Monday, July 18, 2011
Netflix loves me. They make a killing from people like me. I’ve had ‘Into the Wild’ for 3 weeks now. Just sitting next to the TV like the fat girl at the bunny ranch hoping someone picks her for the evening. I’ll probably send it back. It says it’s 2 and a half hours long, I’ve already read the book, and I don’t think I can watch Emile Hersch’s stupid face for that long. Plus watching movies about anorexia just makes me hungry.
The cover of Details magazine this month has a picture of Shia LaBeouf with the headline ‘Hollywood’s Last Bad Boy’. I’ve tried to finish this sentence 10 times with a joke. But nothing worked. Finally Jericho pointed out that the first sentence is the joke. So there you have it.
I want Laurel and CT to procreate. If only so that they create a super RR/RW Challenge baby. They could name it Aldon Rachel Lavin. Somewhere a mad scientist is focused solely on creating a super RW/RR competitor. I can’t see how this isn’t possible.
One of my favorite jokes is doing the scissor motion when talking about two chicks. It’s just perfect. It beats the jerk off motion when you don’t care. And it narrowly beats the two handed underhand cup and lift at the chest motion. What it doesn’t beat is the two handed, make a V with your fingers and connect with a friend doing the same…then peep through the hole. You know what I’m talking about. And if you don’t then please stop reading this blog.
Remember this? Respect.
Oh yeah, follow us on Twitter @rickreilyisgay. We don’t do much. But it’ll make us feel cool if you follow us.
Friday, July 15, 2011
We get accused of being homers on this site a lot. And it’s a totally fair accusation. We love our teams. We love the west coast above and beyond all else. It’s just the way we do things. That being said, you can appreciate it when I say that the Showtime series premiere of ‘The Franchise: A season with the SF Giants’ was a complete failure.
Where to begin? The bar has been set so high for reality sports shows. HBO has been doing the Hard Knocks series on and off for the past 10 years. And recently they’ve excelled in the 24/7 series. HBO does this better than anyone. They create meaningful stories and insightful glimpses into a world the audience knows little about. They could cover a competitive gardening league and it would be better than what I saw last night. So needless to say when Showtime announced it had partnered with the Giants for an “all access look” throughout the season I was instantly turned on. To put it in perspective I signed up for Showtime the moment I heard about the show. That was 3 months ago and I haven’t watched anything on Showtime yet. Until last night.
Man, what a train wreck. Admittedly, they bit off more than they could chew by trying to recap the first 80 games of the season in a 60 minute time frame. But the problem is hardly any of the footage felt new or different. There were countless ‘interviews’ with players with standard cliché quotes that went nowhere. Great opportunities were missed. Every home series the Giants top brass (Bochy, Sabean, Baer and Neukom) get together to assess the current state of the team. They showed this meeting a handful of times and NOTHING important was said. I mean they all sat there like semi-interested fans wondering when the guy with the lemonades was coming around again.
How could Showtime mess this up so badly? And when the show did try to dig deeper it missed badly. Cameras followed Jeremy Affeldt driving home. Packing for a road trip. Eating a ham and cheese. It was painful. And so disappointing. The show missed another huge opportunity with Buster Posey. The parts about him were basically him sitting on a couch with a big cast on his leg talking about how it’s hard to not be out there and playing with the guys. There was no depth. No storylines. No nothing.
HBO reality sports shows have exceled because the viewer walks away feeling like they learned something; either about the team, about the players, about the sport…hell even about themselves. But nothing came of last night’s show.
The highlight was of course Brian Wilson. They easily could make this entire show about Brian Wilson. Well, that and Matt Cain’s fat baby. But nothing else sticks. Show us Panda in the dugout. Show us the players working out. Show us the weird rituals they do before games. Show us that swagger that makes them a first place team despite having the worst batting average in all of MLB.
The Giants are the most charismatic cast of characters to ever assemble on any sports team in the history of ever. And somehow Showtime made it come out tasting like tapioca pudding.
I’m obviously watching next week.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
- I don't just love food, I honor food. More importantly, I honor the history of food. Our ancestors didn't have supermarkets, ovens, pizza delivery boys. They had farms and they had fire. I honor those traditions. That's why I grow all my own food, cook it by fire and currently have dysentery. Sure, my vegetables taste like dog piss and look like something we feed death-row inmates, but the TRADITION lives. This is how I feel about the British Open. Who fucking cares if they invented the game there, the courses look like fucking shit! The weather is miserable, the players are miserable, it's terrible TV. In a world where courses like Augusta, Pebble and Sawgrass exist, why the fuck do we play a major championship in a fucking wasteland?
- Here's something you may not know about me: when I order a coffee, or a burrito, or hail a cab or ask a concierge where the nearest bathroom is, I like to use my full name and full title. "Yeah, hi, my name is Jericho Perseus Royall, I'm the senior director of saltiness for Apples and Moustaches, I studied English because I hate studying and love weed and amazingly graduated in four years and now I have that job that I just mentioned a few words ago in this sentence right after my name and before I told you what I studied. I'd like a latte please." This is how I feel about doctors wearing their scrubs in public, basically the clothing version of talking about yourself in the third person. We all get it, asshole, you’re a fucking doctor. You went to college for 16 years, make 800k and use the word epidermis in casual conversation. You know what? FUCK YOU. Bunch of pricks. Fuck doctors.
- After doing it for roughly 31 years now, let me tell you something I've learned about walking: it's much more effective with my thumb up my butt. Sure it's a bit awkward when I'm at the park, or ordering a coffee or on the treadmill with an inch and a half of thumb in me. And yes, I do look like a donkey-humping assbag. And yeah, people give me looks that say, "is that guy a retard or a sex offender?" But on the whole, or hole rather, my movements are more fluid and more efficient. This is how I feel about dudes who wear spandex pants. Awesome, you can ride your bike 2 mph faster and you've decreased wind resistance by 13%, but everyone can see your dick, you fucking idiot. Is finishing your run in 39 minutes rather than 42 really worth a thumb up the butt?
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The stars have aligned. Jericho is in the city for a nerd conference and we both bartered with our wives for the time off. Plus, I’m wearing the gayest sweater possible. Yes friends, it’s time for an impromptu man date Apples and Moustaches style. Time to celebrate one another like Brooke Shields discovering sex for the first time in The Blue Lagoon.
Four fearless predictions for a random Tuesday night dinner with Magglio and Jericho:
1 – I surprise Jericho with the news that US soccer chicks Abby Wambach and Megan Rapinoe used to date. He proceeds to ask the question who would you rather scissor one out; Mila Kunis and Natalie Portman or Hope Solo and Brooklyn Decker. We debate the question for a good 20 minutes, empty our cocktails and reload.
2 – I tell Jericho the following true story: A co-worker brought her kid to work today wearing a Dodgers hat. I shit you not. The kid must’ve been 9 years old. After telling the kid that his parents are idiots and they’ve severely misguided him in his youth we get into a spirited debate about baseball. It ends in me threatening to stuff him in the recycling can and lock him in there until his mom is ready to go home.
3 – We station ourselves in front of the TV at the bar/restaurant to watch the all-star game. We play the game “any time Joe Buck or Tim McCarver mispronounces a Latin player’s name in a hardly disguised attempt at racism” we take a drink. We have to end the game by the 2nd inning or else we won’t be standing by the 5th.
4 – Punches will be exchanged between one another. If I can get Jericho drunk enough then I stand a much better chance of dodging his haymakers. I’m man enough to admit that this is my only hope for success.
Enjoy the Palace buddy!
Monday, July 11, 2011
by Magglio and Jericho
I think it’s time we declare Jen Aniston the winner in the Angelina Jolie showdown. That chick looks damn sexy. I want to pour SmartWater all over her and smush her butt cheeks together. In ‘Just Go With It’ (don’t judge me) she goes toe-to-toe with Brooklyn Decker in a bikini. I think it’s fair to say she more than held her own. Skin and bones Jolie, with her weird head dresses and world peace tour? Keep it. I like my women a little scandalous, a little more girl next door, and with that banging yoga body. Holla back.
Whenever I step out of the office I like yelling ‘hold all calls’ to our receptionist in a condescending, sexist sort of way. It makes me feel important. And harkens back to the days of chicks sleeping their way to the top. Brent, our receptionist, loves it too. I think.
“My phone was hacked by Rubert Murdoch” is now a great excuse if your significant other catches you having inappropriate sexts with an insignificant other. I haven’t tried it out yet. I don’t need to. I only sext with myself.
Tourists in San Francisco are always easy to spot during the summer. Look for the idiots in shorts and flip flops shivering like idiots in the 50 degree weather. Or, find the people dressed in the overpriced ‘San Francisco’ jackets with clip art graphics because they were dumb enough to wear shorts and flip flops during the Summer in San Francisco.
I watched every second of the US Women’s World Cup game against Brazil. Incredible. 3 thoughts; 1) Those chicks don’t flop like the dudes do which makes the game so much better. 2) Hope Solo went to UW, Go Dawgs! 3) I’d totally nail the little one who looks like a highlighter. Next game is Wednesday morning at 8:30am against France. Suck it France.
Apologies to The Green Lantern, Captain America, The Change-Up and Mr. Popper's Penguins, but the ballot for worst movie of the year officially closed when this trailer was released.
Which is dumber: the title, the premise, the tagline (Evolution is now Revolution) or James Franco's face? It's a four-way tie right? Here's a quick test for whether your movie is going to bomb or not: does it have "of the" twice in the title? If the answer is yes, then you're movie is going to bomb. If the answer is no, but James Franco is prominently involved, the answer is still yes. Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Legend of the Fall of the Legends Who Fell. The Passion of the Christ of the Man Whose Passion was Christ-like. Lord of the Flies of the Many Flies and the Men Who Lorded Over Them. How fucking of the dumb are we?
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Four thoughts on The Voice:
1) Adam Levine is definitely going to have an STD named after him someday. "I can barely sit down; I think that waitress from the party gave me Adam Levine." The guy is destined to be the Lou Gehrig of pubic rashes.
2) Cee Lo scares the fuck out of me. Doesn't it feel like there are two kinds of weirdos in Hollywood: the purposefully weird and the weird as fuck. Lady Gaga feels purposefully weird to me, I bet she drinks a lot of tea and watches a lot of old movies in her jammies. Same with David Bowie, Russell Brand and Prince. These people are weird, don't get me wrong, but their images are calculated extensions of their weirdness. On the other hand, people like Jon Voight, Bjork and Mickey Rourke are weird as fuck. Cee Lo humps Muppets. He uses albino alligator blood as face lotion. He still uses the phone book. If I ever saw Cee Lo walking towards me, I'd be knocking bitches over to get the fuck out of there.
3) Here's a sentence that looks completely, comically wrong but is absolutely true: between 1999 and 2001, Carson Daly could've fucked any 16-24 year old on the planet. Boy or girl. That's insane isn't it? The Carson Daly "TRL pussy/butthole run" (great fantasy football team name) has no comparison or precedent for one simple reason: he's completely talentless. Burt Reynolds in the late 70s, Eddie Murphy in the early 80s, Kevin Costner in the late 80s, Johnny Depp in the mid-90s, Derek Jeter in the early 00s and the current Justin Timberlake runs are amazing, but they are explainable, those guys are awesome. Carson Daly introduced music videos and he was the undisputed butthole/pussy champ for three straight years? I don't think we'll ever see a run like that again. Remember when Magic Johnson said "we'll see five more Michael Jordans before we see another Larry Bird?" We won't see another Carson run in our lifetime.
4) The gossip rags and celebrity sites have been destroying Xtina and rightfully so, she's so bloated that she could be used as floatation device in the case of a water landing. However, let's not forget two things: a) she's never been more attainable. The Xtina from that Maxim photo shoot with the inter tube was the Hope Diamond; you better enjoy the picture because you're not getting within 1,000 miles of the real thing. Modern day Xtina? For three Xanax, four Vicodin and a plate of chili fries you could take a dump on her face. Isn't that what it's all about? And b) if I'm Xtina's management, I take away her plate of 12 sausages and replace it with a plate of 27 sausages. Her destiny has always been to be the white Aretha, so let's keep this gravy train rolling. Literally. More gravy for that fat bitch. I've never understood why girls like Xtina, Kelly Clarkson and Adele, after her upcoming bulimia/anorexia/coke-fueled flame out, try and wiggle around and be Britney. Britney has to wiggle around and be Britney, the bitch can't sing worth a fucking shit. She sounds like an auto tuned fart. Take it to the house, XLtina! Fuck the genie, Xtina should be trying to get more barbecue sauce out of that bottle. Sit your big ass down on a big fucking chair and sing your fat fucking nuts off.
Oh and also: 5) I've never actually seen The Voice. Any good? It looks pretty fucking dumb.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
By Magglio and Jericho
I got drunk this weekend and made a stupid bet. (By the way, nobody is surprised by that sentence.) I bet a dude that the NFL lockout would end today. If it does I get $500 bucks. If it doesn’t then I owe him $20. The latest from camp is that Roger Goddell is ensuring the West Coast will continue to get fucked on the MNF start time and DeMaurice Smith is having a hard time deciding which hat to wear the next time he exits a meeting. So much for progress. Pricks.
My final tally for Sunday’s bbq: 3 bratwursts, 4 cheeseburgers and enough potato salad to make one’s eyes emit mayonnaise. Talk about feeling like an American. So much for my vegetarian kick.
Guys it would be fun to fight: Novak Djocavek, Tom Cruise, James Spader, Justin Timberlake, Wendi Nix, Al Roker, Jimmy Fallon
Transformers 3 just had the 2nd biggest worldwide opening of all time – finishing the holiday weekend with over $380m combined. What the fuck is going on? In Zynga's IPO filing it was revealed that its revenue is up 319% in 2010? What the fuck is going on? The hotdog eating contest was the lead story on SportsCenter last night. What the fuck is going on? America's Got Talent was the #1 show in America last week. What THE FUCK is going on? Forget Global Warming. This is the real proof that our planet is fucked.
Retro things are sorta cool in a sorta cliché hipster sorta way. You know what’s not cool? Having a discman. I saw some dude at the gym yesterday carefully balancing his discman on his lap while he was lifting weights. That’s not cool. Sweatbands, now those are cool. But a discman? You’re trying too hard bro.
Forgot that Five Hour Energy poison; if you really want to perk yourself up at 2:30, here's what you do: Head to the bathroom, grab a stall and take your pants off. Nothing lewd (unless that's your thing), just kick off your shoes, hang your pants on the hook, take a piss with your boxers at your ankles, then step back, do a few calf raises to get the twins swinging, then right back to your day. You're gone from your desk for five minutes top and will be reenergized for the rest of the day. Trust me. It's very refreshing.