Found this picture over the weekend. Needless to say it was taken by Reflecting Pool in Washington DC. Former president G-Dubb was surely rolling in his tomb.
Lincoln? He was probably thinking that Lex always gets great hang time. Chin is showing off his belly. I'm uselessly flapping my wings, while Air Jordan is simply Air Jordan. Ahhh, good old Linky.
Speaking of monument desecration, this picture reminds me of this picture. Geez, I can't take these guys ANYWHERE.
Anyhow, karma has attacked. I'm dying from a migraine. Back to bed for me! Love me or hate me, send me an email.
Ever run into a girl wearing a tiara with a rubber penis stuck to it? I did, last night.
She was like a sex toy unicorn princess. Thankfully -- for her -- it was her bachelorette party. Her friends forced her into wearing the hideous headpiece.
While most of the bar's male dirtbag clientelle made crued and generally "stupid-guy" comments, I used my charm. Moments later, voila.
I had magically acquired glow-in-the-dark-bracelets and had the girl on her knees. She had become a human ring toss game. See video:
It's a shame I didn't have my real camera with me. Oh well, you get the point. I'm a jerk.
In Soulja Boy's new song, Kiss me through the Phone, he tells his girl to call him at six-seven-eight-triple-nine-eight-two-one-two.
The song is super catchy and has seen heavy rotation in RSXXXY. Needless to say, 678-999-8212 has engraved in my mind. Could it really Soulja Boy's number? Hmmm.
I did some research and the area code 678 is a real area code assigned to Atlanta and suburbs. Ironically DeAndre Ramone Way (aka Soulja Boy Tell 'Em) is from ATL.
Coincidence? I think not.
I had to find out.
So I called...
... words cannot explain how stupid I felt, when some random answered the phone "No, I am not Soulja Boy!"
Now you know why movies use the 555 prefix in numbers shown on-screen. Otherwise, you'd have thousands of idiots (including myself) writing down numbers, going home and dialing:
"Hi can I speak to Indiana Jones?"
At least I'm not the only one. I took great consolation in the these Yahoo! Answer questions.
Never call me for help, especially if your name is Ruby and your car happened to die across the street from my place, as in I can see you from my balcony!
Unless there's a brand new Ferrari 430 with a giant bow on your driveway, no one really like surprises. That's why you use protection.
I recently stumbled upon these in the drugstore:
I've since been hooked. They're called One Condoms by Global Protection. Not only do they come in stylish metal cases with funky wrappers -- but -- they are made out of some space aged latex that feel truly au naturelle.
Visiting Subway restaurants can be problematic. I always encounter dilemmas such as "Which sub should I get?" or "What type of bread would be best for this sub?"
When it comes to Subway, I have 99 problems, but their products being inexpensive for me ain't one"
A while back, we were heading home from a nightclub. We pit-stopped into a sandwich shop, surveyed the menu and ordered. I was up first. I whipped out my wallet and paid for the driver and myself. Two large subs, two drinks, $16.
"Can I help you?" the sandwich maker asks the third and last in our group.
His focus shifts from the menu and onto the sandwich artist in disgust. "Yes, but none of these subs fit my **ballin'** taste."
"Excuse me?"
"I need something classier. Something your menu doesn't have. Can we make something custom?"
"Yes, but I'll charge you extra."
"No problem, I'm **ballin'**, I can afford anything here."
NEVER, EVER tell a storekeeper you're ballin'. That's like writing a blank cheque. One sandwich later, no drink, $18. He ordered an extra slice of cheese and it brought the total to $20. Long live the Big Ballin' Sub!
Thanks to everyone's wacky travel schedule, my friends and I are having our annual Christmas party tonight, January 31, thirty seven days after schedule.
Should be an evening of food, drinks and good times... but we know what we're all looking forward too. The annual Bad Santa game!
The present that I'm bringing is absolutely stellar. Can't tell you what it is, but here is a clue:
For those of you who are unfamiliar with our little game, the rules to the game are pretty simple. As described in a post from a few years back:
Everyone brings a present to the party, their names are thrown into a hat and drawn for order of selection.
The first person selected picks a gift (except their own) from a pool of presents and unwraps.
The second (and subsequent) person can either select a new wrapped gift from the remaining pool or steal any previous person's gift. Should they choose to steal a gift, the victim of the stealing gets to choose a new wrapped gift from the remaining present pool.
This continues until every participant has opened a gift!
Since the first person never had an opportunity to steal gifts, they are now given the opportunity to keep their gift (which probably has been stolen and swapped with something lame) or steal any one of the particpant's gifts.
In 2008 we will continue with our veto rule. If you bring a present to the pool, and it sucks, it can be "veto'd."
Let's say you contribute an MP3 player. Should they be cheated by the appeal value of your gift, whoever opens it has the right to call a vote in which people will determine wether or not your gift is crappy.
If it is, the gift you selected (or future pick) from the pool goes to the person who chose yours, you get get your shitty gift back, and you have to get the F-out. Simple.
Thanks to rules like this, the prizes get better year after year. In 2007 I scored a Logitech Harmony. A Nintendo DS Lite in 2006. You get the point. We figure that by the time 2020 comes around someone will be giving away a car: "Hey look, I got a 2020 Hyundai Accent."
Come strong, or don't come at all.
I'm also looking forward to the annual punkie awards. There aren't many categories up for grabs in 2008, but they're always a laugh.
This past weekend me zoomed down to Detroit for our annual trip to the North American International Auto Show.
Despite the economic downturn, the show was great.
GM, Honda and Toyota showcased the latest in hybrid technologies, while the rest scrambled to keep pace. Stages through the COBO Center were packed with hot technology, hot cars and what seemed to be a neverending stream of hot women: The new Allante -- I love Kelly Bundy.
Unlike last year, I wasn't quite the photowhore. Here are a few pictures of our adventures:
Above: Scion's display of customizable cars! Awesome.
Above: *Drool* Audi's R8
Above: Lambo heaven. I didn't even notice the models prancing around giving out misc PR garbage. What a hot bunch of cars. I so need to get a better paying job...
Above: GM's World Headquarters, the REN CEN. Too bad the resto -- Coach Insignia -- on the 71st floor was closed. Thank God for Tunnel BBQ.
Above: Is it me, or does downtown Detroit remind you of I am Legend? The sun was setting so we had to get the *F* out.
Above: Speaking of "I am Legend" we managed to get some time in the "hood." Good times. And yes, that first building really was an abandoned police station! POLICE STATION!
While organizing, I found this *OLD* video clip from Vegas in 2003:
So many things contribute to this video being funny:
the laundry lady with more towels for "my" shower
the infamous paper bag mask
Me being grossly overweight!!!
Alexis and his chains / cell phone belt clip
Mariah Carey's "Love Takes Time" on shuffle in the background
Chin laughing
the bum shake
the double barrel fist pointing thing
we were staying in the EXCALIBUR (*OMG* we were uber poor students back then... nowadays, I'd pick "murder" over staying at the EX, as in "getting murdered" -- and, for you psycho murderer readers, I was being sarcastic. Relax. )
Over the past month I've run into several Vegas Virgins. They always ask the same questions: "What are the best clubs to go to? Best casino? Any wicked restaurants?" Ugh. Why are people so closed minded. You can pretty much do *anything* in Vegas. Why waste your time eating?
Here are three of my Vegas favs courtesy of my home video footage.
1. The INSANITY ride on top of the Stratosphere -- you dangle 1000 feet above the ground
2. Riding around in IndyCars on the Las Vegas Motorspeedway
So next time you're out in Paradise, NV -- do something different. If you live a boring life, I feel sorry for you son, I have one problem and being ain't the one...
The other day the following Facebook Status convo went down between my friend Liz and I:
Today, one day later, I get home from work. I pull into the underground. I use my remote to open the garage door. It violently ceases halfway up it's ascent. Frig! I get out. Push, push, push. No luck.
A few moments pass and a small group of business professionals gather infront of my condo's underground entrance. The garage door remains suspended a few feet above ground.
It will be at least an hour before we can get our cars into the underground. The ground is wet. It's cold. Three gents and I decide to be real men and wrestle with the behemoth door. Minutes later, it slowly recedes upward.
Nice.
Actually no. During the process of this aggravating manual labour I manged to get salt, mud and winter sludge all over my hands, face, jeans and jacket (Ugh! My poor jacket! Thank God it wasn't one of the A-listers.)
"No big deal," I think to myself. "I'll shower and get the jacket to the dry cleaners in the AM."
WRONG!!!
I jump in the elevator. It skips the other parking deck, but stops randomly on the sixth. In walk FOUR gorgeous women.
*** Are you kidding me? ***
Normally I'm dressed fairly well. I can drop some witty comment, and charm my way into conversation -- but -- all I run into are couples, old men and attached women (Stop talking to me. I got enough friends... Yo, if you're a pretty girl and I see a ring on your finger and I don't know you, I ain't even holding the door for you so don't even look for help with heavy boxes)
Anyhow, how is that the one-day that I look like I'm a avian survivor from the Exxon Valdez, FOUR Victoria Secrets super models jump on board! WTH?
What ever happened to manners? As a child I was taught that when a person is blocking your path you either move around them, or politely ask them to let you through. Is that so difficult? Apparently.
Today -- during our regular lunch-hour shawarma run to Osmow's Grill -- something ridiculous occurred. After picking up our lunch, my friend GP and I were walking back to my car. Suddenly GP gets pushed aside. Out of nowhere appears a trailer park gangsta (TPG) who zooms by shoving GP while muttering "F*cking move buddy!"
How random and rude and wrong is that? I start mocking the TPG, "Hey you loser ..." and what not. He turns around and gives us this F-you, come get me look. Are you kidding me? You're calling me out? You're like 18. You're dressed like a wanksta. Do you really wanna get taken out by two guys in wool dress jackets? (Harry Rosen would be proud)
Anyhow, I decided to let it slip, but I just couldn't. I could feel it starting to fester and brew. By the time I got to my car there was steam billowing from my ears. I was fuming. The TPG was already way down the street, but that didn't matter, we hunted him down! The results:
.. and FYI, the waterbottle (half-filled and completly frozen) hit the target!
Running out of washer fluid during the midst of a Canadian winter. With all the dry salt getting stuck to my windshield, you couldn't even tell that it was a bright day out there!
If you think that's bad, try driving my car at night. Three of the four headlights have all recently burnt out. Nice!
In 2008 we will continue with our veto rule. If you bring a present to the pool, and it sucks, it can be "veto'd."
