Coming out Sideways...

Apple
I realized today that my mood in life is often dictated by the actions of teenagers. And not in like a “was Miley photographed in a two piece or not” sort of way. This morning my email inbox was flooded, my voicemail was flashing, hell even a co-worker rushed in to tell me the news. Nick Montana, son of the legendary Joe Montana, just committed to play his college ball at Washington in 2010. Fuck. Now I’m not one of those hometown humpers who has disillusioned thoughts about what could be. This kid may never pan out. But you look at the teams he passed on; Notre Dame, Ohio State, LSU…and it makes last year’s winless season seem like, well, yesterday.


Moustache
I’ve never taken a ‘myspace’ photo but I’m seriously considering it. Just for fun. You know the one; A self shot, from above, in a mirror, using my cell phone, wearing only my panties with my elbow barely covering one of my tits. You know what I’m talking about.


Apple
Compounded with the fact that I am currently in one of the worst writer’s slumps since 1988 is that I recently introduced my blog to a co-worker of mine. Sweet. “Hey, check it out, I write a blog that’s totally outrageous. Oh, don’t mind the fact that my writing is coming out like a sideways shit these days. You know, the super painful ones? What’s that? No, don’t go talk to HR. Please.”


Moustache
Last week I watched two episodes of MTV’s True Life that you’d think would’ve been amazing. They were “True Life: I’m a bisexual” and “True Life: I don’t like my large breasts.” But, I’m sad to report, they were super lame. I got about 10 minutes into the bisexual one when I had to “excuse” myself since they just kept showing a 19-year old chick complain about how much she loves sex. What? Shocked? Look, I’m a grown man I can only handle so much. And the large breasts episode? Even worse. Just a bunch of heffers bitching about their gigantic hermans. Suck it up ladies. Eat some more veggies and rock those like you have your own VH1 special.


Apple
The final episode of the Real World/Road Rules Challenge is tonight. What does this mean? Well, it means I will be glued to my TV at 10pm PST this evening clutching my Rachel doll tightly and screaming things like “Landon’s dimples CANNOT be real can they?” and “You know I think TJ Lavin has really matured this season” and “How many synapses do you think are firing in Brad’s tiny little brain right now?” Fuck I love this show.


III

Questioning Questions?

Technically speaking, shouldn’t an Octopus be called a Quatropus?


If Jon Voight is going to come out and bash Obama, shouldn’t his role as FDR, probably the most important Democrat of all time, be digitally removed from Pearl Harbor? Or what about the Oscar he won for Coming Home, one of the most anti-Vietnam movies ever made? Or the time he tried to save the world from a giant asteroid in Armageddon? Republicans love asteroids.


Did you hear Tony La Russa is suing Twitter? Here’s the legal brief: This is an outrage! I’m suing. Rescue pets. His name is not Poo Holes: bit.ly/cBh64d


Can we stop whining about the poor for one second and focus on the person most affected by the digital TV switch? Matlock. Do you realize he’s going to be blocked in all 10 of his top demographics? Do you have any idea what this is going to do to his residuals? 56 of the 57 people who watch his show are going to be sitting in the dark, with no TV, wondering which one of their kids they're having sex with. This is disastrous.


Why doesn’t Hedo Turkoglu have a rabid fan base known as the “Hedonists?”


Did you hear Brett Favre sat on the toilet for over 25 minutes yesterday? Ed Werder and Chris Mortensen are going through his stool right now, trying to figure out how many wins a hard, long turd might equal for the Vikings this year. Chris thinks if they find corn, the Vikings make the Super Bowl. Ed thinks if he can taste BBQ, then he's going to eat the whole thing.


You know how Maggilo always warns against looking at Pau Gasol too closely in HD? Similarly, don’t try to watch Larry King unless you’ve got a wide screen. His forehead is so big that a normal TV will cut him off at the eye line. His head is taller than a fucking redwood.


Can the Penguins stand strong? Do the Mets have enough starting pitching to win the division? Where will Michael Vick end up? Will Imagine That put Eddie Murphy back on track? When did Phil Jackson turn 100? Why would anyone care about the answers to those questions?




JR

Apples and Moustaches and a Runny Nose

Apple
My favorite TahoeSanta quote: “I’d be a terrible gay guy. My mouth is too small. Plus, I’m not into dudes.”


Moustache
I want to clear something up. I don’t spend $100 on my haircut. I never have. Granted, I spend ‘close’ to $100 on my haircut but let’s be honest here. I look good.


Apple
Up until tipoff I was saying the Magic could steal this series by grabbing a game in LA and then watching Kobe just quit. I went so far as to predict Magic in 5. This is why my gambling account is at $0 and I’m not allowed to refill it until football season.


Moustache
I’m comfortable enough in my marriage to admit that I want to dry hump the hell out of Rachel from MTV’s Real World/Road Rules challenge. I don’t care if she’s a lesbian. I’m married! This could work.


Apple
Man date tonight. I’m meeting Jericho at a Sushi place. How gay is that? You should see the outfit I put together for tonight. I threw on my white socks with my all blue Chucks. Just kidding. That’s a line from a Snoop Dogg song. I don’t even own Chucks. But I can wear the fuck out of some Mark Nasons.


Moustache
Watch this trailer right now: If, for some reason, the hair on your arms doesn’t stand straight up, and your nipples don’t get hard, and you don’t sense any sort of movement downstairs then please never read this blog again. Ever. I’m serious.


Apple
Two years ago I made a bet with Lil Joshy regarding Matt Cain. (If you’re new to the blog or if you’re a chick then you haven’t noticed that I’ve been sucking off Cain for years.) Joshy said that Cain would never win 18 games in his career. After 8 starts, Cain is currently 6-1. Now what has changed? Nothing. Besides run support. That’s it. Finally the team is scoring when he’s on the hill. Skies the limit this year. He’s a DEFINITE all-star and if this keeps up he should get serious Cy Young consideration. I don’t remember what the bet was. I think if Cain did reach 18 wins then Joshy has to send me topless photos of his wife. Or of himself. I forgot which one we settled on. Stay tuned.


Moustache
In 3 days from now it will be June 8th, which will officially be 2 years since we started writing this blog. Not sure what we’re going to do to celebrate, but stay tuned. It promises to be the most exciting rose ceremony yet.





III

Reactions...

Magglio (3:31:22 PM) What’d you think of the post?

Jericho (3:31:42 PM): "Final note: Fuck you Jericho. We talked about going to that party for the last 4 years."

Jericho (3:31:44 PM): that's mean

Magglio (3:35:43 PM): did that make you mad?

Jericho (3:35:56 PM): it's a low blow

Jericho (3:36:14 PM): not saying you're wrong

Magglio (3:36:32 PM): want me to erase it?

Jericho (3:36:40 PM): do you?

Magglio (3:37:34 PM): don't back talk

Magglio (3:37:45 PM): do you know where the headline and tags are from?

Jericho (3:39:48 PM): Dr. Suess?

Magglio (3:39:56 PM): Trainspotting

Magglio (3:40:04 PM): remember. when he's sleeping on the couch

Magglio (3:40:09 PM): passed out after nailing that chick

Magglio (3:40:13 PM): she's singing it in the shower

Jericho (3:40:18 PM): ah

Magglio (3:40:19 PM): you can barely hear it

Magglio (3:40:23 PM): then when they have that massive drug trip scene

Magglio (3:40:27 PM): and the baby crawls on the ceiling

Magglio (3:40:33 PM): she's standing in his room singing it

Magglio (3:40:44 PM): Fag - just say it. It’s a fucking awful post. Say it.

Jericho (3:40:58 PM): you know who that chick is?

Jericho (3:41:14 PM): Kelly MacDonald - Josh Brolin's wife in no country

Magglio (3:41:19 PM): oh right

Magglio (3:41:23 PM): hey by the way

Magglio (3:41:27 PM): FUCK JOSH BROLIN

Magglio (3:41:30 PM): just felt like saying that

Magglio (3:41:34 PM): square jaw mother fucker

Jericho (3:41:37 PM): fair

Jericho (3:41:42 PM): my chick loves him

Magglio (3:41:46 PM): sure. he's handsome.

Magglio (3:41:47 PM): but fuck him

Jericho (3:41:54 PM): did you see W?

Magglio (3:41:55 PM): he looks like a fucking bobble head




*

Do you have green eyes, do you have blue eyes...

I'm working on about 2 hours of sleep.

After 6 weeks living without a place to call home we finally moved into our new place last night. Now, it’s still a fucking zoo filled with boxes and cushion-less couches, and we had to make pillows out of towels last night, but we have a place to call our own. I’m going to spare you all the details. Let’s just say it was a pretty bizarre 6 weeks. Perhaps the craziest thing was how bad I slept last night. As I’m walking home from work, that’s to my NEW home mind you, I spoke with my dad on the phone.

“You’ll sleep so well tonight. You’re finally in your own bed,” he told me. I couldn’t wait. It was long over due.

I tossed and turned. Patch growled whenever he heard an unfamiliar sound. A car would drive by outside and wake me up. I wasn’t accustomed to the amount of light in the room. Or the temperature of the room. And the towel pillow kept making my face itch. It was awful.

But you know what? I was home. Finally. And Patch took such a massive shit this morning that I knew he felt it too.

That’s all I got.

Final note: Fuck you Jericho. We talked about going to that party for the last 4 years.


III

An Instant Classic....

It wasn’t quite Chad Johnson versus the thoroughbred. Or Ruthie versus Coral. Or Mine That Bird versus Rachel Alexandra. But what went down Sunday at the BBQ in Seattle was something just as noteworthy. Just as thrilling. And totally tits.

It was an epic Memorial Day barbeque in Seattle. My wife and I made the short flight for the extended weekend. Jericho and his wife were also in town. It was like San Francisco-North but with more white people and less swagger.

The event on Sunday started at 2pm, but in frat guy time that means 4:30pm. On the menu was grilled Panini’s. We stayed at the house that was hosting so naturally we planned the guts of the party. (Let me tell you, I was the social chairman of my fraternity in college. What does this mean? Not a whole lot. Maybe it explains the massive weight gain my sophomore year. Or why I took a hussy to Spring Cruise Junior year. And Senior year. But it also means I’m good at picking music, planning drinks and gauging total food consumption. Here’s a tip; never underestimate the skinny bitch in the house. It might go down the toilet later, but she’ll give those Panini’s a run that would impress Prefontaine) We talked about grilling burgers. (predictable.) We talked about making pizzas. (amateur.) We even talked about roasting a pig. (um, what?) But ultimately we settled on Panini’s. On the grill. Which naturally makes them way more manly.

When you get a bunch of former frat dudes and a keg and a 3-day weekend and add some chicks and some funky tasting French onion dip…something’s bound to happen. Being the naturally charming one in the group, I pointed to Nez and told Joshy that I bet Nez could do 45 push-ups, no doubt. From there it escalated. We sized up Nez and his too tight Lacoste shirt and eventually the conversation got around to Tyler’s affinity for keg stands. Mix it all together and the match-up was on. Total number of push-ups for Nez versus total amount of seconds on a keg stand for Tyler. This was Celtics versus Bulls circa 2 weeks ago.

The rules were as follows; Nez would go first with the push-ups. He would do 1 complete push-up so everyone could agree that the form was correct and it counted. We even put a keg cup upside down and agreed that Nez had to touch his chest to the cup to make it count. Tyler would go next. One guy per leg, one guy pumping the keg at an agreed upon steady pace and the official counting would be done by Joshy’s cell phone. No, it wasn’t an iPhone. Joshy doesn’t understand such technology. I think it was a Samsung. Or one of those phones Ozzy Osbourne babbles on about. Joshy says the phone makes him feel ‘rock and roll.’ Damn it Joshy.

Joshy wanted odds. He thought that Nez could easily do more push-ups than Tyler could do seconds on a keg stand. So after much arguing we set the spread at 9. Nez needed to beat Tyler by 9 total. I put money down that Nez would win with the push-ups. It was on.

We retreated to the basement where the keg was being stored/coddled. Shit, we babied that thing for 2 straight days, rotating the ice packs, stroking its strong shell and singing AC/DC tunes in its ear. We closed the door behind us for two reasons;

1) Tyler’s wife does not allow him to do keg stands anymore. And with good cause.
2) Nez brought his new girlfriend to the party and he wanted to see how long he could fool her into thinking he wasn’t a complete meathead frat guy.

The intensity in that basement when the door slammed was off the charts. It felt a bit like Fight Club, a bit like a Michael Vick dog fight and a bit like a couple strippers were about to do a trick we’ve only seen on film. Jericho had a joke that brought the house down but believe it or not it’s too graphic to say…even on here.

Nez banged out 54 push-ups. I was so proud. I was figuring 45 and he nailed 54. Later he told me he squeezed out those last few because he knew I had cash on the table. Respect. Then came Tyler. Tyler was like Tyson before the opening bell. Or LeBron when his team is down 3-1 in a series. He didn’t even flinch. Tyler went a good 50 seconds before he even indicated a struggle. Later we checked his shirt and the ground and there was zero evidence of spillage. It was a performance for the ages.

Then we all returned to the party, enjoyed a Panini and faked civil conversations with the ladies.

Damn it I love my friends.



III

They Get Longer As You Go

Homeless Jingles
Here’s a question, why do homeless people still jingle their change when you walk by, what else is in the cup? This is like a Greenpeace activist yelling "signatures," a 4yr old girl yelling "terrible lemonade," or a prostitute yelling "tattered vagina." We know what it is and what you want. You don't need to fucking advertise that shit.


Gaguilera
I feel very confident about the following statement: if Christina Aguilera spent three weeks doing heroin, living off the street and blowing flunkies and homeless guys she’d be Lady Gaga. However, I don’t know what the adverse of that would be; what would Lady Gaga need to do for three weeks before she turned into Christina? Shower with $10,000 soap and fuck a giant rat? Record an all-Spanish album to honor her Ecuadorian kindergarten teacher? I'm open to any and all suggestions on this one.


CD Reviews
How dumb are CD reviews? I think it was Bob Dylan who said that “writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” Now, I have no idea what that means, but because Dylan said it I will look eminently more intelligent by quoting it. Music is so subjective that the job of the music journalist should be to categorize or attempt to categorize, not to explain how the music should make you feel. Place the music in context (currently and historically), mention its influences, tell a few stories about the CD being made and that's it. Instead we get 2,000 word reviews like this where the reviewer uses the term “thrust-grunting” at least 5 times. I’m here to fix this. In addition to the background info above, each CD should be rated according to the following five-point system – the “reviewer” will check all that apply.

This CD makes me want to:
- Get really drunk with my friends
- Get really high and listen carefully
- Fuck the closest human next to me
- Pick a fight and win / lose (circle one)
- Sit in a room by myself and write nonsensical thoughts in a journal

Doesn’t that list tell you as much as you need to know about a new CD? Sure as shit tells you more than “thrust-grunting” – I mean, you can just check #3 for that. You're welcome.


Analogizing LeBron
For the past 3 months, every writer in America has struggled to make the right sports analogy for what we’re witnessing with LeBron right now. He’s Jordan. He’s Bird. He’s a cool Kobe. He’s Jordan and Magic in the same body. He’s Tiger Woods. He’s Tiger Woods, crossed with Jordan with a dusting of Tom Brady. All of these work and none of these work. What we’re watching transcends sports, so let’s make our hair look like a buttcheek and go Outside the Lines on this one. I think the best comparison for 2009 LeBron is a mid-nineties Jenna Jameson. Think about it, Jenna revolutionized everything, redefined an industry, was the most unstoppable force on the planet. Whether she was the star of the scene or just helping out in the background, you could never take your eyes off her, in other words, much like LeBron, she didn’t need the ball in her hands to make an impact. LeBron can play multiple positions, and play them better than anyone in recent memory, he can go big, go small, and offers a significant tactical advantage from every place on the floor. The most startling comparison is the fact that neither of them have / had reached their full potential at this point. LeBron’s game revolves around his otherworldly athleticism, he’s a specimen and doesn’t need a traditional basketball arsenal to score 40. Once he develops a low post game, similar to MJ and Kobe, he will literally be unstoppable, he might score 50 a game. With Jenna, she was so hot and so dirty she could just coast by on her natural talent. But in the late 90s when she developed that spitting blow job move that became her signature for the rest of her career, she officially earned the name “The Queen of Porn” and has been justly revered ever since. There's a lot of LeBron in Jenna. That’s not a title of an upcoming movie, it’s a fact.






JR