Ok, this is going to be brief, but I think it's of some interest. In his latest "Rap Song" (as my mom would say in the early 90's) Shaq "disses" (as the kid's say) Kobe "There was other dude's semen in her" Bryant. Check out the lyrical genius from the man who once stunned me with his masterful performance as a rappin' genie named Kazaam.

"Even with wings you never as fly as me ... you remind me of Kobe Bryant trying to be as high as me ... but you can't ... even if you get me traded ... wherever I'm at, I'm Puffy; you Mase and you're still hated."

Wow, strong words.

Strong, scary, words with a bad metaphor. Everyone knows Ma$e is cooler than Diddy even without the sex, swearing and alcohol. Harlem World.

-SRO

Let's be honest about one thing here. The Disney afternoon was clutch. Whether it was Gummy Bears in the lead off spot, or later Duck Tales; the Disney afternoon was the only thing that could erase your frustration from long days at school. My only problem with the Disney afternoon was Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers. I'm probably going to offend people with that comment, but I feel that its mediocrity helped pave the way for the lesser shows of the Disney Afternoon. "Goof Troop" was the beginning of the end for the Disney Afternoon. I remember they tossed in some show called "Bonkers" or some shit and eventually "Garfield and Friends" really had no competition what so ever (even if they did have that damn US Acres segment to stink it up).

Also, why does no one remember this show but me???

-SRO

So it's been a while for me. I know. I have let down our faithful blog readers. I am going to try and not let this happen again. And hopefully soon enough SRO and I will make this blog look a little nicer and more "user-friendly." Anyway, due to lack of creativity, here are some digressions from me... Part III.

I know I comment about Ashelee and Jessica Simpson and their shows quite a bit, but here is something that really bothered me A LOT. There was an episode of the Ashlee show where Mrs. Simpson, their mother was wearing a pair of pants. On the ass of these pants read the word Juicy. JUICY!? WTF is that? Or how about when you're at the beach and you notice someone with BOOTYLICIOUS or PRINCESS on their ass. It's not the fact that there is writing, it's what is written that disturbs me. I'll admit, I have a pair of shorts that have METS on the butt. But I wouldn't be caught dead in something like that. Help me out guys... is this sexy? Does reading the word JUICY on someone's ass do it for you? Let me know, I'm interested.

Being at the "old" age of 23 now, more and more of my friends are getting engaged. Does anyone else notice this trend of ridiculouly long engagement periods? My friend will call me up and say she's getting married... but not until the fall of 2012. Okay, maybe not that long. But you get my point. Whatever happened to popping the question, and getting married a year or two at most later. What's the deal with these prolonged engagements? What is the point of doing that if you are just going to wait another few years? Oh, and something else that bothers me concerning this subject.... what is it with guys spending a FORTUNE on a ring? I understand some girls mentality that it's the committment thing, and a "diamond is forever" and it shows how much you love the person. But in all honesty, if you're looking to start your life with this person shouldn't you be saving your money towards more important things? I guess a nice ring is the traditional way to go... but does it have to be soooo costly?

Andy Dick's "The Assistant" is terrible. The contestants on this show are lame, and Andy is not funny with them at all. I'd rather watch repeats of Camp Jim then be subjected to this crap.

I'm not a huge P Diddy fan by any means, or his political leanings... however, what he's doing with this VOTE or DIE thing is great. People need to get out and vote this Novemeber... otherwise you have no right to complain about anything. Check out www.declareyourself.org where you find out more info about registering.

I have heard some negative comments lately on the movie "The Village." I saw it last weekend and absolutely loved it... you should check it out. It's not as scary as I thought it was going to be, but it definitely had a great ending.

OK i guess that's all from me for now... but don't worry I'll be posting again soon.

~SRG

I've been neglecting the blog, like my illegitimate son Juan. But don't worry, fresh new posts are coming. Here's one from a guest poster who refers to himself as SC.

Often times it seems people are accredited with astoundingly brilliant roles in playing a character of a sub intelligent level. Obvious examples are Tom Hanks as Forest Gump, Dustin Hoffman as Rain Main, and that big black dude from the Green Mile. But sometimes I question whether all of these accolades are warranted.

What if the actor or actress is simply an idiot and therefore just well casted, should that be called a brilliant performance. Can a person who has no brilliance within them deliver a brilliant performance, am I over using the term brilliant, perhaps. I think the most obvious examples of this phenomenon are in Rocky I & II. Sly Stallone plays a Philly Street Brawler with horrible grammar and an inability to "ya know like uh make ah coherence sentence er whateva."

While I'm a fan of the Rocky movies, and realize Stallone had intellectual input towards these movies, I can't help my frustration. I'm watching scenes and thinking, that poor director, who you know did this scene 15 times, while trying not to offend Stallone. Honestly, what can you do after the first encounter with Stallone when you say to him, "that was good, but let's not play him quite so dumb" to which he responds, "eh like uhh wadda ya mean dumb?"

Along the same lines, Rose Nylan former resident of St. Oloph, Betty Davis (screw you, like you never watched the Golden Girls) wasn't the smartest of ladies. While I have no definitive proof, other than those stupid pet awareness commercials she does, I don't really think she was "acting" in playing Rose Nylan. Perhaps the character wasn't even supposed to be a dolt, but in the way Davis delivered such crap, it ended up being funny.

The moral of the story is that everyone isn't conquering the role of Mork like Robin Williams, INCLUDING ROBIN WILLIAMS. Dammit have you seen that man just being Robin Williams?!? He had to try to be normal in order to play an alien. God that guy's weird and I don't think we should applaud him for being just that. Dustin Hoffman, great job, Robin Williams, stay away from my family.

-SC

I'm not a p***y, I just whine a lot. 

(I know SRG hates that word, so I threw in some asterisks to soften it up.)

I'm sure we're all familiar with Whiny Guy Syndrome (WGS [acronyms are grand]).  Lord knows I've been affected by this affliction several times in my life.  Think of it like carpal tunnel syndrome, except instead of getting it from typing too much and sometimes improperly, you get it from dealing with females too much and most of the time, improperly.  However, WGS, unlike carpal tunnel, may cause those close to you to avoid you like the cakey-makeup lotion lady at the mall (no I don't want your odd creams, fresh from your 'kiosk,' rubbed on my shit, I must maintain the masculinity that the ladies enjoy).

WGS fellas are the type that you don't like to ask how they're doing.... because they actually tell you.  Instead of the short and sweet, 'not bad, you' or 'good.'  You get the rundown,  "well I was good until I....... heard that song, saw that picture, smelt that perfume, saw that girl's ass that looked a lot like [insert name (and it's always an annoying like more than 3 syllable name too; one that if you hear again you'll punch a midget)].

Driving in a car with a WGS dude is trouble.  Forget about some chill or fun music, you're listening to emo.  And it's not enough that you're listening to sad bastard music, you must also hear how every song applies to the WGS victim's situation.  And they always sing along, badly, like a cat getting hit by a lawn mower; with a sad, desperate face that is yearning for catharsis, but really doesn't want it, cause he likes the whining deep down (run-on sentence, what?).

Then come "the talks," never let someone suffering from WGS get you alone, that's when they strike.  Every conversation is a version of the opening scene from "Swingers."  And they always want you to throw out the hope life preserver.... "Yeah but like the other day she was online and she had this quote in her profile that I really think was directed at me."  Looking for help from the outside, you give the "yeah maybe man, I dunno" while signaling to anyone, a four hundred pound woman with a moustache, to save you from the hell that is the WGS talk.

At the heart of WGS is the failure to recognize this simple truth "Sometimes, girls just don't like you."  That's it, the cause of all of your problems.  It doesn't mean you’re a bad guy, sometimes things just don't work out.  But NO!!! THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!!!!  Because “not just 2 months ago when I took her out she was all over me and she wanted to go out all these times and blah blah blah.”

Since I've been through and survived WGS (one summer I bought every single dashboard cd) I can say that the only true cure is time.  And by time I mean going out, getting sloppy, lowering the standards (maybe), and go "golfing in Massachusetts."

-SRO

Everyone has a shit list. People, things, etc that accumulate over time to form your own personal list of aggrivations. What's public enemy number one on mine? POP UP ADS. I can't deal with this pop up crap on the computer anymore. It REALLY needs to stop. A few here and there we have all learned to be patient with. But 897867667565 opening up every single time I view a web page is unacceptable. This adware nonsense needs to come to an end. But don't worry. I have a plan. If I ever find the person that created this charming little idea, I know what I'm going to do. I will seat them next to me while I am on my computer... and for every piece of shit ad that comes up on screen, I am going to punch them in the face. That will be the one day I hope for a lot of pop up ads.




I am not someone who comes from money. I, in fact, very rarely even have any myself. But I do know the worth of $5 million. And I can tell you right now that Kaz Matsui of the New York Mets is NOT worth anything close to that. The season isn't even at the halfway point and he's got 14 errors. 14! Besides, he used to have a mullet. Doesn't that say it all right there? Shouldn't that be part of the scouting report? Ah, the fun of being a Mets fan.




I've said it before, I'll say it again....Shut up, Michael Moore.




How bad is the Ashlee Simpson show? I'll admit.... I'm a Newlyweds fan. I think Jessica is annoying, but the show is hilarious. The Ashlee show is just awful. She's trying way too hard to act like her sister so that she can achieve the same success. Except it's backfiring miserably because of how damn annoying she is. I wasn't an Osbournes fan by any means. But I'd much rather watch Ozzy incoherently ramble on about ANYTHING instead of listenting to Ashlee whine about some guy she refers to as "baby". The other bad thing about this show is now we're all getting twice the creepy-ness factor of Joe Simpson, their father. Say what you want about Freddy Krueger, Jason, Michael Myers... Joe Simpson is scarier than all of them combined.




Ok I think I'm all out of digressions for now... but don't worry... I'll be back soon enough to bring to you more of the insanity that is my mind. Unless of course those damn pop ups take over my computer....



~SRG

Yet another guest poster, my friend of 22 years, Brian Russell.  Check his isht out.

Debbie Downer

 

One of the SR Squared duo asked me to join in the blog fun, and give them a change of pace with a guest post. I do feel that I’m somewhat connected to them, not only because Scott and I are often mistaken for brothers (the sibling kind, not the kind we’ll never be mistaken for), but I also share the SR nomenclature. Scott and I can recite quite proudly how we’ve known each other since he was 1 going on 2 and I 5, how we lived next door for most of our lives, and how our names happen to be contained within each other. We’ve told many uninterested people (much like you now) how I am Brian Scott Russell and he is Scott Russell Owens. And even more amazingly, if his father Russell is thrown in the mix then the three of us make up my full name. This is one of our joys in life, so stop mocking us!!

 

Now on to the point of my post. I was trying to sum up all my worldly ideas into one concise posting, but that’ll never happen, so some weekend events gave me the chance to concentrate on one observation and maybe throw in some other thoughts along the way. This past Monday was my birfday (I’m still waiting for my Garfield card Scott!!). And the Saturday before some of us went out down the street to the pier for some bar hopping. Already I can see that much background explanation is needed. But first let me state my problem so that you can see the universal applications. Basically the idea is that we were out having a great time, and one of my friends came along with her group of friends and almost ruined what turned out to be a fantastic celebration. This is always happening with this friend. She is always the one that I have to worry about, because I know she’s going to complain or just be negative in some form. So we were happy when it turned out that she decided just to leave instead of waiting in the line and paying cover to get in. I know I sound like an ass, but just read on.

 

I hadn’t really categorized her until the next day. There was a short skit on SNL that I watched Sunday, thanks to Tivo, the greatest invention since the IPod, which involved a group of friends at Disney World. Most of the group was having a great time, excited about their trip, but then there was Debbie, who always managed to bring the group down with negativity. Although everyone was laughing by the end of the skit, it was only because Fallon and Sanz couldn’t get through a eulogy without cracking up. The real lesson was that there’s always that one person that brings you down and ruins a good time.

 

So here’s the background on the celebration. I live in paradise, I’m not gonna lie. Not even a quarter mile down the street is a beautiful beach on the Pacific, it’s sunny everyday, there are scantily clad hot women everywhere you go (yes some are pumped with silicon which is a whole other rant, but even setting the fakies aside, guys have it good here), all that is LA with Hollywood and Beverly Hills is only 20-30 mins away (like 15 miles but traffic’s a biatch!), and there’s a group of bars at a happening pier right at the beach which we easily can walk to (picture living at the New Haven Green area, without the cheesy meatheads, the cold winters, the humid summers, where right behind Bar is the nicest beach you’ve ever seen, and the bars don’t make you question all of humanity after a night of drinking). I can’t stress enough how much I’m not exaggerating the Utopia that is Hermosa Beach, but descriptions mean nothing until you experience it. So basically there’s not much to complain about here. Now my friend, Debbie Downer, lives up in downtown LA in the ghetto. She chooses to live up there because it’s next to Hollywood and all the artsy fartsy liberal, down with SUV people live. Now even though the weather is just as nice there, I wouldn’t move 3000 miles to live anywhere but right at the beach. We do have fun going up there occasionally so it works out.

 

Even when I mentioned to her that we were going out, and she said she’s definitely in, I knew it was going to be bad. I mean, I want her there because she’s friend, but I know that it means worrying about babysitting her, and impressing her with my town. The problem is that the bars get crowded fast, and you need to go out early between 9-10 to avoid lines and cover. I warned her of this over and over all week. I really do want all my friends to have a great time when I’m out with them (to the point of calling it an affliction), which is why I knew if she got there any later than 10 and had to wait in line, there would be trouble. So of course.. she shows up in her usual fashion at 11:45, calling and complaining about my dumpy ass town where all the bars suck and the beach sucks and this sucks and that sucks.  So I decided that I’m not dealing with it, since I warned her and knew that there was no pleasing her, I told my friend Jeff that he’s dealing with her. And like a good friend he did. In the end she left, and left another nasty voice mail berating my terrible town in paradise, while we were having a classic night of fun.

 

I promise you, if it was someone I was thinking that was going to be positive, like my pal Scott, I’d have gone out of my way to make sure he stayed and got past the line and we all got together somehow. The bar, the girls, the drinks all don’t matter if one of the good friends can’t be there to join the group. A bar group is a funny thing. The collective mood is very important. Introduce the wrong part, and the sum suffers. Adding a Debbie, is like adding “Trouble” to your party mix cd, sure you actually enjoy listening to the song when you’re in the mood, but not when you just finished screaming the words to “Ants Marching” (and to complete the simile, adding a Scott would be like adding Ants, no matter what your mood, it’s always elevated as a result).  We all have our negative days, but since I’ve known her, she’s been a Debbie Downer, as has her group. I came to a realization that there’s no time for the Debbie Downers in your life. All the worrying about keeping them happy, and listening to them bitch and moan is only going to ruin your mood and possibly the mood of those around you as well. We must avoid these people at all costs!! And if people are avoiding you, then it’s time to look yourself in the mirror for the Debbie Downer in you.

 

I want to thank the SR Squared duo for letting me rant on their blog. Some thoughts before I go. First.. when did this blog thing become so big? I develop web applications for a living, I feel like I just found out about this new thing called email. B) Is it possible to propose to someone via blog? Cuz I’m thinking I want to marry Shannon right now. I know I don’t know you, but I mean seriously, Bill Simmons is your favorite sports writer?? I read him religiously, and I can promise you that everything he says about being a Boston sports fan is to a T. If he ripped the thoughts right out of the neurons in my brain, it wouldn’t be any more exact. So if it’s possible to marry someone based on their favorite ESPN sports writer then I’m in. The sad thing is that my sister met him and Jimmy Kimmel and got invited to Adam Corrolla’s house to hang with all of them (although she didn’t go), but had no clue who Simmons was. Once my cousin (the only other female I know who even knows who he is) and myself found out, we acted like she had just met Jesus and thought he was just another crazy robe-wearing, God worshipper.  Finally, I’ll warn ya, if you don’t like those skirts (I get your point, but as a guy, god bless them) then don’t come out here.. just trust me.

 

BSR