Tuesday, June 29, 2010
I've seen Mean Girls a ridiculous number of times. (And I won't apologize for that, either. It's a legitimately funny movie with a ton of eye candy in it. So the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can move forward and really get into this topic. Cool?)
Around the 8th or 9th time I watched it, and I started paying attention to things other than the Lohan-McAdams-Chabert-Seyfried Murderer's Row, I started feeling a little something down in my swimsuit area for Janis (Lizzy Caplan.) She was strangely attractive, even though she was supposed to be the chunky, goth, psuedo-lesbian character (characteristics that have never really been in my typical hot girl wheelhouse.) Once I started really focusing on her, I was smitten- convinced that, similar to the bicycle-stealing lady who lived under the bridge off of the 7th hole of the old frisbee golf course in Grand Forks- there was more to her than meets the eye.
So I did a little googling and discovered that yes, Lizzy was indeed hot, and just heavily doctored up for her role in Mean Girls. I started working on my theory that she was the hottest girl in the cast (a theory that, while mostly ridiculed, picked up at least a little steam when Lindsay Lohan's Hot Bandwagon hit a moose on the interstate, rolled seven times, and exploded into a million pieces, killing dozens of bystanders in the process.)
So now, for the last couple of years, I've monitored Lizzy's career (I mean that exactly as creepy as it sounds) and occasionally will watch something she's in, just to keep re-affirming to myself that yes, she is totally hot. She was on Jimmy Kimmel a couple weeks ago, and was a totally sarcastic smart-ass the whole time, which of course melted my heart even more. Few things are hotter to me than girls being laid-back and flippant. Which is why, as amazing as Kelly Kapowski is/was, I almost like Tiffani Thiesen more as Valerie Malone in 90210.....but that's a whole 'nother post.
I dunno, I guess it's just ironic to me that, six years after I first watched that movie, the girl that I think about when I'm smearing SmashBurger sauce all over my body and trolling Craigslist for exotic animal owners in the area isn't Lindsay Lohan, or Rachel McAdams, or Lacey Chabert, or Amanda Seyfriend. Life is funny sometimes.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
>> You can't go to the CWS and not cheer for somebody, so in the past, we've picked a random team and half-ass supported them. But this year we upped the ante, actually purchasing TCU gear to wear all day long. We quickly learned the Horned Frog hand symbol and we were all set. Besides the fun that goes along with fanatically cheering for a team without being able to name a single player, there was the added benefit of getting free food from a TCU tailgate simply because I was decked out in their colors (and I may have told the guy that my parents were TCU grads, but I'm pretty sure he was gonna give me the sausage & peppers hoagie anyway.)
MyShawn, me, Gangel, and Addy. We were all solid competitors this weekend, but the MVP has to go to MyShawn. Worked until 11 pm Friday night, drove 6.5 hours from Grand Forks to Omaha, pulled up to Gangel's place five minutes before we left for tailgating, boozed all day on 0 hours of sleep, caught an hour long nap at the end of the afternoon, then boozed all night. (While also still being coherent enough to drop the prototypical MyShawn lines, such as "Play it as it lies or get off the beach" in reference to an Omaha girl pulling some shenanigans. I would do a top 5 list of the most random/hilarious/what the fuck does that mean? MyShawn quotes of all time, but there would be like 20 honorable mentions.)
>> We went to McDonald's for dinner after tailgating (class class class) and it was the weirdest Mickey D's I've ever seen. I don't like to drop the r-bomb, but seriously, every person in that place was retarded. One guy saw our TCU gear, looked over at his companion (wife? mom? She was too busy staring into space/not being sane to register anything anyway) and confidently stated: "Baseball." So this collection of people- you couldn't tell if they were together or not; they were all sitting at separate tables, but I'd be shocked if they weren't all at the same party somehow- are hitting us with questions about the TCU game all through our dinner. However, since we were too busy bombarding the girl who tagged along with us with questions about how she banged (Sportscenter anchorman) Steve Levy in Vegas, we didn't realize until the end of the conversation that all these 'special' people thought we were actually on the team. Which totally makes sense.
>> I'm assuming by now, everyone knows what vuvuzelas are (although I still haven't heard the same pronounciation twice, and lord knows I don't know how to say it.)
Anyway, Addy has an app for his phone that allows him to play a sampling of vuvuzelas, which led to some laughs initially. THEN, we figured out we could plug it into my car speakers and jack the volume up, and hilarity ensued. We were in separate cars in the Taco Bell drive-thru Friday night, and right as Gangel, in the car in front of us, was about to give his order, we blasted him with some full volume vuvuzelas, and he had to get out of his car and walk around because he was laughing so hard. I was still crying laughing when it was our turn to order two minutes later (which is why I panicked and got two crunchwrap supremes, instead of getting just one and then mixing in some cheesy gordita crunches. Two crunchwrap supremes back-to-back are just gross. Don't do it.) We incorporated the vuvuzelas every hour or so during tailgating the next day, always bringing the same reaction from every tailgater in a 200 yard radius: two or three seconds of confused staring at us, realization and raucous laughter for about 20 seconds, then a batch of annoyed "wrap it up, douchebags, it's not funny anymore" glares in our direction.
>> Remember last year, when I complained that buying cigars for an underaged kid should've given us good karma, and it wasn't fair that Gangel and I got thrown out so fast? Well, the Karma Gods waited an entire calendar year to pay us back....but they paid us back in a HUGE way. I won't get into a lot of detail because of the sensitive nature of the internet, but let's just say it rhymes with "schmiraculously schmavoided schmaDUI."
OK, just a little bit of detail: as we're pulled over after 17 hours of drinking, and the cops are walking up to the car, this classic exchange takes place:
Emily: "Are we gonna be OK?"
MyShawn: "We will be.....(driver's name redacted) is pretty fucked."
And just when our collective sphincters couldn't get any tighter, the cops pulled a 180, jumped back in their car, idled up next to us and told us to have a good night, and took off at 80mph with cherries flying, followed by about six or seven other cop cars within the next couple minutes. So to whomever got stabbed/shot/murdered in that exact 15-second window before the cops got to our car....I mean, that sucks, I feel bad for you.....but DAMN you saved our asses.
So similar to Lloyd Christmas trading in the Shaggin' Wagon for a moped, Omaha TOTALLY redeems itself!!! The karma has been repaid.
(Also, Erin Andrews was there. Just knowing I'm within three states of her gives me a parsh, so you can imagine what it's like when we're in the same city. Love you, boo.)
Friday, June 11, 2010
- When a defensive player attempts to knock the ball away from the player in possession of the ball, it's called a challenge. If he's successful, you should definitely say to the TV in some sort of accent "Guuud chaaaaallaange."
- In order to beat the Nazi soccer team, your squad must only consist of Pele, Sylvester Stallone in net, Austin Powers' faaaasha, and a bunch of roster-filling random dudes. Damn I love the movie Victory.
- In FIFA '95 for Sega, if you wait for the goalie to free kick, take one of your forwards and time your jump perfectly in front of him, you can knock the ball directly into the net every time and score like 20 goals per game.
- Pele was good. Zidane was good until he head-butted someone. Beckham can "bend it." Alexei Lalas had a crazy hair/beard combo. Freddy Adu was awesome when he was 14, now he kinda sucks. I'm very sure there was an Italian in the 90's named Roberto Baggio, I'm mildly sure that he missed the net during a huge penalty kick in the '94 World Cup, and I'm 100% sure that for most of my life, I have called the garbage can 'Roberto Garbaggio' because of him.
Annnnnd that's about it.
But if you think I'm not jumping on the U.S. World Cup bandwagon and waving my flag and cheering and drinking like a regular soccer hooligan, then you be illin', son. That's what American sports are all about. If, during the Olympics, I can read 47 Facebook status updates from girls whose only idea of competition is being first in line for the new Twilight movie, then I can absolutely be a die-hard U.S. soccer fan. Starting......now.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Hey, enjoy some bullets, all of them involving me and my life in some way, because I was reminded recently that's what a blog is (I love it when friends are supportive in a passive aggressive way):
>> The move is finally all the way done (sorry, no more excuses for not posting more, I promised.) It is certainly nice to have space to move around after living in a shoebox for the last two years- although that was my goal, and it saved plenty of money for my gambling habit. My new and improved Fortress of Solitude is baller as shit; partly because the cheap furniture store here in town that I loved so much closed down, and instead of 'old, crappy, possibly piss-stained video game chair', I was forced to splurge on 'new, leather, with cupholders video game couch.' To all future visitors, we will now be playing NBA Jam and Super MarioKart in style. There has been a clamoring for pictures of the new place, so maybe someday I will throw some up.
>> Bergman and Ashley visited last weekend, our third weekend in a row of visitors (I PROMISE! No more excuses!) We, um, drank a lot. For me personally, the highlight was being locked out of our house at 2 a.m. on Friday, so the girls took a cab back downtown to get keys out of Alex's car, while us dudes ate Pizza Shuttle, sitting cross-legged in the driveway and having some dude talk. That was neat.
>> We finally received our championship shirts for Curtis J. Phillips Basketball. I already have like five of the exact same shirts (except this one says 'basketball' instead of 'softball'......our co-ed softball team is like back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back champs, dating back before I even lived in Kansas- Tom Emansky and his band of AAU teams got nothing on us) but this shirt feels different. Better, you could say. Well-deserved. The opposite of how the Yankees feel when they get their World Series rings.
>> I am literally counting down the days until I can get rid of my Doucheberry. I'm treating this two-year plan like I'm in phone prison, and I've got half my sentence left. And my only chance for parole is getting my salad tossed by el leader de los banditos (aka throwing a ton of money around for a new one without getting a new plan.) It's cool having email and internet on my phone, I guess, but a lot of things about the Berry annoy me, and this trackball can lick my balltrack.
>> Yet ANOTHER reason why college football sucks: now with all the TV money getting thrown around by the Big 10 and Pac-10, there is a very real chance that the Big 12 is folding, and KU will get stuck in the Mountain West or something shitty. Even though they are a top 5 basketball program, their football program (for the most part) sucks, which makes all the difference in this football-crazed country we call home. "Hey, we've been playing these teams in football every single year since the fucking Civil War, but who gives a shit, if we leave, we can earn an extra nine million dollars per year, that we can use to hopefully make our campus stop smelling like a goat ranch! Where do we sign!" Just one more punch in the dick to remind you that the only thing that matters in sports these days is money. Sometimes I wish it was 1989 again- and not just to hear N.W.A. in their prime.
Pictured: N.W.A. Timeframe: ummmm, slightly before their prime.
>> I will try not to go another 10 days without posting. I'm pretty sure that's my longest hiatus since I started, and this.......this felt awkward. Like a deadbeat dad showing up for high school graduation after not talking to his kid for 18 months, and hoping that the keys to his piece of shit '87 Honda Accord is going to be enough to forgive him.
(Just so we're clear, this post represents the crappy Accord. Enjoy the car, son!)