happy memorial day weekend
I would just like to wish all of you a happy memorial day. I, of course, will be celebrating memorial day in the traditional jewish manor; lighting candles, fasting, and sacrificing a lamb. What?
No, actually I will be heading down to the Baltimore - DC area for a weekend of fun. Am I scared of the cicadas and Snakefish? Absolutely. But there will be drinking and there will be barbeque-ing, so I am willing to face my fears. However, if I'm lounging on a floating recliner in a pool and a Snakefish walks over, takes his towel off, and hops in for a swim, I'm fucking out of there!
So happy memorial day. And try not to forget why we have a day off on Monday: to drink so much that you actually
don't remember anything.
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b at 5:19 PM
pop quiz
Q: What has 2 thumbs and got Franz Ferdinand's "Take Me Out" into the
Best Week Ever open this week?
A: This guy.
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b at 3:41 PM
he's an ass man
Okay, today I'm going to try to write a post about something that isn't scary. No terrorism and no pedophile clowns, I promise. Hmmm. Okay... Let's see. Oh, I know, I'm going to talk about roommate's ass!
Before we talk about my roommate Eric's ass, let's talk about Eric for just a second. Eric is a 24 year-old guy from Chambersburg, PA. He was an Economics major in college, did social work for a year in Baltimore before moving up to NY, currently babysits for 3 of the richest families in NY, and in the fall will begin his new career as a teacher for shitty kids in shitty neighborhoods. Eric is also tall and skinny, and despite his hatred for this comparison, looks scarily similar to Mike Dunleavy Jr.
Here's a shot of Mike Dunleavy Jr.
And here's a picture of Eric.
See?
Okay, so that's Eric in a nutshell. Just a guy living in Brooklyn and working for a living. Oh yeah, and he has a tattoo of a fire hydrant on his ass. What, is that not normal?
It's true. Two years ago during lunch one day, our old roommate, Alan, was boasting that he was going to get a tattoo. A Chinese symbol on his back. Now, ever since our freshman year Alan talked about getting a tattoo, but never did. Eric was fed up with hearing about it, so he called him out on it. "You're never going to get a tattoo. All you do is talk about it. If you get a tattoo, I'll get one too. On my ass." Alan said if that happened, he would pay for it. The deal was in place.
Immediately, we decided that whatever Eric got tattoo'd on his ass had to be completely meaningless. I was pulling for the Pepsi logo, or that smiling-tooth-holding-a-toothbrush-thing, I believe his name is Timmy The Tooth. Our friend Brian suggested either a piece of driftwood, or an astronaut attached to a tube coming out of Eric's... you know. All great ideas. But when Eric called me to tell me he decided on a fire hydrant, well, a tear formed in my eye. It was brilliant.
A couple of weeks after the deal was made, Alan walked into my room and said, "Let's go to Baltimore, I'm getting my tattoo." After cleaning up the mess I made from shitting myself with excitement, Alan, Eric, and I hopped in a car and headed over to the tattoo parlor. Alan got his Chinese symbol first, and everything was cool. Then Eric walked up to the counter.
ERIC: Hi, um I'd like to get a tattoo.
TATTOO GIRL: Okay, of what?
ERIC: Um... a fire hydrant.
TATTOO GIRL: (Long Pause) Okay. And where would you like it?
ERIC: On my ass.
TATTOO GIRL: Are you Mike Dunleavy Jr?
So, Eric proceeded to lay on his stomach and tattoo history was made. We used to have the pictures of Eric getting the tattoo on a website, but Eric took them down, because as a social worker, he had to be "professional." Boooooo. Eric also turned down a spot on the MTV special "The Social History Of The Tattoo" because he was worried about kids seeing it. He's awfully responsible for a guy that got a fucking fire hydrant permanently inked onto his right ass cheek, no?
All in all, though, the fire hydrant proved to be the best thing to ever happen to Eric. It's one of his best conversation pieces / pick-up lines, it's gotten him free T-shirts and shots at bars, and the NY Fire Department has made him an honorary Fire Marshall. Okay, I'm lying about the last part, but he has hooked up a lot because of it.
So if anybody out there is looking for a tall guy with a tattoo'd ass, give him a call. He's single ladies!
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b at 3:50 PM
i want to apologize to my friends, brian and dan
Guys, I know in the past I've made fun of you for being afraid of clowns. Well, I wanted to say I'm sorry. I guess you were right all along.
This explains so much. Soooooooo much.
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b at 5:34 PM
that summer feeling
So you know how I know summer really is upon us? No, not because of the
Ass Stares. And not because of the shitty TV finales. And not even because of the invasion of cicadas on the suburbs. Nope. It's summer because
Al Queda is planning an attack on the US. Happy May!
I guess my first question is, why do they wait for summer? Are they college students that just don't have the time to inflict mass casualties on America during the semester? I mean, I'm sure planning a jihad is time consuming, but even while taking 15 credits a semester, I was able to work a part-time job
AND produce a sketch comedy show in college. Sure, I was busy, but that hard work ethic resulted in me getting a lot of stuff done during the school year. I'm just saying, if they really had their hearts in it they wouldn't just view terrorism as a summer job.
But I know summer vacation is a mixed bag. Sure, you don't have to go to class, but moving back home for 3 1/2 months isn't exactly a cake walk. Terrorists, you're not alone in feeling a little trapped and longing to get back to school, okay? You're not the only people thinking about strapping a bomb to your chest and going to the mall when the thermometer hits 102 degrees and your parents are bitching at you to clean your room. Summer can be a trying time, and I know if you don't have anything to do it's easy to get bored and frustrated. But instead of attacking the US, might I suggest the following activities to keep busy:
- Start a softball team: There are leagues all over NY that probably have spots open. It'd be a great way for you guys to bond, and batting practice would help let out all that pent up hostility you have. Just pretend the ball is 'freedom' and the bat is 'allah' or something. That'd be cute.
- Learn to play an instrument: Now's the time to pick up that old guitar and teach yourself a few chords. Why not? Hey, nothing is going to impress those 72 virgins in heaven more than a little "Your Body Is A Wonderland?" Right? Are you picking up what I'm putting down? Virgins dig John Mayer, you'd be
SO in there!
- Paint: The impact of a dirty bomb going off lasts only a couple of seconds. But a
painting of the impact of a dirty bomb going off could last a lifetime. Pick up a brush, turn on a little Bob Ross, and paint, paint, paint your problems away.
- Go to the movies: And not just "The Day After Tomorrow" you rapscallions!
- Start a club: I know, it sounds a little childish, but give it a chance. You guys can come up with a cool name, and make rules like "No Girlz Allowed," and have a secret handshake, and maybe a cool secret language, and you can vote somebody to be the leader of the club, and you can plan activities together, and... you know what. Actually, maybe don't start a club. That might be a bad idea.
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b at 3:18 PM
why i love my job
This past weekend I went to a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend's birthday party at the
Trump Plaza on 72nd street on the West Side. Sadly enough, this was the first time in a while that I've attended a birthday party somewhere fancier than
Off The Wagon. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But anyway, the party was at some guy's apartment. It reminded me of my apartment in Park Slope, the only differences being the grandiose lobby, the well dressed doorman, the marble floors, the golden elevator, the carpeted hallways, the 2 walls of windows in the dining room that look out onto Manhattan, the 2 large bedrooms, the 2 large bathrooms, the fancy furniture, and the vault filled with gold coins that you could go swimming in like Uncle Scrooge used to do on
DuckTales. Aside from that- practically identical. Oh, did I mention the guy that lives there lives alone? And that he's 26 years old? And that I thought about hurling myself out of one of the large windows when I heard that?
So needless to say, I couldn't help but question my direction in life. I mean, just the apartment, and the people... it was pretty overwhelming. All the guys were wearing their khakis and bow ties and mesh tank tops and lip gloss... sorry, I don't know what happened there. Just khakis. What I was getting to was, I was the only guy there who didn't work in "finance." I work in "television." Which means that I am "poor." And I won't be living in the "Trump Plaza" "any time soon."
But you know what, I don't let it get me too upset. Sure, I may not making the big money just yet, but hopefully it will come in time. For now, I have to find happiness in the little things that make my job worthwhile.
Today, I had to ask my Production Assistant to run out into Times Square to locate and buy a box of
Trojan Warm Sensations condoms for a segment I'm producing in a couple of weeks. Now how many people can say that?
Eat A Dick, "finance."
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b at 3:58 PM
the ass stare
Aaahhh, summer in NY. The weather's getting warmer, the streets are getting crowded, and most importantly, the girls are dressing a little sluttier. And I don't mean that negatively, like "girls dress like sluts." No. I mean it like, "Ladies, I understand it's getting a bit warmer out, so what choice do you have but to wear low cut, mini shorts with a tight, white V-neck tank top that cuts off above the belly button and reveals your pink bra straps?" Your hands are tied, and I understand your pain. Know that I'm here for you.
But with the introduction of tighter, more revealing outfits, comes my favorite aspect of the summer:
The Ass Stare. Now don't get me wrong, the Ass Stare is a 12 month-a-year, 365 day phenomenon that is not limited to the summer. However, it is much, much more prevalent when the weather gets nicer. There is nothing more amusing than walking behind a girl with a nice ass and watching all the guys she passes check out her behind. It's constantly amusing, mainly because there are several different variations of the Ass Stare.
The Subtle Ass Stare - Most commonly occurs when Female is walking alongside the male. The SAS is the hardest one to pick up, as it is only indicated by a quick dip in the eyes to the ass at large. Most prevalent amongst college aged Caucasian men.
The Turnaround Ass Stare - One of the most blatant Ass Stares. The Turnaround mainly occurs when the Female passes the male, inciting the male to swing his head around in the most obvious of manners to check things out. Sometimes the Turnaround extends to the entire body-- a much braver, albeit creepier move. Now, this is different than the Turnaround & Stop maneuver.
The Turnaround & Stop Ass Stare - To be reserved for only the finest of Asses. This move begins as a simple Turnaround, but depending on the magnitude of the ass, tends to result in the Male stopping dead in his tracks and observing the ass for a few moments. Most prevalent in men that say things like "Damn!" and make that weird clicking noise with their tongue at girls.
The Underage Ass Stare - The most dangerous of stares. Occurs when a male is checking out a female of a "questionable" age. The UAS is similar to the SAS, with one slight difference: after the eyes dip down, they immediately shoot back up to survey the scene to make sure they weren't spotted by nearby females or angry dads.
The Mistaken Ass Stare - Usually accompanied by the phrase, "That dude had really long hair... come on, he looked like a chick from behind."
The Angry Ass Stare - Occurs when a girl has an ass that is so disproportionate / so unbelievable that the men she passes by actually get upset when they see it. Signs of an AAS: furrowed brow; slight jaw drop; mumbling to oneself, "Aw, come on."
The Stalker Ass Stare - The creepiest of stares, indicated by a man obviously changing the route of his trip from one place to another in order to follow an ass, much like a greyhound follows an electronic rabbit. Officially goes too far once public transportation is involved.
I'm sure there are several more, and this summer, I will do my best to capture them all. Now please don't take this post the wrong way. I don't endorse guys harrassing women, and I hate hearing stories from female friends of mine about the shitty things that have been said to them on the streets of NY. It's disgusting. However, that being said, the Ass Stare is a part of life, and when done properly and respectfully, can be a beautiful thing.
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b at 2:28 PM
real quick
So apparantly some terrorists have threatened to
kill Madonna.
Listen guys, you're already in a lot of trouble. Killing Madonna is not going to be enough to get back on our good side, okay? Maybe if you kill Madonna
and cure Cancer, then we'll forgive you. But taking out Madonna, while it may be a step in the right direction, just won't cut it.
Keep thinking. C'mon, you're better than that.
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b at 1:21 PM
senior citizens
Well, the month of May is drawing to a close, and June is right around the corner, and that can only mean one thing:
High School Graduation. Now I know what you're thinking, and no, this is
not going to be a post about high school girls. I promise. Okay, well I don't promise, but I'm going to try my hardest.
Instead, I want to talk about the most important thing about your senior year of high school. More important than the prom, more important than deciding which college to go to, and more important than going to the hospital to visit the kid that drank too much before the Homecoming dance and got his stomach pumped. I'm talking about your legacy. I'm talking about your
senior quote.
Now I know it's probably too late for most of my high school readers
(Please, God, let me have some high school readers. Some hot, graduating, female high school readers... sorry) as I'm sure yearbooks are being printed as we speak. I wish I would have addressed this earlier, because whatever you pick for your senior quote sticks with you the rest of your life. It's true. I still remember my senior quotes. I had two of them:
"We've just mastered the life of doing nothing, which when you think about it, may be the hardest thing of all to do" - Jim Carroll, The Basketball Diaries
"I'm crazy but I get the job done" - Ben Folds Five
Overall, not too bad. I enjoyed reading
The Basketball Diaries so much I refused to see the movie when it came out, so using a Jim Carroll quote seemed like a good idea. And, at the time, I was a huge fan of Ben Folds Five. So, using these guys made sense. Unfortunately, now The Basketball Diaries and Ben Folds Five are, "that bad Leonardo DiCaprio movie and that gay 'Brick' band." Damn.
The actual quotes are pretty damn good, though. They pretty much sum up my high school experience:
I didn't apply myself, I fucked around a lot, but in the end I got shit done. Actually, I wish
that was my senior quote. If anybody uses that as their senior quote I'll mail them $20. I promise.
Anyway, long after graduation, I STILL think about senior quotes. Every time I hear a really cool song lyric, I think, "man, that would be a great senior quote." Or whenever I see a great movie with a kick-ass monologue. Same thing. If I would have graduated one year later, my senior quote would have probably been,
"The minute you're born you start dying, so you might as well have a good time."- Cake. I like that one.
There are a few things you have to watch out for when choosing a senior quote:
- Don't use "Only The Good Die Young" by Billy Joel. You're not dead.
- Don't use Bob Marley. Everybody already knows you like smoking pot, don't overdue it now.
- Be careful with comedy. My friend Dan's senior quote was
"I have one simple request, and that is sharks with frickin laser beams attached to their heads." from Austin Powers. See, now that was funny when he thought of it, not funny a few months later when the yearbooks came out, but now, years later, it's funny again. Make sure it has future-funny potential.
- If you live in the suburbs, and you're white, please, please, please no Tupac.
- When using a band or musician, make sure they have more than one album. It won't be easy explaining to your kids why you went with Deep Blue Something or The All-American Rejects, will it?
- Approximately 86% of the population has used a Dave Matthews Band quote since 1996. Let's stop this now.
- Don't use "Be All That You Can Be" if you're not joining the army.
- Do your best to sneak in as much sexual innuendo as you can. That'll impress your classmates more than any Biggie quote will.
- Burn bridges. Any quotes you can find about how you didn't learn anything, how you hated your classmates, and how your teachers were idiots are the best. What do you care? You know you're on your way out, and in the grand scheme of things, high school isn't all that important. And those FU quotes are the ones that you and your classmates are going to look back on a few years down the road and think, "Yep. Fuck em."
I hope this helped. And if all else fails, feel free to go with my favorite line from my favorite movie:
You taste like a burger, I don't like you anymore.
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b at 2:45 PM
riddle
Q: What has two thumbs and only recently discovered
The Magnetic Fields?
A: This guy.
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b at 2:17 PM
last night
Okay, I don't have time to really post today (or yesterday, for that matter) because I'm producing the Buzzsaw segment on
Best Week Ever this week. Nobody likes working on the 'saw because instead of working on just one thing, you have to run all over the place and work on several different mini-packages at the same time. Hence, the business.
Anyway, last night's Strokes show was amazing. Julian talked more last night than he has the previous 4 times I've seen them combined. And in the most amazing display of Bob's World Of Music clashing with Bob's World Of Sports, Julian had this to say:
JULIAN: So we were in Boston a couple of weeks ago.
CROWD: BOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
JULIAN: Wait, wait, hold up. Okay. So we were at Boston and these guys in the crowd starting yelling out Red Sox shit, right? So I said, listen to what I said. I said, "Why don't you guys reach into your laundry, grab your red socks, and shove them up your ass. You could look it up, I actually said that."
And I thought the Strokes couldn't get any cooler...
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b at 10:21 AM
i'm a p.i.m.p.
Words are weird. It's funny how different words take on different meanings over time. Like the word "punk." Punk was used hundreds of years ago, fell off the map, then out of nowhere came back in the late 1970's and has been a part of our culture ever since. That's one example.
Another example would be words adopting new meanings through slang. Like the cliche'd "Bad means Good,"
(ha ha ha, get it?) and things along that line. As a white guy, I tend to be a little behind on these. Technically, I'm 2 steps behind. I know a lot of people think that all the cool slang actually originates in the black community, but that's not true. The actual order, for some reason, is:
The Beastie Boys ---> Black People ---> White People
I know, strange. You'd think the Beasties would help out their fellow caucasions, but they don't. It's been like this since 1985, and there's nothing we can do about it, so just embrace it.
But anyway. This leads me to the word
Pimp. Remove yourself from 50 Cent, and Lil Jon, and Don The Magic Juan for just a moment, and think back to hearing the word Pimp fifteen years ago. When I was a kid, I would have probably got smacked if my mom heard me say Pimp. Imagine 9 year-old Bob saying "Hey mom, I'm a Pimp. Technically speaking, that means I'm the man of charge of whores, whom I not only fuck, but also abuse and steal the money they make from fucking others! I'm a Pimp" That would not have gone over well.
But now, everyone's a Pimp. It's cool to be a Pimp. MTV even has a show called
Pimp My Ride. Pimp My Ride??? The premise of the show: take a shitty car and make it better.
So Pimp has literally gone from:
Guy in charge of whores and fucking to:
make it better
I wish I would have known that. When I saw MTV was doing a show called Pimp My Ride I wanted to be on it, but I didn't know what they meant. So I sent them a video of me fucking my 1989 Buick LeSabre.
I'll be on the show next Tuesday.
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b at 6:36 PM
my la story
Within fifteen minutes of being in LA, I was in the back seat of a silver BMW with two hookers in Inglewood, California.
Okay, so I've been meaning to write this for a couple of weeks now, but in honor of
The Strokes concert coming up, there's no better time than now. Please allow me to share with you a quick story about my trip to the 2002
Coachella Music Festival. Now, nowhere in this story will you find a description of the concert. In fact, this story takes place long before we even got to the Coachella Valley. This is a quick story about my first hour in L.A.
Departing BWI Airport after our Thursday classes, Afro-Brian and I were fucking jacked to be headed out to Cali. Brian's parents hooked us up with our dream vacation- Thursday and Friday in L.A., Saturday and Sunday watching Oasis, The Strokes, Cake, Jurassic 5, Belle & Sebastian, Bjork, Charlatans U.K, Pete Yorn, G-Love, etc. at the Coachella Festival, and then back to Baltimore on Monday. Everything was set; Brian's dad even took care of our hotel reservations in L.A. Nothing could go wrong.
We touched down at LAX close to midnight. We grabbed our bags, hopped in our shuttle, and headed over to our Hotel, which was just a couple of minutes away from the airport. After checking in and dropping our bags off, it was time to go out. Since neither of us had ever been to L.A. before, we wanted to make the most of it. The Hotel Bar was dead, so we asked the Bartender if he could recommend someplace nearby. He said there was a bar a few blocks away, but we probably should call a cab instead of walking there. Okay, cool.
While standing outside trying to hail a cab, Brian strikes up a conversation with a girl smoking a cigarette. She was from Hawaii, lived in L.A. for a couple of years, and was actually standing there waiting for her friend to come out of the hotel so they could go out. She asked us where we were headed, and when we told her, she told us not to go there. She had been there earlier, and the place was dead. "Me and my friend are actually going to the bar at the Marriott right up the road, you guys should come." With that, her friend walks out of the hotel. She's pretty cute, and well, hey, we're in L.A., what could possibly go wrong?
So the valet pulls up the girls' Silver BMW. The girls get in the front, Brian and I jump into the back seat. The Friend introduces herself to us, and this conversation ensues:
FRIEND: So where were you guys headed?
ME: Some bar down the road that the bartender recommended.
FRIEND: You weren't going to walk there, were you?
ME: No, why?
FRIEND: Do you know where you are? You're in Inglewood. You shouldn't be walking nowhere.
Holy shitfuck. We had no clue we were in Inglewood. INGLEWOOD! As in "Compton, Long Beach, INGLEWOOD!" Dr. Dre raps about Inglewood! I don't know much about L.A., but I'm pretty damn sure that Jewish kids shouldn't be hanging out in places namedropped by Dre.
But you know what, okay, maybe this wasn't going to be too bad. These girls seemed real sweet, and plus they're riding in such a nice car, you know? I'm sure there was nothing to be worried about. Then...
FRIEND: So where are you guys from?
BRIAN: I'm from Baltimore, Bob's from New York.
FRIEND: Oh, cool. So, would either of you guys like a dance later on tonight?
ME: (Trying to play it cool) Oh, you're dancers? Cool. Where do you dance?
FRIEND: In your room.
ME: No, I mean, like, where do you usually do your dancing?
FRIEND: In your room.
So,
within fifteen minutes of being in LA, I was in the back seat of a silver BMW with two hookers in Inglewood, California.
Needless to say, we were shitting bricks. They were going to drive us into the heart of Inglewood, pull out a gun, rob us, take us to their pimp, rape us, then bury us in the desert. Or, maybe we'd get lucky, and they'd get pulled over by the police. That way we'd get to explain to the cops why were driving around the ghetto with 2 hookers at 12:30 in the morning.
We drove right by the Marriott. At this point, both Brian and I had our hands on our door handles, ready to jump out of the moving car if necessary. Luckily, our Hooker friend made a U-Turn and pulled into the parking lot. As we pull up to the front entrance, ANOTHER hooker comes running out.
"Hey girls, what's up? The place is dead. I was just in there with some dickhead! The fucker tried to stiff me. Oh, did you hear about Suzie? The cops pulled her over again, so now she's gotta change her license plates." Brilliant.
I glance through the glass doors of the hotel and notice the bar is completely empty. It doesn't matter. We thank our Hookers for the ride, and start to head out. The girls try to talk us into staying and going somewhere else. Then, Hooker #2 says "Oh, don't leave. You guys are cute." So we stayed and paid them to have sex with us.
(Just wanted to see if you were still paying attention)
No, so we exited the car, and pretended to go to the bar. Once they pulled away, Brian and I proceeded to walk about a mile back to our hotel. In Inglewood. At 1 in the morning.
When we got back to the hotel we ran to our room, locked the door, deadbolted the door, and chained the door. We did a quick sweep of the room to make sure there weren't any more hookers hiding anywhere, and then we cried ourselves to sleep.
We're really, really smart.
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b at 4:01 PM
please don't slow me down
I woke up this morning with a little extra spring in my step. Not because the construction going on outside my window finally stopped. And not because of
Best Week Ever's Summer Mondays, where we don't have to come in until noon. Nope. Like a little kid 2 days before Christmas, I'm getting all giddy for
The Strokes this Wednesday at Central Park's Summerstage.
This is going to be my 5th time seeing them, but my first time seeing a show at Summerstage, so I'm psyched. We're looking to do a little pre-concert boozing on the Upper East Side before the show starts, so if anybody knows a bar near 69th street with a good jukebox and cheap beers, please let me know. Just make sure it doesn't have
Golden Tee 2005. I'd hate to miss Adam Green and Sean Lennon because of an intense round of GT, but in the words of Dave Chappelle... "Sometimes a nigga's gotta race."
I'm going to update a couple of times today, because as it was pointed out in the Comments section, I haven't been holding true to the blog's tagline. I aim to please.
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b at 1:22 PM
the war on porn
When I was a kid, I still remember the two pieces of advice that my parents would repeat to me, over and over again:
1. Don't do drugs.
2. Don't ever partake in a double vaginal, double anal, gonzo-style bukakke gangbang on camera.
That was it.
Now, years later, I think I'm a pretty well adjusted person. I've obeyed Rule #1 to an extent (
and by "extent" I mean that I haven't spent too much money on them), and I haven't even thought about breaking Rule #2. And that's mainly because of the whole "on camera" part of it.
So with the California porn industry
starting back up this week after a 30 day hiatus, the government has taken a rather bold stance on the issue of AIDS in pornography: "Umm, we kinda want you guys to wear condoms now... sort of... if that's okay with you. Oh, you don't want to? Okay, nevermind then."
Now, I don't want to come off like some dirty, pot-smoking hippie, but COME ON! The same people that are concerned enough about our Health and Safety to fight a
War On Drugs (I mean, I think we're still fighting a war on drugs. Are we?) are not only totally cool with Industry starting back up, they don't even really give a shit if the "actors" are going to start using protection.
Come on guys, figure out what you want be. Do you care about our safety or not? Just give us a clue. If you want to be the
Cool Dad that buys us beer, let's us smoke in the house, and turns his back when we're doing Whippets in the kitchen on a school night, then fine. We'll let you be that.
But if you're going to be the
Lame Dad, you know what, that's okay too. If you plan on taking away our cigarettes, calling the cops when you find our stash, and throwing away our porn when we leave it in the VCR, then do it. But don't try to fool us and pretend to be Cool. Saying, "Well, drugs are bad, but facials are AWESOME!" only makes you look sad. Don't be that guy.
And that's that. I'm not really sure if any of that made sense, but it's been a long week, and I'm really tired. I promise I'll be better on Monday. Enjoy your weekend.
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b at 5:08 PM
one of these things is not like the others
AWESOME
(paris)
REALLY COOL
(gena lee)
WHY GOD WHY???
(leash girl)
I can't wait until the Lynndie England
sex photos drop, can you? Talk about HOT! Who needs the Paris and Gena Lee sex tapes when you have a certified fox like England making amateur porn? I certainly don't. But you know our luck. While the Paris Hilton video looks like it was shot in Baghdad during a missle strike, I guarantee you the England photos are going to be full and glossy. 3-D, probably. Lucky us.
But at least she's got herself a great porn nickname now. I can't believe
Leash Girl wasn't already taken.
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b at 10:25 AM
tied to the 90's
I'm not going to lie: sometimes I miss the 90's. More specifically, 1992-1996. You know what, let's get even more specific. 1994.
1994 was without a doubt the greatest year in my lifetime. Now don't let that statement confuse you, it definitely wasn't MY greatest year in life. I was an ugly 14-year-old kid with braces that wore Green Day T-shirts and hooded flannels. My best years were yet to come... actually, I think I'm still waiting. But 1994 was such an exciting year for so many reasons.
MUSIC - 1994 was the year that Alternative Music started to take over. Grunge may be remembered as the more artistic, more important music of the decade, but don't kid yourself; Alternative Rock was more enjoyable. I mean,
Badmotorfinger was great, but I bet now you're more likely to put on
The Bends. Am I right? But anyway, remember tuning into
120 Minutes on Sunday night? Remember
Alternative Nation? I mean, just check out these 5 albums that came out in 1994:
Oasis - Definitely Maybe
Weezer - The Blue Album
Live - Throwing Copper
Beck - Mellow Gold
Blur - Parklife
Now, it's real easy to be cynical and make fun of most of those artists now, especially Live (and I mean
especially Live) , but at the time you loved them all. Don't lie. You did. The music that followed over the next couple of years built off of this great new sound, and radio was never better. Then, lucky for us, Rap-Metal came around to ruin everything.
MOVIES - 1994 was the last great year for movies. We've had some great movies since, but not great years of movies.
Pulp Fiction and
The Shawshank Redemption didn't even win best picture. Because
Forrest Gump did! Throw in
The Lion King, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective,
Clerks,
Speed, and obviously
Cabin Boy, and you've got yourself a hell of a year.
TV - Fuck
Friends. The best show that came out in '94 was
My So-Called Life. No question.
ER,
Chicago Hope, and even
Party of Five take a back seat to Angela and her gang. Actually,
The Cosby Mysteries also came out in 1994. I take back what I just said.
(Note: When I began writing this I was POSITIVE that Singled Out came out that year. Turns out, it was 1995. Expect a post dedicated to Singled Out and it's social significance in the near future)
SPORTS - In 1994 the New York Rangers won the Stanley Cup. Coincidentally, it's the only year in history that America gave a shit about hockey.
HISTORY - Kurt Cobain killed himself and the World Series was cancelled. Both shitty things, but both historical benchmarks. Politically... well, I was 14 back then so I didn't really care about politics. I just knew that Bill Clinton was Awesome.
MISC -
NHL '95 for Sega Genesis. Please refer to
Swingers if you have any questions.
I don't know what prompted this nostalgia kick. I actually planned on writing about the decline of my favorite 90's bands, but somehow ended up with this. I'm standing by it, though. I defy you find a better year than 1994. Good luck.
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b at 7:04 PM
the rules of summer
1) If I wear sandals to work, it will rain
2) If I leave my keys at my desk, there will be a city-wide blackout
3) I will fall in love on the subway on the way to work at least 3 times a week
4) The day I run out of deodorant, it will be 103 degrees
5) I will wear shorts to work every time my friends decide to go out somewhere nice that night
6) One beautiful Saturday afternoon each month will be spent hungover on the couch instead of outside at the park
7) If I bring my rollerblades to work, it will rain
8) I will get really excited about summer blockbuster movies, but end up only seeing Shrek 2
9) I will attempt suicide while trying to walk through Times Square on a Wednesday afternoon during Matinee time
10) I will point to a fat guy wearing a Yankees T-shirt and shorts and say "Hey, look, it's the New York Yankees," making sure he doesn't hear me
11) My roommate and I will argue about buying an air conditioner (and ultimately not buy one)
12) The smelliest guy on the subway? Guess where he's going to sit.
13) Without a jacket or backpack to carry it in, every skip of my CD player will push me closer and closer to buying an Ipod
14) To lower my body temperature while trying to sleep, I will buy wrist bands and place ice cubes in them (it actually works)
15) Snakehead fish will take over Maryland by force
16) There will be political protests in Union Square. It's just a coincidence that these start back up when the weather gets nice... total coincidence
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b at 4:23 PM
happy time
McDonalds unveiled their Adult Happy Meals today, and boy, is America excited. And you know who's the most excited? You guessed it: Retarded Adults.
The Adult Happy Meal is supposed to be a "healthy alternative" to the traditional McDonalds fare. Hey, are you looking for a healthy alternative to McDonalds? Umm, it's called "Not McDonalds." Go somewhere else. If your thought process is,
"You know, I'm pretty hungry... but summer's coming up, and I really should lose some weight... Let's go to McDonalds!" you're fucked. You might as well just give up now.
And is there any doubt that this promotion is destined to go the way of
Crystal Pepsi and
Coke 2? The meal comes with a salad, bottled water, a book of dieting tips, and a "stepometer," which is a device you attach to your belt that tells you how many steps you take in a given day. Okay.
1) People that are going to McDonalds to be healthy will probably end up eating the dieting book
2) These same people won't have anywhere to attach their "stepometer" because they don't wear belts, they wear sweatpants. Duh.
and
3) Knowing how many steps you take in a given day does not make you any healthier if the majority of them are leading you to McDonalds.
Let's all just go to
Wendy's. At least they're not pretending that they're not trying to kill you. Biggie Size Me Motherfuckers!!!
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b at 3:28 PM
c'mon people
You know, I try to get interactive on your ass and encourage you to add something to the Comments section, and what do I get in return? One comment. That's it. Well, thank you to the fine lady that submitted it, but shame on the rest of you. We're in this together, and well, if I don't start getting a little something in return, I'm going to start calling you people out and writing embarrassing stories about those of you I know.
Like, perhaps we have a reader of
My Blog Is Poop that once hooked up with a stroke victim who only had control of half her face...
Or maybe we have a reader of
My Blog Is Poop that once got peed on while hooking up a with a girl...
And we just might have a reader of
My Blog Is Poop that was called a "dirtbag" on the old Nickelodeon show "Kid's Court."
I'm just saying, let's make this fun. You don't want me fighting dirty, do you? DO YOU???
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b at 10:37 AM
blah blah blah friends blah blah
Happy Day-After the
Friends Finale! har he he haw har
Well, despite doing my damndest not to, I ended up watching it last night. Eric, Howie, and myself ventured over to
Brother Jimmy's on the UWS, planning on a night full of beer, broads, sports, and Golden Tee. With the
Mets-Giants game on TV, a pitcher of cold
Bud Light on the table, an order of Buffalo Wings on the way, and the most stereotypical Brother Jimmy's waitress* you could ask for, things were looking good. No
Friends Farewell Party for these guys. Nope. We were safe.
*(stereotypical Brother Jimmy's Waitress)
Well, of course, 9 o'clock comes and what happens? You guessed it. The music was turned off, and every TV was changed to NBC for the "historic" final episode. Well, you know what? If I had to watch it, I'm glad it was at Brother Jimmy's, because watching our waitress watch the episode was more fun than anything that was going on on-screen. In fact, instead of playing it safe, NBC should've done something original and aired a Brother Jimmy's waitress reacting to the final episode of Friends instead. I should be running a network.
Anyway. I'm not going to run through the episode and pick it apart, because tons of other blogs have already done that, and it's going to be on
Best Week Ever tonight as well. Instead, in honor of the final episode, we're going to play a little game that was introduced to me years ago. Are you ready?
For the guys:
Monica. Rachel. Phoebe.-- Now, who would you pick to (1) Go down on; (2) Go down on you; and (3) Fuck.
For the girls:
Joey. Chandler. Ross.-- Same question.
No repeats, and remember, whatever you pick, that's ALL you get to do with the person. Think about it, and add your answers to the
Comments section at the bottom of this post. For the record, after serious deliberation, here's how I come down on it.
Rachel - Go down on me: she's the popular girl, prom queen type. And she's been around.
Monica - Go down on her: because she's a neat freak, you know everything would be cool down there.
Phoebe - Fuck: come on, she'd be a freak. that's an easy one.
Now your turn.
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b at 3:04 PM
the wrongest post ever
As an American, I find the pictures of US soldiers torturing and degrading Iraqi prisoners disgusting and abhorrant. As a former camp counselor, I find them to be completely justifiable. Because, come on, sometimes you just have to let the kids know who's boss.
I mean, I went through some drastic measures to keep my group in line, but I never had the creativity to put a kid on a box, strap some wires to his fingers, and tell him if he fell he'd be electrocuted. I bet he would've cleaned out his damn cubby a whole lot quicker if I did.
(Am I going to hell yet?)
The one thing I learned about campers, or "prisoners" as I called them, is that they don't respond well to conventional authority. "Anthony, if you throw that rock at Jonathan you'll get a Timeout" doesn't work nearly as well as "Anthony, if you don't drop the rock I'm going to make you masturbate in front of the group." Even a 6 year old understands that.
So in conclusion: Send your kids to C#### M####### Day Camp!
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b at 4:17 PM
you thought i was kidding...
about the last post...
ONE EVEN STARTED A BLOG!!!
(thanks Howie, for the link)
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b at 5:00 PM
be afraid
Today, I'm taking a break from my regular musings about daily life and/or what's going on in the world of entertainment and politics, to instead discuss a very serious topic. A topic that will sooner or later effect each and every one of us. It's something that our government doesn't want to talk about, and for that reason, I feel as if it is my duty as an American to throw it out there. Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you're sitting down.
The
Snakehead Fish is going to take over America.
Now, if you're from Maryland or China, well, you already knew that. But the rest of us here in the US of A are being kept in the dark. Some people don't even know what a Snakehead Fish is. What is a Snakehead Fish, those people might ask? Well, get ready for this.
It's a fish. With teeth. That
WALKS! You read that right. The thing fucking walks on land!!! And look at this scary mother!
In 2002 a bunch of these babies popped up in a lake in Maryland. In order to prevent them from taking over the world, the lake was drained. But you know what, it wasn't over yet. Because all of a sudden there were Snakehead Fish popping up in a DIFFERENT lake. You know how they got there? They fucking walked there, that's how.
So another lake was drained, and America was safe... or was it?!? Just last week, guess what was found in yet ANOTHER Maryland lake?
(Seriously, guess. I bet you get it right. This is an easy one, if you've been paying attention) You got it. These things can't be stopped.
Most of you are thinking right now, "Hey Bob, I don't have to worry about Snakehead Fish, I don't live in Maryland." Well, guess what, asshole, you DO have to worry. Because these things WALK! THEY WALK! All a fucking Snakehead Fish has to do is fucking swim out of his little lake, hop up on land, and walk over to the nearest Amtrak station. "One ticket to New York City, please." That's all it takes.
It's going to happen, too. Mark my words. When I was in Towson last weekend, a Snakehead Fish walked right by me on his way to the Towsontown Festival. He tipped his hat and smiled, but deep down I could tell he was up to something. Sneaky Snakehead Fish. They all are. Seriously. You have to be careful around Snakehead Fish, because they act all sweet and innocent, but deep down they're pure evil. Remember these tidbits of advice when dealing with them:
- Don't accept candy from a Snakehead Fish
- If a Snakehead Fish pulls up in a car and asks you to help him find his puppy, stay away.
(Because Snakehead's don't have puppies. Duh. Stupid)
- Don't leave any drinks unattended at a party with Snakehead Fish
- Always, I repeat, Always use protection with a Snakehead Fish. If it says it's on the pill, it's lying
So please, spread the news about the Snakehead Fish. Do it for your country. Do it for your family. But most importantly: Do it for me.
Because I'm scared of these fuckers.
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b at 2:59 PM
i like you this much
Last month, a few friends of mine put together a list entitled "Things I Don't Care About." And it was just that. When they passed it along to me, I thought it would be fun to add my own list to it. What I didn't realize was, it's hard. Because it's not things that you don't like- that's too easy. No, it's a list of things that you just don't care about. Go ahead and make your own, but make sure you truly don't care about what's on there. Here are some selections from our lists (last names of the other participants are being kept a secret).
Tom
Tour de France
Antarctica
Led Zeppelin
Delaware
Spalding Gray
Civil War History
Cheers
Queens
The Federal Defecit
Jen
Baseball
The Indian Ocean
The J/M/Z
Frasier
Flags
Modern Dance
Staten Island
Nelson
Matchbox 20
New Jersey
Jet Blue's Success
Pretzels
Ben Kweller
Vegans
Who Directed What Movie
Me
the OC
Death Cab For Cutie
Off Broadway Shows
Broadway Shows
Animal House
Liza Manelli
The Olympics
Ipods
Canada
Our lists are a lot longer, proving that there's not a whole lot we actually do care about. But that's not why I started writing this post. I started because of
Dave Chappelle. Here's why. I recently noticed something interesting about myself, and the best way to describe it would be by using Dave Chappelle as the example. Please follow.
I've always loved Dave. He came to
Towson a couple of years ago for our Homecoming, and it was great. I love
Half Baked.
Killing Me Softly is one of the best HBO Comedy Specials ever. I was a big, big fan. So when I found out that he was getting his own show on Comedy Central, I was excited. I was genuinely looking forward to it.
Then
Chappelle's Show came out. And... it was funny. Yep, it was definitely funny. Funny show. Funny funny. Sure. Funny.
But not
that funny.
All of a sudden, Season 2 comes around, and Jesus Christ- Chappelle's Show is suddenly the funniest show in America. Everybody loves Chappelle's Show. Everywhere you look, it's Chappelle's Show. Everywhere you go, people are talking about how funny Chappelle's Show is. Well, it is funny.
But it's still not
that funny.
And now, I don't like Dave Chappelle. I know, I'm just as disappointed as you are. I want to still like him, but I can't, and it's no fault of his own. I like him
this much, but then everybody went and started liking him
THIS much, and now I can't like him at all. I hate you all.
This isn't the first time this has happened.
Radiohead,
Six Flags Great Adventure, and
Amstel Light have all fallen victim to this strange quirk of mine. And I'm not going to lie, Dave Chappelle won't be the last.
Be careful.
I'm looking at you, Tina Fey.
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b at 3:33 PM
not my fault
I apologize for the lack of updates recently, but honestly, it's not my fault. Friday morning I had to rush through my arse-load of work so I could sneak out a little bit early to start the weekend off right. Yesterday we had 8 straight hours of meetings, and this morning we've had an annoying ass virus shutting down our computers every 5 minutes. This is actually the fourth time I've written this paragraph. But enough with the complaining...
This weekend, while bloggers all over the country migrated out west for the
Coachella Festival, I instead headed down I-95 for an even better event-
The Towsontown Festival. Who needs
The Cure and
The Pixies when you could be hanging out with Towson kids, drinking $3 beers in a crowded beer garden, and listening to local music? Not me. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's backtrack to Friday night.
I arrived in DC friday night to visit Afro-Brian (who actually hasn't had an afro in about 3 years, but we're too lazy to come up with a new nickname.) Brian and I met up with his cousin, Jon, who is a sophomore at
GW University. Not only is Jon the most popular kid on campus, but he's the funniest guy on the planet. Remember how much crazier you got going from High School to College? This kid was nuts in High School, and now he's on a whole different plane of existance. But anyway, Jon took us to a couple of GW parties where we were officially the "creepy old guys." One girl I was talking to was completely bummed out because she got her Fake ID taken away earlier that night. The worst part was, now she's going to have to wait 2 WHOLE YEARS before she can go to bars again. So sad.
Saturday, I made the trip North back to Baltimore, to attend the afformentioned Towsontown Festival. Good times were had. I saw a lot of people who I haven't seen in a while, and they were all blown away by my long flowing locks. (I did get a haircut the other day, but it's still pretty long. The only difference is now I look like a human being instead of Gallagher.) The best Beer Garden moment of the day was when a cute girl accidentally spilled some beer on my back. She apologized, and I told her not to worry about it. My friend, Monica, saw what happened and approached the girl and said, "Excuse me, do you know who you just spilled beer on? That's
Pete Yorn."
The girl's jaw dropped, and she said, "Oh My God, I'm so sorry. I'm a big fan." She leaned in and gave me a hug. I told her not to worry about it, and I thanked her for listening to my music. She kept staring at me, and asked me what I was doing in Towson. You know, just visiting some friends. I made sure to keep my back to her the rest of the day because I knew one of her friends would call me out.
For the record, Pete Yorn looks like
this.
While I look like
this.
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b at 12:21 PM
meetings...
Been at Best Week Ever meetings since 10am... have to go back in a second. While I can't divulge the top secret things we've been discussing, just know the phrase "Lindsay Lohan's ample bosom" was talked about more than once.
I'll be back.
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b at 12:47 PM
