Archive for July, 2010

Great basketball player? No question. Do I want him on the Bulls? You better believe it. Does he have balls the size of watermelons and an ego that makes even Brett Favre bow before him? Obviously. 

...of what happens when ESPN kisses your ass for 7 years."

Tonight at 8pm CST Lebron James is holding an hour-long ESPN special to announce which team he is going to sign with. The balls on this guy, and we thought the Brett Favre shenanigans were bad. I’m not sure how he thinks this Lebron-a-thon doesn’t end with everybody thinking he is a tremendously arrogant, self-absorbed piece of shit. Consider the scenarios: if he stays with Cleveland, he unnecessarily strung along everybody else just to give them the proverbial middle finger on a national stage. If he leaves Cleveland, it is the equivalent of pulling his pants down and asking the Cavalier fans to kiss his ass in one of the most epic breakups I’ve ever seen. Instead of signing an extension years ago or dealing with a team like a normal fucking person, Lebron thinks it necessary to drag this out and parade on stage in what has to be one of the clearest displays of pompous douchebaggery in the history of professional sports. 

Lebron already announced that he will name his team in the first 10 minutes of the broadcast, which means the ESPN anchors will undoubtedly just powder his balls for the next 50 minutes while “King James” makes it rain on them. I’m not saying I blame him, I mean what would you do if the whole world kissed your ass since High School? Granted, whichever team he signs with will produce an elated fan base, and if the Bulls land him I’d be stupid not to be happy – he makes them a much, much better team and closer to winning a title and I’m on record as saying that’s really all I care about. This, however, is a tough pill to swallow. I can not be convinced that this is anything other than a self-indulgent spectacle to show to the world that Lebron James can do whatever the hell Lebron James wants to do and there isn’t a damn thing anybody can do about it. 

“But he’s giving some money to The Boys and Girls Club.” Shut up, that’s what rich people say when they just want to have their feet kissed publicly without feeling guilty about it. If he really wanted to help a charity, why not just cut them a check with his ridiculous contract he’s about to receive? Because he likes it when ESPN gives him a reach around, that’s why. Speaking of which, I’d like to send a personal “fuck you” to ESPN for hugging Lebron’s ass through this whole process. Every reporter has a different source telling them he’s going somewhere else, and the news feeds have just been embarrassing to watch so they thought, “Fuck it, since none of us know what the hell is going on, why not let Lebron do our jobs for us?” I’m convinced that even if Lebron signs with the Bulls, Stephen A. Smith (renowned ass hat) will still report that he’s heading to the Knicks. 

This whole thing is almost too ridiculous to wrap my head around, but that being said, I’ll still tune in because sports are like my bible – regardless of how stupid it sounds I still follow it like mindless drone (it’s my curse). I do want to ask something of you guys though. It’s been widely reported that Lebron finally joined Twitter, and I’m sure he has received an outpouring of affection from all his fans. Take a minute and let @KingJames know he’s kind of a dick (I did) and send him the link to this post.

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Yeah, I said “retarded”, get over it. Anyway, how was your 4th of July? Did you blow your hand off like I said you would? I spent mine at Summerfest (big Milwaukee festival – food, drinks, mediocre music, yada yada). My wife, aware of my affinity for the ridiculous, pointed out one of the most asinine trends I have seen in a long time. My attention span was ruined for the rest of the day, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.

So apparently this is a thing now – hiked up multi-colored NBA socks. Listen, I’m not “stylish”. I don’t “wear pants all of the time.” I never claim to “know what I look like when I leave the house.” Yes, my favorite shirt is one that reads “It’s not a beer belly, it’s a fuel tank for a sex machine”, but I would never be caught wearing some dumbass concoction of flamboyant eyesore shit like this.

This is coming from somebody who grew up in the city of Chicago, so I’ve seen my fair share of ridiculous trends but this one has me scratching my head. It honestly looks as if this guy asked his 3-year-old to put together his outfit for him. Even the 3-year-old probably giggled as he grabbed daddy’s yellow socks and black sneakers, thinking about how god damn stupid he was going to look. Much to my dismay, this cretinous collection of idiotic fashion statements were everywhere. Every direction I looked there were NBA socks: lime green, blaze orange, red, blue, most accompanied by shorts of the completely opposite color. I couldn’t prepare my camera phone quick enough to keep up with them all. I even snapped a picture while riding the sky deck.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more ridiculous, there they were:

Yep, socks and sandals, outdoors, in public.

I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry – I’m an equal opportunity observational retorter.

If there is anything I have learned from this, it’s that there is no such thing as “fashion.” The term perception is reality couldn’t be more true here. They really believe, in their heart of hearts, that they look cool (the same way these assholes do). All of these trends are just an example of what happens when enough people are willing to look as stupid as one person does. Who is responsible for this crap anyway? If anybody knows the origin of this nonsense, please, comment away. If I ever become rich and famous enough to carry this kind of influential power, I’m going to start wearing pants on my arms and shirts on my legs just to see how far they’ll go. The thing that really chaps my ass is that they’re not even doing anything original here, this is just a new spin on an old classic.

Still stupid, 50 years later

Here are a few more, because inconspicuously taking all these pictures was not easy.

I spent the long weekend convincing myself that this wasn’t an actual thing, but I’m afraid I might be wrong. Is this happening everywhere, or have I just been unlucky enough to now live in a place where it looks like the Easter Bunny threw up all over everybody’s feet?

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Independence Day is almost here, so before you prove to your kid how cool you are by blowing your hand off you will most likely, at some point, be standing in a line at the grocery store to stock up. This doesn’t have to be a horrible experience, but you’ll have to keep your wits about you. It is very important to keep your head on a swivel, as choosing which check out line you stand in is of great importance. Sure, it’s tempting to pick the line with the hottest clerk, but they’re normally the dumbest ones so don’t be fooled. It’s hard to check somebody out quickly when you can’t read or operate a computer, so skip the Jersey Shore wannabe and find the savvy veteran. You’re looking for messy hair, a fake smile and the smell of cigarettes – because those people want to get you out of there just as fast as you want to leave. Look for flair, or a banged up name tag. The brand new name tag or one with a written-in name on it is a clear sign that you have a rookie and need to abort immediately. Once you’ve made sure the clerk you’ve chosen can read, stays away from spray-on tans and has a few merit badges on their vest – it’s time to scan the crowd.

You will need to pay very close attention to shopping carts and the items contained therein. All other shoppers need to be considered your competition, and treated as such. I don’t trust fruit or vegetables. Anything without a UPC can be subject to a price check intercom call – in which case you’re better off just opening that box of Oreos and taking a seat, because it’s going to be a while before the stock boy finishes his bong hit and makes his way up from the back room.

If you see grey, walk away. The only thing slower than standing behind an elderly person in the grocery line is the Cubs march to a World Series title. Don’t forget that they’re usually packing coupons too, and that is 15 minutes you will never get back.

Keep an eye out for lurkers – they are a pawn in the “lurk and swoop” tactic. Has some woman ever asked to cut you in line because she only has 1 item? This is a red flag, don’t become a victim. If they really only have 1 item they can use the self checkout or go to Walgreens, don’t buy into the bullshit. Watch for people hovering nearby with a cart packed with groceries, if you spot somebody putsing around aimlessly – tell that bitch to stuff it and start filling up the conveyor belt. Trust me, the minute you let her jump in front of you, her snot nosed teenager will come barreling in with a cart full of groceries. I have enough going on during the holiday weekend, I don’t have the time or energy to publicly berate somebody in front of her kids.

Sometimes it’s not as easy to choose your line, there are times when split-second decisions need to be made. Any hesitation at all could cost you an extra 20 minutes standing behind the behemoth man in his motorized cart. Consider the situations below. The color green indicates your average in and out shopper – easily scanned items, no fruit or coupons and sitting at a healthy, quick, mid-life age range. Yellow can represent a slightly slower shopper – maybe you notice a few coupons, or even grey hair – but using your best judgement you would have to assume they’re not too slow. Red will represent a dreadful, old, coupon having, broke, fruit lover who doesn’t know their ass from their elbows – you want to avoid them at all costs, sometimes even if they only have a few items. The numbers represent the number of items each person has in their cart. Exhibit A demonstrates a no-brainer situation: The left lane has 30 items total among red and yellow shoppers while the right line contains 15 total items mainly distributed among the competent variety of shoppers. Pick the line to the right, dumbass. Exhibit B is where it gets a little tricky. The line on the left is predominantly red and yellow shoppers, but they only have 20 total items whereas the line on the right has 15 more items, but are held by quick shoppers. Don’t be afraid to cheat a little, favor the right line but position yourself for the easy switch in case the clerk in left line happens to be an all-star during the middle of his shift. Set yourself up for success and stay sharp, these things can change quickly.

Most importantly, trust your instincts – if they look stupid, they probably are. If the guy in line looks like he might only have $3 in his bank account, he probably does, and get out – because voiding an entire sale due to non-sufficient funds will require you to break out the Oreos again. I know this may seem funny now, but you won’t be laughing when some pimple faced jerkoff cuts you in line after his mother preyed on your kindness and the old lady in front of you shakily gathers her coupons to give to the half-wit bimbo clerk… are those bags of apples, broccoli and nectarines? Cancel your plans.

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I have had this conversation with so many people it’s stupid, and sometimes I’m shocked at the answer I get. It’s simple, if you won the lottery, or otherwise came into an enormous sum of money – would you keep your job? This hypothetical amount of money would have to be enough to live on, of course, or else this conversation is pointless. I have run into this answer more than once and it drives me insane. “I would keep working, at least part-time. I would be so bored otherwise.” Are you fucking kidding me? If I had the winning powerball numbers I would quit my job before the final number was even finished being read on TV. I would take a great deal of satisfaction in going into the office the next day as if nothing happened to just do whatever the hell I wanted, all day. I’d play Tetris, make personal calls, get hammered and fall in and out of sleep. When, inevitably, somebody finally asks me to get to work I might fart into my cupped hand and waft it their way, presenting it as a gift then walk out without a word. I’m not terribly confident I wouldn’t send an email to the whole office of my bare ass with the winning ticket stuck to it. There is also a slight chance I would bust into the office through the window on a zip line later that week after a 3 day bender in Vegas to gather my things, set them on fire then piss on them to put it out… because I’m fucking rich, that’s why. I love the people I work with, and this wouldn’t be done out of malice. I would quit almost ANY job upon becoming filthy rich. I just don’t know if I would be able to contain myself. Listen, I don’t care what anybody says – people are not meant to sit at a desk while being watched and judged for 8 hours a day. The pure elation that would come with the thought of knowing I’ll never have to do that again would make me drunk with creative ways to celebrate – appropriate or not.

People have told me, “You would get bored being at home all day.” 1) If you honestly think that, you obviously don’t know me too well and 2)Who says I’ll be at home? If I feel like having crab legs for lunch, I’ll take a trip to Maine. Feel the urge to riot, loot or kill? We could head down to New Orleans during hurricane season. You would be surprised how not bored I’d be playing Xbox on my 50 foot TV all day. I really do believe that if you are one of those people who says they would still work if they won the lottery – you’re either full of shit or don’t know how to have fun. Take a good deal of that money and bank it, invest it, find ways to make it grow then enjoy sleeping in every day and doing whatever the hell you please. We get one life (unless you’re delusional, then you think we might get another up in the sky) so why the hell would I spend it commuting, reporting, frustrated or deadlined? If you ever win the lottery and feel the need to keep working, give me your winning ticket and I’ll have fun for you – because you’ve obviously given up on life. So what do you think – would you work, or quit?

(Also – it’s a celebration bitches, this is my 150th post!)

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