Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Admittedly I'm a little late on this (5 days but that's an eternity in internet years) but I could not let Sean Combs change his alias again without blogging about it. So his new name's Swag. Just Swag. Let that resonate for a minute.
Let me start by addressing the word "swag". I was almost sure this phrase had really seen the last of its days (along with: pwned, your mom, fail, that's what she said). I thought it was killed two years ago after Soulja Boy used it in his "half-fratbanger, half-headache", Turn My Swag On. I thought it was really killed when this Gatorade ad beat it to death by creating the word "re-swagger". I thought it was dead after Bieber started dropping it every other sentence (as much as that pleased Uncle Chafe). Even Michael Scott (R.I.P.) used swag in 2006. 2006. Come on Diddy. If a fictional manager of a fictional paper company based out of Scranton, PA is using slang half a decade before you are, you're probably not that legit anymore.
Let's ponder the fact that Diddy is only making his name "Swag" for one week. A few cardinal nickname sins are involved here. First and foremost, you never give yourself a nickname. Never. Second, if you get a nickname, no matter how you get it, it never has a time limit on it. That's the most preposterous thing I have ever heard of. If your fat buddy nicknamed "Chubs" loses ten pounds it's not like you're gonna stop addressing him by his given title. It just doesn't work that way. I mean, what if I decided to rename my dog every week? Quick answer: my dog would be extremely fucked in the head.
These goons with Diddy just can't get enough of the word. It's like they're being paid in blunts just to keep yapping it (not a far-fetched notion). In all honesty, I think the peak of Diddy's career was his appearance in Get Him to the Greek. He was in it for like ten minutes and killed it.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
I had a solid crew when I was young, but these rascals put my crew to shame. They had meetings, they made cash, and boy they hated women. Spanky, Alfalfa, Stymie and the gang had something we all envied: a clubhouse. Moreover, they had order. They took an oath, and any member who broke the “He Man Woman Hater” oath was shunned. Damn they hated it when Alfalfa chose the ho over the bros. Where’s the crew now? Ironically, each one’s role as a women hater is probably the main thing they use to get chicks today
Bug Hall – Everyone knows that Alfalfa was soft. He broke the code, and almost broke up the group. But in the end he was a hero, and the crew’s meetings turned into make-out sessions. The clubhouse turned into a nice spot to take a chick. Bug Hall was in American Pie’s Book of Love, The Big Green, and Honey we Shrunk Ourselves, among other movies. Bug’s doing (relatively) alright.
Travis Tedford- Spanky was a man’s man. A stubborn little mastermind, he always had a game-plan. Spanky was the leader, mainly because he hated girls more than everyone else did. Since the '94 flick, Tedford made appearances in All That, Recess, A Bugs Life, and had a non-speaking cameo in an episode of Smart Guy. His best work was in the grape juice commercials. He nailed those. He graduated community college in Texas last year, and he’s just living like a normal dude. Probably rails a lot of chicks now, which is against everything he once stood for.
Ross Bagley – I always thought Buckwheat was a girl that the boys made an exception for because Porky convinced them to, but I guess I was wrong. Buckwheat and Porky were inseparable, and they were a great duo. Bagley later played Nicky Banks on Fresh Prince (solid) and was in Independence Day as well, among other things. He’s a senior at Cal St. Univetsity Northridge.
Courtland Mead – Uh-Huh was a yes man. He was the type of role-player that kept this group together. Mead later voiced Gud Griswold in Recess (really). If any of you could have called that I’ll buy you a thirty (not really).
Sam Saletta – Butch. Back when “jerk” was my go-to insult, Butch defined it. Such a bully, but he got his. Saletta later voiced Sam Squid on Rocket Power. He also had some role in 7th Heaven.
Blake McIver – I hated Waldo Aloysius Johnston III. McIver was later the voice of Eugene from Hey Arnold. A lot of sources say that the theater major is now gay, but he hasn’t confirmed or denied it yet.
Brittany Ashton Holmes – Darla hasn’t acted since 1996 when she was “The Girl on Boat” in Humanoids from The Deep. I never saw it but I bet she did an awful job. I resent that girl for almost breaking up the greatest group of friends to ever walk this Earth.
Their lives now aren't exactly what I thought they'd turn out to be. Most of them have been out of the biz since Y2K, but that doesn't change what they did for me when I was younger. That doesn't change who they once were. Stay strong crew: I'm sure at least one of you can fight your way up to being a D list celebrity one day.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
When gunning it on the highway, running down a dream, I often tend to bend the speed limit a little bit. Sometimes 55 isn’t fast enough, especially when you have a 12 hour drive you’re trying to make in 10. Whenever I think I’m gonna get nabbed, I don’t. Whenever I’m ignorant about the fact that I’m making the speed limit look like the work of a tricycle, that’s when the fuzz finds me. Tunes are jamming and it’s dark outside when all of a sudden the rear view turns into a multi-colored strobe light. It doesn’t even matter if I’m breaking the law at the time the sirens go off. I always think they’re for me. I’m always prepared to be fucked by the long dick of the law. Whether I'm in my car flying or sitting on some Natties in Brighton, when I see/hear sirens, I think the worst.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Luke Rodgers is a madman with a bald head and a nose for trouble. The redcoat has been in the headlines for bad reasons before. One time back in England, he got into it with an opponent and waited for him in the parking lot after the game (enough with the Gilmore quotes already). After he scored a hat-trick in another match, he went out to celebrate and got arrested at a pub for a "violent crime." Those are both pretty legendary stories that should not be hated on by this site, but it's pretty downhill from there. Once Rodgers set off two fireworks outside of a Bromwich pub one night, one of the which lost control and hit a 16 year-old girl in the face. The firework got stuck to her face until it exploded, leaving irreversible burns and scars. Rodgers got 100 hours of community service.Then there's this, which cements this chache as an Anti-Bro of the Week. He's most recently been in the headlines for calling Landon Donovan a dickhead during Saturday's Red Bulls-Galaxy game. Anyone who respects America will hate on that, especially after watching this and this (chills). As hard as it is to hate on a guy as down-to-party as Rodgers, I have to deem him an Anti-Bro for that stunt. I know how heated players get in games, but don't call the face of American soccer a dickhead in his own country. You just made yourself one powerful enemy. Fuck you, Luke.
P.S. Good luck to Sacir Hot, former BC man who is now with the Red Bulls. Never met the kid, but I hear he could be doing big things in the future.
Monday, May 9, 2011
With every study day comes two distinct grinds: the grind itself and the “grind before the grind”, if you will. I just walked through four middle-campus buildings and came up empty-handed in all of them, opening classrooms to friends and foes alike, tearing down every sign posted on doors that read “in use”, and losing hope. The “grind before the grind” was so intense today that when I finally found a spot in building five that no one will ever be able to find, I thought I had won the battle. How naïve. I immediately sat and packed a victory gumper (‘tis the season), but then it hit me: I hadn’t even begun the real grind of the day yet. I realized that I came to this place to start writing a paper, and damn I forgot just how painful that is.
I don’t think I’ve outlined a paper since the days of the five-paragraph essay in middle-school. I usually prefer my own method, which entails sitting in front of my computer the day before the bitch is due, opening up Word, minimizing Word to check any and all social media sites, and waiting for a good topic sentence to come to me. This method makes it take a while to get into the rhythm of a paper. Sometimes the topic is just way over my head, sometimes it’s way too boring, and sometimes the whiteness of Document 3 just gets the best of me for a while. I usually end up changing my first sentence four or five times before I feel somewhat comfortable moving on. If anyone ever asks you for an example of a “grind", tell them that it’s writing the first paragraph of a paper with an obscure topic. If that task were a comedian, it’d be this guy. Twenty minutes later, I'm about seven or eight sentences in. twenty minutes after that, I'm usually done with the paper. Once I conquer the first paragraph or two, I’m usually alright, and I just spell-check my way to victory. And when spell-check fails, that’s a chafe in its lonesome, one for a different post entirely (spell-check: where were you on that one dipshit? (1:30)). It's just the start of the paper that really grinds my gears.
If you didn’t watch the World Cup and you don’t at least occasionally play Fifa you might be a little in the dark on this one, but if that's really the case then you’ve probably come to this website by mistake.
Cavani has been tearing up the Italian Serie A for Napoli, racking up a league high 26 goals with levels of both flow and freshness unmatched by a Uruguayan (thanks wiki) since Diego Forlan, also known as Jesús, was in his prime. We all saw Uruguay tear it up in the World Cup. I for one have nothing but respect for Suarez’s greasy goal-saving hand ball at the last minute against Ghana. And I would have given my left natty for Forlan’s extra time pk to have sunk a foot lower and under the crossbar. The fact that he was 32 and probably and wouldn’t see the pitch for another world cup was a pretty crushing blow. Who knew that just left of the spotlight, El Matador was warming up those steed-like springs the whole time for the 2011 season. He might be the most expensive man in soccer (will someone who knows math figure out how much 86 million pounds is worth in dollars), but possibly the most underrated aspect of his overall game is the fact that he looks pretty damn weird. Note the convincing Imhotep impression he pulls at 0:50. Nothing like belching a few scarabs into the stands during a celly to get the intimidation factor going.
Text messaging has completely revolutionized hooking up. Without texting... I don't even want to think about that so I won't. It's 2011, and solid, well planned, well executed sexting is how you hook up. Plain and simple. Being a shitty, creepy, desperate sexter, on the other hand, is how you wind up pathetic and alone like Singler. In my eyes text game is slowly but surely surpassing in-person game in terms of importance.
Some girls are just shitty texters, while others will respond in under 15 seconds 100 times out of 100. Things get sticky when a girl who's normally on point doesn't respond. Worse, when she negs an aggressive, 2+ am, 'you know exactly what my intentions are' type text that she'd normally respond to. Now shit's awkward. Never send a follow up text. Never. OK? Never. If it's a girl you've hooked up with a couple of times before then there are only so many explanations: She's with another dude, she's tired/doesn't feel like hanging out, she's asleep/blacked out, she lost her phone, or she's just disinterested. None of these scenarios can be helped by you shooting over an anxious "Hello?" or "Ouch". I know it's hard, I know you want to, but be disciplined. Take your cut and see what happens. God forbid you send 2 awkward texts post 2 am and run in to the girl the next day. If that's not a passer-by that you whip out your phone and pretend to be typing for I don't know who is.
Give credit where credit is due. Making a good call in front of the fellas usually merits a nice old healthy smirk. I'm not talking about putting two and two together with an obvious actor (unless you go way back into the vault and point out a throw back flick (i.e. Jonah Hill in Grandma's Boy)). I'm talking about making a call that no one would have thought about by themselves. The one's that make people go, "Oooooooh yeahhhhh. Good call Fratsby!" The ones that stir up an argument and bring in the iPhresh for the tie breaker. An example is connecting Eddie from the Hangover and Avi the Waiter from Old School (I spent an hour trying to find a youtube clip. The best I could do was retype the script)
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
I’m just gonna go off on a tangent here, but if you were looking for something meaningful, you're reading the wrong blog. I’m no Roger Ebert, but damn I love going to the movies. Other than the fact that the theater was the best place for making out in grade-school (where are they now? – Sheila, my first kiss), hitting up a flick in theaters is a quality experience, especially when you bring doggies. I go to movies when I really want to see a specific flick, when I have time, and when it’s convenient. Because I only have two roommates with cars, one of them doesn't let anyone drive it because it is his love, it is his passion (1:30), my movie theater game is subpar at school. The T can be a bit chafey, and sometimes the added time of the commute deters potential companions from going. I simply am not man enough to go to a movie theater alone. It’s possible that one day I will summon the fortitude to be that guy with a trench coat and a baseball cap pulled down over my eyes, sitting—no—lurching in the back corner of the movie theater alone, but, for better or for worse, that day has not yet arrived. So I am left begging for channel 48 to keep throwing out the gems that they have been in recent months. However, every time I walk through our little Times Square (Cleveland Circle), I cringe at the sight of the shut-down theater next to the Applebee’s.
If that theater isn’t going to resume business, why doesn’t BC buy it? Turn that warehouse into an off-campus O’Connell House of some sorts, except with less weird events and more bangers. Somehow alleviate the pain I feel from being deprived the pleasure of seeing movies before they hit DVD's. Sign me up for that shit.