Sunday, July 31, 2005

Look at the grill on my pimp mobile

I wonder how to fix the sidebar on here so all the links and stuff aren't at the bottom. I don't even know why it looks like that. Weird. Someone with HTML skills should holler at a Mestizo and let me know the deal. Shit just fixed itself! Lordy.

Back on July 5, I made a post on my old blog listing some humorous content from the website Muchosucko. One of the things I happened to stumble across was a video of some rapper named "YTcracker" doing a freestyle. Finding it mildly amusing, I linked it. I later realized that "YTcracker" was some "nerd" rapper, some cool new thing where people rap about their graphics cards and hacking skills like they're hard. I guess it's strangely funny for about two seconds, but really, it's one of those things I just kinda find online one day and gloss over without giving a second thought (much like people who "battle" on messageboards). I briefly said something about the video and something to the effect of a "fuck you, you fucking suck" to YTcracker.

Anyway, I completely forgot about this particular post, YTcracker, and the entire "nerd rap" genre until the other day when I got an e-mail saying I had a new blog comment. YTcracker himself left the following comment: "NO NEED TO THROW HATE NURGA jk fuck you too nerd life word life." I was immediately flattered that YTcracker himself had sought out my shit-ass blog and read it. "Well-played, YTcracker," I said. My amusement was soon replaced by a negligible amount of irritation, however, when I noticed that two of YTcracker's fans had left comments as well. I guess they were so dedicated to their boy that they felt the need to e-defend him. Digital gangsters roll deep, apparently.



The first comment was left by this kid named Dave. The MySpace caption of this photo is "Me > you," hard evidence that digital gangsters have an exhaustive grasp on complex algorithms that elude all us folks with girlfriends. He said: "Shut the fuck up your poor douche bag. YTC has more talent in his left nut than you'll ever have, not to mention enough cash in his back pocket to buy the last 3 generations of your family. STC > * Faggot." Of all the rappers in the world, Dave chose to be YTcracker's pesky buttboy. You need sunlight, Dave.

I'm completely fine with YTC having more talent than me in terms of rapping about how good they are with computers. I can accept this based on what I consider an absolute truth: openly admitting and embracing something doesn't automatically make it any less lame. For example, you could know a guy who's a self-proclaimed guru when it comes to the gothic/supernatural soap opera Dark Shadows, which ran on PBS from 1966 to 1971. He may have an exhaustive knowledge of breakout star
s Alexandra Moltke and Jonathan Frid, and could quite possibly own a large portion of the show's 1225 episodes on VHS. Despite his incredible expertise and his ultra-rare laserdisc copy of the blooper reel where Kate Jackson's dress catches on fire (hilarious!), this guy is still a fucking dork. This same absolute truth applies to anyone who likes "nerd rap," as well; just because dissing someone for not knowing how to use Spybot Search & Destroy seems like an extreme insult to you, the more socialized members of our species simply don't give a fuck.

As hard as it is to admit, I can't help but have some compassion for this kid. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, or FAS, affects thousands of newborns in America every year, and it really wasn't his fault that his mom couldn't lay off the Boone's Farm long enough to ensure that he wouldn't come out looking like the retarded bastard son of George Michael Bluth.



The second comment was left by one of these kids, not sure which one. I think his name is Colin, and he said: "sorry bro, youre not important :( nobody cares what you think, so pls keep your pictures and your hyperlinks and your "blog" saved on your computer until a point when someone asks to read what you think about anything, which wont be for a while." Way ahead of you, Col-$. This picture of your United Colors of Benneton orgy at your Hollywood-themed high school prom has been saved for posterity in my Photobucket account.

Colin and his friends strike me as the type of kids who lash out at all the asshole meathead jocks but still really want the cheerleaders to like them, or maybe that group of douches who think the key to high school immortality is planning an elaborate senior prank but get caught because they can't help but show their pep rally water balloon fight blueprints to that cute but suspiciously straitlaced Indian girl in Home Ec class. What a narc! I can say, however, that I really appreciate Colin's optimism in terms of me. Although no one is going to ask what I think about anything "for a while," he believes that one day down the line someone will. Thanks Colin! Have fun sitting with the theater kids at lunch, but just be careful with all the sophomoric gay sex references. You might get your ass kicked by the cast of Brigadoon, ultimately ruining your plans of modeling your life after the plot of Drive Me Crazy.


Anyway, in conclusion: respect to YTcracker for the lighthearted rib. Pity to Dave and Colin for sucking at life. Sorry guys. Go jerk off to Neuromancer or something.

I found this amazing post via that Scrimps site. Personal favorites include Penn State/KRS One ("They'll be the first to tell you how important they are in the scheme of things and new jacks need to give them respect, but that doesn't shake the fact that they haven't been relevant in years"), Temple/Cappadonna ("Abandoned by the set they always assumed they were down with. Will likely resort to begging and odd jobs to get by") and of course, Maryland/The Game ("Possess a cockiness that is both astonishing and completely unjustified considering their reign on the top could pass for Notre Dame's mascot. Need to watch their mouths more often. Consummate studio thugs").

Speaking of my home state, Wedding Crashers took some laughable shots at the uppercrust DC families, namely dude that goes "Football and crabcakes- that's what Maryland DOES!". Ha! I loved this movie, dude. Owen and Vince are an unstoppable comedic pair. I also possess much love for this Stiller/Wilson(s)/Vaughn/Black/Ferrell comedy frat that cranks out ostensibly "low-brow" but undeniably hilarious flicks.

Why, Raf, WHY? One of the classiest guys in baseball even got an SI look awhile back in one of those "hot or not" type columns for his stellar performance during the congressional hearings (by the way, why were there congressional hearings for this anyway? Don't they have more pertinent shit to congressionally hear?). Although it's extremely easy to write off a player who says he ingested a banned substance "unintentionally," I can't help but believe the guy. Perhaps it's just my unwavering home team loyalty talking, but still. I don't know much about Selig's new policy or anything, but despite me not really caring whether or not professional athletes are on the juice, I think the 10-day suspension is good for a first offense. It's not super-drastic but it's not a cakewalk either.

Finally watched Team America last night. I felt like I had already seen the movie from all my friends quoting the fuck out of it, but I was nothing but pleased; they equal-opportunity shit on people, people meaning everyone in the world. The absolute best part had to be the "montage" song, or the Pearl Harbor shit. Parker and Stone are geniuses. Interesting article from awhile back about the political implications of one of my favorite shows. While I don't necessarily agree with some of their stances, I can really appreciate them taking a comedic, realistic and contemporary point of view on issues that many Republican politicians refuse to waver on based purely on outdated party tradition. Also, it was written way before the hippie musical festival episode, which I think is a great example of the hypocrisy and ineffective bitching that many of today's young "liberals" like to call "political awareness."


I'm truly in my element here, leading a line of brunettes away from being attacked by some shoddy-looking killer robot while wearing what look like full-calf rabbit slippers. Also, I used to be able to palm a basketball in kindergarten with my giant smashed hands, but they've shrunken since. Fuck.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Whoop that trick!

Did anyone see that skit on Conan where him and former Secretary of Labor Robert Reich play detectives? Shit was hilarious. Reich is really, really short.

One time there was a party at Michelle's house. For some reason, these two lame girls were there wearing matching horrible pink t-shirts that said "Team [Insert generic boy name here]" because [generic boy name] was in a drinking contest at another party and they were cheering for him. Anyway, Michelle's roommate and general mench Chris had his computer music going, and "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" (1977) came on. I immediately laughed and walked over to the computer to change it, only to be chastized by these two vapid dolts. "DON'T YOU DARE CHANGE IT! THIS IS MY FAVORITE SONG! DON'T TOUCH IT!" the uglier one said. "Are you serious?" I remember asking. They said they were serious.

They went on singing the words, stopping every so often to grind on each other if they made a shot in beer pong. I was fucking shocked. I've witnessed plenty of girls knowing all the words to the Grease megamix or whatever, but that was seriously a first for me. I remember shaking my head and thinking about what had just happened. Seriously, who says that PBTDL is their FAVORITE SONG? Of all the songs ever made, that's your FAVORITE SONG? Also, where is [generic boy name]? You really aren't much of a cheering section if you ditched this schwab to come to my girlfriend's house looking to get in a drunken fight with someone about Meatloaf. Whoop that trick!

Emil and his people's music blog, So Many Shrimp, is dope. Wide-spanning collection of free music downloads and some excellent, even freeer (?) commentaries on the shit. Check that guest post from today about Japanese hip-hop. I've always been interested in international hip-hop even though I am painfully monolingual. This Japanese shit seems to be a lot more interesting than some of the other crap I've acquired out of curiosity in the past, like this Russian fuckrag named Detsl. Haha, Detsl...muh looks like the lead singer of Strike Anywhere if he was 12. White natty dreads, man...I'm not trying to be an asshole or anything, but I vehemently oppose anyone but black people wearing dreads. I'd like to say it's because dreads have a cultural context for black people (especially within Carribean cultures) and it's really disengenous for white cats to think they can be a part of it; really though, I just think white people look kinda stupid wearing them. Take a shower, honky.

Eastern Conference drama between watermouth now-Jukie Cage and Philly's High & Mighty. Something about how Cage felt all the EC money was being funneled into H&M's projects and not his own. Who knows; I do know that Hellz Winter is supposed to be dude's swansong or something. The few tracks I've heard streamed on his MySpace are pretty nice, but the AHH article alludes to the fact that dude has ditched "the murderous and misogynistic rhymes he is known for." Sellout! Cage is a crazy wordsmith, and I think him and Ace together is some of that murderous murder. Aesop spits shit like "and the award for scummiest ninja moment of the summer goes to Mr. Slip-a-Mickey to Christ in his own suburb. His talent turned chemical imbalance a vital cash crop while moonlighting as your local Eckerd pharmacy mascot." Just another example of how I even though don't understand what the eff dude is talking about I still love him.

Joseph Smith (same guy, I think) is real pissed right now about Utah. Oh well. The only Mormons I've ever met don't come from strictly Mormon families; only one of their parents is Mormon and they happen to follow the faith or something like that. One time, this kid I know was expressing his disgust with the Mormon missionaries that his mom invited over for dinner every Sunday. I asked him if he objected to them because he believed that people should be more accepting of other people's religions and not force their beliefs on others. He said no, he just hates them because his moms makes them all the good grub and he gets stuck with string cheese and shit. I was like oh. Good reasoning though now that I think about it.


ME: Hey Stephen A! I'm a big fan.
SAS: I disagree! I DISAGREE!
ME: Um, about what? I was just...
SAS: Digger Phelps likes Malaysian boys! I DISAGREE!
ME: What?
SAS: Preposterous, scandalous, absolutely and utterly ludricous! I deny and vehemently rebuke these allegations about Digger Phelps!*

Excellent article in this week's Sports Illustrated about everyone's favorite asshole sportscaster, Steven A. Smith (I would've linked it but it's only available to members, which I am not). A lot of people at my school (La Salle) hate this guy, mostly because when the basketball rape scandal broke last summer, he was especially critical of the administration's handling of media relations in his columns with the Inquirer. You know, as much as people want you to hate this guy, I can't help but like him. In a very short period, he established himself as a cantankerous, stubborn, highly opinionated and often brazen personality in the basketball world (and when you've got loveable shiny-headed dudes like Greg Anthony and aw shucks La Salle alum Timmy Legler in on the same roundtable discussion with Stephen A., he stands out like I do at the Dunkin' Donuts on Broad & Olney). He parlayed the publicity and media attention he got into his many ESPN gigs and just recently landed his own show. Can you really hate a guy for marketing himself? I don't think so. He's loud and controversial; that's his schtick. He really wants you to hate him because if you hate him he gets more publicity and more money, like some Eminem shit.

Two random thoughts from Stephen A. in the article: "Turkey is delicious, and the turkey and cheese sandwich is my personal favorite. It's doesn't upset my stomach, and I like to have it once or twice a week," AND "I date African-American women. That's all I date. In my family it was never discussed--but I love black women. Nothing beats a sister. However, when you see a female like Jennifer Lopez, you have to acknowledge that there are many beautiful Latino women as well."

(*Prototypical Stephen A. Smith banter not actually original; stolen from Karl Taro Greenfeld's article. Sorry, Karl.)


Deepest, bluest, Tin-Tin's head is like
a shark's fin

From Denise: crazy story about test-tube sharks and shit. Every time I watch any Discovery Channel-type show on sharks, there's always some marine biologist being interviewed insisting that sharks are "misunderstood." They credit movies like and Jaws and Deep Blue Sea (which has crappiest movie poster I've ever seen) with giving sharks a bad public image. I don't really get what's being "misunderstood" about sharks. Really, what else do sharks do but eat stuff? They're predators. They look all scary, swim around and attack all sorts of shit and sometimes chomp people. It's not like they're down there reading Proust or raising philanthropic funds to save the Great Barrier Reef.


This picture was the first one that actually freaked me out. It looks like some scribbly scary drawing that a little kid does while possessed in a psychological thriller. Also, I don't think I look like that.

Yo, Mr. Wizard was a good show.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

I'm just a monk who loves nature


It's thundering out there!




Not the cover of my Dungeons & Dragons
"Oriental Adventures" expansion kit

Gojoe is a hot movie. It's about this monk who thinks he has been chosen to defeat this evil demon dude who kinda looks like a Japanese version of Diego Luna (Diego-san, as I've come to call dude, also appears in the amazing Takeshi Zatoichi remake). This flick has some of the craziest and most creative photography I've seen in a modern martial arts movie, plus it's really violent in that samurai-blood-and-guts-spraying-everywhere type of way. Admittedly, the only reason I bought it was because I was at Best Buy on some bunk advice that the official Ong Bak had already come out on DVD (shit doesn't debut until 8/30). The bootleg has been floating around for quite awhile now and everyone that's seen it has been telling me how ridiculous dude Tony Jaa is. I can't wait to watch it.

I went to see Chuck Klosterman at the Free Library Tuesday night. He talked a little bit about his background and read some of his new book. I've always really enjoyed this guy's columns in Spin and Esquire and I've browsed Sex Drugs & Cocoa Puffs. I can honestly say that this guy is amazing. He draws consistently funny and poignant parallels between shared human experiences (relationships, family shit, etc.) and the pop culture that a lot of people dismiss as useless. While The Dark Crystal or Foghat aren't really as important as, say, the cotton gin or the Tesla coil, they still have an important niche in society, especially among people in my age group. However vapid pop culture can be, it inevitably serves as common ground for people who really wouldn't have anything in common otherwise. Honestly, I can't help but feel some sort of connection with anyone who's seen the very special episode of Saved by the Bell where Jessie Spano gets addicted to caffeine pills and sings "I'm So Excited." That shit is hot.

Klosterman also had some really interesting thoughts about the definition of postmodernism; he basically feels as though postmodern art is art that is aware of itself, which I definitely agree with (even though I think that critics calling something like Julia Roberts playing herself in Ocean's 12 postmodern is a bit of a reach...respect to Joe Budden for turning into a clever line in his "I'm a Hustla" freestyle though). I haven't read extensively into academic opinions of postmodernism, but we studied a lot of decidedly postmodern short fiction authors like Bobbie Ann Mason and other cats in one of my classes this past year. It's engrossing stuff even though a lot of times (at least in the stories) it seems like nothing really happens. A lot of interesting and intelligent way-over-my-head thoughts about postmodernism in the context of "post-rap" over at Emil's blog.



I'm beat!

Has anyone heard this shit called "No Strings" by Lola? I haven't been able to listen to it for more than a few seconds without changing the station in disgust, but it the overblown chorus goes something like "[really loud] LET'S HAVE [really soft] sex..." If this wasn't weird enough, she goes on to sing shit about how she doesn't even know the dude she's about to bang but she doesn't even care. That's dirty. Who the fuck are you, Lola? You look like Piper Perabo if she was a lizard and also if Piper's face was made of a malleable putty that you could manipulate and make a whole lot more gremlin-ish. Change your name and stop ruining the the Tagalog word for grandmother. I can't help but start thinking about how long I have until slews of drunken sorority pledge classes gather in groups on the sidewalk in front of my house, screaming the lyrics to this song incoherently while smearing shimmery lip gloss on their Miller Lite pounders. I'm thinking two, three minutes.

I found out that the Bitter Waitress website linked over at BC was the same one I had looked at awhile back with the ridiculous description of Quentin Tarantino's dinner. Turns out there is a Philly-specific section on there too. Not too many gems here (I don't care about Matt Geiger, hate crime victim or not), but the one at the bottom about Mario Lopez is fucking hilarious even though it is obviously all made up.

This is not so much ironic as it is just absolutely amazing.

Apparently, Yahoo's employees are inconsiderate bastards and refuse to follow generally accepted parking guidelines. One angry employee decided to take action, and shot pictures of pretty much every car in violation. I'm definitely guilty of parking like many of these people, but some are just ridiculous. My favorite is the second on page three with the tiny-ass Vespa in the carpool spot.

So my roommate Lou is home for a week from his summer job as a camp counselor in Rhode Island because of this. That's some Outbreak shit, huh? I'll know by Friday whether or not I am infected.

Some funny shit about how "Dancing with the Stars" was fixed. I only personally saw the very last episode but I definitely think J. Peterman was a superior performer. Despite looking pretty good, jawn really had nothing to offer.

Time to go talk to Michelle in a bad Russian accent. Tomorrow, check my Concretes review on Okayplayer or something. Then, tell me how much it sucks, and I'll change the subject even though I know you're right by saying that the Concretes record kinda sucks, which it does. It's got a good cover of "Miss You" by the Stones though.


I'll give you an original pressing of the Fat Boys' "Crushin" if you can guess which one is me (hint: I'm not bald, brunette, or Aryan).

Monday, July 25, 2005

Gyeah x 3




"Shoutouts to everybody, except the snitches, rapists,
pedophiles and shit like that. Ha ha ha ha ha. One.
"

I think I posted this a little while back on the old blog, but Saigon's shit "Out In The Park" off the Clinton Sparks AM3 tape is unbelievable (you might be able to Rapidshare it here...if not, I'll try and throw it up on YSI or something). The song is only two minutes long but dude manages to kill it. Ostensibly, it's a "remember when"-type song, with shit like "Back when niggas were still eatin' that other meat/back when Kid 'n Play was kickin' each other feet." But, of all the MCs out there that are precariously poised to blow up, I feel like Saigon's stock is highest. He's done it right since he started getting mixtape daps and stuff. He's charismatic and he eschews corny hooks for straight used-to-be-in-jail shit (if I said "no homo," I would say it right now). Also, check how he rips on Cassidy in the interview linked above. Rest assured that there aren't going to be very many "Free Cassidy" t-shirts out and about...


"To be honest with you, Roeper, I thought
Diane
Lane's performance in 'Must Love
Dogs' lacked
any tangible emotional veracity.
I give it one thumb
in the middle."

Stop wondering whether or not to see "Hustle & Flow," dude: Boyz N Da Hood give it two thumbs up. If that's not a legitimate seal of quality, I don't know what is. Check Young Jeezy's critique (he's like a hood Peter Travers or something): “This is like [the Boyz n The Hood] of the South (which launched Singleton’s career), especially for the town [of Memphis]. I don’t know where [Terrance Howard] is from, but he represented for Memphis. That’s how they talk down there, ‘mayne.’”

Haha! That quote is so full of brackets it looks like the damn field of 64. The Snowman was on Wendy Williams the other day and he kept trying to push his album release date, but all Wendy wanted to know about was how he managed to keep his complexion so on-point (she said he had the "smoothest skin since Jadakiss.") Maybe P. Diddy gave him some complimentary Proactiv or something.
Speaking of Diddy, I'm reviewing this Pumpkinhead "Orange Moon Over Brooklyn" jawn for Okayplayer. I think it comes out in October (GET IT?). Anyway, dude has a diss track against the Cambodian-breastmilk loving mogul. He even drops a line about the cheesecake incident from "Making Da Band." Not only is that shit old, Diddy is like the easiest target out there. I don't know if ol' Head is expecting people to think this shit is hot, but it sounds corny and dated as fuck. Rest of the album isn't really that great either; Pumpkinhead's got some good lyrics now and then, but the production by some dude named "Marco Polo" is pure garbage.

Check this
video for Paul Wall "Sittin' Sideways" (don't tell "word of south," but i circumvented their ingenious bandwidth-stealing protection through a new technique called looking at the bottom of my browser and copying the URL). I hadn't seen it until today. Shit is funny though. People's Champ is in full form here, doing shit like driving down the street in an S shape and grabbing jawns with really bad blonde hair. I used to hate most Houston dudes but I've grown to appreciate them representing their region, what with all the chopped/screwed shit and cars and codeine; shit's entertaining and quite likeable. There are definite money words in Houston's vernacular, however, and these words tend to show up in Paul Wall's verses more than anyone else. "Candy paint," "wood grain" and "posted up like [a mailbox, a stop sign, Jermaine O'Neal, etc.]" are definitely frontrunners.



As promised (check the bottom of yesterday's), here is the first of many depictions of me as my kindergarten classmates envisioned (click to enlarge, if ye dare). Not only am I good at "leden the line" of gingerbread men here, I'm also apparently wearing a Parliament-style powdered wig. I like to pretend that I'm leading a citizen's revolt against the Stamp Act or something in this picture. Shoutout to Guy Fawkes.


Sunday, July 24, 2005

Rhapsody In Drew

So I've decided to move my nonsense here instead. Old ish is still around though. Like anyone cares.

I went back to Maryland this weekend, and it was fun as per usual. Did a bit of the drinking/awkwardly running into people you haven't seen in eight years down in Towson on Friday. Wasn't not fun. Saturday, Michelle, Costello and I attempted to see "Wedding Crashers" because everyone and their cousin has been telling me how amazingly funny it is. We got the the theater a bit late, but figured we were still okay. No dice, man; the ONLY movie available in the entire theater was "The Island." Now, I had actually considered watching this flick when I first saw previews because my girlfriend is in it, and it's just good to support her in a low-key, non-Hollywood way, you know? This wasn't the worst flick I've ever seen, but I certainly was not amazed. The dude Michael Bay is always putting insanely over-the-top violence/explosions in his movies, but this flick honestly rivaled "Bad Boys 2" in terms of sheer automotive destruction. Apparently, this was the first movie Bay has done without Jerry "Affleck and Willis flying into space and drill-bombing an asteroid the size of Texas seems like a plausible plot for a movie" Bruckheimer. Weird. Anywho, Scarlett just makes weird, confused faces throughout and Ewan doesn't really put too much effort into acting. Don't see that.



Back then hoes didn't want to party hard. Now
I'm hot, hoes all want to party 'til they puke.

I feel as though Mike Jones is the Andrew WK of hip-hop, and vice-versa. Their bizarre-but-effective approach towards fan relations is a big part of both of their successes. Mike Jones spits his damn phone number in his songs all the time so fans can call him; four friends of mine (and I only have like five friends) have met Andrew WK randomly on the street or somewhere and said he was amazingly engaging. They have a similar thing going with their music, too; it's not like i really consider "Back Then" or "I Love New York City" any of their songs excellent examples of musicianship/stellar performances or anything, but for some reason they just make me feel good. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy rocking out to this shit in the four-door Civic while people in other cars look at me like it's illegal to have fun or something. Eff all of yous, I have no shame with banging this shit as much as I want. I think Mike and Andrew should do a song or album or the rest of their careers together. Could you even imagine that shit? Andrew would be like banging on the damn grand piano wearing a furcoat and dirty-ass white jeans in the middle of an empty house and Mike would just be there repeating his name over and over, getting his teefs polished or talking to Paul Wall on Nextel chirp. Mike WK? Andrew Jones? Andruw Jones? I think Mike WK is the best.



I know what you're thinking ladies, and
the answer is yes, I DO address my hair
in the vosotros verb form. When are the
Olympics coming back to Barcelona? VIVA!

If you're feeling bored or miserable, read my review of the new Prefuse 73 EP on Okayplayer. I liked this shit a lot. Prefuse has always been a favorite of mine, but sometimes he gets way too visceral and abstract and loses me. This EP was different because he was exclusively mixing sounds from The Books, who are some hyper-hip duo from Taxachusetts that are so cool it's not cool to pretend like you know who they are even if you do. They apparently play the guitar and cello but then go back and mix their own samples with "found sounds" and then they get coffee, read up on Rovegate and bite their thumbs at anyone wearing any type of sports logo. The EP sounds good when you listen to it all at once; it's good background-type relaxing music, a departure from the usual craziness of dude Scott Herren. Good enough.

My newest project for this week is to review a record by some Scandanavian family band group of weirdos called The Concretes. I've only given the album a quick listen so far, but it strikes me as Nyquil for the ears. This shit is so fucking boring that it makes that dude Sufjan Stevens sound like fucking Ratt or something. That was a really bad analogy, and I'm sorry.

My favorite pair of jeans deteriorated into a poor holey mess a few months ago, and I've been hurt for favorite jeans since. I went to the goddamn Harford Mall today to try and get some pants at Gap because that's where my other ones were from. In case you are not familiar with Harford Mall in beautiful Bel Air, Maryland perform this quick visual exercise: picture any mall you've ever been to. Now, picture it with at least two fewer floors, a Deb, a sketchy pizza place that gives you the wrong change and more blood pressure kiosks that you could ever hit up. Yeah, it's the worst mall ever, but I digress.

As soon as I walked in I realized there was no longer a Gap in the mall. Fuck. I've never really thought I'd be upset by the lack of a Gap, but I really just wanted to get the damn generic jeans and be done with it. Believe it or not, I ended up going into godforesaken American Eagle hoping they might have some cheaper shit. I found a pair of jeans that was decent for like 40 bucks, so I grabbed them (note: this was all while Juelz Santana's "Mic Check" was playing in the store). Out of nowhere, I'm blindsided by this Taye Diggs-looking employee dude who started asking me strange shit about the jeans I picked. "Are they boot-cut? What kind of wash is it? Oh, the light wash. Girls like the light wash. You know, I had to try on like 30 pairs of jeans here before I found ones I liked. Dude, these jeans will last you 30 years." I didn't really understand dude's logic; when would it ever be necessary for you to tell me that you had to try on 30 pairs of jeans before you found those special slacks? It either means that the jeans at your store suck, or that you are really picky about your jeans and therefore you suck kinda too. Also, I'll be really impressed if I'm rocking this shit when I'm 51. Those other jeans didn't even last more than a year, man.

I had a conversation about this exact same thing this weekend. Cheap mothers. That "shitty tipper" website is really funny, too. I'm not sure if it is the same one, but awhile back I found shit that was more of an archive for celebrities and how they tip. Apparently, Quentin Tarantino is among the most assholeish. I remember it saying that he brought in a party of about 20, completely trashed the table, and left a $10 tip on a close to $1000 bill underneath a pile of napkins, silverware and plates. Oh, Q.

When I was at home, I found a project that I did in kindergarten in one of my drawers. I didn't understand it at first, but then I realized that our teacher had us draw a picture of everyone in the class, then each person got all their drawings from everyone and it was put together into a book. When I found it I had a vague childhood memory of drawing one of my classmates playing soccer, and I kinda remembered that we were instructed to draw our classmates doing something they were, for lack of a better word, "known" for on the kindy scene (eating the most paste, fitting the most marbles into one's mouth, speaking out against the injustice of naptime by screaming like a fucking madman). As I flipped through, I noticed a bunch of pictures had me with a speech bubble that said "1..2..3." I could only take this to mean that I was either good or known for counting the first three numbers out loud. This didn't really make sense to me though because I've always hated math and I feel that my animosity towards the subject was developing even back then. Anyway, some of these pictures are hilarious and look just like me while others freak me out (like some Ring shit). I'll post some up.