for my psyche.

But if girls half as hot as her are attending, I'm going to be taking out a few loans.
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Well, I am sold. I'd straight up marry Meredith Viera right now if she magically plopped on my front porch.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

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Personally, I want to cry for these guys, the reporters, the fans, and everyone that watched these videos. There is no level of awkwardness that can match that of a person trying exceptionally hard at something to no avail. Like, those coconuts had no chance of all. You just felt bad for the guy. Seeing the reporters faces, it was clear they wanted to make that "cut" motion towards the camera guy, but didn't have the heart. They just took an L for their newscast. It simply wasn't worth further breaking the coconut guy's already broken spirit.

Watermelon guy just pissed me off. He took the whole meat-head approach of, "at first you don't succeed, give yourself a mild-severe concussion." It didn't fly. What also didn't fly was the disturbed looks from the people in the crowd. It was as if they were watching a small puppy get slaughtered. Women were acting like they were at some pristine event like the Kentucky Derby. You're on a dutch gameshow, there is like a 68% chance some fruit is getting smashed.

Moral of the story, life is in fact, not about the effort you put in.
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So Time Magazine just named Asian Carp the most invasive animals in the world. I hope they realize what they’ve just won. They have been voted by the most esteemed and respected scientists in the world as the most annoying animal. Time doesn’t mess around with its voting either. When you are “Man of The Year” (my future award), you are going to rub the shit all over the faces of everyone you meet. I’m talking mooning people out of car windows level cocky.

I’m not one to judge, but these animals just look like assholes. There is a distinct look of, “yo man, I hope you don’t mind that I ate that DiGiorno you bought yesterday, I was starving bro” on their face. Key stats on these things: a) they get big as fuck (4 feet, 100lbs) b) they jump out of the water for the sole purpose of maiming people, c) they eat everything (literally everything--boots, old aluminum cans, etc), d) nothing eats them. People are legitimately leaning towards a pre-planned partial genocide of these things. There hasn’t been a pre-planned partial genocide since my essay on why mosquitoes need to be extinct back in ’05…and the Dodo bird (I know what they did to you were just misunderstood).

If such an event goes down, sign me up. I’ll have my “I quit” slip in the boss' hand in 3 minutes flat, get my harpoon gun and book a flight to Michigan with the quickness.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

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-thanks to Unreality Mag-

Back when movies were movies, man I tell ya. Now we are in a day in age where scientists purposely teach dolphins to kill the President. Gone are the days where that shit happened by accident.

How did they execute such a concept? Is there a way to unwittingly teach a dolphin to do anything? Like, he had to slip on a banana peel, slide into the dolphin tank, attach a laser to its head, teach it how to orient itself with a laser on its head, infuse the dolphin with murderous ill-will towards the President, and arrange the President and the dolphin to meet in an ocean setting or at Sea World.

I mean, I’ve seen stranger things, but too many chips need to fall into place.
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I wake up this morning with the usual concoction of depression, hope (immediately followed by hopelessness), and acceptance. Before I said what up to Matt, Meridith, Al, and Anne, I did a mini-prayer for the groundhog to do whatever it had to do to shorten winter. I wasn’t against the groundhog doing some unlawful shit either. If it had to murder and pillage small neighborhoods to make it happen, then so be it. I’m tired of my nose running after being outside for 4 seconds.

Low and behold, that bastard casted a shadow. Why are we putting our trust in a groundhog? Is a groundhog a prairie dog? And is a prairie dog a guinea pig? I don’t want to put my trust in seasons over an enigma. Another question. Do California and Florida recognize Groundhog’s day as a holiday? “Oh, bro, that fat rat thing said that the temperature is going to be like 1 degree colder than normal these next 6 weeks, sucks man”—that was an excerpt of a fictional conversation I just made up between a Florida bro and a Cali bro.

I, Dub Jeezy, motion to put groundhog’s day in the hands of one special homeless man every year. (Editors Note: I do have a strange obsession with the homeless. It’s fine) His/her value to determining our seasons will be based on how incoherent and bummy the aforementioned bum has been throughout the year. It’s essentially the MVB award. I’d say that’s a pretty high honor for a person that dedicates his life to sleeping, panhandling, and all-around terrorizing people.

Congress, make it happen.

Monday, February 1, 2010

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I proved this rule in late 2004. Don't run after a dude with potential to dunk in a high school basketball game. It could only end badly. You'll either a) get dunked on, or b) knock the ball away and deny the crowd the dunk. Oh yea, my coach sat me for the last 13 seconds of a game because of that and covered my face in spit with how much he laced into me.

No skin off my back though. I'm not trying to end up on the front page of the local paper with balls on my forehead.

thanks HotClicks and Jimmy Traina
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Just kidding! I don’t have a plan. Well not a logical, well thought out plan to achieve a beautiful date to the movie of 2010. Unless, you count me drinking 8 beers at home before going out to a bar between the nights of Thursday and Sunday, this “plan” is probably not in the cards.

Seriously though, is this going to be the greatest romantic comedy of all time? At last count, I noticed there were like 47 different A/high-B list actors in this movie. It could go the way of the 2004 Los Angeles Lakers and suck, or it can take the Ocean’s Eleven/Crash approach and be a wild success. I vote the latter. Main problem--like 1000% of the time, you need a date to go to a romantic comedy. What the hell is a date? It’s not 1956; there are no more lines to determine what a date is and what isn’t. Is Uno’s a date or an insult? I don’t know anymore.

But god dammit, I want to see this movie, so I am going to have to balls up and find out.
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The FCC was all over that shit. Just liberally pressing that "blurt out" button.

Good to see Travis, yet again, distancing himself from his affiliation with Blink 182.
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^I'm sorry, but I don't trust you to take care of my cough. Not anymore.

I had my usual daily epiphany this morning. I know, it kind of takes away the significance of an epiphany if you have them daily, but they are usually stupid and not worth looking into, like rap lyrics, things to say in an interview, ideas to write “bromance novels”, etc. My epiphany today struck a cord because it was literally happening at that moment. Whenever you get a cough, you buy Hall drops right? Robitussin is the Starter Jacket of this generation when it comes to cough suppressants. No one does that shit anymore. Mom ain’t around to force it down (sorry Mom, I really appreciated your assistance during my sick times). I’ve been rockin’ Halls drops since roughly 8th grade whenever I had the faintest of coughs. It’s been a fun ride, but I definitely have turned a blind eye to a lot of the sketch ball shit Halls has been doing

“Oh, let’s make a really delicious flavor that really does nothing to help your throat, but tastes awesome.” That’s candy Halls, we already have that. Then you were like, “let’s make on that is strictly Vitamin C.” Nope, not buying that one either. We have orange juice and Scooby-Doo fruit snacks (ahem..) to handle our vitamin C needs these days. My epiphany surfaced when I thought about all the ploys Halls has implemented over the years. Usually, when you do well at something, you focus on that, not other stuff. It just hit me that Halls have never made a cough or sore throat better at all. I feel like it has mainly a placebo/Michael Jordan’s water from Space Jam, sort of effect on us. I’ve crushed 2-3 bags of Halls in about a 6 hour span this weekend and I still sound like Louis Armstrong. Suppressant my ass, I am coughing with 3 of you sugar coated bastards in there supposedly coating my throat. I’m calling shenanigans on you Halls.

Like “The Who”, I won’t get fooled again---Cheap Super Bowl plug…go Saints?