Consider yourself warned...

I bought some steak house peanuts recently...


and the manufacturer was kind enough to inform me that my bag of peanuts contained peanuts



Thank goodness, I mean people who are deathly allergic to peanuts might have mistakenly purchased the steakhouse peanuts in pure ignorance if not for that warning.

Thanks blantantly obvious package people.

I heart New York

I'm blogging remotely this week on account of being in new york on business.

I decided to do the new york thing and walk from where I was working (27st) to where I am staying (52st) in what is perhaps the hottest day ever.

BAD IDEA JEANS!

Apparently misery loves company cause it seems like half the city was doing the same thing.

I have to admit, my respect for new yorkers went up a notch today. Not because of their love of walking, cursing or tolerance of the heat.

Oh no.

Because while waiting for the green light on a crowded street corner right there on 42st and madison avenue, it was so loud and so stank, I let loose a fart and nobody even noticed. And it wasn't any half-steppin SBDF either. I shared a good 8 second, cheek clapping, check ya draaaz, restaurant quality, gastronomical purge with the fine citizens of the big apple and no one even blinked.

Damn, they really are unshakable.

Old timey psychology Vol. II

Big ups to Philip Zimbardo and his attempts at creating his own version of Real World: Attica.

PZ was a homeboy of Stanley "shocker" Milgram and like his colleague is associated with one of the more notorious experiments in psych 101 text books, the Stanford Prison experiment. Basically, PZ wanted to answer the question of which comes first, the role or the behavior?

Or in other words, are prison security guard pricks because of their job or because the job attracts pricks? Anecdotally, I would say the latter, but this experiment may suggest otherwise.

Let me let wikipedia break it down for you...

Participants were recruited via a newspaper ad and offered $15 a day ($76 adjusted for today's inflation) to participate in a two-week "prison simulation." Of the 70 respondents, Zimbardo and his team selected 24 whom they deemed to be the most psychologically stable and healthy. These participants were predominantly white, middle class young males. All were college undergraduates.

By a flip of a coin,PZ randomly assigned folks into one of two groups, prisoners and guards and sent them on there merry ways. A few hours later the Palo Alto PoPo rolled up and arrested the "prisoners" and took then to a mock jail set up in the basement of the school.

PZ gathered gaurds and gave them simple instructions. Essentially, do what it takes to keep the prisoners in line, take away their individuality, mess with their minds to create a sense of powerlessness, just don't be violent.

Now, here's where it gets interesting.

In order to make prisoners less like people and more like things, they were dressed in matching muu muus and reffered to by numbers. In order to make guards less individual (accountable) and authoritative, they were dressed in militant khaki's, given prick cop sunglasses and a beat down stick.

A few days into the experiment, PZ had no choice but to pull the plug, as rumors of a planned escaped hatched and hunger strikes and riots erupted among prisoners in protest of the gaurds actions which included...

Bathroom rights became privileges which could be, and frequently were, denied. Some prisoners were made to clean toilets using their bare hands. Mattresses were removed from the "bad" cell, and prisoners were forced to sleep on the concrete floor without clothing. Food was also frequently denied as a means of punishment. Prisoners endured forced nudity and even homosexual acts of humiliation.

Before the experiment, these were peers, probably even friends. In less that a week they were going all Abu. While it doesn't necessarily prove it, it does suggest that in some cases, given the right catalysts, nature can be trumped by nurture.

In other words, perceptions surrounding beliefs and expectations associated with roles can become reality, and cause one to lose sight of one's true self. This is especially relevant when signs of the individual are masked, identity is concealed, and people are less associated with their actions (rather their actions are associated with their roles).

Incredible story about an elephant's memory...

UPI July 3, 2006

A young man was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from college. While he was walking through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed so the man approached it very carefully. He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot. There was a large thorn deeply embedded in the bottom of the foot.

As carefully and as gently as he could he worked the thorn out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The elephant turned to face the man and with a rather stern look on its face, stared at him. For a good ten minutes the man stood frozen -- thinking of nothing else but being trampled.

Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned and walked away.

The man never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.

Twenty years later the man was walking through the zoo with his teenaged son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to where they were standing at the rail. The large bull elephant stared at him and lifted it's front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times, all the while staring at the man. The man couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant.

After a while it trumpeted loudly; then it continued to stare at him.

The man summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder.

Suddenly the elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of the man's legs and swung him wildly back and forth along the railing, killing him.

Probably wasn't the same elephant.

Propaganda aaarrrrghh!

Pirate flags just got that much cooler.

Flava Puff

Stated on their site as the Cadillac of Cotton candy, the evil Flava Geniuses have decided to test their brand elasticity with a resealable bucket of cheese balls called Flava Puffs and offer this goodness for like $1.29.

Goooooooooooooooooooooooooodddaammmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmn!

You know I snatched me up one of them pails of puffs for the party!

It might as well be endorsed by Craig "ugly as sin/flava in ya ear" Mack.

It's like the 12 days of christmas this week, except it's only five days and it doesn't end with a presents stuffed under a tree, rather it concludes with a nacho cheese fountain and ghost ridin' the go kart.

Saturday
Can.
Not.
Get.
Here.
Fast.
Enuff.

Anyone have $90,000 to spare?

If so, you can give the middles to the gas industry and not worry about being a target for a wedgie by getting this fine azz electric automobile.

The Tesla Roadster can go from 0 to 60 miles per hour in four seconds. It tops out at 130mph.

It's on like donkey kong!

I bought three 12 packs of PBR and 6 ping-pong balls at the stizzy at lunch, which it's just the start of the fun and exciting things which will be purchased for this upcoming weekend's festivities.

Byaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Watch out! It's getting racial all up in here

Man, as much as I would like to believe we have come a long way since the 50s & 60s in terms of diversity and appreciation for cultural differences, the sad fact of the matter is that we have not.

While things are different than they used to be, they are not necessarily any better. Racism is out and about, but creepin on the DL and I am about to expose it in a true voice of the people style.

Example #1, street signs.

Damn, there are few things as blatantly racists as street signs. What's that you say? You want proof? Well look no futher.

Looking for a book to read?

Looking for a criminal?

Why is it that they put whitey on the sign with someone reading a book and darky on the sign for crime watch?

That's just plain wrong!

Seperated at birth?

Reality TV's "So you think you can dance" Judge, Mary Murphy...

and Union Pacific's M-10000...

My name is mud

Last weekend I competed in Richmond's Muddy Buddy race, an offroad race where you and a partner bike/run/overcome obstacles for like 6 or 7 miles.

The website described the course as most flat. I have come to learn that flat is a relative term and that Pamela Anderson is mostly flat relative to Dolly Parton.

Anyhow, here's a brief rundown...

Here is my hella-fly bike...

Peep my pimp art zip tied on that mug, along with the pink horn and vanillaroma air fresheners on the handlebars. In all, It cost like $80 (bike included) at target. At that price, I had doubts it would see the finish line, but the ole thundercat did just fine.

My team name was Chuck Norris.

I biked the first leg (My teammate, D. Magical ran). This leg was like 1.5 miles, and seemed to be mostly up hill, minus crossing a river (no not on a bridge, I actually carried the bike through the river...well maybe it was a creek). At the end I dropped my bike only to be greeted by a 4 ft wall to be jumped.

I ran the next leg (D. Magical biked). It was long, hot and muddy and we had to climb a cargo net at the end.

Leg3 had a real bitch's bitch of a hill and this crazy inflatable thing you had to scale like 20 ft on one side and slide down the other.

Leg4 was forgetable probably due to the terror inducing balance beam waiting at the end. I managed to cross it successfully without falling and hitting me twig and berries.

Leg5 was like the Shamrock vs Ortiz fight from a few weeks ago, over before it ever got started.
The final obstacle was this big nasty mud pit you had to belly crawl through. It looked like poo, smelled like poo, and according to Occam's Razor, in all likelihood was poo.

D. Magical and I emerged from the other side as chocolate dipped gangstas.

We joined some other friends from team Dirty Dolphin and crushed some red hook and celebrate finishing.

There were a few other interesting team names in the mix...

Powered by PBR

Ha! We stole your bike!

Don't Call Me Mary

Chafed Thighs

Money Shots

Crippled and Crazy

Dirty Sanchez

millivanilli

Flaps of Ham

Here for the Beer

1 bald 1 fat

In Your Eye

Phatphucks

Fud Muckers




Time to start thinking of the next great adventure.

Kick Push Kick Push Kick Push Kick Push and Coassssssst

Aw man I can't get that Lupe Fiasco song outta my head!

So I just had to go watch the video, naturally.

Anyhow, it is a refreshing change from most of the crap titled as hip-hop.

Let me break it down for you...

In true hip-hop style, that video is budget. It was probably shot for $3.50 and a pack of orange tic tacs, just like the good ole days before the industry got behind the genre and got its commercialized hooks all up in it.

Music production is the focus. The song has some of the most 1992 beats I've heard since well 1992. Lupe has a nice flow and actually weaves a nice little narritive together rather than spitting about the rims on his car. I would say he reminds me of Slick Rick, but I recently read that he is inspired by none other than Johnny Cash and his story telling style of music.

Finally, either as non-conformist or a deviant saying FU he takes something generally outside his culture and makes it his. I'm not saying there aren't any brothers who skateboard, I'm just saying they are about as common as white rappers used to be.

Regardless, there just maybe some hope for hip hop afterall.

Drifting the night away

Well I learned a few things about drifting this weekend.

For those who don't know what drifting is, it is essentially driving like an A-hole around corners so that the a$$end of the car swings out and you glide through the corner all fast & furious style.

Anyhow, I signed up for US Drift 101, a course that teaches you the art and science of drifting.

What I didn't know, upon signing up, is that you are required to use your own car. Still I thought me and the 'ru would manage just fine.

Upon arrival, I saw that there were 26 other folks signed up for the course and no less than 20 of them were driving the same type of car, a Nissan 240 and one of the more fast and furious styled cars even had a fancy lil sticker across the windshield that read DRIFTING FOR JESUS. I am sure the son of God appreciates the effort.

Anyhow of the remaining 6 cars, mine was the only non-rear wheel drive car. Brilliant. Furthermore, as I pulled in to the lot, I noticed 90% of the cars were beaters and beyond that, the yahoo's were jacking up the rears to put sets of super schitty tires on. Me and the 'Ru got more that our fair share of comments which ranged from "Dude are you gonna drift the wagon? Ohhhhh Snap! That's just crazy!" to "This car is too nice for drifting, take it easy so you can drive home at the end of the day."

I heard the second comment from no less than 3 different instructors. I thought they were being nice until I saw some kid take his S2000 off the track only to loose 1/2 of the front bumper and part of the radiator to the lip (curb) of the track. Even worse, the oil pan plug got ripped out, and he drove the car off the track spewing oil, coolant and his pride. I am not sure how that conversation will go with the insurance company, but I am sure it will be interesting.

Anyhow, here are my key learnings:

Drifting takes skill and a capable and preferably non-daily driven car, of which I have neither.

However, when it comes to my go-kart, that's a whole nother story. I'll get that monster more sideways than a movie about wine and relationships.

And then there is this...

Target's mascot, Bullseye, acknowledges Charlize Theron's beauty and acting talent in a way that online a canine can, the red rocket salute.

I could have made a joke about Bullseye offering to help reapply her lipstick, but that would just be in poor taste.

Acid Trip

Check one more box off the nuptial to-do's as it looks as if we locked down a DJ for the festivities.

Melady found a rave review on da knot about a club dj who plays weddings on the side, and we arranged to go meet with her (yes a female dj, a tatted up one too).

We got to her place a little early, but she invited us in, nonetheless, claiming she would return to her project afterwards. Her project, as it turns out, was compiling a playlist for a Mash-up party she is playing at the Black Cat.

Curiosity got the best of me, so I asked "Are you making a playist of mash-ups or making the actual mash-ups?" It was the latter as she flipped open her laptop and played her project, a lil ditty blending Prince and Tom Jones.

I was sold, both on the DJ and the software.

I used 7,000 sony points that I have earned from 3 years of gym payments and my prepaid phone to redeem my very own copy of Sony Acid Studio, which I received just last night. No less that 2 hours out of the box, I had made my very first schitty mash-up, blending Soul2Soul's "Keep on Movin" with Suzanne Vega's "Tom's Diner."

I'd post it, but I don't know how and I don't have a myspace page, cause that's how I roll.

It's not so much a mash-up, save for 1 or 2 brief parts, as much as it is beatmatching and cutting back & forth between the two songs. Still the software is pretty damn hott and if I do say so myself a valiant first effort.

Ironically after my first experimentation with Sony Acid, I found myself having the strangest dream ever, something about the transmission of intelligence through energy...sort of like a wireless internet connection into your cabeza.

I think their may have been pudding involved too, which as it just so happens, is not only delicious, but holds the same consistency of grey matter according to one of my former psych professors, who liked to lecture about acid of all things.

Circle of life and all that jazz I suppose.

Anyone know where I can borrow a karaoke machine?

BREAKING NEWS *** Crack found in foam on shuttle's fuel tank

Marion Barry volunteers to remove the problem.

Ghost ride da whip!

It's basically the new cabbage patch but with a car.

Can't wait to ghost ride the go kart in a few weeks.

Evil Pleasures...

I really have no tolerance for slow people.

I'm not talkin about wearing a helmet slow, but people who impede my bidness in some way by taking there sweet ass time, like this is their world and I am just living in it.

Wrong!

So anytime I can get a little passive aggressive poke at these donkey punchers, I feel bad about the fact that I feel so good about my actions (ie cutting in front of a sunday driver in a parking lot and then getting an exponentially better parking space).

I had something like that happen about 30 minutes ago.

There are a couple of high profile weekends on deck, so melady and I decided it was time to upgrade ye olde camera. Some quick online research and comparison shopping and we found our choice (Sony DCS-W70) and best price (circuit city).

So we headed off to the store.

Why oh why is it when you are only looking around, the salesfolk are all up on your dillznik like white on rice, but when you have a legit question, it's a mutha-funkin' ghost town?

Anyhow, it really didn't matter cause we knew exactly what we wanted. The only problem was this entire family unit was blocking the display case like they owned the place, debating whether or not to buy the same damn camera we were there to get.

I guess the only thing they didn't bother discussing was the fact that there was only one camera left in the case and figured they could debate the matter until the cows come home.

Quickly we grabbed another worthless sales jabroni and got him to get the last one out of the case on the DL while the Waltons were looking the other way.

So after an excessive amount of jaw-jackin, they decided they wanted to buy, only we ended up with the last one in stock in hand, and took some twisted pleasure in watching the family's collective confused look as they tried and tried and find it. Even their sharp as a bowling ball sales associate kept looking and looking since the inventory showed just one more in stock.

Suckaz!

That's just how we roll. Either Get in & get out or get the F out the wayyyyyy!

So as soon as I sort out how this new fan-dangled contraption works, be on the look out for some hot new audio-video production-izzies!*

Barring any instant karmic retributions.

Speaking of Foil

Which side of Reynolds Wrap® Aluminum Foil should I use, the shiny or the dull side?

Actually, it makes no difference which side of the aluminum foil you use—both sides do the same fine job of cooking, freezing and storing food. The difference in appearance between dull and shiny is due to the foil manufacturing process. In the final rolling step, two layers of foil are passed through the rolling mill at the same time. The side coming in contact with the mill's highly polished steel rollers becomes shiny. The other side, not coming in contact with the heavy rollers, comes out with a dull or matte finish.

Totally radical!

Is it possible to distill an entire decade into a boardgame?

You bet your rubik's cube it can!

Never mind how the name pretty much sums up the Reagan era in a nice neon colored bow, check out the wrist bands on that Alex P. Keaton looking mutha.

Or the Magnum PI whip? Where's the helicopter with our black friend, TJ?

And nothing says 1980s more than windsailing and pin striped suits.

Ah conspicuous consumption at its best!

Foiled again!

Question:
How best do you welcome back a coworker from a week long jaunt
through italy?

Answer:
With 2 football fields worth of aluminum foil.

Are you for cereal?

I don't have a single coherent topic to write about, so here are a series of blogettes. Think of it as the kid's menu of blogging.

Went to the movies with my nephew this weekend and happened to catch a preview of this. Should I go see it or give $9.25 to a homeless man staple my eyes right now? The result is likely the same.

Speaking of wanting to staple my eyes, I saw 2 minutes of DateMovie this weekend. Like getting a full plate of general Tso's chicken at the mall eatery after trying the free sample, I should have known better.

Speaking of food, I found the ONE person in the ENTIRE world who prefers regular hamburger buns over potato roll hamburger buns. How is that even possible?

Speaking of impossibilities, Dulles received damn near half a foot of rain last night. The deluge was enough to send emergency response teams out with ambulances towing inflatable dinghies (is that how you spell the plural of Dinghy or is it Dinghai?) I saw two such occurences while travelling back from PA yesterday.

Speaking of travelling back from PA, Bud Light should feature Mr. Truck Stop Bathroom Grout Graffeti Artist as there next Real men of Genius. Has anyone else noticed this before? I will have to document and write a post of further susbtance exploring this topic at a later date.

Speaking of later dates, we are are roughly 1 month from the monster summer party. I called about the price of crabs and we are looking good at $90 per bushel. I also fired up the go kart last weekend and it is ready for its nex run in with Johnny Law.

I think that's about it for now.

PS you are not getting those 2 minutes back.

ever.

Gimme some of that ole timey psychology...

Here's the first installment of a fun lil series that will highlight researchers who kept it real.

Back before little things like ethics and IRBs got in the way of doing fun research like finding a baby named albert and banging pots and pans behind him everytime he saw a white mouse just to see if he would grow up to be afraid of santa clause's beard, you know important stuff.

Anyhow, first on my list is none other than Stanley Milgram, a real playa who's application to the psychology club AKA the American Psychology Association was put on hold due to the questionable ethics of his experiments.

He is probably most well know for his dabblings in obedience research, most notably the shock experiment, in which participants believed they were divided into two groups, learners and teachers (in actuality all participants were teachers and the learners were confederates* not the good ole boy kind, the hey we're in on the hustle kind).

So anyhow, teachers (shown as S below) were asked to read questions and learners (shown as A below) who were located in an adjacent room, were supposed to answer. For every wrong answer, the teacher was instructed to press a button on this fan-dangled contraption which delivered a variable shock to the learner. The device was a sham as well, but the participants didn't know that either (gullible ole participants!).

Now for the good stuff, the shock box (shown up top) had a dial ranging from 45 volts to, get this, XXX. With each wrong answer, the participant had to ratchet up the electric ante a notch or two, regardless of what the learner said (ie Stop this! Help! I don't want to participate any more! My heart, My heart! AAAAArARGHGGH *slump*).

When the teacher hesitated, the experimenter (shown as E above) would try and work his mental mack game and get the participant to continue, despite their better judgement.

The premise was to answer the question How far will people go, in terms of hurting others, when commanded to do so by an authoritative figure? On a short sidenote, the basis of the question stemmed from the atrocities of the Nazi's and people wondering how such acts could be done.

So how did this turn out?

More than two out of three people delivered the full shock monty and Peter Gabriel went on to write a song about it (no, not Shock the monkey, rather We do what we're told).

DIZAMN! That's like 67% doing the wrong thing 100% of the time!

It seems that a lab coat and clip board often trumped cries for help, feigned heart attacks, and even illusions of death.

If you want more details, you can peep them here.

Damn, Stanley, you'sa straight research gangsta and this blogs for you!

Now i am off to go buy a lab coat and clip board.

Rock it like Herbie Hancock

What else did I do this weekend?

1. Almost lost my GF's cat

Ooops!


2. Watched the Rock Paper Scissors world championship on the deuce (aka ESPN2)

What's next? Pencil fighting?


3. Played the new GTA

I almost played hooky today to continue my rampage through liberty city


4. Pondered the connection between the stockholm syndrome and katieholmes syndrome?

Falling in love with a kidnapper vs falling in love with a cradle robber?


5. Learned an interesting new phrase... myoclonic jerk.

Is that a new Steve Martin movie?

No, it's that sensation of falling and/or corresponding muscle spasm you get when you are drifting off to sleep. One interpretation is that your brain thinks your body is dying (it's not, it's only temporarily shutting down) and the brain sends out a quick pulse out to say "don't die, rather, get the F%#* up you lazy POS!"


6. Let a pseudo off color comment slip in front of the fams at Father's day BBQ.

It went a little something like this....

Mom: We should celebrate all the grandkids/Niece/Nephew's birthdays while they are in town

Grandma: But what would we do about the cakes? Would each kid have their own cake? That would be a whole lotta cakes!

Sister: Maybe we should just have a bunch of cupcakes?

Grandma: How would we know which ones were boy cupcakes and which ones were girl cupcakes?

Sister: The boys would have blue frosting and the girls would have pink


Me: Yeah, and the boys cupcakes would be the ones with nuts.

Ba-Dump-Dump.

Weekend plans...

For me:

• Recover sleep lost this week
• Unwrap and play the new GTA I bought on tuesday
• Nap
• Whittle a train out of a bar of soap for fathers day

For melady--partake of the finest offerings of Dewey Beach which for this weekend include the following:

• Vanilla Ice -- not the dessert, but the former rapper turned angry white dude in concert at the bottle and cork. I swear.
• All you can peel and eat shrimp for the ladies special offered by the local bar--seriously? Who the hell are they trying to attract with that mess? I've heard of Scandals giving away diamond earings to get the ladies in the door, but peel and eat shrimp? That's a cry for help if I ever heard it!

Red Stripe

Mo' Betta' Advertising...

Helping the white man dance!

and

Making ugly people beautiful.

Hooray Beer!

For Papa Burr...

Excerpt from Ice Cube's No Vaseline:
I never have dinner with the President.
I never have dinner with the President.
I never have dinner with the President.
And when I see your ass again, I'll be hesitant.
Now I think you a snitch,throw a house n!gga in a ditch.
Half-pint b!tch, f$ckin' your homeboys.You little maggot;
Eazy E turned f*ggot.With your manager, fella,f$ckin' MC Ren, Dr. Dre, and Yella.
But if they were smart as me,Eazy E would be hangin' from a tree.
With no vaseline, just a match and a little bit of gasoline.
Light 'em up, burn 'em up, flame on...till that Jheri curl is gone.

I'm a planning, planning, planning machine (the links-a-lot edition)

Watch me get down now!

Who wants to rent the General Lee for the wedding?

Who wants to know how to make a pinata?

A pinata that looks like this?

Only to be filled with this?

Don't get mad at me. I voted for carlos.

You had to be there.

Strange Facts about...

...me: I am 95% sure I tried oatmeal for the first time in my life yesterday. Actually, I am 100% sure I ate it, and pretty sure it took me 30 years to decide to try it. So sue me, I like to ease into thngs.

...Thailand: There is a shortage of yellow shirts.

2000 Acura Interga -- Autoweek Vol 5

Yeah, this whole autoweek thing has gone beyond a week, sorry about that. What can I say, I have owned quite a few cars in my day.

After backing into a snowbank with the Mazda and wedging a bunch of snow into the muffler and blowing the seal on the turbo from the back pressure, I decided to buy a car that had less than 120,000 miles on it.

Introducing the 2000 Acura Integra GS-r...


Yes, back then I lived my life a quarter mile at a time.

I had a Jackson Racing Supercharger strapped onto the 8K winding v-tec. When you floored it, it made a sound like a shop vac on steroids and ran like it stole something. It ate tires like star jones eats donuts and its 17s made sure your arse felt every inconsistency in the road.

The air conditioning stopped working during the hottest summer on record and I got tired of the $1000 tunes required every year to make the car run like it should so I sent it along its merry way. It was a fun car while I had it, but let's face it, it's no roo.

Train wreck of the week, possibly the millenium...

Sweet pappy molassy, where do I even begin with this one?

Have you ever purchased a soundtrack for a movie without actually seeing the movie?

And then feel so guilty about it, that you force yourself to watch the movie, not cause you want to, but out of a sense of obligation?

Well I have. I think I have owned the soundtrack to Sunset Park for the better part of a decade and just saw the movie for the first time today.

If you don't own/haven't heard the soundtrack and like solid hip-hop jams circa mid 90s, then you owe it to yourself to go pick it up. The tracks from Mobb Deep, Onyx and JM are well worth the price of admission, which on amazon starts at just 1 penny for a used disc.

If you haven't seen the movie, and want to poke your eyes out with a hot poker, watch the movie. The basic premise is that Rhea Pearlman (that's Danny Devito's wife) decides to take a sidejob coaching an inner city basketball team to fund her life long dream of buying a stake in her favorite restaurant. The thing is, now get this, she knows NOTHING about basketball.

TRY TO CONTROL YOUR EXCITEMENT.

Yes, it is pretty much as bad as you can imagine it to be. However, the appearances of a few "before they were famous" stars almost controls the stank of the movie to a little turd versus a massive steaming pile of corn seeded crap.

Example 1. Gary Dourdan

Yes, 98% of you are probably asking, who the f$%K is that? He plays Warrick Brown on the good CSI. He plays a dreadlocked gangsta for like 3 minutes in the movie. Just enough to say, hey, isn't that the guy with the gambling problem from CSI?


Example 2. Terrence Howard

Only 93% of you are asking who the f$%k is that? Well, he broke through big time with Crash where he played a movie director who is accused of acting whiter in order to fit in with Hollywood. In a really weird sense of irony he was listed as Terrence DaShon Howard in the credits of Sunset Park but only as Terrence Howard for Crash. I'll leave the discussion up to you.

Sorry for not posting much lately

Maybe this will make up for it.

It's gonna be another busy week

So let me drop a little something something on ya real quick...

Things overheard at restaurants this weekend....

The good (in a british accent no less): "Son you have got to get to know those hooter girls better" --A man sez to his 4 year old boy

The Bad: "Manuel, come see this. This is what I was telling you about. This is a health code violation. Make it go away." --The hostess to the busboy pointing at something behind the bar

The Ugly: "You are a smelly pirate hooker." Me to Mr. White Chocolate after having to consume an entire pint while playing Bullisht pyramid and having the table next to us give disparaging looks.

So you don't have to look at the clown any more

Here's a picture of some people playing donkey baseball.

I'll write more later...

I am going to go wash my eyeballs now...

Who drives a car with tags like this?

Do you really want to know?

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Sugar free Twizzlers = Pure Evil

Trust me on this one.

I am no doctor, but something tells me you should not be able to hear food being digested. And for sure, people next to you should not be able to hear it.

My stomach is making noises like when you throw water on a gremlin.

A sidecar named desire

Went to a wedding this weekend.

Wedding had an open bar.

Fancy one, too.

The kind loaded with bottles of stuff that you don't even recognize.

Thus, I was so inspired to expand my lushicious horizons and order a sidecar.

The barkeep said "Sure thing, what's in a sidecar?"

I replied "I have no clue, you are the bartender, you tell me."

Barkeep says to BarkeepII "Hey barkeepII, what's a sidecar?"

BarkeepII "I have no idea."

Me "Just make something up."

BarkeepI "Like what?"

Me "Let's try vodka and fresh lime juice."


Despite being nowhere close to what a real sidecar is, my drink was pretty decent.

A few minutes later a friend went to the bar and ordered a dirty side car and a new game of screw with the bartender was born.

Over the course of the evening a variety of interesting and non-existing drinks were ordered. These drinks included, but were not limited to...

Curly Mullet

The Fuzzy Ninja

A dirrty (yes dirrty) Shirley Temple

An Arabian Cricket

and perhaps my most favorite...

The Sexy Pickle.

I even came up with a impromptu recipe (Sprite and Midori) to act as if such a thing truly exists.

The Sexy Pickle has the added benefit of being able to ask others important questions such as "Have you seen my sexy pickle?" or "You want taste my sexy pickle?"

I debated also asking for a Gary Busey, but feared receiving a pint of whiskey coupled with a slap and a warrant.

Late in the evening, as the game progressed, I overheard someone order a one-legged hooker. When the bartender asked what kind of drink is that? They replied, who said anything about a drink?

Ok, I made that last part up.

In other news, I had collard greens for dinner.

What did the five fingers say to the face?

Today is the official Slap Your Irritating Co-workers Holiday:

Do you have a co-worker who talks nonstop about nothing, working your last nerve with tedious and boring details that you don't give a damn about?

Do you have a co-worker who ALWAYS screws up stuff creating MORE work for you?

Do you have a co-worker who kisses so much booty, you can look in their
Mouth and see what your boss had for lunch?

Do you have a co-worker who is SOOO obnoxious,when he/she enters a room, everyone else clears it?

Well, on behalf of Ike Turner, I am so very very glad to officially announce Today is SLAP YOUR IRRITATING CO-WORKER DAY!

There are the rules you must follow:
You can only slap one person per hour - no more.
You can slap the same person again if they irritate you again in the same day.
You are allowed to hold someone down as other co-workers take their turns slapping the irritant.
No weapons are allowed...other than going upside somebody's head with
a stapler or a hole-puncher.

CURSING IS MANDATORY!

After you have slapped the recipient, your Assault must be followed with something like "cause I'm sick of your stupid-a$$ always messing up stuff!"

* If questioned by a supervisor or police, (if the supervisor is the irritant), you are allowed to LIE, LIE, LIE! Now, study the rules, break out your list of folks that you want to slap the living day lights out of andget to slapping.....and have a GREAT DAY!

1990 Mazda MX-6 GT Turbo AKA Tha Tree Killa (Autoweek Vol4)

Here's the next car I owned.

And here's my favorite related story.

Ring of Fire

No longer only the name of a Johnny Cash song, but also the name of a home grown drinking game that in once played WILL change the way you look at the world.

The by product of liberal consumption of South Paw Light and Guiness compounded with several restaurant quality deviant minds, this game emerged like a phoenix from the ashes of several rounds of beer pong.

After a heated discussion, the ring of fire council was formed and guidelines for future participation were established. We shyed away from rules, because this game is most appealing to miscreants who pride themselves on breaking them, thus their development would ultimately be as pointless as playing see-saw with Kristy Alley.

So now, ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the 2006 Myrtle Beach Ring of Fire Council, I present to you the guiding principles and corresponding examples behind Ring of Fire.

First, develop a list of "drinking punishments" and write each one on a piece of paper, then fold it up and place it in a hat. The exact number of punishments doesn't matter greatly, but you want a decent number. We used 8, since the number 8 is great according to the Count. You want some variation in the punishments, but they should all be attainable, and hopefully within the confines of the law. Of our eight we had one light punishment and one really really evil one. They were, presented in level of severity, as follows:

1. Eat a pretzel (AKA the one free pass)
2. Give a shotgun and take a shot gun (you shotgun a beer and elect someone else to do the same)
3. Funnel a beer
4. Irish Car Bomb
5. South Paw Bomb (Irish car bomb made with South Paw light instead of Guiness)
6. Flip for shots (you have 1 chance to flip a cup, if you hit, everyone else drinks a shot, if you miss you drink a shot)
7. Wine shooters (5 glasses, each with 2 shots of wine, must be finished in 5 minutes)
8. Mat shot (each player pours a beverage of their choice into the loser's cup, thus with five players, you end up with a cup filled 5 different drinks)

Next, take 12 keg cups and place each on upside down on a table. Hide a ping pong ball under one cup and then array them in form a circle. Have someone else spin the table around a few times. Then have someone else do the same.

Now the stage is set. Grab a deck of cards and gather around a second table or sit on the floor. Deal everyone a card and low card loses. In case of multiple low cards, a game of war settles the score. Loser has to visit the ring of fire and pull a cup (if the loser lost at war, they pull 2 cups, 3 cups if there was a war on top of a war). If the cup is empty, they remove it from the mix and the game continues (another round of cards is dealt).

When someone removes a cup and finds the ball, play Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" and have them draw a punishment and take it like a man or eastern European woman. Afterwards, remove that punishment from the mix and reset the ring of fire for another round. Continue playing until all punishments have been issued.

I know it doesn't sound like much, but with the right element, it's pretty much the greatest game of all times.

Holding it down for German engineering since 87 yaaaa! Autoweek vol3

After the LGC moved on to greener pastures, I picked up a 1988 VW Golf GTI. I was working with a car wholesaler and picked it up pretty much at cost (for him) which was $1,500.

I know most people would scoff at this car, but I liked it. Perhaps due to the contrast effect and my previous car. More likely, however, it was due to my appreciation for being able to see beyond face value and size up potential.

Going on looks alone, a fair amount of people would consider this car butt ugly and never give it a second thought. Peel back the boxy exterior and you will find something rather revolutionary. VW engineers were pretty far ahead of the ricer curve, putting out an affordable, fun to drive pocket rocket. In fact, a recent issue of Automobile magazine placed the GTI among twenty cars which changed the way consumers think about cars and you don't see status like that every day (fugly looks or not).

As for interesting back story, my most memorable experience with the GTI was losing it when I was sideswiped by a drunk driver late one night while out looking for a Mother's day card. I was cruising along when WHAMO! I got sidechecked to the next lane by a Jeep which kept on truckin. I gave pursuit, flashing my lights and laying on the horn. A mile or so later the jeep pulled over.

The driver asked me what the problem was and I replied "nothing aside from the fact you just hit me." He opened his door to get out to assess the damage and fell out of his seat. He was more sauced than Courtney Love at a roast. He tried to leave the scene, but I busted out my ninja like skills and snacthed his keys from his ignition before he could make his getaway.

I proceeded to call the cops on a payphone. He proceeded to hang up said payphone.

I proceeded to call again and he proceeded to charge me like a bull.

I stuck out my elbow.

He ran into ye olde elbow and fell backwards.

We exchanged pleasantries.

The cops came.

He went to jail.

My GTI went bye bye, but not without blessing me with a nice insurance check. Actually I was able to keep it for the check less $100 and I did, banking on the fact that I could get at least $100 for it at the auto auction. I was right. It sold for close to $1,600, more that what I originally paid for it it the first place.

It was sort of my automotive giving tree.

A horse of a different name -- Autoweek Volume 2

After offing the stang, I saddled up to a new breed of hoopty, a 1986 dodge colt AKA Tha’ LGC (Little Ghetto Colt). Formerly belonging to an aunt of mine and sold to me for one dollar, this car did to my ego what Yoko Ono did to John Lennon’s career.

While getting exponentially better gas mileage and having air conditioning which actually worked, this car was a tad bit light on the power side. The car would actually slow down when you pressed the horn and if you wanted to drive with AC, the car would labor more intensively that Kathy Lee’s sweat shop.

To remedy things, I tinted the windows. Then I tinted them again. Yes a true geto fashion statement if there ever was one, double tint. Then with the scraps, I cut out a giant wu-tang W and added that on my collage of tint. It was tint-tastic.

The car was charming in its own right. It had the world’s easiest clutch. I am pretty much convinced the shifter and clutch did nothing and were purely for show. I never had to worry about someone trying to steal the car since it was a sock in the gas tank away from being the piece o’ sh!t car Adam Sandler once sang about.

As an added bonus, the carefree attitude towards the car allowed me to experiment with different projects such as the aforementioned tinting and blinging out the wheels with tin foil.

Me and the LGC cut it up for two years and I have no regrets, Well maybe the tinfoil rims.

Pootie Dominates!

Van Damn! I just check the stats on my library of video shorts and Sine your bitty on the runny kine has broken the 2,000 views mark. Peeps jousting is a distant second with just under 1,000. Troll Hating and Mo betta jousting gets no love with less tha 25 views a piece.

Just some random facts.

That is all.

Go about your day.

Doodads.

Autoweek Volume 1

For some reason, my old mustang has been haunting my dreams as of late, so I have decided to have a little post about it. I'm not the type to play favorites and make my other cars I have owned jealous, so they will all get posts too (try to control your excitement). To keep things pseudo-interesting, I will try and share a story or two about each car.

As far as the ole' stang goes, it was quite possibly the fastest car I have ever been in. Truth be told, I once rear-ended a bird trying to fly away from me. The car also had an amazing trick. Press in the clutch, cock the wheel all the way to one side, rev the engine to 5K and dump it and you could pretty much do a u-turn without moving. The car also goes 150 MPH and that's all I am going to elaborate about that.

The last thing I will say is that cops hated that car. I received my first (and last) ticket(s) in that car. It had a hard life (before I owned it of course). It started as a demo and then was bought by some kid in Waldorf before it came into my possession. He promised me it was never raced, despite having several thousand dollars worth of racing upgrades and 1/4 mile slip showing 13s. He sweared it was just one pass, just to see what it could do. I was gullible teenager. The car leaned funny and the frame developed stress factures so bad that a body shop fixed it, but didn't charge me because they had never seen anything like that and were worried of being liable for something going horribly wrong.

We had a good run, but after 3 years, I put the stang out to pasture thanks to the never ending supply of speed hungry gullible teenagers from Waldolf looking to buy a mustang.

The life and times of Mr. Happy

Right now, you are asking yourself, who the heck is Mr. Happy?

Is he the same guy from the Roger Hargreaves series?

No, not in this case.

When I refer to Mr. Happy, I am, in fact, referring to a wooden spoon that my mother's friend would use to discipline her kids, ala Catholic school nun ruler beating across the tops of your hand style.

Mr. Happy was no ordinary wooden spoon. Rather, someone had taken the loving and caring time to etch a smilely face with a soldering iron and when Mr. Happy came out to play, tears flowed like a majestic river of sugar free grape kool aid.

Thankfully, my parents, being the enlightend folk they are, were never big into the whole corporal punishment scene.

However, they did try the spoon trick. Once.

I'm don't remember what, exactly, I did wrong, but I am sure I went out of my way to earn the fabled spoon smack. What I do remember is laughing at the first recourse of my actions...a hand smack. My foolish courage was rewarded with a upgraded punishment, Mr. Happy Style.

Like the sad clown, I laughed no more and retreated to my bedroom in furious tears. There I lay, waiting, plotting, until I glanced over to my desk and a grand vision unfolded.

I knew what I must do. The sleeping hours could not come soon enough, but once they did, my mission began. I stealthily crept into the kitchen and abducted the wooden utensil which wronged me only hours before.

I took the spoon back to my room, sat at my desk and inserted the handle into my pencil sharpener. I then began cranking the handle and laughing like a 3 year old mad man. I wore that handle down to a mere nub of its former glory before returning it to the drawer to serve warning to other spoons.

I guess it worked, cause the spoon beatings ceased. Victory was mine!

Clemency

The printer lives to jam another day...for now.

clink clink clink...color printer come out to playeeaa!

We got a new color printer at work recently and are allowed to dispose of the old one in any fashion we see fit.

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

The Color printer gets it, after school, 3:00 behind the library!

Look for another infamous T15 epic 2:00 movie portraying its demise soon.

Casa Bonita

Sweet.

The Chronicles of Narnia

I hate that troll.

Run for the hills!

I know my post on strawberry hills was hard to comprehend for some of you non-visual thinkers, so now we have this.

In other news, me and the lady watched Dave Attel's Insomniac Comedy Tour this weekend. It wasn't too shabby. One joke was so intense, I laughed and farted simultaneously, much to me lady's alarm. Touche Mr. Attel.

Finally, I saw a clip on America's Funniest Home Video of a snowman on a highway being runover.

As confirmation of my future trip to the fiery gates, I laughed hysterically. For starters, the clip is pretty damn funny in its own right. Secondly, I once experienced a very similar circumstance first hand...back in the day and secondarily (ie I take no responsibility, I just so happened to be around when it happened) of course.

The main difference was in the snowman's location. Rather on a county approved road, it stood proudly on someone's front yard. We were driving around in one of my friend's mom's car, a 1989 Chevy caprice, and one of our other friends (not the one who's mom owned the car) was driving.

As we rolled down the block, the driver calls out "I don't like the way that snowman looked at me" and proceeded to 180 the car, and floor it across the lawn mowing down frosty in the process.

Pretty deviant, eh? Well try and google snowman and car on google images and just look at what some twisted donkey thought up...

Maybe there is still hope for me after all.

Probably not.

It's bad luck just seeing a thing like that...

Forget Lost in Translation, go see Quick Change for an epic peformance from Bill Murray as a bank robbing clown and as an added bonus, quite possibly one of the best movie scenes of all times*

*in 1990 only

TSA Tonto and tres fish tacos...

It must be friday with a title like that, woo-haa got ya all in check!

So I have nil in terms of substance to blog about this PM but that's never stopped me before. Here are two things I'd like to share:

I had fish tacos for lunch today and they were fish-licious. Admittedly, I was a bit scarred to try them, but felt that with enough Cholula, anything is edible. Surprisingly they were not half-bad. Just 1/3 bad.

And from the "Oh that can't be good" vault, a snippet from yesterday's experience with the LAX TSA (airport security). The guard was of american indian/professional wrestler heritage. He was as diesal as they come and eyeballed my luggage tag and says to me "Custer.....any relation?" I wisely said "no" and his reply "Good...better not be...and how" Ok I added the "and how."

That is all.

Strawberry Hills Forever

yeah yeah yeah, I know the tune is strawberry fields forever, but how many of us are experts on Beatle's lyrics (especially in light of itunes ban)?

As promised, I have a wicked good stock of material to blog about thanks to this past weekend's trip to the big rich and the strawberry field's horseraces...dueling ice luges, 15ft beer bongs, horse paralysis (temporarily), portable toilets, portable stripper poles, wanna-be braveheart, the world's most pimp pants, me being compared to 1980s peanut butter, crying on the bus ride home, drooling on the bus ride home, sunburn, steel pail full of tater tots and 22 oz. PBR tall boys.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on who you ask) the camera which documented all this insanity is still in the big rich, along with out lawn chairs and a bag of random stuff, so at this time, no photographic evidence is available.

Here's a disturbing fact...

and it must be true cause I read it on the Internet or maybe I overheard it somewhere, it doesn't really matter, who's gonna let proper citation get in the way of an interesting tid bit.

Every 10 years, your mattress doubles in weight due to dust mites and shedded dead skin cells.

Isn't that how Terminator got started?

On cnn.com today...

An article on snake robots and how they can help save mankind.

Does he know how to build a flying machine?

Damn that is a big a$$ rabbit.

I want one.

I want one to help me build my flugtag.

Yup that's right flugtag coming to Charm city, can't wait to see the giant flying STD.

Hold the phones! That's nacho cheese...

Thank you for the early wedding present google!

Interesting comments also found...
That nacho cheese fountain is so delightfully white trash! It makes me want to plan some sort of event just so I can have one!

Will this work with mayonnaise?

How about guacamole?

Quality Control

Isn't it funny how certain traits become evident at such a young age?

Why just last week, in a bout of office stress relief, I decided to ride my office chair like a scooter into a co-worker's office, only to yell RAMMING SPEED and collide into his desk. During this episode, my coworker's remarked, "Man, I knew you were up to no good cause you had that deviant look on your face."

I know that look. It is the same look evident in about a quarter dozen childhood pics where I was, no doubt, considering some shenanigans for the camera.

Another trait which emerged when I was quite young is my passion for quality control. Inconsistancy is the bane of my existance. Perhaps my favorite example of exercising quality control coupled with psychological sibling warfare comes from when my older sister was in the girl scouts, many moons ago.

Sure they sold cookies back then, but not like nowadays. In the late 70s, you had 1 shot at getting thin mints and tag-a-longs annually and you have to pre-order AND pre-pay. My sister did her duty, making the neighborhood rounds drumming up 50 or so orders and 8-10 weeks later, several crates of cookies arrived on our doorstep.

The arrival was most likely mid-week, so our parents thought the hall closet would be a safe place to store the cookies until the weekend, when my sister could distribute the goods.

It was at this point, where my penchant for quality control came into play. As you see, I decided to sample the goods, but in a highly regimented fashion. I opened every last damn box and ate exactly 1 cookie from each one.

Saturday morning came and I would imagine my sister was pretty much flabergasted not only at the cookie carnage which lay in the closet, but at the prospect that she would now have to face all of her customers and tell them there would be no cookies for them this year. Christ, it must have been like denying christmas for some of these people. Nevermind the fact that my parents had to pony up $300 bucks to cover the slightly used cookie stash.

While I feel a little bad about it now, I imagine I took some perverse sense of empowerment over the situation at the time (and chalked a victory in the brother vs sister war which lasted nearly 16 years).

Adventures in iTunes

My latest adventures in downloads and internet exploration have yielded the following booty:

Atlantic by Thrice Featured in the doughnut video linked in my previous post this haunting brit-pop track sounds like it took a bite out of Master P's "Pass me the Green" which took a bite out of the Halloween soundtrack. Mellow and Moody but I like it. I checked out some of their other tracks on I-tunes and was rather shocked that they are a punk group. It pink mohawks and torn ramones shirts are your cup of tee, then check out their punk cover of Send me an Angel. *original version featured in the BMX dance scene from RAD.

From the holy mackeral I've seen it all files comes Matisyahu, a Hasidic Jew who spits reggae chants like it's nobody's business. Check out King without a Crown and Close my eyes just want all you Sublime types would get a kick out of. He was recently feature in the post's sunday source. He's got skillz.

Speaking of reggae, most would consider Ini Kamoze a one hit wonder with his anthem "Here comes the hotstepper." Don't act like you don't know. This track is so commerical it got airplay at disneyland last time I was there. Anyhow, grab his track World a Reggae as an alternative to Damien Marley's "Welcome to Jamrock" they are pretty close to one another.

They were not lying when they grilled ole baldy from american idol for straight jackin Live's cover of Walk the Line. It is a pretty cool remake of the Man in Black's anthem. I think he would enjoy this rendition.

I know it's totally brokeback, but I am hooked on Grey's Anatomy and their money showcasing of songs. If you like music played in over-priced clothing stores with fancy flooring and dude couches, then you might want to give the Greenskeepers a try. Specifically Back in the Wild and You don't know me, which are perfect tracks to play in your loft while sipping moscow mules and discussing 3rd world politics.


In the Keepin it real department peep The Hit Man's Create & Devestate. Heavy samples, hip hop and free on I-tunes (for now). Decent rap compared to most stuff on the radio today. Still kinda sucks though.

Sunday 29th by Bent is another interesting selection. A little chickish but nice. Draws upon some old school Edie Brickell sounds and serve's them up with a taste of Justify my Thug from DangerMouse's Grey Album.

Anyhow just a few things to round out ye olde collection.

In Australia, it's a day ahead...

It's like they know more. That's why the food is so good. It is from the future.

Time to make the Doughnuts...

Can anyone think of a better way to burn off a few extra minutes waiting for some friends to get home than taking Melady, The Guvness and Nabob to the rec field parking lot across the street to do some doughnuts in a station wagon? Only to get disapproving looks from the neighbors?

One of the things on my big ole list of things to do before I expire is to learn how to do a proper doughnut preferably without wrapping my car around a telephone pole or a Lindy sapling.

What's a Lindy sapling you ask?

Well it's only one of my mom's most favorite trees and quite a resilient breed at that. You see, a few years back, melady and I were on our way to a local state park for some hiking. We got about .4 miles from my parents house before she realized shoes would be a good addition to our hike. So I pulled a u turn and headed back to the house for proper footwear.

About 2 houses away, I asked, want to try something fun? She said OK.

Naturally I floored it, turned the wheel and pulled the e-brake in hopes of 180'ing into the driveway.

Now I am no math wiz, but I am pretty sure I missed the 180 by approximately 135 degrees, thus shooting the car directly in the line of site of the only baby tree in my parents yard. My mom's favorite tree. The lindy sapling. The tree that grows .5 inches annually. The tree that is old as me but only 3 feet tall and as thick as a pack of rolo's. The tree that was no match for my Mazda MX-6 GT Turbo.

Ole Lindy never saw it coming.

As I looked back I saw skid marks across the lawn, over the tree (now on the ground) right up to where my car was parked.

Oh Shizer, I better move the car, but what to do about the tree?

Simple, I ran over a propped the top half back up like nothing happened. Miraculously it stood on its own (or so it would until my dad's next lawn mowing excursion where the slightest brush with the John Deere would cause the tree to fold like a house of cards).

I felt bad about setting my pop up to be the patsy, so I came clean and told dear ole mom.

My mother had a puzzled look when she came outside and saw a pair of tire tracks on each side of the tree, but the tree was still standing. It was like an MC Escher painting. You saw the driverside tire track on the right of the tree, the passenger side on the left, but an upright tree in the middle. She didn't understand. Then she touched the tree and it fell like a wet noodle and I got the "OH BEN!"

I told here the spirit was strong in the tree and it would comeback. And it did. Sorta. It now stands proudly 8 inches above the ground.

Anyhow, happy Arbor day.

No it's not really Arbor day.

Is it?

Does pride not have a price?

Sweet Jebus!

I just got an email from ticketmaster stating the Soul II Soul is opening for Tim Mcgraw and Faith Hill.

Does anyone else think this is a bad idea?

In other tragic news, I have relinquished my 301 number. Giving up my last shred of old line state pride. My one false hope was for a new number that would be easy to remember or spell something funny. No such luck, unless you think 733T speak for pink is a real hoot.

On a mildly related sidenote, one of my very best childhood friends had the mother of all derived dirtiness telephone numbers which when spelled out on the keypad formed the lovely phrase WEEFUCK or alternately 933FUCK.

Lucky bastard.

So you are stuck on a desert island...

And only had three cds you could listen to, what would they be?

For me, I would have to say...

Everything but the Girl -- Tempermental
Pure electronic bliss, not too fast, nor too slow. Tracey Thorn's vocals synch up deliciously with Ben Watt's beats. Relatively unknown to the masses minus that one track "Missing--you know the one And I miss you...like the deserts miss the rain." That was originally more of a rock track until Todd Terry remixed it and sent it off into the stratosphere of clubland. Realizing the success of mixing electronica into their music, their following album split out about 50% electronic/50% brit pop. In their next album (Tempermental), EBTG reached full electronic transformation. Very nice and loungey, quite similiar to the genre known as San Francisco house which is characterized by moderate tempo, rich soulful vocals, and deep driving beats.


A Tribe Called Quest -- Midnight Marauders
It simply does not get any better than this. Top drawer production associated with fond memories. I remember riding in the back of a friend's tempo, rocking this album on cassette tape while drinking a 40 of Old English out of a brown paper bag on the way to a club in DC known as The Roxy. It was a reggae venue which, like many DC clubs, evolved into something totally different, Five. For me this album is as much about the memories as it is the content, both of which are incredible. Lyrically, this album is fun but includes social commentary (which is severely lacking in modern rap music). Tracks really cover alot of ground from the moody to the upbeat. For some unknown reason, I would religiously play this album while driving through Richmond on my way to and from college. The music just seemed like such a natural fit with driving through than city at night.


Deee-Lite -- World Clique
Ah yes, big ups to Miss Lady Kier, Dimitri and DJ Towa Tei. Known to most as one hit wonders with "groove is in the heart" and perhaps by a select few as a two hit wonder with "what is love" this groups is most sadly overlooked. For as different as my first two selections are, Deee-lite masterfully bridges the gap. They are, for the most part, an electronic Housey sounding group, but they have a love and appreciation (and respect) for hip-hop as evident by Q-tip's cameo on groove in the heart. Deee-lite released three albums and I have them all and they have some real gems that never got the attention they deserved.

So, if you had to pick three, what would they be?

I was an upright vacuum in a past life

Or so I would like to believe as it would quickly explain why I get overly excited about the acquisition of new vacuum cleaners through out my life.

Nevermind the fact that Niven, my invisible friend lived in a vacuum cleaner during the formative years of my young life. That's a whole other story.

I distinctly remember when my parents purchased a hoover upright with headlights and a detachable dustbuster. It was pretty much like the Knight Rider of Vacuum cleaners. It even had a digital display where you could up the power from 3 LEDS to 5 with the press of a button. Totally Radical!

Needless to say, I wanted people to share in the excitement. At the time, my mother (who is a therapist) worked out of our home and I was telling one of her clients in the waiting room (IE our living room) all about the wonders to behold in the magestic hoover.

The client gave me a puzzled look and told me I was weird. Man, that is low, someone in therapy calling ME weird. I guess it is equally low that I am now writing this and making a subtle implication of pot and kettleness, thus suggesting people in therapy are weird, when the true fact of the matter is that WE ARE ALL WEIRD in some fashion but I digress.

Fast forward about 25 years when me and melady decide to buy our first vacuum together (awwwwwwww!) this past weekend.

After 30 seconds of online research, specifically reading a comment "It is the Shaq of vacuums" I was sold on the almighty Dyson. Due to our ownership of one Ms. Bailey "Rosa Parks" Peabody the first, our cat we opted for no ordinary dyson, but one who goes by the street name "The Animal."

How could you not get excited about a vacuum cleaner called "The Animal." Christ, it is only missing a small handheld unit called "The Hawk" and you basically have the greatest tag team of all time as vacuum cleaners. Sure it's purple, but so is grape soda and we all know even the staunchest of gangsta rappers can't hate on grape soda.

Peep Jousting 2006...

Weezie asketh and everyone shall receiveth!

My latest 2:00 documentary focuses on the seedy underworld of Peep fights.

This is the thunderdome of Peep Jousting. Things get out of hand pretty quick and soon an all out peep civil war erupts.

Watch at your own risk, as your lives may be changed forever.

Obey

Peep fight after school behind the library...

We have our first annual Peep jousting match scheduled for 17:00 hours EST.

Good luck to the marshmallow combatants. May the best peep win.

Fly Robin Fly!

Nothing drives the 30 yr old dagger home faster than the album cover from which Fly Robin Fly (the #1 song from the day I was born) is found.

Can you dig it?

I need a nap...

Have you ever said that after a trip to the grocery store? I have.

If you haven't, chances are, you've never been an introvert that's gone to Wegman's. Seriously, that place is like Harry Potter's camping tent. It looks like a typical sized grocery store from the outside. Once inside, however, you realize the place is bigger than the entire state of Rhode Island.

Good googely moogely, look just look at the wall of TP! It's like a freaking maze of two-ply.

They get props for selection for sure, but man, if you decide to go, you better block out 4 hours from you schedule, 6 if you need the post trip nap.

Who shaves Stevie Wonder?

I mean, really, is that some kind of cruel joke?

Does his stylist tell him "yeah the hobo is the new soul patch" as a passive aggressive means of payback?

Or perhaps does he shave himself and no one bother to tell him he missed a spot?

Inquiring minds must know!

Where are they now? Volume 455

Kamala the ugandan giant

All Points Bulletin...

Does anyone have any idea where this place is?

Wiggidity-Wow! Now That's a slice of 40 ounce heaven. Either someone with photoshop is an evil tease or Kim's Mart (across from Nappy's Cue Lounge) has a serious contender for the crown of best selection east of the Ole Miss.

If you look closely you will find the Waldo of malt liquor, the PBR 40. Thought to be mythical by many, here we have photographic proof of its existence. What better way to bridge the worlds of Hill Billy and Billy Dee, but with a refreshing 40 ounces of beer voted America's best in 1892?

In the news this week...

Scientists believe they found a new species of lobster and long lost relative of Bruce Vilanch.

Havin a Roni...

Searching for "Having a Roni/Vanilla Ice Lyrics" reveals...

"theres no lyrics its just Vanilla Ice beatboxing."

So sad.

Like playing Rock/Paper/Scissors with Jim Abbott*


*Jim Abbott, born without a right hand, played for Flint Central and pitched in major league baseball for 11 years.


PS Does anyone have access to video footage of a man boxing a kangaroo?

Exclusive X-men 3 footage

Courtesy of Sergio.

Oh Snap! Holdin it Down for the German Engineers

Un-pimp my ride...

vol1

vol2

vol3

Rap is dead

Case in point Three six mafia was featured on the Oscars last night.

All in the man's plan to coopt true hip hop. First the easter bunny, now this.

For shame.

In other news I had a bowl of Borscht this weekend along with a rather potent russian beer that was supposedly a "stout" but looked like miller light in hue and tasted like leaded gasoline. After my second beer, melady said to slow down, as I was starting to smell like fire.

In a dinner conversation that was interesting and tasteless by many standards, an new idea was born (I think). The concept of a dive bar that caters to women who like women.

This concept emerged largely from a miscommunication and my own warped mind. Someone mentioned the possibility of going to a diVe bar after dinner. Someone else heard going to a dy!e (rhymes with mike) bar after dinner. I said why not both?

Is there such a thing? I imagine there may be such a place and it would be called the rusty softball and would feature a jukebox load with Melissa Etheridge and maybe some Tori Amos.

Anyhow I gotta go work. I suggest you do the same.

Supreme Court vs. GCHS Yearbook Staff

The loose theme of this post is going to revolve around senior quotes from the yearbook and is based largely on experiences of this past weekend.

Friday night served as one of those not too frequent enough reunion of your high school boyz occasion. We dined on the finest of Popeye's chicken and the maltiest of malt liquor while discussing the finer points of gangsta rap circa 1990-1994 and then HA-DO-KENing the taste out of each other's mouth in a PS2 sort of sense, by playing Street Fighter 2 on Capcom Classics.

Basically there are 2 key points I want to make here...first the events of the weekend pretty much put me in the "back in the day" mind set required to consider this topic and second, there is a distinct possibility that I will link to a related post to be, tenatively called "P!ss and a biscuit" from Brutha Ed's blog seeing as he writes the thing then shares the link (hence we get another Wicked-esque perspective of the evening's events).

Anyhow melady went out for the night while all of this ruckus occurred, and as Firefighter Matt so eloquently put it "Yeah she doesn't want to stick around for this horsesh!t." And good times ensued.

The following day, melady returned with stories that involved the discussion of evolutionary mathematics. WTF! As if you didn't have enough trouble with Bio and Math on there own. Some sick puppy combined these two subjects into a single pocket protector area of interest. The discussion included a mention of the fact that breakthroughs in the field would make Nietzsche hum with glee like a Llama about to be fed as they suggest, implicitly that God is dead.

This sparked a random memory of some kid from my high school's senior quote "God exists...I can prove it mathematically." I am not even going to comment on that kid's social status in the hell that was high school as that quote speaks for it self. The real pisser is the fact that my quote was repeatedly rejected on grounds of plagiarism and copyright infringement.

WTF (part 2)!!! Prior to my senior year, kids were putting all sorts of random things as quotes and proper citation was never an issue. Things done changed though and I fought tooth and nail to get a quote from a track from Dancehall Reggae don Supercat only to be stifled by "That's not a real name." According to my cassette tape it was. But those stringent yearbook staff power tripping F'rs had no love for me or my quote and as a result I went quoteless....until now.

"No good can come from hate, only cold thoughts and evil actions." --Supercat

BOOYAKA!

The energetic capacity of the human body

Here is a short article I authored back in grad school when I had skills greater than an 8th grade writer.

....

Understanding the true energetic capacity of the human body is rather difficult to fully grasp, much less explain in the face of modern science. However, I am sure that at some point of their lives almost everyone has dragged their feet across the carpet in a dry environment only to deliver a minute electric shock to a person or object. Using this example it is easy to understand the body’s ability to build up, store, and release an energetic charge. I’ll argue that this energetic phenomena is not limited to static electricity, but can also be accomplished with other forms of energy.

Up till now I have witnessed several remarkable occasions where an emotionally charged person has come into contact with an electrical appliance only to short it out. The most recent was the mildest example. I had just gotten off the phone with my girlfriend, ex-girlfriend as of that conversation. I felt emotionally drained to the point that I can only describe the physical sensation as being akin to wearing drenched clothes. Everything thing seemed quite heavy and thick, and as soon as I touched my light switch, the light bulb blew out. Admittedly light bulbs do blow out, but the examples get better.

One summer while home from graduate school I was watching my nephew along with my dad. My nephew is an absolute dynamo of energy, and generally seeks to be the center of attention as most 5 year olds do. Well it just so happened that a television program on the philosophy of martial arts was coming on. These are two of my favorite interests, and as I result I really wanted to watch the show. As soon as my attention shifted from my nephew to the tv he stopped coloring and stood directly between my line of vision and the television. I made a deal to play with him as soon as the show ended, as long as he would let me watch the show in peace. Before I knew it he was turning my fan on and off repeatedly, which proved to be quite distracting. Again I offered a deal, that he could leave the fan on if he was hot, otherwise he would have to turn it off and leave it off. With a frustrated “FINE” he wrenched the knob on the fan to the off position, and at the exact same moment my tv set blew up. And it’s not like it was a piece of shit, it was a decent little magnavox set.

The third example rivals the second in impressiveness. In high school I was in a rather unhealthy relationship filled with arguments and conflicts. After one especially tumultuous argument "the warden" got mad at the fact that I ignored her childish temper tantrum. In her characteristic vindictive style she decided to teach me a lesson by storming upstairs and shutting the lights off to leave me alone in the dark basement. Well no sooner than she touched the light switch, did I see an actual electrical current travel along the ceiling straight to the ceiling fan/light apparatus, which completely shorted out.

UPDATE...the most recent example comes from just last week. We have had exceptionally dry weather and as a result I shocked the sh!t out of my self when I got out of my car every day. Twice on wednesday.

Ok, so obviously I've suffered a bit of intellectual atrophy in terms of my writing capabilities, but at the sake of gaining near german efficiency. While the fourth, (most recent) story is most likely rated about 6 grades lower by the kinkaid flieshman (sp?) standards, I told it in 1.5 sentences and let's face it, once out of the academic environment no one cares for fancy words and excessive jibba-jabba (especially MR. T).

Do you remember the time

When blog posts came more often than our weekly dose of Lost?

Yeah, those were good times.

Fear not, I will crawl out of hibernation soon.

Until then enjoy this joke courtesey of Roscoe P. Coltrane...

What did one casket say to the other?

Is that you coughin? Quuuuu Quuuu Quuuuu

(Coffin...get it)

Look for my riveting post on the engertic capacity of the human body, a treatise formulated after static electrically shocking myself approximately 489 times this week.

Zap.

More bounce to the ounce.

PS popeyes and 40s tonight. Holla!

PSS After well over 6 months our dining room table has arrived!

In the news this week...

Sudanese villagers forced a man to marry a goat after he was found having sex with it; the man also was required to pay the goat's owner 15,000 Sudanese dinars as dowry.

This spawned the following email exchange among co-workers...

K: Haha: "Man your wife is a real goat"


B: In case your are wondering (and I know you are), the going rate for a goat wife is about the price of a caps ticket ($65).


J:As a Greek-American I don't find this topic funny at all. Shouldn't we be embracing this kind of diversity? Isn't diversity itself a vritue?

Just because a love is outside of what we consider "normal" doesn't mean it's any less beautiful. It's good to see a village somewhere isnt't tied to social conventions. I think they could even start a nice little tourist trade for men who want to marry goats, or other livestock.


P: The question is how much does a goat wife go for in West Virginia?


J: $4 a pound


B:Much like buying bushels of crabs, price is largely driven by gender.

My guess would be the going rate for a 'Nanny' (female goat) would be a case of PBR while a "Billy" (male goat) would bear a much higher market value, a pair of nascar tickets.


K:Somebody should start up a dating website "goatdater.com"

What did the five fingers say to the face?

SLAP!

It's friday...

and here's what I just found.

Sine your bitty on the runny kine

Given its cast of characters (Chris Rock, Dave Attel, Wanda Sykes) Pootie Tang showed great promise. The first four minutes of the film are positively riveting. The remaining hour and seventeen minutes not so much.

So as a treat to the loyal denizens of Topic15, I give the the gift of time. Time in the form of getting the best without having to watch the worse...

Pootie Tang's very own opus, Sine your bitty on the runny kine.

Are you ready?

Wah dah Tow!

Dun-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh They say it's your birthday!

Happy birthday Weezie!

According to the Washington Post's Miss Cleo wanna be....

Pisces February 19 - March 20
For Tuesday, February 21 -You've decided that rather than being a follower -- even though you're always extremely choosy about whom you follow -- you're better suited to being a leader. Well, good for you. Bet your appreciative audience will agree -- not to mention the folks under your 'command' who'll be amazed and astounded at your leadership abilities. See? Just because you're quietly powerful doesn't mean you won't be effective.

I give those smokers 2 years. Tops. Oh and Brendan Fraiser...watch your back.

Have fun and party like a sock monkey.

Lordz of the Underground

A few years back I saw this super swank artwork for sale on ebay. It was from some studio in London and some bloody tosser ran the bid up far past what I was willing to pay.

Some say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. It also happens to be several hundred dollars cheaper. Thanks to a few 50% off Michael's coupons, a couple of canvases, some paint and a little too much free time, I now have my very own piece of london stlyee hanging on my walls.



Is it perfect? No. But neither are you and that's just fine. You both have "personality."

On a side note, peep the swank coffee table that I made for the beyonce many moons ago. There is a quant little story to go along with it.

For a long time my boo's apartment was sans coffee table and it was cool. I, however, thought it to be neat to build her a custom made one in my free time. I was 90% complete before we were going to use her apartment as the launch pad for the first (and last) boys night out. At this juncture she realized that the lack of a coffee table was simply unacceptable and was going to run out and buy one really quick like.

I was nearly finished with the table and wanted to keep it a surprise. At the same time I didn't want to have her run out and buy one. Despite my best tap dancing, she remained unwavered in her decision. Thankfully, nothing caught her eye at target and Ikea was a bit too far for such short notice, so we ended up with a temporary solution of a footlocker and I was able to deliver the goods shortly thereafter.

Awwwwwww. Isn't that special.

OG VP Gets busy

And in the news this week, the vice president decides to take a vacation, pops a cap in his friend's grill.

Lord of the bling

What goes better with this than this?

Can you say co-opt?

A guy walks into a talent agent's office...

Aristocrats = aristocrap.

Perhaps the one saving grace is that buried deep within the recesses of the special features is a clip from the amazing Jonathan where he tells one of his favorite jokes. This joke also serves as his litmus test as to whether or not a person is fun to hang out with. If they laugh, they are in the inner circle. If not, he immediately breaks their neck (no not really, he just doesn't think they are as fun to hang out with).

I am pleased to say I am among the fun crowd. I will do my best to recount the joke here...

Two old friends meet up, by chance, after not seeing one another for many years. One friend immediately notices the other has gone through some pretty significant changes. He has a beautiful wife and based on his appearance he is extremely affluent. His head is three times the normal size, perfectly round, and colored orange. The friend's curiosity gets the best so he asks,

Friend1 "Wow you sure have changed what happened?"

Orangey "While travelling in the Congo, I discovered a lamp and decided to rub it for shitz and grins."

Friend1 "Did anything happen?"

Orangey "Believe it or not, a genie came out and granted me 3 wishes."

Friend1 "What did you wish for?"

Orangey "First wish was for a beautiful wife. Second wish was to be rich beyond my wildest dream, then I think I went terribly wrong with the third wish."

Friend1 "Oh yeah, how so?"

Orangey "I wished for a really big round orange head."

I am chuckling even writing that.

Yeah, so sue me, I am easy to please.

Anyhow, speaking of crappy I don't get it humor, I just wrapped up another AV project for your viewing pleasure.

Just for some backstory, my dad is credited with the concept as well as the original execution. One day back in the 80s, he daisy chained 2 vcrs together and manually looped a clip from suddenly. I thought it was equally, if not more, enjoyable than the orange head joke.

So here it is.

You learn quick, grasshoppa!

HIYA!

another oldie but goodie.

Movie time

Deniro had Heat and Casino in a single year.

Gary Busey plays a crazy doctor in this and a crazy gingerbread man in this.

Christ. I am going home to eat some twizzlers now.

Was I dreaming?

I distinctly remember gazing over to the drink cart on my Air France flight from Paris a few weeks ago and seeing a PBR branded bottle of spring water. I pointed it out to melady and she saw it too, yet despite google's best efforts, it does not seem to exist.

Nor does Barbara, a swiss beer that tasted deliciously like OE 800.

Could Google be holding out on us?

2nd hand chicken wings?

Anyone? Anyone?

That superbowl was just plain trifling.

Thanks FCC for throwing ad execs back to the age of the puritans thus resulting in perhaps the worst batch of commercials on record.

And thanks seahawks for managing the clock like a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. You only cost me 100 frosties in the first quarter.

Whitexploitation

Speaking of new twists on old favorites, I recently gots me a digital AV convert that allows you to knock the dust off those VHS tapes and welcome them to the digital age.

I can't seem to get the audio track to work, so I am forced to Remix the audio.

I took a friend's project and threw on some new audio and voila! I think I just created a new genre.

Have a looksee.

A new twist on an old favorite...

The Tony Danza = Yelling "Who's the Boss?" after delivering a Donkey Punch.

Instant Classic.

Simian Survivor

Did anyone actually watch survivor last night?

If so, did you catch how survivor Dan came clean about being a former astronaught?

Obviously from when NASA was still sending albino monkeys into space.



Did you see how crazy he went in the previews when Probst revealled the reward challenge was a bunch of bananas?

And in the news today...

Back to back headlines on CNN

• Boy enters elephant's open-air cage, is crushed to death
• Lindsay Lohan injured in teacup accident

How does a teacup injury come that close to an elephant trampling?