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Archive for April, 2010

Jennifer Aniston…Will You Marry Me?

Out of curiosity (and boredom from waiting for laundry to finish) I made a friend list on Facebook of people I’d like to invite to my wedding if I were having onenow . (I know, I know)

What I found out is alarming but not unexpected.

I alone would invite 98 people to my wedding.  That doesn’t include family I would invite.  That does not include +1′s.  That doesn’t include people who aren’t on Facebook.  But honestly, if you’re not on Facebook I can’t imagine we’re close enough to invite you to my wedding.  Loser.  Get a Facebook.

If you factor in the +1′s, which many of my friends are married and I’m close with their spouses too so I’d be inviting them anyway, that number balloons to almost 200.  And that’s not even including my family!  That’s at least 25 more people.

This is insane!  What is my problem!?  I alone would invite nearly 225 people to my wedding?  I mean, a 300 person wedding is considered a big wedding, right?  Well, I’m bringing in 75% of what is considered a big wedding!

My wife would either have to be a hermit or Jennifer Aniston for this to work.

And I have to be honest…I’m leaning towards a hermit at this point.  Cause we all know Aniston could bring in 500 of her own.

Then again, her real-life dad is Victor Kiriakis and my mom loves Days of Our Lives.

Welp, my laundry’s done.


My First Dance

It’s wedding season!  And you know what that means, right??

I start dreaming of what my perfect wedding would be!  Yep, this time of year always brings out the girl in me.  As does the Fall…and Winter…and Summer.  But I’m a real skank in the Summer.

I’ve heard and seen some interesting ideas for the couple’s first dance.  Everyone has seen the Thriller dance party, that was pretty dope but it’s been done.  People have acted stuff out as if it were a play because the couple and their wedding party were theater dorks.  Someone I know who doesn’t really like dancing wants to do a first jam instead of a first dance.  The wedding party would walk over to instruments and play a song.  Great idea for her cause she’s a good musician.  And everybody’s done the “Oh we’re dancing to a sweet love song – NOPE – PLAY ‘I LIKE BIG BUTTS!’” psych out.  That’s REALLY done.

I think my perfect first dance will be elaborate and badass.  I want something choreographed and whimsical with props, scenery and minor set pieces.  What I’m picturing isn’t entirely unlike the video for “Strawberry Swing.”

I’d like to incorporate that song and Rogue Wave’s “Catform” into my first dance.  Talk about whimsical.

Yep, I’ve got a wedding to go to this week and at least 2 more this year.  I’m going to judge all of their first dances…to their faces…the day of their wedding.  Because I’m a horrible person.


This is Not Fergalicious

This week a video went viral.  It involves Fergie Oliver, the host of Canadian game show “Just Like Mom.”  Something no one knew about because it aired in the 80′s and who cared about Canada in the 80′s?

The video is below, but above that is my video response to watching the viral video which misspells his name.  (to sync the audio, just click play on the You Tube video when I say “3″)


Because I’m a Genius*

You know those movie review websites that are designed for mothers so they can “protect” their kids?  They’re not even geared towards parents – just mothers, cause they’re the only ones who care about the safety of their kids.

Have you seen dads when they have to take their little kids to the grocery store?  They let those kids do anything.
“Hey buddy, try to only like the floor for 5 seconds.  It’s safer that way.”  “Hey buddy, what did I say about running in the street?  Only do it when cars are coming, not when SUVs are coming.”  “Alright buddy, you get to drive.  I know you’re five but I’m blowing a 5.0 over here.  I.  Am.  D.  Runk!”

Anyway, there are sites where mothers can look up movie reviews to see what objectionable content may or may not be in the movies their kids are begging to see.  I assume they do this to avoid the awkward conversations about sex that they don’t want to have.

Well that works both ways, world!  I don’t want that awkward conversation with my parents any more than they want to have that with me.
I say there should be a service for children who are 18 and older.  A site that warns you about scenes that will be totally awkward to watch with your parents in the room.

You know it’s happened to you!
You were just sitting there watching what you thought was a drama; History of Violence.  Yeah, it may have some violence in it but they can take it.  This movie is intellectual, right?
Well what the hell do cheerleader outfits and 69ing have to do with history or violence?!?  NOTHING.  But you got that crap anyway.  With your parents in the room!!

I don’t care how cool your parents are, there is a movie you will NOT want to watch with your parents.  My mom can watch episodes of South Park and laugh, but there was nothing funny about watching Superbad with her when Jonah Hill goes on a 5 minute tirade about vaginas.  Or drawing d’s.  I don’t need that to happen again.  And neither do you.

But the worst for me was when my family was watching a Chris Rock special and he starts talking about the HBO special about prison life that exposed to the world tossing someone’s salad.  The most you’ll ever want to kill yourself is when you have to hear your mother explain to your father what tossing a salad is.

Mommy, I don’t want to know why you know what that is and I don’t want my dad to know either.

So I’m starting a website.

This seriously could work.  I need a good name for it.  Awkward Turtle Reviews?  You Don’t Have To Kill Yourself Reviews?  Cheerleader 69 Reviews?

I dunno what it will be called yet, but it will be extensive and it will save your life.


Chat Roulette

I’ve been trying Chat Roulette just to see what the fuss was about.  Today a guy in a Mexican wrestler mask said, “You’re Black,” then he nexted me.
Do you know what that means??
People do know that I’m Black within seconds of seeing me.  Eat it, haters!  I’m Black.  Not mixed.  Not Hispanic.  Black.  Now where is my White woman?!

Chat Roulette is really just another opportunity for me to make jokes.

I’ve gone on the site 3 or 4 times now.  I’ve told people I was Lenny Kravitz.  I’ve eaten Better Cheddars and offered them to people.  Just goofing around.

By the way, those Better Cheddars are good.  I still love Cheez-Its, but Better Cheddars!

Anyway, I like to screw with people on Chat Roulette.  Unfortunately, most guys like to screw themselves on Chat Roulette.
Hey, fellas, if there was a better way to instantly let anyone who is looking at you know that you’re a registered sex offender than having a mustache – it’s doing that on the internet!

You’re douche bags!

Sick, perverted douche bags.  I’m not going to call John Mayer a douche anymore.  Putting him in the same category as you is too much of an insult to him.  Putting Jesse James in the same category as you is too much of an insult to him.  You’re sick.  Get a life.

I’d tell you to go to Hell but I have a feeling that’s going to happen whether I tell you to or not.


My Boy is Wicked Slow

I came across this very odd headline today:

“Is Osama bin Laden out of touch?”

Was he ever in touch?

Seriously, Dan Murphy, what part of 9/11 makes you think bin Laden was at one point “in touch” with reality?  It took making a threat to kill any American caught for you to go, “Hmm, this bin Laden character seems crazy.”

“What else is he late to the party on,” I wondered to myself, but not really cause I’m just trying to write a blog.  So I decided to go to his Twitter page that I don’t even know exists and saw these tweets:

“Wow, guys, this guy Seinfeld has a show on Fox.  It airs at odds hours but it is good. He’s going places.”
“Wait, so you mean to tell me they all die at the end of Titanic?  Couldn’t someone have warned me?!”
“I thought concentration camps were places they sent kids to learn how to concentrate. Thanks, Spielberg.”


Mayer Syndrome

I was having a conversation with a badass guitar player friend named Joel Green about badass guitar player Orianthi.

No.  We were not talking about how hot she is.  We were talking about how good of a guitar player she is.

I think she’s amazing.  He said, “Yeah, she can shred.  Kinda.”  I asked if he really thought she could only “kinda shred.”  His response was, “Maybe it’s Mayer Syndrome and I just need to hear her more to have an informed opinion.”
“What’s ‘Mayer Syndrome’,” I asked, fearing that my friend contracted a new STD that was so vile and new that it could only be named after John Mayer.
His response was, “The first few times I heard John Mayer I thought he was lame.  Then, the more I learned about him I discovered he was a badass.  I made up the name.  I think I’m going to put it into effect.”

So I decided to help him out by writing this blog.  I bring you, via Joel Green, the new term “Mayer Syndrome.”

Because discovering more about John Mayer is involved in this new trend I must point out that there are side effects to “Mayer Syndrome” which include: “Prolonged exposure to douchey-ness, walk of shame disease and tongue mouth.”

For the record, I’m a fan of John Mayer’s amazing guitar playing and well-crafted songs.  Particularly those on Continuum.  As you can gather, I’m not a fan of his douchey-ness.
Sorry, John, but when you give a Playboy interview like that it’s the print equivalent to the saying, “Never meet your heroes.”

But I’m not too sorry because he’ll just dry his tears with Bombshell McGee’s tatted rear-end.  I’m saying he’ll just hook up with a skank and think he’s living the life.