Wednesday, July 30, 2008

blog of power

this is an ode to a scenario a pal and i used to act out back in the day so please, overlook the lack of timeliness. okay, remember back to when we (the usofa) found saddam hussein hiding in that "spider hole?" well, couple that with the underreported fact that saddam was given the key to detroit in 1980 for making a huge donation to some local church and you've got all the ingredients for a hi-larious situation... and maybe even a moving picture! just imagine the troops descending upon saddam's squalid little hole only to find him all balled up in the fetal position, desperately clutching something to his chest. the soldiers raise their guns and start screaming at him to drop whatever he's holding. saddam slowly stands up and raises that key like he-man raises his "sword of power" and bellows "by the power of detroit city... I HAVE THE POWER!!!" the soldiers all lower their weapons, take a step back in shock, awe and confusion as their faces are drenched with the golden glare from the key and they mutter to themselves "bollocks! he's got the key to detroit city... now what?" then the title screen drops and the iraqi folk music rocks: "the sultan of detroit city." and. with this, we've got ourselves the funniest moving picture of all-time. just think "austin powers" with saddam in a fish out of water type farce where he must acclimate himself to american culture as he learns to temper his fascist ways and, in doing so, falls in love with america, and us with him... as the magical key of detroit city unlocks all of our hearts.

los angeles was rocked by a 5.4, 5.6 and/or 5.8 earthquake yesterday and, as with most natural disasters, all people care about is calling their loved ones, worrying about damage, injuries, plate tectonics, blah, blah, blah, boo, hoo hooooooo. me? i didn't care about none of that. all i knew was that this was going to provide an excellent opportunity to engage in the art of conversation with people i would otherwise not have enough game to do so with. first, we all get ushered outside our building at work (which apparently is the WORSE thing to do during an earthquake) and, while outside, i see some nice young ladies crying so i hugged them and "accidentally" felt them up. then, later on in the workday, i was in an elevator with this attractive lady i always see around the office but am always too scared to talk to so i said "so, how about that earthquake?" yada, yada, yada... i now have a pair of panties in the bottom drawer of my desk and also need to find a new job. then, after work i had to go to the bank to get a couple rolls of quarters for laundry and found myself in line behind an attractive lady and i say "so, how about that earthquake?" yada, yada, yada... i can't find one of my rolls of quarters and my laundry is still dirty. lastly, i had to return my rental car to the rental place and i said to the dude at the desk "so, how about that earthquake?" yada, yada, yada... my bum "hertz."

ba dum BLOG!!!

Monday, July 28, 2008

blog hardy

have you seen that show on the lifetime channel called "how to look good naked?" me neither, but i'm blogging on it anyway. basically, they round up a bunch of beached leviathans, cover up their blow holes and, through the magic of smoke, mirrors and self-esteem, they learn them how to feel like they look good naked as opposed to actually looking good naked. first off, let's look good clothed before we look good naked. let's not put the proverbial cart before the proverbial horse. i'm not throwing internet stones from my glass blog either; i don't look good clothed or naked but no one's gonna' care what you look like naked unless they like what you look like clothed. no one looks at some chub club and says to himself, "hmmm, she's no picnic clothed but there's a fair chance she'll improve once the clothes come off." secondly, if we like you enough clothed to actually get you naked, chances are you'll turn out the lights anyway. there, "how to look good naked": turn out the lights. last of all, they have a super fruity, gay dude hosting the show. yes, let's trust the credibility of a homosexual to tell these chub clubs when it's safe to drop the tarps. if you really want to make this show work, have some chauvinistic, dirt bag tell you when and if you look good naked.

if fashion can jump the shark then the ed hardy clothing line has officially done so. admittedly, i don't know much about ed hardy and his eponymous clothing line but his t-shirts are the brightly coloured ones with bedazzled tigers eating bedazzled skulls with bedazzled snakes slithering through the skull's bedazzled eye sockets. i accidentally wandered into one of his stores about a year ago and all the shirts were like a $100. yes, ed hardy is the official clothing line for douchebag poseurs and you can't roll through hollywood without seeing at least twenty line bearded dude bra's rockin' their ed hardy t-shirts, with matching ed hardy trucker hats while drinking their ed hardy energy drinks which contains bedazzled tiger semen from tibet. yes, ed hardy has a line of energy drinks. even then, a bunch of elitist poseur, wannabe cast of "entourage" douchebags aren't enough to jump the bedazzled shark alone... oh no. i knew ed hardy had officially jumped the shark when i saw a bunch of twelve-year-old mexican kids with their widow peaked, bedazzled faux hawks running around the galleria in their ed hardy wear. how did this happen? since when can twelve-year-old mexican kids afford $100 t-shirts? i'll tell you how; ed hardy must've decided to go on the cheap and has released an el-cheapo line which will first infiltrate the junior highs, the high schools and then dorky white guys like me will realize that they too can now afford ed hardy wear and the world will be overcome by an army of bedazzled, poseur douchebags.

ba dum BLOG!!!
editor's note: per the ed hardy bit: when dorky bloggers can't fit in they make fun of those who try and do fit in.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

ba dum BLOGger has no "game" vol. 4

now, i promised myself when i first started blogging my wooing woes that i wouldn't blog my triumphs; ever so rare, fleeting and less than triumphant they may be (in case you're keeping score at home, i'm running at a 20:1 clip with the former being the miscues). although my success stories may even be more tragically hilarious than my failures but winners aren't endearing, losers are and i blog to endear. yet, i will blog a recent peccadillo i've had with a nice young lady only because she's a friend (not just some ho), a friend of the blog, gave me her permission (methinks) and it is highly relevant to my most recent enterprise. i also feel compelled to acknowledge that, yes, i realize that most of my "no game" adventures only amount to one insignificant conversation but that's how it goes with bloggers with no "game" - that's about as far as we get.

i'll be brief and less than detailed in my latest, mild success story: went out with my pal to a bar, met up with some female acquaintances of ours, yada, yada, yada, as i was rounding first base with the more fortunate of the acquaintances she stops me and says "i have a question i need to ask you." and, even though i was silly drunk, i knew EXACTLY what she was gonna' ask me and even said it with her as if i were following the little white balls in a sing-a-long: "ARE YOU GAY???" oops i did it again, i played with your heart, you thought i was GAY... ooh baby, baby. i said "what do you think?" yada, yada, yada, i got into a pickle betwixt first and second. and, yes, i realize the irony of referencing sing-a-longs, little white bouncing balls and quoting a britney song all while trying to convince everyone on the internets that i'm not gay... oh, and the pickle too.

so, that was t
hat, and now we're onto another night. as it happens, i went out with my same pal, plus one, and met up with these very same female acquaintances, plus one, but at a different bar. quick digression: i haven't been to this bar in months and now all the bartenders wear snazzy t-shirts with the bar's name emblazoned on them and have raised the price on drinks from like $5 to $8. this shizz is bush, t-shirts and jacking up the prices three dollars at a skeezy, hole-in-the-wall dive bar???? bush. anyway, at one point, some decent looking chick, we'll call her "ellen," is clearly googly eying me and gives me the come hither look and finger but i play coy in my attempts to feign some "game." in the meantime, i decide to reconnoiter the situation and notice "ellen" has some dude holding her hand and is provocatively dancing with her. while trying to further asses the situation the dude notices me creepin' but instead of gettin' all territorial on me, he actually starts smiling at me all friendly like. of course, when you read me blog it in such a way, it's obvious what was happening here but not in my drunken stupor.

now that i feel i have the dude's blessing and have played coy long enough, "ellen" and i slowly reel each other in; in synchronized, googly eye fashion. we meet and she kinda' arches her back in a way where our crotches bump and she coquettishly pokes me in the chest with her finger and inquires... "ARRRRE YOOOOOU GAAAAAAY???" between the alcohol, her creepy, obviously gay dude still smiling at me over her shoulder and the fact that i'm tired of everyone thinking i'm gay, i begin to get downright indignant. i say "no, i'm not gay. do i look gay?" "ellen" responds; "oh, never mind. you're no fun then." "what, straight guys can't be fun?" "no," and she starts to walk away from me." "wait, are you gay? i ask. "yep, i'm gay." says "ellen." now, my pal who was accompanying me at the bar thinks she was looking for another gay guy to innocently hook up with because that's what lipstick lesbians do but i'm resigned to the fact that she was merely just pimping me out to her creepy, smiling gay friend.

seriously, what do i have to do? is ba dum BLOGger gonna' have to rape a bitch?!?!? seriously, i'm gonna' invite all my friends and acquaintances out to some public place and then i'm gonna' grab some unsuspecting hot, but not too hot (to make a point), chick and force myself on and in her. seriously though, this whole gay thing is becoming quite the disconcerting pattern. i'm not a metrosexual, i have a deep, non lisping voice,
i'm not neat or organised, i'm not an emo and i like sports. however, i am a homophile, i like musicals and show tunes, i like disneyland, have double jointed hips and more than dabble and/or diddle in homoerotic humour. look, my sense of humour is so refined and sophisticated that it transcends conventional, societal ideas of gender and i refuse to compromise it for all you blockhead, simpletons of the world. okay, so maybe i do have the cards of perception stacked against me but i'm not gay... theriouthly guyth, thtop it!!!!

ba dum BLOG!!!

editor's note: what do you think? rape humour: yea or nay? and, yes, britney is sportin' a vaGINORMOUS camel toe.

Friday, July 25, 2008


with all the hullabaloo over "batman 2," (one nerd dies every time i call it "batman 2") i feel compelled, as the most underrated (non rated?) blogger, to breakdown the most overrated moving picture since "titanic." okay, just to get it out of the way, everything with the joker was great. for all the hype heath ledger is receiving, it's actually not enough - he really was that good. however, the rest of the movie was crap; surrounding the joker with the clunker that is "batman 2" is like building a disneyland in the middle east - no one wants to walk through fallujah to get to "it's a small world." look, batman/bruce wayne is the most boring super hero there is. nobody cares about a humourless, bazillionaire who schtups russian ballet stars, drives a modified tank/motorcycle/lamborghini, has a gadget for every situation and still isn't over the death of his parents from when he was like ten. nobody would want to be this guy's friend and, if you got stuck talking to him at a party, you'd want to kill yourself. plus, every other line in the movie was some heavy handed platitude about "what it takes to be a hero," "the sacrifice of being a hero" and "the thin line betwixt heroism and villainy." ohhhh, the brooding, blowhardy misery of it all... okay, it wasn't a bad movie (maybe a 6 1/2 or a 7) but over $300 million through two weeks and 95% of rotten tomatoes??? methinks not. give me the onomatopoeic, pantyhoed batman from the 70s anyday.

i am so tired of and admittedly, i love all that celebrity shizz and still read perezhilton on an hourly basis. however, i have maintained a boycott of tmz for like six months, thank you. see, all the intrusive paparazzi/stalkerish stuff doesn't bother me so much; it's the fact that perez hilton, who looks like some sort of transgendered frankenberry, and harvey levin, who sports the combo of muscle t's and grecian formula, think that they're the "stars." their sites or shows aren't so much about celebrities as much as they're about using the celebs as a platform to prop up and promote themselves as big deals. with perez it's understandable and less pathetic since he's a young, lonely, failed actor... not to mention a chubby, cuban, lesbian. but harvey is a 57-year-old lawyer, for crying out loud, who had a legitimate career in law. wait, now i'm reading that harvey may or may not be a homosexual....interesting. anywho, i say somebody starts a website based solely on following around harvey and perez, documenting each and every one of their moves in an ironic twist on their own websites. i'm talking insufferable reporting/stalking though like 24/7 paparazzi surveillance, searching through garbage cans (i'd pay anything for a tube of harvey's used grecian formula), paying off friends and family members for stories - everything!

ba dum BLOG!!!

editor's note: sincerest apologies for lack (and quality) of content but ba dum BLOGger is in the doldrums of serious blogger's block :(

Monday, July 21, 2008

ba dum BLOGger has no "game" vol. 3

before getting started i feel compelled to share a therapeutic breakthrough i had recently that relates to ba dum BLOGger having no "game." no, not an actual therapy session where i lay on a couch and rap with a bearded hack in a tweed jacket with elbow patches but where i just turn out the lights, lay on my bed and quietly berate myself. i was trying to figure out what created the loser whose blog you are reading today and i thought back to my formative years and who my male influences were. i believe it was about the sixth grade (eleven-years-old) when i began watching syndicated episodes of "seinfeld" (this would last for the next seven or eight years). this is when i met my most favourite fictional character of all-time: george costanza. now, i didn't just think george was the most hilarious creature i've ever seen but i wanted to be him. i didn't care that he was a short, stalky bald man of questionable repute who couldn't keep a woman, had no career, was passive aggressive, a compulsive liar and found himself on the wrong end of one precarious situation after the other - all i cared about was that he was funny and if i could be as big a loser as him i'd be funny too. so, to make a long blog short, it's happened. i've successfully, subconsciously evoked the spirit of george costanza; i stopped growing far before my genetic potential, i made myself bald, i have a crappy job, i can't get/keep a woman and i secretly relish every little failure in the name of spinning it towards a humourous and/or whimsical conclusion "for i am costanza, lord of the idiots."

so, as i was leaving a friend's place in burbank the other night, my pal "jerry" text messaged me and told me to meet him at some bar in hollywood. i learned through a series of text messages that he was with his gf and her "cute," very drunk roommate. even though the reason i was leaving my friend's place in burbank was because my cat allergies had sealed my left eye shut, "cute, very drunk roommate" was all i needed to hear to bust a u-turn and head out to hollywood. so, here i am rolling into a grungy dive bar at 1am in my shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops. it's pitch black, loud and everyone but me is hammered. first things first: i gots to go peepee. so i make my way to the can and the second i walk in i can feel my feet get wet from indistinguishable liquid. therefore, i did not venture in any further and did not go peepee for fear of disease.

it took me a bit to find "jerry" and his party because of the danky, dinny goodness of the bar. i finally found him and was introduced to said "cute, very drunk roommate" (we'll call her "laverne" and she wasn't that "cute" but was very drunk) and another girl who was chubby and not previously mentioned in text messages because when telling a story or enticing a friend to roll into a bar at 1am, chubby girls are often omitted, their names forgotten and ironically slip through the cracks altogether. i know, that sounds horrible and it is horrible but it's true; i'm sure girls leave me out of their stories too, so whateva.' anyway, i open up the art of conversation by talking about the wet bathroom floor, my flip-flops and the fact that i may now have hepatitis c... as soon as i said this i realized it was a bad opener but "laverne" shot back with a "that's funny because i have hepatitis a." then i turned to "chub club" and said "now if we can get you hepatitis b then we'd have something..." lolzzz all around!!!

once introductions and lolzzz were out of the way i read the room and realized i was invited as a mere diversion so "jerry" and his girl could get more time alone, which is fine. i then decided to be a big shot and buy a round of drinks for everyone. once i dropped $30, "laverne" and "chub club" decided they wanted to dance. now, i'm a pigeon toed, stiff white guy so dancing always has been and always will be a difficult enterprise for me to undertake; especially when i'm stone cold sober, holding a drink in one hand, am wearing flip flops and still need to go peepee. so, i attempt to dance and can clearly see "laverne's" interest start to wane while i couldn't be less cognizant of "chub club's" chub and/or club (please, "chub club" was and is a perfectly nice lady and i do feel horrible but i just can't pass up the opportunity to blog "chub club" over and over again).

i then decided that i needed to take a break from making an ass out of myself on the dance floor and went to get another drink because when one needs to go peepee and can't, getting another drink is two thumbs up. so, i returned and "chub club" pulls me aside and says "you know what 'laverne' said when you left? she said 'good, pee boy (i guess i was complaining to the point where i had earned a nickname for myself) got the hint and took off." this would hit a normal person who has a modicum of self-esteem hard but for me... it aint no thang but a chicken wang. so, i decide to give "laverne" the cold shoulder and get to dancin' exclusively with "chub club." this goes on for a while until "jerry" pulls me aside and tells me that "chub club" told his girl that she's into me. wait, so did "laverne" really say what "chub club" said she said or did "chub club" pull a power move to kill the competition? i have to say though, if "chub club's" doings were less than above board, i can respect that... not to the point of throwing her a literal or figurative bone, but impressive nonetheless.

so, now i decide to big league both ladies and begin dancing exclusively with "jerry" in a homoerotic manner because i went to all-boys hs and this is what is funny and fun to me. the night ends and we are all ushered outside where, it had been so dark inside, i actually got a better look at "laverne" in the moonlight and realized she really isn't that "cute" but still "very drunk." "laverne" then drunkenly puts her arms around me and starts to try and pull me into her, i temporarily resist because "pee boy" does gots game but, after letting her squirm for a bit, i acquiesce and lean into her non-cuteness only for her to push me away and coquettishly giggle. well, that was about it for "pee boy" because, after a few drinks, i now really, really had to go peepee... plus, visions of giving "laverne" the old golden shower were making like sugar plums and dancing in my head. so i bid everyone adieu and scurried the two blocks back to my car where i found a chain link fence to peepee on and through (important to find something you can actually peepee through, especially when you are wearing flip-flops). once “no longer needing to pee boy” returned home, i bit into a block of cheese like it was an apple and self-gratified myself to “vogue” magazine - coooo-stan-za!!!

ba dum BLOG!!!

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

minced blog

everything is "random" now... random this and random that. all events occurring that can't be rightly explained or weren't expected have all been labeled as randomness. which is okay, i guess, but the word is just becoming played out. especially since the casual banality in the over usage of "randomness" is in direct opposition to the very definition and essence of the word itself. the use of "random" is not random anymore - it's expected, explained and occurring with extreme prejudice. an irony like this hasn't been as surreptitiously in your face since mcdonald's created the grimace who has never once been caught grimacing. in fact, his empty stare and fly catching, syndrome-of-the-downs-esque trap is the exact antithesis of a grimace. so, if you were looking for a word to explain and rightly capture the awkward and unforeseen transition from "random" to "grimace" you might want to call it "capricious," "haphazard," and/or "wanton"... not to be confused with "won ton," a chinese dumpling commonly filled with minced pork - RANDOM!!!

sometimes i'll just stare at people's faces, inevitably creep them out, but more importantly, i'll break down and study their dimensions and features and, in doing so, i realise how little margin for error we really have when it comes to being attractive. and, as all of us average to below average (ugly) guys and gals know, unattractiveness is quite the inconvenience and handicap. now, i hardly feel i'm breaking new ground here (why start now?), but we all like attractive people better; we just do. sure, there's something to be said for being the man with one eye in the land of the blind but who wants to work at the dmv, ride the bus or move to the midwest when we can watch "the hills," go to hannah montana concerts and go on holiday to cancun? what i'm really saying though is that just a centi-millimeter of a tweak to the turn of the nose, the position of the cheekbones or the protrusion of the chin can make a world of difference. really though - a centi-millimeter! i guess what i'm really trying to blog is that i'm just bitter at how i can be infinitely nicer, always funnier, indubitably more interesting and a waaaaaay better blogger than the next guy but since my jaw is a little too wide, my brow a teeny bit low and my hairline a smidgen high i won't get that neat job, i won't get to second base with that hot chick and i won't get to high-five the cool dude with a faux hawk. hey, i'm just as guilty though; you don't see me going to see "wanted" with any morbidly obese fanboys or boofing any ugly, fat girls... often.

two things i've never indulged in and never will indulge in are smoothies and snowboarding. i'll just about try or do anything but not smoothies or snowboarding. i mean, you can't just try anything and do everything just because it's there and everyone else is doing it, right? really though, both smoothies and snowboarding just came out of nowhere sometime during my formative years ('95-'98ish?) and people went wild for them then and people are still gaga over them now. maybe i would've went for it if i had the foresight to see their longevity but i had just been burned by pogs and "the mighty morphin' power rangers" and it was too soon - TOO SOON! sure, i could try a smoothie or go snowboarding but what if i didn't like them? or, even worse, what if i DID like them? then i'd be compelled to patronize every "jamba juice" and/or schlep up to big b'ar every winter weekend. i was perfectly happy and satisfied before smoothies and snowboarding hit the scene so why change? besides, the way i see it, i'm already firmly set with my junk food/recreational vices of taco bell and disneyland.

ba dum BLOG!!!

Monday, July 14, 2008

x-treme blogging

look, i'll admit that i don't really understand all this oil/gas stuff (but neither do you). i'm not even sure if oil and gas are, for all intents and purposes, the same thing or maybe you just need oil to make gas... i really don't know (and neither do you). however, what i do know is that it's very easy for all you myopic simpletons (yes, you) to think oil/gas prices are just an american problem that george dubya bush has orchestrated for the mere reason that he is "evil." if you'd watch the news or use the internets for something other than porno movies and/or fantasy football you'd know that, while gas prices are bad in the usofa, we're probably somewhere in the middle of the pack on the global scale. most of europe is pushing $8, $9, $10 a gallon (i'm not gonna' link to official numbers because i'm a blogger, not a journalist and bloggers don't have to be accurate). while we're what, around $4.50 on average? i'm also not going to bore you (or myself) with all this talk about subsidizing, tax breaks, local/foreign oil, etc. because not only do i not understand it, but neither would you. sure, south american countries like venezuela has gas prices that are only like $1 but that shouldn't count because only drug dealers own cars while everyone else just rides donkeys.

has anyone ever seen anyone ever imbibing a smirnoff ice in a non underage capacity? i had two during my first year of college when i was first learning how to drink and my stomach almost 'xploded from all the sugary, bubbly goodness. seriously though, i don't think i've ever seen anyone buying a six pack from the grocery store nor drinking one at a bar. yet, you'll see plenty of snarkily, clever advertisements for smirnoff ice on the television box and most collegey type bars will have that gigantic, lightningy novelty smirnoff ice bottle glowing behind the bar. maybe they're popular at gay bars, sorority parties, pleasure parties or something... i don't know? but i tend to think they're more of a teenage girl sort of thing. in fact, if a dude in a moustache is ever seen buying smirnoff ice at the grocery store he should probably be arrested because he's obviously on his way to meet some 14 year old boy/girl he met on the internets (thank you, chris hansen). i don't even know how they can afford to advertise so much. it kinda' reminds me of back before cell phones were invented and there were like a million collect calls commercials on tv. who was making all these collect calls... prisoners? i'd ask everyone i met and no one could ever answer this question nor admit to ever making more than five collect calls in their entire life. these commercials were big business too; they had huge stars like alyssa milano, carrot top and alf!

what kind of a flavour is "wild cherry?" this is often a popular flavour for candy or slurpies. personally, i love the "wild cherry" and it's my favorite artificial candy flavour (more on this later). i'm confused though; is "wild cherry" an actual kind of cherry or is "wild" being used in the same way that "x-treme" is being used for everything during the oughts. and, if it is like "x-treme," why not "wild grape," "wild orange," or "wild kiwi?" i tend to think it might be "wild" as in "x-treme" because if you've ever had a real cherry you'll know they're more bitter and "wild cherry" tastes more like maraschino cherries, but "maraschino" is probably too ethnic. anywho, i believe this blog serves as a good opportunity for me to blog what fruits are mo' betta' and what artificially flavoured counterparts are mo' betta':
natural fruit flavour----------vs.-----------artificial fruit flavour
mo' betta'----------------------apple
----------------------------------banana----------mo' betta'
----------------------------------blueberry-------mo' betta'
----------------------------------cherry-----------mo' betta'
mo' betta'-----------------------grape
----------------------------------lemon-----------mo' betta'
----------------------------------lime-------------mo' betta'
mo' betta'----------------------orange
mo' betta'----------------------strawberry
mo' betta'----------------------watermelon
winner: it's a tie!!! actually, we all lose; for me blogging and for you reading :(

that's it; i officially can't keep up with all these cool dude, dude bra' handshakes anymore. i'm so tired of meeting minorities, people who think they're minorities, drug dealers, etc. and being subject to all these back hand slaps, finger snaps, knuckle thumps, fist bumps, chest humps, shoulder hugs and so on - it's like a 16-hit, "street fighter ii combo." my only recourse to all this nonsense is to just give 'em the old limp fish and hope my hand can stay limber and pliable enough so they can just seamlessly run my hand through the gears and cogs of their unquestioned coolness. whatever happened to the classic firm grip, elbow out handshake? when these people are grandparents are they still going to be throwing down these fist, knuckle, hand gymnastics or, once these people get to certain age, will they revert back to the classic hand shake? i simply don't think arthritis will allow for such foolishness. the thing that gets me though is that i'm admittedly a big dork who can't fake it to make it to save his life but how the heck do all these cool dudes automatically know how to perform and reciprocate all handshakes presented to them without skipping a beat? every time i'm presented with such greetings the dude bra' must stop and run me through it like three times before i can "get it" and perform to a level that satisfies the cool dude. you know what's cool? shaking someone's hand without making the person you're greeting feel like a complete loser.

ba dum BLOG!!!

editor’s note: anyone who argues with bloggers oil/gas bit will have their comments immediately erased.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

the most interesting blog in the world

you don't hear much about cobblers anymore. sure, you've got your peach cobbler, your raspberry cobbler and your irish meat cobbler but where have all the shoemakers gone? i hearken back to a time where we could stomp our tattered, buckled clogs down a cobblestone road to the gepetto-esque, village cobbler; this was a better time. now what... does nike or reebok employ cobblers or are the new age cobblers just a bunch of pre-pubescent, sri lankan boys in a sweat box? now, if i hadn't graduated from college, wasn't educated, didn't blog or was a minority; i think i would've liked to have been a cobbler. wouldn't it be quaint and keen to be at your local tavern and, whilst meeting a nice, young lass, compliment her on her shoes? chicks dig compliments and shoes; hence, compliments on their shoes! and, if she's got moves, she may repel the obvious attempt at empty ingratiation and retort with a "and what do YOU know about shoes, mister?" and you could reply, "oodles, i'm a cobbler!"

my dream is to become a successful enough blogger to get z-celebrity status and become a regular talking head on vh-1 shows like "best week ever" or "i love the (insert decade here)." just think; i'd be wearing some kitschy, novelty t-shirt, my hair would be all coiffed, blow dried and shiny, i'd be put up against a neon green backdrop and have the little graphic at the bottom of the screen reading "ba dum BLOGger of" it's like the easiest job EVER. they'll show some pop culturally or nostalgic clip and i'd say something clever like "he's a teenager who turns into a werewolf, he's a teen wolf...teen wolf!" or, i could be clever again and say "they're teenagers, who mutated, can ninja and they're turtles... they're teenage mutant ninja turtles!" however, i'll keep talking and deadpan in my best michael ian black; "with the turtles all named for great, italian artists i would've liked to have seen at least one painting or sculpture from these teenage, mutant ninjas. i mean, come on... shouldn't leonardo be the inventor in lieu of donatello?" ta daaaa, i'm a z-listing talking head!

why are studios still making eddie murphy movies? this guy's last relevant comedic moment was introducing his brother, charlie murphy, to rick james. it's not like he's just in moving pictures or merely starring in them either; in his last two movies he's received multiple billings. the abortion that was "norbit" starred "eddie murphy" and "eddie murphy" and now his latest offering, "meet dave" is toting an "eddie murphy in eddie murphy" billing (whatever that even means). i don't know how the movie industry works but wouldn't this be like the new york yankees in 2008 convincing chris sabo to come out of retirement, giving him a 100 million dollar contract and renaming the new york yankees "the new york chris sabo wrap around goggles?" the sad thing is that his stand-up was genius in the 80s and he was in, at least, five very good movies during that same time. what happened? how does someone go from brilliant comedian to "pluto nash" and resorting to dressing like heavyset women of colour as his go to for laughs? and, how does one get four billings in two movies? oooh, i know how eddie could stage his comeback; make a movie about when he picked up the tranny and call it "driving mr. daisy."

i hate to be the one to pop pamela anderson's boobies or snatch rip taylor's toupee but dos equis' "most interesting man in the world" is a gosh darn, good for nuthin' charlatan! his name is jonathan goldmsith, he has appeared in every single tv show from the 80s and was a neighbour to shane stanley in the 70s. there is nothing even remotely interesting about any of this. sure, i knew he was an actor but i assumed he was at least a telenovela guy, an amateur boxer or something... not a jew! not that there's anything wrong with being jewish but my disbelief will not be suspended to the point where i believe a jew's beard has experienced anything more interesting than maybe a non kosher hot dog during the high holidays or switching out the chocolate gold coins for silver during a spirited spin of the dradle. goldsmith is a jewish name, right? and, the more i think about it, all these cute little "most interesting manisms" are nothing more than a rip-off of all those lame, hackneyed chuck norris factoids. are stoic guys with beards really that neat? goldsmith is a jewish name, right???

ba dum BLOG!!!

editor's note: the word "genius" was blogged about quite liberally in this blog and, in case you're wondering, drawing an analogy betwixt eddie murphy and chris sabo is NOT "genius."

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

blog tikka masala

being an extremely racial person, not racist, i'm annoyed with the inter-cultural ambiguities of the turban. see, i'd like to be able to throw either all muslims or all hindus under one turban umbrella, much like these turbanites do so with their hair, but you can't accurately do so. i don't like the fact that you might call a convenient store clerk a "terrorist" only for him to correct you and say "i am an indian (dot, not feather) and don't ever recall a hindu terrorizing anyone. good day, sir… and come again!" nor do i appreciate it when i'm in a cab and, while attempting to engage in the art of conversation, telling the turban wearing driver that "i don't mean to curry favor but i've always loved curry." only for him to respond, "while i appreciate your witty repartee and use of idiom, i am a muslim and do not curry favor nor do i curry chicken tikka masala. good day, sir… and praise be to allah and death to infidels!" all i wanna' do is stereotype and these turbans are really crampin' my style. also, i can understand if turbans were big in siberia or the yukon but it really makes no sense to have all that hair all wrapped up like that in these super hot middle eastern and indian (ghandi, not sitting bull) climates. if i were ever in a position to create a god and attribute rules and beliefs to him, practicality and pragmatism would reign supreme over all else.

so, i received my stimulus check the other day. not sure how i feel about this... i'm conflicted, as most intelligently, complex bloggers would be. on, and in, one hand, i now have $600 in walking around money (wam) but i can't help but feel like i'm being hornswaggled, hoodwinked and/or hucklebucked by our friends in the government. see, i think they figured out the exact amount that they should give you, based on how much you make and spend, and figured if they give me $600 it will ultimately turn into me spending an extra $3-400 that i would not have otherwise spent without the $600 of extra wam to stimulate my spending. and, this will also all be taxed. so, that's why i suggest you spend this government wam on recreational, nontaxable (monetarily) taxable (physically) hookers and/or crack cocaine. also, where is this money coming from and why should i get it? aren't we like a gazillion dollars in debt and shouldn't single, white, childless, condom wearing bloggers be the last people to receive government handouts. i believe handouts should be relegated to overly fertile, non-condom wearing minorities who sling and bang with reckless abandon.

i can't help but feel that if i had a dog i'd probably have engaged in recreational sexual activity with, at the most, five different girls from my neighborhood by now (doubling my total of two-and-a-half with one of those coming from the internets). see, there are just oodles of average to above average looking ladies walking their dogs down my street at all hours of the day and i'll often see guys, with their dogs, parlaying their pooch into a friendly, non-threatening exchange. meanwhile, i have absolutely NOTHING to say to these women as i pass them down my street - it's like i'm rubbing two sticks together while everyone else has zippos. sure, you might say "why don't you just compliment them on their dog or get a dog of your own?" i'm not sure which scenario is more ridiculous. again, like i said before, i gots NOTHING to say and, more importantly, i HATE dogs and the concept of pets in general. there, i said it. yes, i am allergic to all animals and never had any pets growing up but my parents are also right wing catholics so i think it's safe to say that the cream still would’ve risen to the top sans the allergies. i just don't see the allure of pets; they cost a fortune, they're dirty, they smell, they bark, they poop, they vomit and then they die. and then you have these weirdoes who talk to their pets and anthropomorphize them as if the misplaced love and loyalties of an animal are somehow analogous to human interaction. basically, i'm just jealous that people like their pets more than bloggers :(

that's it, california has officially gone hands free in terms of cell phone usage by drivers of vehicles - it's the law! now what? i get 90% of my phone talking/texting (wait, can we still text?) while driving. and, i can see and understand that this is a safety issue and we're all the better for it but this still throws a major wrench in my cellular gears. i just don't know if i can stomach getting a blue tooff. i don't know why but whenever i see someone with a blue tooff i literally, physically cringe. it's the same sensation i get when i see a barbed wire tattoo or a line beard. i know blue tooffs provide a wonderful technological service but i can't help but feel that most use them as an aesthetic accessory of cool. maybe if i just relegate my blue tooffing to my car, but still... then, i guess there's also those things you just clip onto your visor but i can't imagine that working very well and i'm so uncomfortable and untrusting with technology in general that i'd be up off my seat and screaming into the windshield the whole time. i'm just a very late adopter when it comes to this sort of thing and had the same neurotic reservations about cell phones and i dealt with that okay, right? i suppose i'm just uncomfortable having a "hands free" anything when i can't even get a "hands free" orgasm.

ba dum BLOG!!!
editor's note: in regards to the "hands free" bit; this is a text blog example of blogger blogging a mediocre blog solely to work in a less than mediocre punch-line.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

blog dizzle: hardcore sports

okay, i'm going hardcore sports on you. and, as is hardcore sports' wont, this blog will be irrelevant within twenty three minutes of its blogging as new, contradictory information will soon hit the high speed internets via various media outlets. so, the charlatan baron "BOOM dizzle" davis has opted out of the last year of his contract with the golden state warriors (after saying numerous times that he had no intention of doing so), leaving $17.8 million on the table. meanwhile, incidentally, and coincidentally fishy enough to the point that dumb people will mistakenly refer to it as "ironic," elton brand of the los angeles clippers has also opted out of the last year of his contract leaving a substantial amount of money on the table, albeit a different table, as well.

i call shenanigans, chicanery, conspiracy and cahoots! now, the nba salary cap is a silly and complicated creature that people who confuse coincidence with irony won't understand so please, just take my word on what i'm about to say. the only way the los angeles clippers would be able to sign a guy like baron davis (w/out the messiness of a sign and trade), is if elton brand opts out (which he did and immediately said that he fully expects to be back with the clips); thus clearing enough money for them to sign both - baron and brand. however, as is with my previous allusion to collusion, both baron and brand will have to and are fully willing to take less than the money that was left on their respective tables to make this happen. because, this is what the players, agents and clippers have agreed upon through cunning and subterfuge. plus, baron, a native angelino who spent his college days at ucla has always wanted to return to la where he, with brand, have visions of creating a celtics-esque super team.

so, where does this leave my golden state warriors??? wellll, seconds after baron opted out of his contract, they immediately offered former warrior, current wizard and current blogger, the mercurial and quirky gil arenas (who also opted out of his contract), a max deal for up to six years and over 100 million - like a dirt farmer dangles a carrot in front of a mule!!! however, the wizards have also offered gil a similar contract that is a little less orange, long and hard than the warriors proverbial carrot. what's gonna' happen??? will gil return to his warrior roots or will they be left high and dry, offering some euro scrub like beno udrih a horrible contract to run the point? oh boy, i sure hope my warriors sign gil because us beeboppin’ bloggin’ balla’s gots to stick together, yo.

ba dum BLOG!!!