Phoney Baloney

Dear Chris Brown,

You know that performance at the BET Awards that everyone's talking about from last night? Yeah, that one:

(for those who like MJ, he actually does a pretty cool impersonation...but for everyone else, let the thing load and then skip to about 1:55)

You're full of shit and no one believes that those crocodile tears were genuine. The only thing you're crying about is that you single-handedly destroyed your own career when you beat up Rihanna.

Now, move along. Ain't nobody buyin' what you're sellin', you little whack-ass busta. That's all.

Hilarity lately

Do yourself a favor:

Go to the nearest bookstore, carve out roughly thirty minutes (you'll understand why in a sec), find Chelsea Handler's latest book called Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang and go straight to the chapter entitled "Black on Black Crime".

You'll get through it in less than the allotted thirty minutes, but you'll need that extra time to catch your breath, re-read it and thoroughly appreciate the pictures. Yes, there are pictures. The whole chapter is literally laugh-out-loud hilarious and is possibly the funniest thing I have read in a long time. If there wasn't photographic proof, I might have accused her of making it up. But, it was real. And its incredibly funny.

You can thank me later...when you can breathe again. =)

Your yearly VMA post

I kinda got suckered into watching MTV's VMAs this year, mostly because I was writing about America's Best Dance Crew for my other blog and the coverage just seemed to spill over without me noticing. By the time I realized what I was watching, I was already hooked and had to watch. And I really didn't plan on writing about all the goings on (mostly because I don't want to give Kanye more press...not like anyone reads my blog or anything), but then I remembered that BT gets her VMA street cred with her lawyer friends from my blog, and I figured that EVERYONE would be talking about last night and I wanted her to be able to throw her two cents in.

So, BT, here ya go. This one's for you...

Last night, Taylor Swift (?) won the award for Best Female Video. Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Kelly Clarkson and other people that I am forgetting were also nominated. Well, as she was giving her acceptance speech for her very first VMA ever, Kanye West, who is possibly the world's largest asswipe, had to steal her thunder:

MTV Shows

It's absolutely astounding to me how much I dislike Kayne. He wasn't even nominated for an award this year (because his music sucks) and he still had to be the center of attention. Listen douchebag, MTV can make you or break you depending on whether or not they like you. It has nothing to do with musical talent. People will like what they're told to like by MTV. Clearly, Taylor Swift is on MTV's good side and judging by the fact that you've never won a VMA, you're not. Period.

Whoever this Taylor person is, though, I feel badly for her. Poor little country singing lamb. This was her moment and Kanye had to make it all about himself...again. Ugh. I'm so tired of his attention-whoring antics and wish he would just disappear into the aether.

Anyways, later in the evening, Beyonce won the award for Video of the Year and brought Taylor back on stage to allow her to complete her acceptance speech. While Kanye showed just how disrespectful a person can be, Beyonce demonstrated a sky-high level of class:

MTV Shows

See there? All better. Taylor gets her moment, Kanye is "escorted" out of the VMAs after committing the equivalent of career suicide, and Beyonce comes away from this whole debacle looking like a saint. All is well in the world of pop music again. YAY! Cotton candy and fluffy kitten hugs all around!

So there it is, BT. Hopefully, this will earn you some pop culture points at work today. =)

Pennsylvania thoughts and stories

Ok, Ok. So I've totally been slacking when it comes to updating this thing. Its not that I haven't had things to write about. I just haven't had the time or the will. Most of my writing mojo these days has been directed towards my little side project with my good friend, LoveBadReality. We have fun talking smack. Good times, good times.

But, I realize I owe you all some long overdue Pennsylvania stories. Yes, they're old and not really relevant anymore, but some are still pretty remarkable. I'll keep them brief, though, so you don't lose interest...

-During an extended coloring session with my little second cousins N and V, ages 3 and 5 respecitvely, they informed us that they had just seen "The Wizard of Oz". My sister asked what the Wicked Witch of the West says and right as N was beginning her answer, my uncle, who has been a prosecutor for his entire professional career, popped his head in the kitchen and said, "The Wicked Witch of the West?! Don't you mean Nancy Pelosi?". He was serious. 100% serious. My jaw dropped and I shot my sister a look that said, "For the love of god, AGREE. Do not get into this right now. Or EVER, for that matter". Fortunately, she read my face correctly and agreed. My uncle trailed off out of the kitchen, satisfied with the "funny" he'd just made. My family and I would talk about this moment for weeks after the trip.

-After more family time than we could handle, my sister and I hijacked the rental car and headed down to Quaker Steak and Lube. This place is famous for its ridiculous selection of wings, but we had just finished a dinner of cabbage rolls (ick) and needed a cold drink (or 3) to wash them down. Plus, there was hockey on and it had been made very clear that there would be no sports watched in my aunt and uncle's house other than golf. I didn't even try to argue that golf is not a sport. Upon arriving at the 'Lube, sis and I each ordered the most obnoxious drink we could think of. For me, that translated into a Ketel One and tonic...in a PINT GLASS. For sister, it was a 24 oz. Bud Light. After round one, we decided that we were in fact hungry so we ordered a basket of fresh pretzels and some fried zucchini strips. Sis went for another beer, but I decided on a mango Lube-N-ade, which is one of the most ridiculously wonderful, but lethal, things I have imbibed in recent memory. If you're keeping score, that's two huge drinks each and two appetizers between us. The bill? $34. TOTAL. My vodka pint nightmare was a whopping $6. LOL! You can't get a bartender in San Francisco to spit on you for $6. It was a good night.

-One night, sis and I were supposed to stop by Cousin D's house to check out the digs and meet his kids, Lil' D and MJ, ages 5 and 18 months. When we got there, we were greeted by a very distressed D and wife J. Apparently, D had just tripped over the baby gate in a Superman effort to save MJ from the top of the stairs. In the process, he hurt his thumb, although he could not tell me how exactly. Upon examination, I decided a trip to the local ER was in order, as the thumb at the base was about the size of a golfball. D downed a 9% beer, two Advil and begrudgingly got in the car. Once at the ER, we didn't wait long to see the triage nurse, who actually asked him if he objected to having an X-ray. "Ummmm, that's why we're here", I said. Seeing as that I know my way around a thumb and an ER, D let me do all of the talking. When the ER doctor, who did not introduce himself, came in to the exam room, I told him exactly which parts of the thumb were affected, pointing to the swelling. Mid-sentence, he cut me off and hauled D off to get an X-ray, stating, "I'll X-ray it, but I know its not broken". He didn't even touch D's thumb. We waited all of two minutes before the "doctor" came back to say, "Yup. Not broken. I've been doing this for 30 years and the minute I looked at it, I knew it wasn't broken. You want to know how I knew? When bones break, they bleed. Where's the bruising? Mmmm hhhhmmmph". He was so sure of himself. All I could do was sit there with my mouth hanging open. He then continued, "All you need to do is start moving it around, and put some heat on it tomorrow". At that point, I grabbed D's good hand and told him that I'd heard enough and we were on our way out. Fortunately, D knew a good hand surgeon, and I advised that he get a second opinion in the morning. Sure enough, D showed up to dinner the following night with a cast on his hand. Fuckin' A.

-If I have to sit on an airplane for more than two hours, I always pick up a copy of In Style magazine in the airport before boarding. Its the only mag with enough substance to both keep my occupied and put me to sleep, all at the same time. I had just paid for May's issue when a book caught my eye. Before I knew what I was doing, I turned back to the register and purchased Confessions of a Video Vixen by Karrine Steffans. Yes, the woman also known as "Superhead" in the hip-hop industry had apparently written a controversial tell-all book about damn near EVERYONE and I had to have it. As I read the opening pages, I learned that this book was written not only as a tell-all, but as a way for young girls to avoid making the same mistakes that the author had made in her lifetime. I felt badly for her in the early chapters. But as I eagerly turned page after page, devouring juicy gossip about everyone from Shaq to Fred Durst to Ice-T to Ja Rule to Jay-Z, all I got out of it was that this chick slept with A LOT of men for money and that she lived a super up and down life, without taking much responsibility for herself or her actions. The tone of the book was not at all one of "Don't do what I've done. Do better for yourselves". Steffans seemed to be bragging about all the shit and people she'd done. There was no lesson to be learned, here. During the last few pages, I hoped for light at the end of the tunnel. When none came, I ended up feeling like I had just put money in her pocket to allow her to continue living the exact same life depicted in the pages of the book. In retrospect, I should have just stuck to my copy of In Style, which remained in my carry-on for the entire flight. I feel like I got played by the author the same way all the men in her life played her. Not cool.

Ok, that's all for now. Hopefully, you're still with me. Sorry for the length of this post. I probably should have broken all the stories down into separate posts, but I can't say that I'd have had the motivation to write that much in separate instances. Meh. Hope you enjoyed, anyways...

Land of Confusion

I read earlier today that noted whiner Kanye West is still pissy about the fact that he hasn't won any major awards for his noise music and videos. Boo-fucking-hoo, you ungrateful bazillionaire. Guess what, dude? Aside from one or two catchy songs that get stuck in my head for all eternity, your music kinda blows. I don't know anyone who would willfully admit to listening to it.

Anyways, in the same article where Kanye belly-aches about not being recognized as one of pop music's elite, he mentions that he's now changed his style around to sound more like Phil Collins in an effort to gain more listeners, popularity and respect. I have one thing to say: ZOMGLOLROFLMFAO. Seriously? Dear GOD, this should be rich. I can't wait until these new songs released.

Now, here's the funniest part of all. I REALLY like Phil Collins and Genesis. I think anyone who can play the drums (really well) at the same time as singing the lead in all of his band's songs is a ridiculously talented bad ass. I used to steal my dad's vinyl (yes, vinyl) Genesis albums back when I was a kid and play them late at night. I'm a total closet Phil Collins lover! The fact that a little bitch musician with an obvious identity crisis like Kanye is now trying to emulate the Phil Collins sound will just make his music that much more immortal. Thanks to Kanye and is unoriginality, kids today will know who Genesis is. And perhaps that's not a bad thing. I only hope that he does the Genesis style justice (Oh who am I kidding?! This is Kanye we're talking about here, for crying out loud! Never mind...)

Anyways, all this talk of Phil Collins has made me want to listen to his music for the rest of the day. Thanks to imeem (for once), I was able to locate one of my favorite Genesis songs. Its not well known at all, but here it is for those who are interested:

And now, here's one that's a little more popular:

Aaaah, the 80's. God love 'em. =)

Sean Avery: My new hero

A long time ago, at like 2:30am, I watched a documentary on ESPN about the Detroit Red Wings. They had recently picked up a fresh-faced asshole rookie named Sean Avery that year. The documentary followed him almost exclusively (or maybe it didn't, but I was so wrapped up in the guy that I hardly noticed when the other players had any TV time) and highlighted his incredibly abrasive, gritty style of play and shit-talker attitude. I liked him immediately. Not only was he a hell of a heckler on the ice (which I respect), he could back it up with his fists if opposing players took issue. He stirs the shit. He's even got an official NHL rule named after him. He constantly walks the line of being a little punk-ass, but somehow always stays on the cool as ice side of that line. In short, Avery was, and in many ways still is, MY kind of player. He loves what he does and plays with heart. Anyone watching one of his games can tell. Oh, and did I mention he's a fashion whore? Yeah. LOL!

Here's his online diary when he interned at Vogue during the 2008 summer NHL off-season. Fascinating stuff. And BT, Lucky_girl and Miss E, who does that pic instantly remind you of? Hee-hee!

Anyways, I thought I'd share this one with you all. I found the story, and Sean's diary really interesting...and somewhat distracting! I'm supposed to be working, but it took me about 4 reads to get through it entirely. Quote of the article:

If you feel like teasing this hockey player about an obsession of his that you might think is a little unusual, go right ahead. Just know that you may get your ass kicked by a very expensive pair of shoes — and that they'll probably match both my belt and my shirt.

Love it. =)

Congratualtions...

...to David Archuleta. He becomes the latest in a long line of talented people to NOT win it all, despite being the best at their respective reality competition disciplines. He joins:

*Danny Tidwell, from Season 3's SYTYCD. I still maintain that no one from this upcoming season (or any season, for that matter) will ever be as good as Danny. And yet, somehow, incredibly, he lost out...

*Kaba Modern, from Season 1 of America's Best Dance Crew. They didn't even make it to the finals, although there have been articles (like this one) out there hinting at foul play. Hella whack. They were amazing.

*Uli Herzner from Season 3 of Project Runway. She lost out to Jeffrey, whose clothes I would buy only if I were going to a costume party as a 80s rocker chick or a gothed-out cokewhore. Uli's line, on the other hand, was clean and interesting, with plenty of movement. I'd wear her stuff any day.

(there are more...I just felt like only mentioning those three because they stand out the most to me)

And now, we can add David Archuleta to that list. Last night's American Idol finale was bullshit. There. I said it. David Cook? Did anyone who voted actually *listen* to him sing? And moreover, did anyone watch him? He might have an OK voice (similar to Chad Kroeger's from Collective Soul...kinda monotone, kinda scruffy), but there's just nothing behind his eyes. The same can almost be said for David Archuleta, but here's the big difference: Cook is 25. Archuleta is 17. David A., although more charismatic than his competitor, still lacks a little on-stage maturity that can probably be chalked up to his age. Bright lights, big city. No matter, though. He more than makes up for it with his strong, beautiful vocals. Archuleta can sell it. The same cannot be said for David C.

Once David C. gets in the studio and has the help of a sound engineer to digitize his meh-ness, he'll crank out a pretty good CD that will sell a few copies here and there. But David A. will always have that "wow" factor. Couple that with the fact that he is so young, and I think we'll be seeing him for years and years. Does David C. have that kind of staying power? Only time will tell, but I look for him to disappear into the background with other Idol "winners" like Taylor Hicks and Ruben Studdard. He just doesn't do it for me. At all. (His reaction to winning, though, was *very* endearing and kinda melted my icy heart...for like a second.)

David A., you were robbed, my friend. At least you're in good company...

Major Penalty of the Day

Ladies and gents, I'd like you all to meet Dion Phaneuf. According to his Wiki page, he's 6'3" 212lbs of pure hunk-a-licious NHL beefcake. And this picture would indicate that, surely, he's one tough customer (Sean Avery is no slouch!):

Honestly, he'd have to be tough, because wearing something like this in public might garner you a serious ass-kicking:

Oh my stars, those are some loud shorts right there. You'd have to be pretty secure in your manhood to wear those out where people might see you. Fortunately, aside from the dire need for a tan, Dion Phaneuf seems to look the part. The trunks, though? Criminal.

I'd like to think that Elisha Cuthbert is laughing at his beachwear choice in the above pic. Because, honey, DAMN.