Please….shut up already, you leech, you vampire, you succubus. I can feel you draining all of my optimistic soul with your chronic complaining and pessimism. Yes life is a struggle, I get it. Just stop talking about how miserable your life is and DO something about it.
I have my own issues to contend with. I’m making positive strides forward, then you come along with your black cloud of mope and despair overcasting my day. Fortunately, I have one of those pro golf sized “mental umbrellas” to keep me dry from your gale force tirades of drama. Spare me your relationship episodes, you’re not David Duchovny on Californication. I could care less about how your wife emasculates you….wait, what did you call it, “she’s assertive and likes wearing the pants” so instead of watching the playoffs Sunday afternoon, you’re down at the flea market shopping for discounted trinkets and bootleg romantic comedy dvd’s.
The next person to attempt to trample one of my good spirited days with their “cup is almost empty” demeanor, deserves a Rick James to Charlie Murphy open handed slap. Seriously. I’m on a mission. Because your train derailed, you want to plant bombs on my tracks? If life is sooooo bad, give up. Stop trying. Kill yourself. More food for us. Still here? Pussy…or is it that your life isn’t that bad afterall huh?
The next step isn’t so easy. Depressing people travel in packs, infecting others like a virus adding to the collective. You have got to break away from the other crabs if you want to change your mindset. And don’t think they won’t notice. “why’d you stop calling? oh, you too good to hang with us now? Hey I just wrecked my car for the 3rd time can I get a ride? Hey girl, so and so was talking about you. I just wanted to let you know. What’s up man, I just quit my bullshit job. Naw, I ain’t got nothing lined up just yet tho…mind if I hang out for a few days?”
Good luck escaping. If you did manage to escape, your circle is extremely smaller now isn’t it? Google+ won’t be happy (lol if you don’t get that it’s ok, the joke wasn’t for you).
I had an intellectual discussion with a good friend of mine last night until 3am. It’s amazing what conversations stem from Grand Marnier and blue mist hookahs….I digress, where was I? One topic involved goals, aspirations, and the means to reach them. Have you met yours? what prevented you? what’s stopping you now? At what point do you concede? the conclusion obviously, is that the infrastructure of any goal you set forth is planning. Then it hit me like a ton a bricks. 35-40% of the people I knew, didn’t plan for shit. Most of them are already out of my life, the few remaining handful will probably become case studies for this blog in the near future.
It’s 2012 people. time to become extremely independent and get off the teat. Bad things will happen soon. PLAN AHEAD.(damn have I been infected by the cynics?) Time to develop some survivalist skills just in case of some post apocalyptic scenario. I recommend the three H’s. Hunting, Horticulture and Whoring…yes yes I know, I know. It was just fun to say.
Through playing with y’all.
By now, if you don’t know what an iPhone is or know someone who has one, you my friend have just woken up from your cryogenic sleep chamber and those bell bottoms are not…well, actually they’re in style again in certain circles, but anyway where was I? Ah yes…the iPhone 4s.
The iPhone’s are getting less expensive and you want one. Your Droid has more memory and has better apps but it’s cheap and keeps breaking doesn’t it? Not to mention it’s hacker-bait. In this regard the iPhone is all that and a buffet. There’s a reason why they are over saturating the market with Android software on every conceivable platform. They have to sell as much as they can before Apple software wakes up,becomes sentient and becomes Skynet bringing about the end of mankind as we know it.
“Siri” is the 1st step in that evolution. Apple’s new voice command software. It’s scary good. Push a button, tell it to do something, and it does JUST that. Take a memo? done (bye bye admin secretary) . Voice text? done. The DMV should be happy about that. This thing does everything by voice command short of frying you an omelet. Did I mention it can call someone to cook the omelet and have it delivered to your door?
Do you guys remember the Dragon speech software? Yeah, well, it’s garbage compared to Siri. At happy hour networking? No problem. Siri pretty much understands drunken slurs and Klingon. Think of it has having your own pocket version of Lt. Uhura.
Now, before you go “You’re just biased because you’re an Apple product lover. Let me say this: If you have an iPhone 4, you probably want to sit this one out and wait for the 5. That’s right….wait. You’re gonna get the software upgrade free anyway. Yes the 4s does come with a shiny new dual core processor, but they didn’t upgrade the RAM so really….what’s the point? There ain’t enough bells and whistles to merit upgrading from the 4 to the 4s.
To you noobs without a iPhone at all, hurry they’re selling like hotcakes. And if you know someone who is computer illiterate don’t buy them an iPhone as a present. Anytime I see someone with an iPhone and it’s memory its 98% empty because they don’t know how to sync music, movies tv shows, podcasts, radio stations etc etc…I want to slap it out of their hands and crush it on the floor.
Resistance is futile. Hey Droid fanatics…kiss my Apple.
Happy Father’s Day to all the daddy’s of the world. I’d like to start by saying my father is legend to me. The absolute best compliment I’ve ever gotten is when someone says “you act/look like your father”. my father epitomizes a gentle heart and strengthened resolve. I can only hope to match that. My unyielding thirst for knowledge was passed down through him.
Some of you weren’t so lucky. Manhood is a tough thing. There are standards, boundaries, rules that apply. A lot of you missed them for whatever reason….here are the cliff notes.
- Respect is a reciprocal thing. In order to get it, it must be given. Only good things can happen within these boundaries. Step out of the circle of respect and chaos is sure to erupt in some form or fashion.
- No one is going to take care of you past a certain age. Everything your parents have been telling you thus far was to prep you for a solo run at life. I know you’ve seen the failures…you don’t want to go that route. 30 years old at home with momma? fail. Stop asking for handouts, their nest egg isn’t yours. The retirement money doesn’t belong to you, junior.
- Travel. Out of the state. Out of the country. It’ll broaden your small minded view on life all while learning cultures you never knew existed except for on tv. If you thought your prom queen was the hottest thing since old episodes of Baywatch, you’re an idiot. Women vary by region, state, and country with different mindsets than your high school sweetheart “Peggy Sue”. If you are still single, relocate. you’ll be mildly surprised at the difference in the attitudes of women of other area codes.
- Invest. Remember “he who has the most toys wins”? Well, those toys cost. A lot. Mutual funds, CD’s, Stocks (get a financial planner early kid).
- Your Word. If it comes out of your mouth, then DO IT. Mean it and never go back on it. People will respect you on your word alone in some cases. Don’t be a lying little weasel that deserves to be kicked in the balls. Hmm…maybe I could start a trend, kick all liars in the ball sack. Wait no, we’d have to castrate ALL politicians and government officials…I digress, where was i?
- Babies. This is a no brainer. Keep your dick in your pants or use a condom if you aren’t ready to be a daddy. How do you know you aren’t ready to be a daddy you ask? If you can’t support yourself. meaning: If you can’t provide your OWN shelter, food or clothing, what makes you think you can care for an infant whose solely dependent upon you for continuing to live? Babies require sacrifice of your livelihood. Sending the baby to grandma for days on end is shirking YOUR responsibility scum bag.
- Never raise your hand to a woman. If you lucked up and got an psycho aggressive bi-polar crazy chick, therapy IS NOT going to help. Run away from that relationship like someone just fired a starter pistol. If you just like hitting women because it makes you feel strong, come see me. I’ll message you my address and we can determine just how strong you are…prick.
- Public drunkenness is not cool. You look like an idiot because you are an idiot. Maintain your dignity. Women like dignity.
- A woman is going to leave you or cheat on you if your sex game isn’t up to par. Oh..she’ll wait it out a bit to see if there’s any improvement, but rest assured, she’ll be on the clock for some quality dizznik. Don’t be one of those guys we laugh at behind your back. Because there’s another thing: she will tell just how bad you are. it’s a damn shame. But it’s true. Yeah, she might not tell the world, but she’s got at least one confidant that knows you ain’t shit. Elevate your game or the only thing you’ll be riding is the bench.
- So…you got yourself together. Career’s going, got nice man toys, got a great lady and baby makes three. congratulations, it ain’t over. The knowledge, the hard work, the perseverance now need to be poured into your child. If you allow someone else to teach your child about life, you tripped up right at the finish line. If your child is a failure it’s because YOU failed that child. no one else. Prepare your son or daughter to sidestep all of the hardships and struggles that you went through. make it easier for them. After all, they are your legacy. Teach them everything, but place a timeline on that gift of knowledge. Too many times have I seen parents rearing their preteen kids for some adult type circumstance while the kid is more interested in his/her robots or dolls. Puberty, adolescence, adulthood have their place and are fundamental for a child’s psyche. don’t ruin that.
If you were lucky enough to have been blessed with a father to teach you some of these things, then by all means call him up today and say thank you for making me a better individual. But the truth is, he’s knows it already and is extremely proud of your accomplishments thus far.
Overzealous, overconfident, overactive, and today…..over reaching. I’m the biggest advocate of stepping out of the box, breaking away from the norm and doing or being different. That said, we each have our own roles to play in life. Our own talents, our own gifts. Our very own little niche.
I know, (as much as I loathe to admit it) I cannot be everything to everyone. The sky IS the limit, but the ugly truth is that the ceiling varies for different people. My gifts, my creativity, my talents will only get me so far. Your talents may or may not get you farther or faster. Everyone has a cap. I will never work for NASA, be a chemical engineer, or a college math professor. Why? Because I absolutely detest math and anything of its ilk. Besides…it’s a right brain function, and we all know artists (the left brain users of the world) can’t stand prolonged use of the right side. It just isn’t natural to us.
So I’m just gonna do me. All the things that I’m good at, my special niche in life: writing, fitness, counseling, electronics, computers, photography, fighting, loving, drinking and hell raising. and not necessarily in that order.
(did me taking an exam really just snap me outta my writer’s block?) Hallelujah, I’m back!
I had a bit of an epiphany in the gym this morning. It dawned on me that most people go their entire lives without realizing what their very own bodies are physically capable of. It’s funny to me. Mainly because in my youth, I was literally thin as a walking stick. Had it not been for that fateful day in Chicago at the Naval base, where I (a basketball fanatic) was dunked on by a semi pro player.
That pivotal moment changed me. Angered and blinded by the fact that someone broke through my defense, I subbed out and left the court…right into the weight room. while the 1st two years were a clueless waste of time, the next 13 years became a crusade to become bigger and stronger. Years of muscle sprains, tendonitis, deep tissue massages, and gallons of protein later, here I am remaining steadfast on my personal crusade to be the fittest I can be.
But not most people….the average person doesn’t think about it until a fit person walks up next to them. Then there’s a moment of self-pity that’s quickly forgotten as soon as the “hot and fresh doughnuts” sign lights up at Krispy Kreme.
The human body can do sooo much! It’s astounding the amount of resiliency and strength it has. It can be shaped and molded, made stronger, faster. It can endure miles and miles of running. Each and every person has their very own machine to tweak and customize as they see fit. But 89% of you don’t. It’s the equivalent of taking a Ferrari and letting it sit for years exposed to the elements.
I’m curious. What’s it like? You know, getting old AND weak/feeble. I’ve got the old part down pretty well. The weak and feeble part, mmmm… not so much. If I had to guess, I’d say it’d be like the aging male lion succumbing to a younger stronger male lion over rights to the pride/pack. It’s a safe bet that there will be no young studs taking over my pack ANYTIME soon. God willing, working out will be a staple in my life, as much as breakfast and sex. (and I’m not trying to give that up anytime soon either)
Extend your life/livelihood. Take care of your body as you would your car, house, your lawn….whatever you deem of value and importance to you.
Train hard. Indulge later.
I call “perv”, Santa…who are you really? We can’t even see your face. I know you can magically whip up some clippers and a razor. Trim that baby llama off your face so we can see you, it’s the 21st century Santa.
I always knew you were a sadist Santa. Pepper? A lump of coal? Who does that, you sick freak.
As you know Santa, me being the health nut and all, couldn’t help but notice those “rosy red cheeks”…..yeah well, I’m pretty sure that’s rosacea. Common amongst alcoholics. you should lay off the elven moonshine. How’s your cholesterol fatso? I left you Nabisco 100 calorie thin crisps and low fat milk, but you preceded to raid the fridge and demolish ALL the chicken and collard greens, dressing and cranberry sauce, and my grandma’s red velvet cake. not cool man. Next time wash the dishes.
But hey listen, I wanted to give you a heads up. I’m a light sleeper. So before you break into my house and trip the motion sensors, how about sending me a text or something before I turn my living room into a CSI episode. M’kay? Thanks.
One more thing Santa. Who’s your agent? Because the contract deals he’s making for you are unbelievable. Do you know you beat out Halloween this year? There was Christmas stuff up in stores the 2nd week in October. I thought I’d lost 2 months. That’s crazy…you, Tony Romo and Ndamukong Suh must all have the same agent. Send me his number.
All in all Santa, you’ve given me a lot of insomnia, anxiety, mental and physical duress over the years. This horrible relationship isn’t conducive to the kind of lifestyle I like to lead. Thanks for the faulty orange 10-speed (which coincidentally led to my bike vs car accident), the boom box radio that LL Cool J was so fond of speaking of. Nevermind that it felt like 30 bee stings whenever I plugged in the crappy power cord.
It’s over. You’re out Santa, like a MLB batter facing Nolan Ryan.
FYI, I registered you on that sex offender website. STAY AWAY FROM THE KIDS YOU PERV!
I feel you Aretha. Without respect, a man isn’t one. Lack of it will always lead to a disastrous conclusion. Me? I’d take respect over fame and money anything day of the week.
So. What exactly is the correct path to follow when there’s a personal affront to your manhood? Wisdom dictates removing yourself from said situation. Easy if the assailant is a complete stranger, not so easy if you’ve known the individual for awhile and their viewpoint of you has changed for whatever reason. A little tougher if it’s a long time friend or family member.
Yeah, you can communicate and talk about it, but since no one’s budging, you’re back to square one. This is why brothers don’t speak to one another for 15 years a pop, or cousins only visit every other holiday. It also affects marital bliss.
So what do you do, when you are bred with a ceiling-less pride and taught to be respectful and expect it always? When the nuclear arms talk fail utterly, and war is imminent…what do you do?
It comes down to our primal responses: Fight or Flight. I’m not speaking a “physical” fight (not this time). But a fight aimed at getting the respect you deserve. Or do you take a hit to your manhood, the very core structure of who you are, and concede.
……and I ain’t about to write a damn song asking for it either.
Mid-term elections are here. Got your condoms and K-Y? You’ll be needing them….because politicians are about to rain down an orgy of spins, mud slinging, baby kissing, hand shaking, and leery smiling promises, only to completely renege as soon as they get in office. They should skip the $200 hundred dollar fundraiser dinners and take us right to the hotel, because you KNOW what happens next.
The campaign trail is nothing more than a glorified lap dance across America. “If you have money, I’ll show you what I MIGHT do for you.”
No one can say I’m not a Patriot. I’ve served this country proudly during my tenure in the United Sates Navy. But what the hell happened to the United States Congress? I remember how the Senate and the House of Representatives USED to be. Now, Congress is just one large brothel. Everyone is screwing and/or screwing over everyone else…literally. Let’s see if I have this right: U.S. taxpayers pay their salary, Congressmen in turn, listen to our needs in earnest, then decidedly do exactly the opposite. Sounds like a bad night in Vegas if you ask me.
Oh, and if you think for one second that the parties aren’t secretly working together behind our backs, you’re naive. Someone explain to me why as a nation of voters, there is only a two party system…waitaminute didn’t there used to be more? I wonder what happened to them? hmmm, go figure.
The President? figurehead, scapegoat, fall guy, patsy, mark, sucker….I could go on, but I think you get my meaning. He does nothing. He can suggest until he’s blue in the face like the Na’Vi from Avatar. Don’t believe me? ok…the military: controlled by the Joint Chiefs of Staff. the Prez doesn’t make a move without them. Laws: nope. He can’t pass a bill unless Congress allows it. (and of course Congress is bribed by whoever has a lot of money, they’re called lobbyist.) So…what exactly is he doing again? Nothing, but misdirecting your hate. Or love , if you’re into that sorta thing. You sitting down? We haven’t had a real president since Kennedy. And “they” shot him for it. Oh snap, they shot Lincoln too…and a warning shot was all it took for Reagan to play along with the program.
Rape is termed as sexual intercourse with another person WITHOUT that person’s consent. The way we’re getting screwed, somebody needs to press charges on the House AND the Senate. It’s all about money. It always was. Scratch that, no it wasn’t. “WE THE PEOPLE” use to mean something. So much so that our forefathers began the constitution with it. I am going to quote something from Franklin and Jefferson to some of you unread denizens. (pick up a history book sometimes and stop reading People magazine.)
“I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous than standing armies… if the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of currency… the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprave the people of their prosperity until their children wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered.”
“I am the most unhappy man. I have unwittingly ruined my country. A great industrial nation is now controlled by its system of credit.
We are no longer a government by free opinion, no longer a government by conviction and the vote of the majority, but a government by the opinion and duress of a small group of dominant men.”
Wow….we are soooo fucked.
Oh, one more thing: ALVIN GREENE?!? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU SOUTH CAROLINA!?!? SERIOUSLY? IT’S PAINFULLY OBVIOUS SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THAT DUDE. THE ENTIRE STATE CANNOT NOT BE THAT BLIND. DID YOU GUYS START UP INBREEDING? SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH HIM!!!!!!! GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.
It’s hard enough to deal with hidden agendas and the proverbial knife in the back, but when you’re forced to endure the “crabs in the barrel” attitude from your own people, it really stops you in your tracks and makes you take a hard look at society, culture and regional environments….or maybe, that’s just me.
The Mason-Dixon line isn’t the only line drawn that some southerners secretly take pride in. Economic status, has always been a line that separates us…from a financial standpoint anyway. And when you successfully make that jump into the next tax bracket, you leave behind a few scratching heads wondering “how’d he do that”? That wonderment (also known as ignorance) turns to resentment. The end result? You now have a hater on your hands.
Hater ~ a person who cannot be happy for another person’s success. Instead of being happy, they make it point of exposing the person’s flaws. Their thought process isn’t really hate, it’s to knock that person down a notch.
Now, try breaking a few racial stereotype and see what happens. As a black person, go rock climbing. Or as a white person, become a rapper. Depending on where you are regionally, you’ll be known as “selling out”, or acting something that you’re not. People are creatures of habit. Change upsets their conformity (which is why a certain political figure is fighting a losing battle). When they see “different” then something must be wrong. Are we really hard wired like that?
Like I said, crabs in a barrel….my friend Anthony is an up and coming cyclist. He’s pretty good. But because cycling isn’t seen as a “black” sport, he’s operating outside of the known stereotype, he gets accused of being something he’s not.
While visiting family back home, I ran into a childhood friend. After reminiscing a bit, he pulls me to the side and asks, ” Hey dawg, so how long were you locked up for”? See… for this imbecile, military training and 14 years of bodybuilding resemble working out in the penitentiary recreation room.
This is a very large world we live in. Get off your close-minded, prejudiced thinking, one tracked, “I eat the same thing for breakfast everyday”, asses…and experience something new. Talk to someone different. Walk another route. Stop wallowing in your own ignorance and for God’s sake stop educating yourself via television.
through playing with y’all…..damn.
Any other day, I’d bypass this subject and wouldn’t think twice about it. I’m sitting at home sick as a dog, channel surfing. I see the Tyra Banks Show (damn, she is still fine!) about women loving men with big bellies. And then the subject was broached on Facebook. So I have to ask ladies…REALLY?
Because I heard a lot of lies. lies. lies. Maybe it was to save face, or maybe it was the fact that they no longer consider their lover’s body part of the equation of love. Maybe it’s all about the dollars and to hell with the body. I don’t know, I’m just trying to gain a little perspective.
See…I know without a shadow of doubt that some women don’t like skinny guys. I used to be just that. Being skinny as a rail, trying to talk to a dimepiece is a futile attempt no matter what your charming smile or winning looks have done for you in the past. Some women don’t roll that way. They want a physical man who can handle himself and be able to bring food to the table. I get that.
But beer bellies? I’m heavily into the gym/fitness thing and I am a pretty sizable guy. At 42 years old, 232lbs, I still have no gut. Am I to believe, I’d lose out to the fat guy at the end of the bar with a bucket of Natural Light beer? To quote the fictional senator Clay Davis from HBO’s the Wire, “shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”
Muscle>Fat everyday, all day.
Guys, PLEASE do not fall into this sitcom reality TV show/facebook tomfoolery. Get your asses in the gym. Nevermind what women think….ok scratch that(what was I thinking), consider your own health for a minute. Abdominal obesity can kill you (indirectly). Not to mention affecting the lead in your “pencil”. It’s a sure sign that your estrogen levels are rising. And I’m hoping I don’t have to break THAT one down to you.
Our abs are quite useful. When you find them again, you can email me and thank me for getting rid of your back pain and improving you sex life. Abs act as a stabilizer for your torso and a gyroscope for your….hell, if you didn’t know all this time, you might be outta luck on the latter.
Ladies (just the ones that like big men), tell your man the truth, yes you want a big man for the comfort and joys of life. One that can also handle himself and protect you. A guy that can be that “blanket” you want. You don’t want a guy who runs around making jokes about his “tool shed”. Encourage your big man to go walking, ease him into the cardio. Before you know it, he’ll be able to “see” himself again and won’t have to reach blindly for it.
Am I too harsh? Probably. Am I an insensitive ass? Definitely. Listen I know there are conditions which prevent some men from exercising and/or eating right. To those guys, I’m sorry…this isn’t meant for your eyes. I’m strictly referring to those 30-40 somethings who are fully ambulatory yet down kegs of beer at happy hour, talking about “yeah I’m gonna start working out again”. Meanwhile their wives and girlfriends are on the Tyra Banks Show talking about, “Tyra, my big bellied man is putting it down”.
I am not a movie critic. Nor do I express the desire to become one in the near future. But when filmmakers of the remake start to pull an R. Kelly on it’s audiences SOMETHING has to be said.
I don’t even know where to start first. Oh, wait…yes I do. WHERE IS THE 3D?!? Did I really just spend extra money on a feature that enticed me in the first place, only to see a handful of scenes ACTUALLY in 3D? At some point in the movie I snatched the stupid glasses off and watched normally. It’s gotta be a new plot to make people sit and look like asses with ineffective horned rimmed glasses on. Some producer is laughing his ass off as everyone becomes honorary members of the Geek Squad.
After realizing I’d been R Kelly’d (if you really have to ask, you should probably go lie down, its past your bedtime), I noticed something else: This movie is the “cliff notes” of the original in 1981. You know how you fast forward x 4 shows on your DVR? That’s precisely how it felt watching this movie.
To the average movie goer, It’s an dumb plot, slightly action packed CGfest. For me I felt duped, let down, my intelligence insulted, in other words, pissed on by the director of this film. I’ll have you know they actually made shit up totally incongruent with mythology. Any fan or student of Greek mythology will let you know right away that Medusa IS NOT a Titan. She’s of the Gorgon familial. What? I wasn’t a muscle head all my life, I kept my head in books. Greek Mythology was one of them.
One more thing: In the beginning of this movie they narrate to you the relationship between the Titans and the Olympic gods. The Titans are the fathers of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. They even tell you that Hades created the Kraken in order to defeat the Titans. If someone can point out to me a Titan clashing against anyone in this movie, I’ll pay you cash.
If my memory serves me correctly I can name a few Titans. Kronos, Hyperion, and Rhea. They are a few of the popular ones not in this movie. This movie was essentially about Zeus vs Hades with a frigging lightsaber thrown in for good measure (no I’m not making that last part up).
I wish I had two extra hands so I could give this movie 4 thumbs down.
To Regal Cinemas, YOU FAIL SO HARD ITS INEXPLICABLE! UPGRADE YOUR STADIUM SEATS AND HIRE PROFESSIONAL CLEANERS! Movie theaters aren’t supposed to smell like nursing homes. And anyone 6′ft and above has no leg room.
He’s coming back to the game. And as much as his peers will hate it, they will also welcome him back with open arms. All while making snide comments behind his back. No, it isn’t Brett Favre and it sure as hell ain’t Jordan. It’s Eldrick. And before you get your panties in a bunch asking who Eldrick is, I’ll tell you.
Eldrick Tont Woods…affectionately (and intimately) known as Tiger. Now, there is absolutely nothing about Tiger Woods that I could expound upon that the media hasn’t already filleted and gutted a million times already, except for one thing. Why he got caught. (no, not why he did it, why he got caught).
Tiger Woods is an island unto himself. That kinda makes it hard to do dirt when you’re visible from the weather channel’s satellites. Secondly, he went against the grain of every celeb/athlete’s mantra. He had no Entourage.
Entourage (read: boys who you pay and trust to do YOUR dirt and take the fall). These people are made up of people you know before the fame and fortune and when the shit hits the fan, will gladly scoop it up.
Celebs with entourages usually have a bad image of boozing party hounds, so Tiger refrained from having one, not realizing their true purpose. Damn, hindsight’s a bitch ain’t it?
But let me make myself really really clear. In no way do I condone Mr. Woods infidelities. He was stupid and got caught with his hands, feet and who knows what else in the cookie jar. Apparently, he thought he was a college frat boy. I remember my college days, (barely). I felt unstoppable. I vaguely remember my mother mentioning something about me burning out before I turned 25 (guess what mom, it was sooner…).
I didn’t have an entourage but I had friends I trusted impeccably. Question is, who does Tiger trust? It’s kinda funny though, because real tigers hunt solo, at night and ambush their prey. The two legged tigers we know use Patron Margaritas….or cereal.
If only he had one good friend to say “I don’t think its a good idea, let’s go” We wouldn’t be reading about all this nonsense now. But you know what, it’s not all his fault.
Let’s back up a sec. So the wifey had no idea? She was clueless? Yeah right, whatever. If the handwriting is on the wall, you just don’t apply a fresh coat of paint. Let’s not forget this has been going on for years, and she just now decided to bash his head in? A one eyed man with a cataract could see she didn’t care what Tiger did UNTIL it was about to become public knowledge.
So why are people so hellbent on what Tiger is or isn’t doing? Americans (some of us) are boring, mundane hum drum people who live their lives vicariously through someone else. Everyone wants to shake up their lives and do something wild and off the cuff but is afraid to. That’s why Vegas is so popular. What? you thought it was because of the casinos? Kill yourself now and help the census.
People like to commune socially. That’s why everyone is in everyone else’s business and personal affairs. And when celebrities and/or an athlete’s business come to light…oh boy, the fireworks fly. Tiger’s affairs were, socially speaking “a multiple orgasm” for the media and it’s endearing public.
The man liked to get his multicultural penis wet. He’s also given billions in charity benefiting children. Does this make it right? Hell no it doesn’t. Not at all. But tell me…what has your trifling baby’s daddy contributed other than his seed?
Stop casting stones. Welcome back Tiger.
Happy New year! It’s that time isn’t it? Time to make that new years resolution.
‘I’m gonna lose weight”
“I’m gonna save money”
and my all time favorite, (one that I can speak on) “I’m gonna work out and get in shape”.
Yay…I for one, welcome January. I’ll get all the cannon fodder I need for my blogs right in the gym. Here’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask so many people. Why do you need a certain time of the year as an excuse to do something that you’re NOT going to stick with year round only to make the exact same excuse at the same time next year? I stopped making resolutions a loooong time ago. I figured out that obviously, I never wanted to do said resolution in the 1st place or I would have done it a lot sooner.
I get it though..sorta. a new year. a new beginning. a new you. Thing is, this could work with other holidays as well.
Easter… “Resurrect a new you”.
July 4th…”Celebrate independence from the old you”
Christmas.. “the birth of a new you”
New Years is just another holiday excuse. Let me give you a few synonyms for the word excuse according to Brittanica: apology , cleanup, cop-out, cover up, evasion, subterfuge, justification, plea…see where I went with that?
Hey, if you stick with your fitness program…great, awesome. I owe you an heartfelt apology and I’ll offer you my personal help and assistance. But my money’s on the ones who just paid up for a whole year at their local gyms and will be outta there by……mmm, let’s say March. It won’t even be 30 days for some. C’mon, I haven’t spend the last 13 years of my life in a gym and not have noticed.
I see you…on the phones, wearing makeup, scoping out potential mates (ok nothing wrong with that part), socializing like the gym is a club without a liquor license. Refusing a trainer and still working out wrong, holding up the machines that real gym members need. And you wonder how can you work out for so long and not see any results.
I didn’t forget about you weekend warriors (part timers in the gym). you have a little definition, so you swagger around the gym after you bench 225, flexing like you’re in the Arnold Classic, grunting like you’re in a strongman competition, wearing your little brother’s wifebeater so you can appear bigger. Tipping the scales at 220lbs does not put you in the big boy club (unless you’re 5’9). These guys usually quit after they tear a muscle from lifting improperly.
Ladies, ladies, ladies…there are sporting goods stores that sell non-tight fitness gear. So there won’t be any need to tie a shirt around your waist to cover up all that ass you’re trying to hide. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Don’t buy it, and we won’t look. Thus negating the need to cover up what you thought was sexy in the sporting goods dressing room. If men decided to wear loincloths in the pilates class, it would take you outta your game just a little bit wouldn’t it? Mmhmm, thought so. It’s all good til the shoe is on the other foot. Or, to put in more simpler graphic terms…til there’s a large penis in your face and you begin to remember why you’re working out in the first place.
All in all, its going to be fun times these first few months. I have a few goals of my own as well. Only I made them back in October
See ya in the gym!
In less than 12 hours I’ll age another year, and yet I am completely unfazed. All the rhetoric surrounding birthdays is designed to do what exactly? The cakes, the parties, the sheer drunkeness (if that’s your kind of thing) is supposed to be a celebration of life? Or…is all the fanfare and festivities just a mere distraction from what you should be doing. Self evaluation. a gut check. I like to think of birthdays as milestone markers where I take out my compass and see what direction in life I’m headed in.
My friends think that I become a somber cynical rattlesnake the days surrounding my birthday. The truth… my eyes are wide open to everything. In my deepest moments of self reflection, I see things from an “outside looking in” standpoint where I become super critical of myself and the world as I see it. All the facades, all the bs we normally take on the chin, all the societal dances that we do, all fade away for me during this time. I gotta tell you, it’s all funny as hell. Straight up comic relief. I can’t help but to laugh at the lengths we go through. Why? to get a job? to get a date? to get the respect you deserve? to be someone else’s idea of a “good” person? Every year, I take a step away from the “norm”. And when I look back, I say to myself, “what the hell was I thinking?!”
Man, why couldn’t I have had this mentality 20 years ago? We all say it, Hindsight is 20/20. I’ve actually come to realize that wouldn’t have been a good move for me. I know now that it was, and still is the journey not the destination, that’s where all the fun stuff happens. The path lesser walked. Google maps ain’t gonna get me there.
This upcoming year I’m going off-road. See ya in 2010.
PS. Shout outs to the drunken Christmas carolers of Middleburg, Florida. FYI, ghetto rednecks, booze and a tortured version of “Silent Night” is not a good look. lmfao. WHO FRIGGIN CAROLS THESE DAYS?!? I should add…with sincerity. I still love you guys tho…
It’s week two. And I’m in the hurt locker.
You know, that special place of pain where no muscle, tendon, or ligament escapes the soreness and lactic acid build-up from weightlifting and exercise. Serves me right for “taking some time off”. Apparently, exercise is meant to be a regular ongoing thing in life. Don’t believe me? Pretend for a sec that we had no luxuries. I mean medieval times. You had to hunt your own food. Find your own water. Build your own shelter and protect it. Yeah… it wouldn’t do good to be soft now would it? Technology has made us all weaker. But I simply refuse to subscribe to “bitchassness”. (Sorry, no other word more accurately describes it).
Maybe the military had a little bit to do with my exercise mindset, but I really think it’s my competitive spirit the drives me. Lord knows, my cousin and I (sup Fred!) have been trying to “one up” each other since kindergarten. From beanpoles in our twenties, to athletes in our thirties, to serious contenders for bodybuilding competitions in our forties. We’ll be in our seventies still trying to out bench each other.
(tangent alert), is it me, or are people quick to point out the fact that you work out? Actual conversations:
random guy: “dude, do you work out?”
Me: “nooo, I’m a librarian. these muscles come from lifting books all day”.
random guy: “man, that chick is hot! She’s like a six foot Amazon!”
me: yeah, but I think she like guys that can actually sweep her off her feet and NOT get a hernia.
Okay, I’m wrong for that, but here’s the thing: fit people are only semi attracted to non-fit people. food and sex will only go so far (who am I kidding, food and sex will go a long way). It really helps to be compatible physically though.
When you hear a person saying the reason they work out and exercise is to feel better about themselves, they are only telling you half of the truth. The other half? It’s a secret.
I’ll tell you the other half when you meet me in the gym. Tomorrow is triceps, biceps, shoulders and abdominals from hell day.
You know that friend of yours that talks REALLY loud?
So loud in fact, that you have to remove the phone from your ear, or back pedal away from them to avoid the spittle? It’s not their fault. It is however, their coping mechanism. The majority of them are extroverts. Outgoing, bright, optimistic, sunny people who want to brighten your day(and move the spotlight from all the skeletons in their closets).
Go ahead, just try to get a word in edgewise on these boisterous bubbly braggadocios blow hards (say that 4 times fast) and watch how their volume increases incrementally to over talk you. A normal conversation is now a shouting match. Your friend will then pull out a megaphone to finish his/her statement FTW (for the win).
As soon as I recognize the signs (the ability to hold 3 conversations at once and lead them all), I prepare myself for bouts of silence.
That’s right, the nemesis to these amplified vocal beings…the anti-talker. If I’m interrupted more than twice in a conversation, I shut up. Obviously that individual isn’t interested in a meaningful conversation and one of my major pet peeves is having to repeat myself. Being forced to repeat myself makes me want to cripple people. (update: I’m no longer crippling people, the treatments work!) Once you stop talking, they realize their mistake however briefly. But like a broken radio knob, they return to full volume in no time at all.
There are SOME advantages to having a loud talker around.
Planning an event? Just remember it’s good to have at least two or more loud talkers at a party or function. Ensure there is an even number of them and your party will be a success as they cancel each other out simultaneously livening up the scene.
This can sometimes backfire however, creating another insidious loud talker: the alcohol induced loud talker.
Oh yeah… now you have to contend with breath, spittle and at times become a leaning post. Because drunks wobble. There is nothing you can do but shred the napkin (aka the coaster) that your drink is sitting on and stuff it in your ears to protect your ear drums. A face shield would be nice, but it’s not too aesthetic in social settings.
Remedy: Introduce him or her to the person next to you and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Works like a charm, trust me. Let them slobber and shout all over that person.
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Yeah…i’m sure that applies to the 99.9 percentile, but let’s talk about the “haters” for a moment, shall we? 1st, let’s define the modern term “hater”. We all heard it in some form or fashion, in a literal or theatrical sense. But let’s break it down for the less urban demographic:
1. One who hates.
2. (slang, pejorative) One who expresses unfounded or inappropriate hatred or dislike, particularly if motivated by jealousy.
Great. we all can define what or who a hater is. But what the hell do haters and chameleons have in common? I’m getting to that but first let’s define what a chameleon is.
1. A small to mid-size reptile, of the family Chamaeleonidae, and one of the best known lizard families able to change color and project its long tongue.
2. A person with inconstant behavior; one able to quickly adjust to new circumstances.
Now….When you have an individual that can’t stand the ground you walk on, and will erase every footprint you leave behind, all the while secretly admiring your swagger, taking notes on your designer fashion, the books you read, eyeballing your tech,wearing your cologne, mimicking your kung fu (well, feebly at best): Hater/Chameleon hybrid
I find it amusing these days. Something that used to send me into beast mode, simply makes me smile and shake my head. Even more so; I’ve come to take pity on them. Maybe it was a bad childhood. No friends, no girls, you know…”the straight home from school get your ass in the room” kinda childhood. No interaction with peers…no wait. No EQUALITY amongst peers, will drive you to do weird things. The hater/chameleon hybrid has to imitate everything it sees in order to give the perception of being able to relate. Yet, to see the Alpha (ha ha) do things it will never attain: the winning touchdown,getting the really fine girl, and getting the respect of all the guys is enough to set the hater’s blood boiling, sending it into an ADHD (Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder) rage.
Here’s what’s funny though. the hybrid believes that it’s invisible. It thinks that we can’t actually see it wearing our style, our gear, studying our moves. It doesn’t know that we can see it spreading hate and discontent behind our backs. It doesn’t realize we can hear all the things it’s saying to place itself in a positive light meanwhile working to place us in a negative one.
I was once told that success was measured by the amount of haters you had. Really? Because it gets old after awhile and you just want to recommend therapy to the hater. Waitaminute, hater rehab….that’s not a bad idea.
There is trickery afoot…..not to mention some bullsh*t. “Get all 13 games in high definition”. (oh did we forget to mention that the HD channels were extra?) Our bad. Aww, is your game blacked out locally? What a coincidence, its seems ours is too.
Directv is getting worse every year with it’s NFL packages. It’s nothing short of disgusting. But here’s the real kicker, something the fine print failed to mention: the big three: ABC, NBC, CBS are redoing their contracts with the NFL. Last year, if your team aired on CBS, it was not going to be shown on the vainglorious 1080p HD of Sunday ticket. No…CBS aired it in standard version, 720 at best (cheap bastards).
Before you go, “Dennis stop making stuff up”, I got this juicy bit of intel after being on hold for an hour and a half from a Directv rep. Seriously. You know what, I’m gonna place a call to the feds or the DEA, because someone over at the NFL is smoking some of the finest crack money can buy. Watch a Thursday night game and see if they don’t call it Monday night football…Only crackheads and Alzheimer patients don’t know what day it is.
Which way would you have it: they’re smoking crack OR they say we’re so incredibly stupid we won’t notice. Another sign that they believe we’re as smart as a box of rocks: The giant HD screen in Dallas stadium. I guess even the fools are bigger and better in Texas, because if I have to leave my house, drive to the stadium and pay to watch the game on another tv (albeit a larger one), I deserved to be fleeced of all my money.
The NFL should just rob us at gunpoint. Oh wait, I forgot. It’s hard to find good help that isn’t 2009′s version of Barney Fife.(yes I’m talking about you, Plaxico Burress).
As for NFL Sunday ticket…it’s over, done. Like Minnesota’s season with Brett Favre. (what the hell were they thinking, he’s my age and I’m in better shape).
Edit: okay, I’m older than Brett Favre but in waaay better shape and a lot more handsome by a longshot.
All I wanted to do was to drive to Burger King, grab me some Burger Shots with cheese to soak up some of tequila from the night before. Don’t judge me, we’ve all been there.
I’m sitting at a stop light thinking,” man I need to wash the “Z” when I see him… The Jogger. If I had to gauge by his bouncy gait, I’d say he was happy. But the look on his face said otherwise. His face read, “somebody just punched me in the stomach and I have to drop a deuce”. I felt sorry for him but all I could think about was my burgers.
After the drive thru from hell (maybe franchises can have cashier training once in a freaking while!?) I saw the jogger again. I’m thinking who the hell runs like that?
Girls do, that’s who. It’s because they have to counter for the extras they have. Or so I’d like to believe, but what is this guy’s excuse? We all come in different sizes and shapes which kinda dictates how we move, I get that…but a grown ass man running like Patrick Swayze and Wesley Snipes in “To Wong Foo” is a bit much.
My running stride has always been forward and low for speed. It wasn’t until Michael Johnson in the Olympics ran like he was sitting in a chair did speedsters change up their styles losing all cool points at once. Now I’m back to thinking, maybe this guy has some kinda disorder, maybe a shortened leg that’s causing his irregular hop. Then I saw the reason for his flamboyancy: his pink headband.
I laughed to myself as I bit down on a mini burger and popped the clutch, just to bark the tires as the light turned green. Ok Ok, maybe I was making fun at his “preferences”….I ain’t hating…just laughing.