May 26, 2009
Hit 'Em in the Thorax?
I was reading Maxim the other day and read a story about a website that features bugs fighting to the death. I know some animal rights activists will be outraged — and maybe I'm wrong for saying it — but it's hilarious. There's even a Japanese announcer in the background calling the action. I'll bet a dollar to a dime somebody has money on this stuff. Maybe Vick can get into this while on house arrest. It's probably not as exciting as a dog fight, but even the most faithful PETA members have used a fly swatter. They won't have a leg to stand on. Mike will be free to open a bug training ring in his house — call it Bad Newz Bugz. Let he who is without bug spray cast the first stone.
May 19, 2009
It's I'm So Fly coming around turn three, followed by Stuntin' Like My Daddy and Ain't No Thang
I love horses, so I've been watching the recent races on tv. I visited a stable once and was mesmerized by contrast between their size and docility. Their eyes are so inquisitive — following you around — taking in everything going on. When I spoke to them, I felt like they understood. I fell in love with horses that day.
That being said, there has to be other brothas with an appreciation for horses. They may even become new-wave flossin'. No more jewelery, Lambourgini's or yachts — just thoroughbred racing.
Nothing says stuntin' like a $15,000 animal (think Tony Mantana and the white tiger from Scarface). But that's just the horse, not to mention the costs for a trainer, vets, medication a blacksmith, quartering, stable supplies, travel expenses and management costs. If you can afford a horse, you're definitely ballin'. And any time we get to throw some money around we'll take.
And you know we'll bet on anything from a crap game to a three-legged race at a family reunion. Since we're probably already betting on the races, why not put a horse in the fight and make some money off the damn thing. You know a brotha gotta have a side hustle.
As of now, I don't think there are any brothas in horse racing. Just listen to the names: Secretariat, Mine That Bird, Affirmed, War Emblem, Seattle Slew and Real Quiet. Secretariat sounds like secretary. Not flashy enough. I don't know what the hell a Mine That Bird is. Affirmed sounds like what happens when the jury confirms a ruling in court, so that's out. Brothas don't like war, or emblems — ask George Bush. I don't think there are many brothas in Seattle to be slain, and the only time a brotha is real quiet is while he's eating. The only ones that are even close are Big Brown and Street Sense — maybe Affirmed if we're talking about action.
When we start hearing names like, Aye Li'l Shawty, Back That Thang Up, Mo' Money Mo' Problems, Ain't No Thang and Superman Dat Hoe, we'll know we've broken through. Can you imagine the announcers fumbling over those names? It would be hilarious.
"This should be a great race today John. Jay-Z's horse, "Fresh To Death" (Fresh Ta Def), is the prohibitive favorite. Young Jeezy's "I Get Lots of That" (I Gettalotta Dat) is coming in at 3-1 odds."
If you think the Kentucky Derby is a spectacle now, imagine when Jay-Z and Young Jeezy are doing the pre-race concert. It'll be like the Super Bowl of horse racing. There will be a whole new crowd watching racing. There'll be all new beefs. Instead of rapping about who's the better rapper, there will be songs about whose horse is better. Can you imagine DMX in an ascot rapping about how his horse merced Common's?
"And the Grammy for best Thoroughbred Beef Single goes to DMX for, "Your Horse Ain't Shit".
That being said, there has to be other brothas with an appreciation for horses. They may even become new-wave flossin'. No more jewelery, Lambourgini's or yachts — just thoroughbred racing.
Nothing says stuntin' like a $15,000 animal (think Tony Mantana and the white tiger from Scarface). But that's just the horse, not to mention the costs for a trainer, vets, medication a blacksmith, quartering, stable supplies, travel expenses and management costs. If you can afford a horse, you're definitely ballin'. And any time we get to throw some money around we'll take.
And you know we'll bet on anything from a crap game to a three-legged race at a family reunion. Since we're probably already betting on the races, why not put a horse in the fight and make some money off the damn thing. You know a brotha gotta have a side hustle.
As of now, I don't think there are any brothas in horse racing. Just listen to the names: Secretariat, Mine That Bird, Affirmed, War Emblem, Seattle Slew and Real Quiet. Secretariat sounds like secretary. Not flashy enough. I don't know what the hell a Mine That Bird is. Affirmed sounds like what happens when the jury confirms a ruling in court, so that's out. Brothas don't like war, or emblems — ask George Bush. I don't think there are many brothas in Seattle to be slain, and the only time a brotha is real quiet is while he's eating. The only ones that are even close are Big Brown and Street Sense — maybe Affirmed if we're talking about action.
When we start hearing names like, Aye Li'l Shawty, Back That Thang Up, Mo' Money Mo' Problems, Ain't No Thang and Superman Dat Hoe, we'll know we've broken through. Can you imagine the announcers fumbling over those names? It would be hilarious.
"This should be a great race today John. Jay-Z's horse, "Fresh To Death" (Fresh Ta Def), is the prohibitive favorite. Young Jeezy's "I Get Lots of That" (I Gettalotta Dat) is coming in at 3-1 odds."
If you think the Kentucky Derby is a spectacle now, imagine when Jay-Z and Young Jeezy are doing the pre-race concert. It'll be like the Super Bowl of horse racing. There will be a whole new crowd watching racing. There'll be all new beefs. Instead of rapping about who's the better rapper, there will be songs about whose horse is better. Can you imagine DMX in an ascot rapping about how his horse merced Common's?
"And the Grammy for best Thoroughbred Beef Single goes to DMX for, "Your Horse Ain't Shit".
May 13, 2009
And You Know What Else?
I also hate that grocery separator. You know — the little bar people put behind their groceries so the cashier doesn't mix theirs with the person's behind them. I never use it, and it pisses me off when the people in front of me do. Is it even necessary, especially when all you have is a loaf of bread or something? You're right there next to the cashier. What type of extreme A.D.D do you have to have to stand there and let them ring up items that aren't yours? Pay attention. It takes two minutes. And what about the person behind — where in Narnia are you that you didn't speak up while it was happening? Unless you're going to try and catch the A.D.D guy in the parking lot and work our some sort of trade, you're not getting your stuff back. Then you have to get out of line, find more string cheese and taco mix and get back in line again. Or even worse, the old guy gets home and finds out he bought Chicken Ramen when he only eats Oriental, and condoms that aren't his brand. You? You're right back where you started — realizing that you can't do your two favorite things in the world unless you go to the store.
The bar is disrespectful if you ask me. We've already decided that there's really no need for it. So what other reason do people use it for other than to express their displeasure with your selections? It's like grocery store classism. The bar is a way for people to subtly turn your nose up at off-brand purchases. Your groceries are better than mine and you want everybody to know it. You look at my store brand cereal and think oh, I don't want my Cheerios touching that guys Wheat Circles. And they certainly don't want the cashier thinking they drink Appalachian Rain instead of Sierra Mist. The next time somebody puts the bar behind their groceries I'm going to break it over my knee and scream, "You're not better than meeeeeee!" If a crazy person shouting messages of equality to a breaking a grocery store separator o doesn't make you pay attention to what's going on around you then nothing will.
The bar is disrespectful if you ask me. We've already decided that there's really no need for it. So what other reason do people use it for other than to express their displeasure with your selections? It's like grocery store classism. The bar is a way for people to subtly turn your nose up at off-brand purchases. Your groceries are better than mine and you want everybody to know it. You look at my store brand cereal and think oh, I don't want my Cheerios touching that guys Wheat Circles. And they certainly don't want the cashier thinking they drink Appalachian Rain instead of Sierra Mist. The next time somebody puts the bar behind their groceries I'm going to break it over my knee and scream, "You're not better than meeeeeee!" If a crazy person shouting messages of equality to a breaking a grocery store separator o doesn't make you pay attention to what's going on around you then nothing will.
May 09, 2009
Reporting Live From This Years Stripper Olympics
A friend sent me a link to a video of the Miss Pole Dance 2009 competition. Who knew? I guess I no longer have to wonder what gymnasts do after they're finished competing.
Anyway, it seems as though somebody out there is trying to legitimize pole dancing. I have no problem with that. They even have a mission: Miss Pole Dance was created to change preconceived ideas of pole dance as a form of fitness by creating jaw-dropping choreographed events of pole dance containing stunning feats of fitness and agility making pole fitness accessible and accepted as a fitness routine and highly technical dance form open to both amateurs and professional female dancers alike, and keep statistics: since 2005, we have witnessed an explosive growth of over 4200% (2005-2007) in new pole dance schools offering pole dance as a form of fitness.
I don't know who's keeping tabs on stripper classes, but apparently they're pretty busy right about now. You can even get accreditation as a pole dance instructor. I guess the National Association for Stripper Certification (NASC), pronounced NASS, or Nas, as in -T, has been pretty busy too.
There is even a movement to possibly get pole dancing into the Olympics. I certainly appreciate the athletic ability of these women and the dance that the women above performed was somewhat elegant, except for the fact that it was performed very scantily clad and on a pole. I have no problem with them trying to legitimize pole dancing. To each their own. I guess what I have a problem with is they're trying to make me think that the women entering the contest live in my neighborhood, are my next-door neighbor and lead the girl scout meetings every Tuesday. I'm not buying it. Yes, I'm sure that women across the globe are taking pole dancing classes, but take a look at these pictures.
Is that a schoolgirl costume? Do you see any PTA board members in that group? Hell, those aren't even the girls that show up on amateur night at the club. Those are full-on strippers. If she looks like a stripper and dances like a stripper, then her name's probably Destiny. Yeah, they have their clothes on so they're technically not stripper, but they're certainly acting stripper-ish.
And for that, I just can't imagine it being an Olympic sport. First, could they even cover that on regular cable networks. I mean check out the move at the start of the video, or the one at 1:30. I see a lot more stripper in that move than Olympian. And of course there's the problem with clothes, or lack thereof. Since they certainly can't go on wearing actual stripper attire, I guess they'll be wearing Olympic sanctioned team colored leopard leotards and high heels. All non-sanctioned props — hats, canes, whips, glitter-infused oils and gloves — will have to be pre-approved by the sanctioning body. Any non-approved props used during a routine will resutlt in the deduction of a point.
And that brings us to scoring. How exactly are they going to do that? In boners? We've all seen what goes on in strip clubs. We know what they do on the pole, but there's no universal terminology for the moves. Are they going to come up with names and terminology?
"And next up is Candi. There's a lot of difficulty in her routine, including a Crotch Clinch 360, a Between-the-Legs No-Look 180 and the very difficult Peek-A-Boo Special.
"Yeah, Tom, her routine was special. Best I've seen this round. I'd give it 8 boners. Would've been 10, but she slipped a little on her dismount. Boners will definitely be deducted there."
And to compete in the Olympics you have to be an amateur athlete. That means you can't receive pay. Sorry Lace, you do not qualify. Raven, you became ineligible when you took those ones at the Williams bachelor party, and Sparkle when you donned the secretary outfit and booty clapped your way all the way to the next tax bracket. Bambi, you were disqualified as soon as you stepped foot into the champagne room. Is the US going to open a Stripper Training Center in Las Vegas? Who's going to compete? It certainly isn't going to be soccer moms, and real strippers won't qualify. I guess for now this is just pipe dream for a handful of strippers trying to legitimize what they do, and a wet dream for most men starring the combination of all of their fantasies: sports and strippers.
Anyway, it seems as though somebody out there is trying to legitimize pole dancing. I have no problem with that. They even have a mission: Miss Pole Dance was created to change preconceived ideas of pole dance as a form of fitness by creating jaw-dropping choreographed events of pole dance containing stunning feats of fitness and agility making pole fitness accessible and accepted as a fitness routine and highly technical dance form open to both amateurs and professional female dancers alike, and keep statistics: since 2005, we have witnessed an explosive growth of over 4200% (2005-2007) in new pole dance schools offering pole dance as a form of fitness.
I don't know who's keeping tabs on stripper classes, but apparently they're pretty busy right about now. You can even get accreditation as a pole dance instructor. I guess the National Association for Stripper Certification (NASC), pronounced NASS, or Nas, as in -T, has been pretty busy too.
There is even a movement to possibly get pole dancing into the Olympics. I certainly appreciate the athletic ability of these women and the dance that the women above performed was somewhat elegant, except for the fact that it was performed very scantily clad and on a pole. I have no problem with them trying to legitimize pole dancing. To each their own. I guess what I have a problem with is they're trying to make me think that the women entering the contest live in my neighborhood, are my next-door neighbor and lead the girl scout meetings every Tuesday. I'm not buying it. Yes, I'm sure that women across the globe are taking pole dancing classes, but take a look at these pictures.
Is that a schoolgirl costume? Do you see any PTA board members in that group? Hell, those aren't even the girls that show up on amateur night at the club. Those are full-on strippers. If she looks like a stripper and dances like a stripper, then her name's probably Destiny. Yeah, they have their clothes on so they're technically not stripper, but they're certainly acting stripper-ish. And for that, I just can't imagine it being an Olympic sport. First, could they even cover that on regular cable networks. I mean check out the move at the start of the video, or the one at 1:30. I see a lot more stripper in that move than Olympian. And of course there's the problem with clothes, or lack thereof. Since they certainly can't go on wearing actual stripper attire, I guess they'll be wearing Olympic sanctioned team colored leopard leotards and high heels. All non-sanctioned props — hats, canes, whips, glitter-infused oils and gloves — will have to be pre-approved by the sanctioning body. Any non-approved props used during a routine will resutlt in the deduction of a point.
And that brings us to scoring. How exactly are they going to do that? In boners? We've all seen what goes on in strip clubs. We know what they do on the pole, but there's no universal terminology for the moves. Are they going to come up with names and terminology?
"And next up is Candi. There's a lot of difficulty in her routine, including a Crotch Clinch 360, a Between-the-Legs No-Look 180 and the very difficult Peek-A-Boo Special.
"Yeah, Tom, her routine was special. Best I've seen this round. I'd give it 8 boners. Would've been 10, but she slipped a little on her dismount. Boners will definitely be deducted there."
And to compete in the Olympics you have to be an amateur athlete. That means you can't receive pay. Sorry Lace, you do not qualify. Raven, you became ineligible when you took those ones at the Williams bachelor party, and Sparkle when you donned the secretary outfit and booty clapped your way all the way to the next tax bracket. Bambi, you were disqualified as soon as you stepped foot into the champagne room. Is the US going to open a Stripper Training Center in Las Vegas? Who's going to compete? It certainly isn't going to be soccer moms, and real strippers won't qualify. I guess for now this is just pipe dream for a handful of strippers trying to legitimize what they do, and a wet dream for most men starring the combination of all of their fantasies: sports and strippers.
May 03, 2009
"You Know What Really Grinds My Gears?"
You know what makes me mad: when people ask for a certain color M&M. As if they taste different. It's not like Skittles. Blue M&Ms taste just like yellow ones. Don't make me waste time mining my bag of M&Ms to find a blue one for you. The next time somebody asks me for a certain color M&M I'm going to pour out the whole bag in my hand, eat the ones they asked for and pelt them with what's left.
Also, my name is Charles Anthony Thomas, Jr. Don't ask me where the J comes from. If you stop and think about it for two more seconds you won't ask me that question.
And don't walk into a room where I'm obviously watching t.v., reading a book or talking on the phone and ask me what I'm doing. If I have to spell it out for you then you obviously live in a fantasy world where people who look like they're watching t.v. are really playing baseball, so you wouldn't get it anyway.
If I am on the phone and you see that I'm on the phone, discontinue trying to have a conversation with me. I will ignore you and you will only succeed in making me angry, as well as wasting your breath. If you're bleeding, by all means, interrupt. If you can't breathe, you can't very well interrupt, but I will see your distress and promptly hang up. If you want to have a conversation about who should've gotten voted off on Dancing with the Stars today, you're going to have to wait.
If we're in the car and I'm navigating, don't continaually ask me where the next turn is. I'm not going to let you pass it. If you wait, I promise I'll tell you. However, if by some unforeseen circumstance, like I'm choking on a mouth full of the yellow M&Ms you asked for, I let you pass the turn, feel free to slam on the breaks so I slam my head on the dash. On the same note, if I'm driving please show the same courtesy. Don't tell me two turns after that I missed it, especially if it's because you're texting or filing your nails. And don't tell me you didn't say anything because you thought I knew where we were going. Unless we've been to where we're going together, assume I have no idea where it is. I'll let you know.
Guys, don't stand in the middle urinal when there are perfectly good ones to your right and left — same with the troughs at the ballgame. Use the closest open urinal or trough space furthest to the left. I don't want to have to stand right next to you if I don't have to.
I don't want to sound curmudgeon; these are just a couple things that were on my mind.
Also, my name is Charles Anthony Thomas, Jr. Don't ask me where the J comes from. If you stop and think about it for two more seconds you won't ask me that question.
And don't walk into a room where I'm obviously watching t.v., reading a book or talking on the phone and ask me what I'm doing. If I have to spell it out for you then you obviously live in a fantasy world where people who look like they're watching t.v. are really playing baseball, so you wouldn't get it anyway.
If I am on the phone and you see that I'm on the phone, discontinue trying to have a conversation with me. I will ignore you and you will only succeed in making me angry, as well as wasting your breath. If you're bleeding, by all means, interrupt. If you can't breathe, you can't very well interrupt, but I will see your distress and promptly hang up. If you want to have a conversation about who should've gotten voted off on Dancing with the Stars today, you're going to have to wait.
If we're in the car and I'm navigating, don't continaually ask me where the next turn is. I'm not going to let you pass it. If you wait, I promise I'll tell you. However, if by some unforeseen circumstance, like I'm choking on a mouth full of the yellow M&Ms you asked for, I let you pass the turn, feel free to slam on the breaks so I slam my head on the dash. On the same note, if I'm driving please show the same courtesy. Don't tell me two turns after that I missed it, especially if it's because you're texting or filing your nails. And don't tell me you didn't say anything because you thought I knew where we were going. Unless we've been to where we're going together, assume I have no idea where it is. I'll let you know.
Guys, don't stand in the middle urinal when there are perfectly good ones to your right and left — same with the troughs at the ballgame. Use the closest open urinal or trough space furthest to the left. I don't want to have to stand right next to you if I don't have to.
I don't want to sound curmudgeon; these are just a couple things that were on my mind.
Computer Herpes
I was watching a segment of 60 Minutes a couple weeks ago about computer viruses. Most are received on your own recognizance. Usually the virus is embedded in a link and downloaded to your computer when you click on it. How do they make you click on it? One particular virus gathers your friends email addresses via chain letters you forward. Once it does that, it allows the planter of the virus to send an email to everybody on the email list with a subject line like: check out my new dog. Once you click on the link to the pictures of the dog, you're infected. Who doesn't want to see a pictures of a cute little puppy? You're going to click on it. It's ridiculous. I'm scared to even use email. I have to call my friends to see if they really sent me something.
“Hey man, I got an email saying that you got a new puppy. Is that true? Were there pictures attached? Cool, I’ll open it up then.”
I thought the purpose of email was that it was quick and easy. If I have to call and confirm every email with an attachment I'd rather be surprised when I receive pictures of Fido via snail mail than use email and be surprised when my computer gets the Swine Flu.
“Hey man, I got an email saying that you got a new puppy. Is that true? Were there pictures attached? Cool, I’ll open it up then.”
I thought the purpose of email was that it was quick and easy. If I have to call and confirm every email with an attachment I'd rather be surprised when I receive pictures of Fido via snail mail than use email and be surprised when my computer gets the Swine Flu.
How Facebook Killed the Casual Hookup
Yesterday it occurred to me that all the social networking sights have put a major strain on the casual hookup. I'm not saying I got down like this, but remember when you could go out, holla at a girl, participate in some adult activities and never hear from them again? The whole point of the casual hookup is to get in and get out with the least possible knowledge of the other person, while also maintaining your anonymity. Facebook and Myspace have ruined that. The scenario is the same — you go out, holla at a girl and participate in some adult activities — but with Facebook and Myspace you can't say you never hear from them again. Before, you probably wrote down their phone number — even though you had no intentions of calling. Or maybe you did call them the next day to see if they got home ok, or once more just so you didn't feel like an asshole — but you never really wanted to talk to them again. Pretty soon they just became another Beth, Jenny, Dana (bad breath), (Bowlegged) Sarah, Anna (annoying laugh) or just plain "DON'T ANSWER".
Social networking has changed the game, though. You inevitably end up being friends with them on Facebook or Myspace, even though you weren't, aren't now, and have no intentions of being their friend. Like getting their phone number, it's obligatory. Either they friend you and you accept because you don't want to be an asshole, or you friend them because you don't want them to think you're an asshole and they accept because they don't want you to think they're an asshole. Maybe you send them a message to see if they got home ok, or one "thanking" them for a "good time". With the phone, the person would just fade off into oblivion if you never used their number again — just another who the hell is that in your cellphone phonebook. You can't do that with Facebook and Myspace. Whether you care or not, once you accept their friendship you're subject to hearing every boring and ridiculous detail about their life from when they get a new dog to what exactly they're doing at that very moment. You even get to find out when they have a new boyfriend, or better yet, that they had one at the moment you were engaged in adult activities, or even better still, that you're the reason their relationship is "complicated". Unfortunately, you learn more about them from their status updates than you did before you got them home. And it's usually more than you care to know. I don't care what kind of wine you are. I don't even like wine, much less you.
And unlike the phone, you can't just say you don't know them. You're forever attached, if not by the wonderful mutual friends section on your page, then by the pictures to commemorate the whole coup de grace. Anybody who's friends with the both of you knows it. So every time somebody asks you how you know so-and-so, you're forced to relive how you met at a bar, got drunk, hooked up, and how she peed in your bed and told you it was water. Then you have to tell them how awkward it is seeing them on your way to class, or how you got partnered with them for a long-term assignment. Then you find out your friend was only asking because the girl is his brothers girlfriend and he didn't know you knew each other.
Why don't you just unfriend them, you ask? Well, that takes time and effort. It shouldn't take time and effort to NOT be friends with somebody. That's completely contradictory to the way not being friends works. You're not supposed to take action to not be somebody's friend. I'm too lazy to not be friends with somebody, and I'm far too lazy to do it by unfriending people.
Social networking has changed the game, though. You inevitably end up being friends with them on Facebook or Myspace, even though you weren't, aren't now, and have no intentions of being their friend. Like getting their phone number, it's obligatory. Either they friend you and you accept because you don't want to be an asshole, or you friend them because you don't want them to think you're an asshole and they accept because they don't want you to think they're an asshole. Maybe you send them a message to see if they got home ok, or one "thanking" them for a "good time". With the phone, the person would just fade off into oblivion if you never used their number again — just another who the hell is that in your cellphone phonebook. You can't do that with Facebook and Myspace. Whether you care or not, once you accept their friendship you're subject to hearing every boring and ridiculous detail about their life from when they get a new dog to what exactly they're doing at that very moment. You even get to find out when they have a new boyfriend, or better yet, that they had one at the moment you were engaged in adult activities, or even better still, that you're the reason their relationship is "complicated". Unfortunately, you learn more about them from their status updates than you did before you got them home. And it's usually more than you care to know. I don't care what kind of wine you are. I don't even like wine, much less you.
And unlike the phone, you can't just say you don't know them. You're forever attached, if not by the wonderful mutual friends section on your page, then by the pictures to commemorate the whole coup de grace. Anybody who's friends with the both of you knows it. So every time somebody asks you how you know so-and-so, you're forced to relive how you met at a bar, got drunk, hooked up, and how she peed in your bed and told you it was water. Then you have to tell them how awkward it is seeing them on your way to class, or how you got partnered with them for a long-term assignment. Then you find out your friend was only asking because the girl is his brothers girlfriend and he didn't know you knew each other.
Why don't you just unfriend them, you ask? Well, that takes time and effort. It shouldn't take time and effort to NOT be friends with somebody. That's completely contradictory to the way not being friends works. You're not supposed to take action to not be somebody's friend. I'm too lazy to not be friends with somebody, and I'm far too lazy to do it by unfriending people.
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