Tuesday, December 06, 2005

David Copperfield on the stove

"Most Likely to Make Your

Mom Laugh Uncomfortably"

Adam Morrison is the best mustachioed player in college basketball? I personally haven't seen enough games/teams/players to rightfully quantify such a claim, but from what I have seen, he is definitely a contender. The weird part about his game is that he's utterly elusive. Dude's a deceptively good ballhandler that, on first glance, looks a bit awkward when he's out in the open court. Once you slip up and give dude an inch, though, it's over. 43 points twice? Against UWash and Michigan State? Good job.

Am I completely off-base in saying that Larry Hughes and Juelz Santana are slight brothers from anothers? Other dudes named Larry Hughes
here and here. Haha. While this probably isn't the case for not-entirely-famous names like LH, I seriously sympathize with dudes like this whose lives are likely in ruins for obvious reasons.

Little did I know that one of my favorite wrestlers from childhood shared the government name as well. Once, Virgil came to the mall back home when I was about 18 or so, so my friend Justin and I rushed over to meet him. We had tons of questions: are you still on bad terms with Ted DiBiase (who is apparently now a minister)? Was it degrading to be the nWo's mostly-mute lackey after serving as the Million Dollar Man's buttboy for so many years? Why'd you wear that weird bondage mask for so long? Unfortunately, our childlike giddiness was squashed like the 1-2-3 Kid's face after a Banzai Drop when Virgil turned out to be a complete twatbag. He refused to even really talk to us or shake our hands without us shelling out 15 bucks for a faded-ass, shit-ass picture of him from like 15 years prior.

It was then that I started wondering why Virgil had been one of my favorite wrestlers in the first place. The only distinct memory of him really doing anything gully was the one time he thwacked DiBiase with the championship belt, but after that he mostly just walked around as an inessential member of people's posses. Fuck you, Virgil--I don't want your shit glory days picture. I bar you from ever visiting the Harford Mall again.

My Uncle Jack runs an organic dairy farm up on the Vermont/Canada border (and could easily play Robin Williams' character in a dinner theatre version of Good Will Hunting). He's featured in this article about the big dispute over genetically-modified crops. Stick it to 'em.

This has been the week (or, two weeks) of twisted-ass movies.
Last House on the Left was not a pleasant watch. Shit was awesome though. Lou rented it on the strength of a friendly-but-slightly-eccentric video store employee we cleverly dubbed "movie recommender guy." I IMDB'd it when we got back, and an inordinate amount of people called it the most disturbing film they'd ever seen. I salute you, MRG, for making our weekly two- to three-minute interation that much more awkward. Oh yeah, and I re-watched Eraserhead for the first time in years last night. That flick is so hair-raisingly, stomach-churningly pathological that I really have no words to describe it.

Oh yeah, my boss introduced me to this the other night (no joke). I'm going to camp out for tickets. Seriously.

Davu review. One of the stupidest records I've heard in a long time. I don't know why spoken-word poets think they can automatically become rappers just like that. It's two completely different bags. God knows I would never, ever want to see Jason from the Real World: Boston on the mic. Yeesh. Watching him in a cipher without spewing should be a stunt on Fear Factor.

New Firefox. Do it.

Oldboy to become a Bollywood musical? There is a God. And he likes to chaw on live octopi.

Scott Stapp and 311 rumble over who gets pole position in the used CD bin.


GonzoMC said...

my uncle is an organic moustache farmer.

Benny said...

Fuckenell, mate- who WOULDN'T bang Boromir? Shit.