What Everybody’s Thinking

I’m not Un-American. I watch the Winter Olympics so that proves the point, but I have to say I hate our Nation’s darling snowboarder with a passion. I’m speaking of Shaun White.  If you don’t know who that is, consider yourself one of the lucky ones. Rest assured he’ll be gracing a Wheaties box at your local grocery store within a week after pulling off his second gold medal last night in Vancouver.

Why do I hate him?  Well, most of it is pretty irrational, so I’ll focus on the small part of it that I can back up with cohesive statements instead of muddled ramblings that include plenty of pointless ad hominem attacks.

Basically, it’s because he’s an asshole.

The kid shows no humility or appreciation for the fact he’s only where he is because he grew up a snot-nosed rich kid with hippie parents that happened to live near a halfpipe.  I’m not saying he lacks talent, just the scope to recognize he’s very fortunate to have had the opportunity to develop it.

Take last night, the guy had the gold medal in the bag. He had won it, but he had a second run to do in the competition so he contemplates what to do with his ‘coach’ while the cameras conveniently run right on top of their conversation. He jokingly suggests he just ride straight down the middle of the halfpipe, yeah, great sportmanship, dickhole.  His ‘coach’ steps in and delivers a line that was obviously scripted where he tells Shaun to “Go for it! Do the McTwist!” To those that didn’t watch, apparently Shaun developed a super-secret, special, amazing, makes you want to blow your load move he dubbed the “Double McTwist 1260,” impressive huh? Makes me think of Charlie Sheen in Major League 2 naming his pitches.  Anyway, after the coreographed exchange with his coach designed to sale a McDonald’s milkshake called the McTwist in two weeks he runs his pretty little mouth about how awesome it’s gonna be and goes and does it perfectly (it’s pretty amazing, seriously, but that doesn’t help my argument).  Now, I’m all for athleticism and talent, but this is the fucking Olympics. This is where sportmanship is supposed to still survive the celebrity and general cockery that’s overwhelmed pro sports - I’m looking at you NBA! And we’re represented by this son-of-a-bitch who’s competing in a sport that’s at the Olympics because the USA lobbied to include it several years ago when just a few other countries were even able to provide competitors. It’s kind of like a fat guy challenging a 100 lbs girl to an eating contest. It’s a perfect example of why terrorists and the rest of the world hate us. This little prince outperforming everyone else with very little grace, no honor, and going into the competition as though it were a pre-ordained outcome designed by the God of snow himself (that’s Tom Sizemore, by the way).  It takes me back to little league where that evil team The Wolfpack had 13-year-old shills playing in the 11-12 year old division so they could keep their 10 year championship streak alive. Or those skeleton fuckers from Karate Kid!  I wish Miyagi was still around to roundhouse kick this douche in the mouth. (The snow already tried)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0maqPuuXGpI

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I don’t like this guy. Not at all. I don’t think he’s a great figurehead for Americanism or whatever you’d call it.  So if that makes me Un-American, then I’m moving to Canada…after he leaves.

Don’t tell me what to do.

If someone says, “Hey, tell (insert mutual acquaintance here) that I said hello.” do you actually tell the person?

I maybe do 10% of the time.  Or 1 out of 10 times, whichever comes first.

A Theory of Scandalous Affairs

Over the course of my three or so years of experience as a food service industry server (read: bitch), there are certain truths (read: stereotypes) that persist.   Is a stereotype still a stereotype even if its true?  I guess. If I get a table of Canadians (read: black people),  will I get stiffed?  Probably.  Is there someone in the kitchen whose immigration papers aren’t quite legitimate? Most likely. Is the serving staff made up of 85% alcoholics?  Absolutely.  If you ignore me when I greet you, does it make me want to fucking punch you in the back of the neck.  You have no idea.

Here’s the biggest (but also least exciting) truth of them all:  Diet coke drinkers will drink a minimum of four before the meal is over.  Minimum.  I am convinced that there has to be some tobacco industry mentality with whatever is in it.  Some sort of addictive substances that make the D.C. drinkers down so much.  I had a roommate in college that would drink 7-8 a day.   Tell me that doesn’t defeat the purpose of a diet drink.

Anyway, onwards to the point.  I had a theory.  New Coke was originally made as a type of addictive soda so that people would drink more of it.  However it flopped horrendously.  (Thank you, every marketing class ever taught.)  So what coke in turn did was do a slight re-formula of New Coke and packaged it as Diet Coke.  In my 90 seconds of research that preceded writing all of this revealed that Diet Coke was actually introduced three years before New Coke.  But get this…bum bum bum…it was basically the same ingredients as Diet Coke just mixed up a little differently.   No wonder that shit sucked so bad.  How anyone can stand that fake sweetener taste is beyond me.

So I don’t know if there are any addictive ingredient shenanigans or if its just made to  make the drinker more thirsty.  But something is up with it.

And to all you Diet Coke drinkers out there.  You wouldn’t get up from your dinner at home to get a drink 4-5 times, so when you go out to a restaurant, order a water too.  I’d much rather bring you 2 drinks at the beginning of the meal instead of having to constantly monitor your drink situation.  Plus, you might not be so mother-fucking thirsty.

The Popcorn Pants Fairy Strikes Again

Went to see Avatar with a friend today. The plot was predictable but it was visually amazing. If you see it…see it on an IMAX screen. Afterwards 2 hrs and 45 mins later we went to the bathroom and as we’re walking out my friend says, “When I stepped up to the urinal and unzipped my pants…three pieces of popcorn fell out and hit the floor.” I have no idea how this is even possible but I’ve been laughing my ass off all day about it.

Sex Pack

Men’s Health was right!  Women love a tight 6-pack on dudes. Scientifically, a rippling stomach has the same effect on the female brain as Roofies and Robert Pattison’s constipated, brooding look-COMBINED, look it up, it’s on the internet now, that makes it true!  But let’s be honest, I don’t have the will power to work towards one by actually exercising. Nor do I have a convenient distaste for alcohol that makes a true washboard mid-section even fathomable. So why even care? I’ll just win chicks over with my tried and true 5 year strategy of starting off as friends. (The ‘friend-zone’ is like 2nd base to me) But a late-night, basic cable broadcast of 300 changed everything.

All the homo-erotic undertones aside, them guys got some great abs!!  How did they do it?  Some people may say it took a lot of working out, trainers, dieticians and time, but those people are all complete idiots. See, I work in TV, so I’m practically an expert on anything, and I’m pretty sure it was all CGI and expert airbrushing. So if those guys can fake it, I can fake it too!  Here’s where I’m really smart though, why spend the time airbrushing abs on every morning?  That’s just dumb.  There had to be a more permanent solution.  Enter my genius.  After nearly an hour of tedious focus and weird stares from my dog, I was done.  Staring back at me in the mirror was a Spartan warrior.  A beacon of masculinity shining for the whole world to see.  All it took was focus, patience, a stomach full of organically grown stomach fur and an old razor to scult it into the tightest abs you ever did see…and three band-aids. 

You may be thinking to yourself, I bet that looks incredibly awesome.  And you’re right! It does. Without so much as a single crunch I had done it. Look out ladies. Eat your heart out werewolf kid from Twilight who appears to be allergic to wearing shirts, ‘cause I’m gettin’ me some of your tween action! Here I come mall!

Yeah, of course it looked this good!

IMPORTANT UPDATE: Dateline, Day 2: I just broke out in a really bad razor rash.  It looks like my stomach just got a bad STD from a Vegas cocktail waitress and that my bodyhair just happens to grow in strange and unhealthy patterns. I DO NOT recommend this approach.  I can’t even lay on my belly, and I’m a stomach sleeper.  It’s awful.  And it’s like 12 degrees outside so who the Hell was gonna see it anyway.  What the fuck was I thinking? Damn Ambien! You got me again.

The Great Burger King Scam of 2009

So this time I got to experience the cheapness of my grandmother-in-law first hand.  I stop by her office where my wife helps out some.  When I was there, grandma asked me if I wanted to go to Burger King.  At the same time she begins to pull out a coupon for a free whopper.  I was in a hurry so I said maybe next time.  It was obvious I wasn’t getting out of there without taking the coupon.  So she wrote something down on it and gave it to me and says “Here’s for next time.”  Turns out it wasn’t exactly a coupon.  It was a receipt from Burger King. On the back is a number you call to take a survey…they give you a code that you write on the back and you take it in for free whopper. (They’re $3.09 on the menu).  And the women has a drawer full of these things.  But here’s the best part.  She has only taken the survey once and uses the same code over and over.  Not only that but when you actually go to Burger King (which I did BTW) they give you 2 receipts, one when you pay and one taped to the tray when they give you your food.  Each one has the same coupon on the back.  I’m convinced that this women is a money saving genius.

Oh…and I think she took a to-go box of food from our wedding.