No More Bruschianity!

Other than the fact that the Florida Gators are lucky John Tereshinski III couldn’t hold DJ Shockley’s jock, the only thing I remember about the weekend is that we rented Saw and I’ve been supremely frightened out of my gord ever since.

My boyfriend started bumping his gums about Saw 2 but after reminding him that I love him greatly, I advised him to catch that one on his own time because I’m not down for more of that craziness. It scared me so badly that I was on the horn to Jesus for the rest of the night, and that’s really something given that I’m a big ole Jew.

Are Celebrity Lesbians Less Superficial Than the Rest of Us?

Basketball star Sheryl Swoopes, a three-time Olympic gold medalist and WNBA MVP, came out publicly as a lesbian, making her the highest-profile team sport athlete to do so while playing. Good for her. My initial reaction to this news was, “Oh really? I thought she was married and had a son.” My next thought was, “I wonder what her girlfriend looks like. I bet she’s hot.” Yeah, I know – I’m an ignorant tart. I based my flawed logic on the belief that successful, millionaire lesbians are as big a hit with the ladies as their straight male counterparts. I mean, look at Ellen Degeneres. She’s a real ladies’ girl. Anne Heche, Alexandra Hedison, and now Portia deRossi (the blonde from “Arrested Development” and “Ally McBeal”). That’s not a bad run at all. Were I a lesbian looking for celeb lovin, I’d put Ellen on my list of people to date – she’s funny, reasonably attractive, and has millions of dollars. But I guess one person does not a sample size create, as in my reserach, I’ve found that life partners of celebrity lesbians all seem to look like Rosie O’Donnell. Though you might say, “Well, all the outed celebrity lesbians look like Rosie O’Donnell,” I present to you Cynthia Nixon – the (arguably) hot redhead from Sex & the City. What? Are redheads your game? Thought you had a chance with the smart, down to earth S&C girl? Sorry- that chance is saved for sweater vest-wearing education activist, Christine Marinoni. Much like Clay Aiken, she’s getting hotter ass than you.

So when I googled Sheryl Swoopes’ better half, I wasn’t sure what type of woman I’d find. … Meet Alisa Scott. I’ll be honest, if you told me this was the girlfriend of a three-time gold medalist/millionaire who Nike named a shoe after, I would have laughed in your face and then asked for a hit of your herbal delights. But I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. The phenomenon of celebrity lesbians finding love with fat chicks is incredibly intriguing. I’ve never seen this occur to any significant degree with celebrity gay men, nor have I spotted it heavily in the hetero dating world. How often do you find athletes, movie stars, and corporate sharks (be they male or female) running around with members of the opposite sex that are more revered for their, uh, personality? It’s probably 1 in every 500 cases, occuring most often with guys who married their high school sweethearts before they made it to the bigtime. And once these guys “make it,” the original woman is frequently kicked to the curb, replaced by a younger, hotter model. So what’s the deal here? Are the rest of us simply more superficial and shallow than celebrity lesbians? Is there something I’m missing?

ChiSox Success Kills Old Woman

Unless you’re brand new around here, you’re well aware that I’m a lifelong fan of the New York Yankees. Though I’d like nothing more than to walk into the Yankee offices and have a Falling Down moment with an uzi, I love my team, absolutely and without equivocation.

So it goes without saying that I won’t be rooting on the Chicago White Sox, nor will I cheer for the Houston Astros. I’m hoping for a great series – no more, no less. If Houston wins, I’ll be happy because Andy Pettitte was my favorite Yankee. If the Sox pull it off, I’ll smile, still beaming with pride for scooping Jon Garland out of fantasy free agency when he had 3 wins under his belt.

I just want to see seven games of great baseball. But I’d like to know why more people can’t do the same. Why must we be forced to deal with bandwagon wankers? It’s one thing to watch a final series and like one side well enough to hope they win or to have a player you like and pull for his team. That’s perfectly understandable. But what about the poseurs who didn’t know the team existed until the post-season hype began and try to convince others that they’ve loved the team all along? I hate those people. They’re simply unacceptable and they’ve got to go.

The worst bandwaggoners, of late, are the new Pale Hose supporters. These strokers are working on a gold medal performance in douchebaggery. Their nauseating existence almost forces me to actively cheer on the Astros, a likeable but bland team that irritates me largely because its fans are Texans. 80% of these Sox poseurs live within 200 miles of Chicago but when visiting the Second City, how many opted to hit Wrigley for a Chicago Scrubs game rather than venture to Comiskular to watch the best team in the American League?

That ballpark was more than half empty from April to September and now there are millions having World Series parties and “living for this” in their brand new Joe Crede jerseys. They’re the same millions who were all over Dusty Baker’s Cubs in 2003. The only difference is that instead of fellating Kerry Wood, they’re foaming at the mouth for Scott Podsednik, blissfully unaware that until 10 days ago, he was nothing more than a weak-hitting base stealer with no regular season homeruns.

But those things aside, the thing that’s most pathetic about the ChiSox bandwagon is the inclusion of ship-jumping Cubs fans. Could you imagine the A’s faithful pulling for the Giants to bring one home to the Bay? Even for a city so accustomed to losing as Chicago, I fail to make heads or tails of this phenomenon. At least there’s one Cubs fan who chose to die rather than disgrace herself: 68-year-old Irene Egan. She went to her grave despising the South Siders.

Two weeks ago, Egan conceded to her son that she knew the Sox were doing well. “She’s like, ‘If them damn Sox go to the World Series, it will be the death of me,’” Allen Grove said. One week later, the Sox did, indeed, seal their first trip to baseball’s Fall classic in 46 years. Two days after that, 68-year-old lifelong Cub fan Egan died. “The White Sox gave her a heart attack,” her granddaughter said with a chuckle. “The White Sox killed my grandma. She was everything Irish, red, white and blue for patriotic and ‘Go Cubs.’” Apparently, Ms. Egan was a hard-living, outspoken woman, and while she may be gone, her family says she may not be done with the Sox yet.

“She’s probably having bar fights” in heaven, her grandaughter said. “She would want me to tell the Sox fans, ‘Don’t underestimate the power of the Irish lady in heaven.’”

Ms. Egan passed away on October 16, 2005, one day too late to swoop into Notre Dame Stadium and keep Reggie Bush from pushing Matt Leinart into the end zone.

Yao Ming Fans Want it That Way

A couple Chinese students, also known as the “Back Dormitory Boys,” intentionally filmed themselves lip synching “I Want it That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. At first I thought, “Why would they do this? It sure won’t get them laid.” But then I remembered that I don’t understand people. If these jacknuts took this act to the streets, it would be 3 minutes before a group of idiot broads with lipstick on their teeth and tattoos on their tits rolled out of a Hong Kong McDonalds, looking for the opportunity to give it to them .. that way. Sad. The only person you can admire in this situation is the kid playing Quake in the background, who likely keeps his sanity by remaining completely oblivious to the jaw-dropping scenes that develop behind him on a daily basis.

Hat tip: Ezugo

Steven Seagal’s Lightning Bolt Energy Drink

Are you drifting through your life of ass-kicking in a state of existential confusion, wandering aimlessly through the alleys and narrows of the underworld without that edge; without that charge that makes flipping out so much more enjoyable? I know I do.

While out last night dispensing justice on gangsters, ninjas, and various ne’er-do-wells, I started losing my edge. No longer was I able to take out my adversaries when punching them through plate glass windows. Hell, I could hardly break through the glass without bleeding my own blood. It was madness. I thought all was lost until I went to a 24-hour joint and spotted a familiar face on the side of a can. It was a face that had guided me through many adventures on aircraft carriers, jumbo jets, and random entanglements in nightspots with rapper sidekicks.

It was none other than the fat master of divine harmony – Steven Seagal. And it was he that was the mastermind of Steven Seagal’s Lightning Bolt Energy Drink. Then I wondered, “what can Steven Seagal give me that a fierce blend of Gatorade, Mountain Dew, and Red Bull can’t?” My initial thought was that I would spontaneously grow a fat gut and DMX would appear at my side so we could get out to the streets and right a wrong. But then I took a look at the can .. Each component of Lightning Bolt was carefully chosen by Steven Seagal to incorporate the greatest treasures of Asian medicine into an all natural energy boost.

It’s also the first energy drink made of 100% juice and it contains Tibetan Goji Berries and Asian Cordyceps. I didn’t know what any of that was but it sure sounded impressive. At the very least, it could enlighten me Dalai Lama style. After downing a can, I was back to the streets for intense mortal kombat and other extreme situations involving max energy. By the time I reached my bed at sunrise, divine harmony in the universe had been achieved once again.

Whether you prefer the sweet goodness of Cherry Charge, the All-American fulfillment of Root Beer Rush, or the kung-fu punch of the Asian Experience, Steven Seagal provides a precisely blended, 100% all-natural elixer for lasting maximum performance when you are flipping out on evil or are simply in need of a quick hit of untold natural power. Get charged!

David Copperfield Finds Penis Unnecessary

Bad gay joke and acclaimed illusionist, David Copperfield, plans to up the ante in the magic world by impregnating a woman on stage. Luckily for the woman, Copperfield’s penis will not be involved. In German mag Galore, the magician rejected the theory that there were only seven different kinds of magic tricks, saying “there is a great deal of new territory to conquer. In my next show I’m going to make a girl pregnant on stage. Naturally it will be without sex. Everyone will be happy about it, but I’m not telling you any more.”

I assure you, no one will be happy about it if he stays the course with these lame-o plans. Here are the only ways to ensure customer satisfaction:
1) A guest spot from The Almighty. If he comes down from the Heavens to give us the lowdown on how he magicked up Jesus, I’m game. Besides, I’d like to see his skills at work when he has to calm down all of the freaked out Jews when we realize we were WAY off about the Messiah.
2) There’s a live sex show resulting in a pregnancy that comes to full term and requires Copperfield to deliver idential twins as the grand finale. Frankly, I’m not all that interested in seeing a live birth what with all the goo and fluids but I’d be more than happy to fork out $29.99 to see everything that happens before delivery.

If Copperfield can’t provide either 1 or 2 (or both), I call fraud. I liked this trick better when it was called Prince Michael Jackson, Jr.

Tim McCarver Must Die

Since the baseball playoffs are rolling, it’d be a shame not to share this gem with those of you who suffer through the inane blathering of Fox’s chief baboon, Tim McCarver. I present to you, Tim McCarver Must Die.

Tim McCarver Must Die

If you’re not interested in the song, I suggest playing the Tim McCarver Drinking Game during Fox broadcasts:
Get a bottle of your favorite booze and a shot glass and…
1: Drink every time Tim uses a multi-syllabic word incorrectly.
2: Drink every time Tim states the obvious like it is a profound insight.
3: Drink every time Tim calls the play wrong.
4: Drink every time Tim gets a player’s name wrong.
5: Drink every time one of Tim’s inane comments is met with stoney silence by the other broadcasters in the booth.

If you’re not bloody rat-arsed by the end of the 1st inning, you’re watching the wrong game.

Jay-Z and the Mighty Arsenal? Say It Aint So

I took great joy in the pain of the Red Devil Nation when an American wanker that knows nothing about footy bought the club’s majority shares, saddled it with debt, and increased the suicide rates among its fans. But now, this joy is biting me in the arse. Shawn Carter, known to the masses as Jay-Z, is rumoured to have met with Arsenal brass to negotiate a deal which would make him a major shareholder within the club. He already tried to strike a deal with Chel$ea’s Roman Abramovich but was turned away.

“Jay-Z loves football – he thinks the whole scene is very bling. He has also met Henry and thinks he is really cool. Jay-Z is a man who gets what he wants – and he wants a portion of a premiership club.” – A source from the Sunday Mirror

I know as well as anyone that everything Jay-Z touches turns to gold, so his millions would be more than welcome at our club. But I don’t want some guy that’s ignorant to the game owning The Arsenal simply because he thinks the bloody scene is “very bling.” Who’s he gonna hire to run it? Damon Dash? Beyonce’s dad? Should this rumor turn out to be truth, I hope there’s an explanation as to why he wants to own an English club [that is viewed sparingly in America on Fox Sports World, by the way] upon which he can only affect the bottom line when he can pour millions into the MLS and revolutionize the beautiful game in the United States. From a business perspective, I understand the rationale – don’t get me wrong. But imagine the possibilities if Jay bought, say, DC United – the home of Freddy Adu. You can’t tell me that a shift in marketing from the minivan moms to the playgrounds of the inner cities wouldn’t create a booming multi-million dollar business for years and years to come.

Taking ownership of an established, high-flying, foreign club that can do just as well, if not better, without his services is no accomplishment. Jay-Z is a cultural icon that has the power and influence to change the landscape of American soccer. If he wants to turn something to gold, I suggest he start here in his native land. To accomplish that would be the mark of a true master businessman… it’d also make me feel a lot more secure about the future of The Arsenal Gunners.

Gargamel Gets Fed Up; Uses WMD on Smurf Village

When I first saw this, I thought Smurfette was passed out with her arse in the air after yet another right gang-smurfing. Sometimes you don’t have the energy to roll over. We’ve all been there. But this is actually a scene from a bizarre UNICEF commercial and what you’re seeing is Smurfette’s dead body, a traumatized Baby Smurf at the edge of a bomb crater, and other smurfs running for the hills while their village is blown to bits and burned. Apparently, the commercial’s purpose is to show the horrors of war, particularly the plight of ex-child soldiers in Africa. UNICEF decided to stray from its more conventional ads using real life images of children playing and laughing in order to shock people by destroying images from their childhood in horrific ways. UNICEF did such a good job of traumatizing the masses that the commercial can only be shown after 9 p.m. to avoid scaring children and hypersensitive adults. Maybe in the next ad, we can watch Bugs Bunny and the crew giving the Tiny Toons a right proper rogering in a Thai village to show the horrors of the child sex trade. I bet Yosemite Sam is a real tomcat.

Jamaican Man Turned his Hair into a Hat

This is amazing. Are any of you addicted to wearing baseball caps, skull caps, whatever – anything to cover your heads? Well I assure you that no one is as dedicated as Darain Housen, a native Jamaican that has been eating, sleeping, bathing, and all-around living in his hat for the last twenty years. The beauty (or maybe the scary) part of it is that this hat isn’t made out of cloth… it’s actually a “natural hat” haircut.

Mr. Housen came up with the idea after he and some friends decided to wear hats to a party and he couldn’t find one to wear. “Mi an dem fi go a di party but di three of them had caps an’ mi had none so mi get two mirror one behind mi and di other in front of mi an’ mi trim mi hair like a cap an’ go a di dance,” said Housen. Translation: Instead of finding a reasonable replacements like a bandana, do-rag, towel, or Chiquita banana head-dress, Housen cut his fro into a hat and went out to shake his ass with the ladies.

Housen said his hairstyle created such a stir that he got a crate of Guinness to share between he and his friends: “Dem did love it,” he said smiling. “Mi friends an’ some of the girls said I win di hairstyle contest and buy mi a box a Guinness,” he said. After a night of Guinness and lovin, Housen decided to keep the style and he’s had it ever since.

Predictably, Housen’s not always had good luck with the hat. He was once stopped by a policeman while coming from a dance [this guy really likes to shake it!] early one morning who insisted that he removed it. “Him shine di light pon mi an’ look. When him see it seh a mi real hair him frighten an’ seh mi mus come check him a di station di following morning. When mi go him shake mi han’ an’ seh mi have talent an’ mi fi keep it up,” he said. On another occasion Housen said he was ordered by a judge to take off his ‘hat’ while on jury duty. “A di policeman have to tell him seh is mi hair. Him congratulate mi an’ tell mi seh mi have talent,” he said smiling.

If at some stage he loses his hat Housen says he would be quite uncomfortable. “I would a feel light without it because a long time mi have it so mi would a feel a way without it,” he said. But would he really be missing? It’s just a baseball cap… cut down some of that flat top and he can have a visor. What I’d really like to see is a before picture. Housen’s afro must have been ridiculously serious to be able to fashion a visor out of it… or maybe it didn’t always look like this. Maybe he was sporting a fedora or one of those rasta hats or even the Urban Sombrero.