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As reported by MTV and pretty much any media group hungry to fill web space, reggaeton d-bag Daddy Yankee has officially backed presidential hopeful Senator John McCain. DY chose McCain because ”he has been a fighter for the immigration issue.”
Too my surprise, the article also mentions DY is not a U.S. citizen, making him ineligible to vote this coming November. Why it shocks me, I don’t really know. it is what it is.
i was supposed to post this on May 6, but i didnt. long day at work, and the little free time i had i typed the following. a nonsensical rant, but what te hell.
This goes out to all the 9-to-5ers who decided to partake in the Mexican nationalist drinking debauchery also known as Cinco de Mayo. I can say without a shadow of a doubt I haven’t drank that much since college. I can also say I don’t miss it. Yes, there were tons of college age chicks that likely treat casual sex like an Olympic event, but if such an environment can exist in say a library or a Barnes and Noble instead of a bar I would trade it no doubt.
Only in college could you party on Monday and probably do it again the next night. I work everyday and sadly I can’t pick my schedule like I used to pick my classes (never a class before 1 p.m. ever since my second semester, thank you very much). Such is life when you have to pay bills. I’ve never been much of a daytime person. I’ve adjusted my body to be awake by six in the morning, but that doesn’t mean I like it.
I sit here in my desk pretending to do work and replenishing my body with V8 with a little hot sauce reflecting on the pointlessness of last night. At least Cinco de Mayo is honest. It’s not like St. Patrick’s Day where many go out of their way to play bagpipes and eat bad food and inject old school culture on top of their binge drinking. We live in a country where we treat Mexicans like second class citizens yet we celebrate Cinco de Mayo like we do any holiday: by drinking a lot. If I have to hear more typical “wetback” comments I think I’ll flip. For fucks sake my boss is a Puerto Rican chick and she makes comments like “they’re having me work like a Mexican,” referring to the hard work low wage situation of many Mexicans looking for labor in this country (she gets paid handsomely, I’ve seen her house). I’m not Mexican but when she said that I had anime fantasies of turning into a bionic giant and ripping her head off. If only I didn’t need my job that much…
Since that V8 my mild headache is all but gone and maybe for the best I didn’t eat any Tex-Mex food yesterday. Imagine how bad my stomach would have felt! I was almost convinced to go to an Irish (read: Caucasian) bar yesterday, but obviously didn’t.
I wish I had slim hipster jeans to go with my shirt it’s a bit oversized but that was kind of the point when I bought it. It has slightly wider neck (not unlike those super v neck shirts but not so dramatic either). Too bad I can’t get a descent pair of 36×30 jeans anywhere.
Anywhoo that’s all I got for now. Instead of vomiting or calling out of work this was my best therapy method. I love to write, I should do it more often.
some straight up bat-shit insane “news” has sprung in the last week regarding the Sox and Yanks. tonight the teams continue their rivalry in Fenway Park, the site of a vicious attack from a falcon on an suspecting school girl on a field trip who just happened to be named Alexa Rodriguez.
Now we get news regarding the new Yankee Stadium set to open next season. The New York Post reports a douchedbag Boston fan who is working in the construction of the stadium buried a Sox t-shirt under what will be the visitor’s locker room. He hopes to jinx the Yankees.
“In August, a Red Sox T-shirt was poured in a slab in the visitor’s clubhouse. It’s the curse of the Yankees,” one worker said. “Nobody knows about it. It’s in the floors, it’s buried.”
the season series kicks off tonight, but it seams Boston is already up 2-0 on the Yanks.
garfield minus garfield. click on it, you know you want to!
actually that’s not true, but this video and that fact that Jack White is singing in español has got to be the number 1 WTF moment of the early year.
there’s something miserably appropriate regarding today’s glum weather. it’s as if we used up all our happy points for the entire month of February just to see the Giants win the only game that matters.
i’d gladly trade an extra week just to have that same feeling I felt last night. it was palpable. all you ever ask for as a fan is that two-minute offense scenario where your team controls their own destiny - not missed or made field goals from the other team, not penalties, certainly not bad referreeing.
wait, did Eli really just escape that sack…hold up how did Tyree hold possession of that football…his helmet? WTF?
It sounds silly to say, especially rearding this is sports we’re talking about, but Eli had absolutely no intention of losing this game. They beat the best team in the NFL, no questions asked. we are now entitled to talk shit until next September, when they do this all over again. That’s why they play the game, that’s why we watch.
As for me, i’ll gladly bask in this peculiar afterglow for maybe a week. Maybe I’ll go to their ticker tape parade. after that, it’s time to retire the Giants cap, t-shirt, and whatever regalia I drape myself in every Sunday, sometimes Mondays, and every once in while on Thursdays and Saturdays. Baseball is coming up, and the Yankees have to take care of that other New England franchise. being a fan is having to put yourself through annual misery, just like today’s weather. At least the sun shines in the summer.
PS. Fuck Boston.
random notes:
-it’s a bootleg show with late 90s gameshow production ala Who wants to be a Millionaire (purple lighting, mysteriuos horns/synth, myriad moving spotlights). too many commercials stiple the action.
-the Hulkster bringing his unique style of douschyness as expected, and Layla Ali with absolutely no on-stage presence. maybe she should be a gladiator herself?
-powerball, i cant seem to recall the camera styles of the original program, but this just looked bad. not to mention one of the contestants injured herself right away, leaving the other girl to essentially play one-on-two basketball with the gladiators. the guys (or at least the red-uniformed one), however, was leaving the gladiators in the dust; just too much speed.
-Wolf proving to be the biggest jerk right off the bat with (you guessed it) his signature howl. at least he’s funny. Crush so far is my favorite female gladiator.
-ahh the classic Joust, but this time above a giant pool. they should probably make the water smelly to give the contestants extra incentive. or add some pirahnas. i dont like the pool idea at all. it reminds me of the show Dog Eat Dog that used the same tactic to very predictable and plain-old-bad results. the quick-editing camera cuts ruined this otherwise good matchup.
-so far not a good start. bring Larry Czonka back.
-Earthquake, new competition, wrestling on an elevated circle, and trying not to be thrown off, or throw out the gladiator. not bad really
-Hit and Run is just plain dumb. why incorporate Frogger to this kind of competition?
-Pyramid was cool. pretty much “king of the mountain” logic.
-it feels rigged. i cant explain it, but it just does.
-wow 2 hours of this shit? forget it. its a wrap for this show. the Elimanator was fun, though.
Joe “that’s disgusting” Buck is pretty much hated on mostly (c) Crime Mob, and there’s good reason for it. as the self annointed morality leader of sports broadcasters, he’s brought the profession to major lows that dont add up to his constant exposure. admittedly, i can tolerate small portions of his banter during baseball season, but all bets are off during tackle football.
deadspin linked a clip of the joe buck show (featuring one of my favorites, the actor Paul Rudd) that was undergoing production. as a betting man, i would say this hasnt a shot in hell of making the airwaves. but knowing how bad i am at gambling, this may see the light of day aftert all.
here’s the story.
Without Marina, can Bonde do Role continue under the same moniker? she is way too charismatic to even dare replace, so I would have to believe this musical venture is over for Gorky and Pedro; on to another project.
If you want my take on it, they are very young and sometimes there’s a lot of pressure and too much partying if you have the opportunity to criss-cross the world. it’s impossible to be 20 years old and act like a seasoned professional, especially when you’re in a groupo known for their on-stage antics. I think they’ll get back together. or maybe thats wishful thinking.
I posted a new video for their song “Marina Gasolina.” i like the video, and i love the song. Like most people with a keyboard/monitor/plenty of time, i’ll likely compile a list of my favorite songs and albums of the year. Just to break the suspense, “Marina Gasolina” will be the number 1 song. i think i’ve listened to it almost every weekend of the year. it is that great.
WARNING: THIS IS VIDEO IS NOT WORK-SAFE. it’s not offensive by any means, but you know better than to watch stuff at work that will offend someone, or even embarrass you.
i normally ride with whatever the Wachowski brothers/sisters do, but this just looks odd to me. maybe they will help develop some cool special effects, but this reeks of campyness, an not in a good way.
Here’s a pic of Trixie, played by Wednesday Adams
I loved the Idea of a Speed Racer movie, so we shall see how the final product turns out. there will probably be a backlash right around premiere time, i suspect. here are some more pics.
i have to admit, i like this pic. Emile Hirsch plays Speed Racer. you may recognize him from the movie “Alpha Dog” where he plays a yuppie douchebag drug dealer.
jesus.
surely if you follow the NFL and if you’re the type of fan that can’t follow any other sport during the offseason, then your familiar with junior Reids’ fiascos. On the same day last January, they were both busted on separate traffic violations. Andy Reid made it public he was taking a sabbatical to deal with this situation re: his family. Very commendable on his part. As a fan of the Giants, even I had to respect the way a rival coach attempted to deal with his personal trials.
But unfortunately, his sons are on some other shit.
That judge came down on them, and he criticized the Reid household, calling it a “drug emporium.” OUCH!
“There isn’t any structure there that this court can depend upon,” Montgomery County Judge Steven O’Neill said before sentencing Reid’s son Britt to up to 23 months in jail plus probation.
“I’m saying this is a family in crisis,” O’Neill said.
Earlier Thursday, O’Neill sentenced Garrett Reid, a drug addict and dealer who said he got a thrill out of selling drugs in “the ‘hood,” to up to 23 months in jail for smashing into another motorist’s car while high on heroin.
It gets worse. Especially for Garret.
His addiction persists, according to authorities, who found 89 prescription drug pills in Reid’s jail cell Thursday morning. They believe he smuggled them in his rectum when he was jailed earlier this week.
Selling drugs “in the hood” and smuggling product up his ass? The Reid brothers probably watch too much The Wire (but who can blame them, it’s the best show in TV history, right next to I love Lucy.) Those dubasses are like a dumberer version of Ziggy from season 2, but privilaged. SMH.
i dont know if that’s even the correct phrasing for what im trying to covey. maybe it’s a good thing the internet is around to make me realize how much of a dufus i am.
Sasha Frere Jones is a writer for the New Yorker who recentlly posted an article entitled “A Paler Shade of White,” where he argues (or comes to terms with, maybe?) indie rock’s lack of Jamaican and/or Black American influence, considering rock and roll’s roots in Black history. Pretty good article. In his blog, he also links Lester Bangs’ seminal confessional “The White Noise Supremacists,” an article that left such an impression on me during my more formative years; it’s still such a treat for me to read after all these years. Essentially, S/FJ harks back to the Bangs article and includes his unique, eloquent understanding of our scene.
Reading the comments of said article on okayplayer, and i come to find out S/FJ is a white guy. i wasnt convinced, thinking to myself this was just message board chatter. So i took my ass to google images to find out what the real is (i did the same with Julianne Shepherd about two years ago, since just by reading her stuff i had a crush on her and i had to know what she looked like). this is what i found:
this is a picture of him a couple of years back. he’s the one standing next to the RZA.
What!!!!! A White Guy!!!!! I read his writings every now and then, and never in my mind did I believe this guy was anything but a black man (his name, maybe? the nature of his writing?). initially, i thought he was a girl (Sasha, duh), but i kinda found out right away he was a dude.
sorry, S/FJ. I know your race should not be a big deal at all. your writing rocks, man!
i had a lot of fun at your wedding. it was lovely.
speaking of which, i wrote something really stupid in their card. i was really at a loss for creative words and i felt obligated to write something more than the standard congratulations.
enjoy the wedding. enjoy your company. Alex
i feel like a jackass. my only saving grace is my writing looks like chicken scratch.
i never sleep more than 3.5 hours in hotels.
I dont know why, the beds are generally comfortable (more comfortable than my bed, at least). they give you all the pillows your little heart may desire.
in my case, if i’m staying in a hotel, chances are good i’m drinking way too much and partaking in other substances maybe. so the chances of a good re-energizing sleep are good. even then it just won’t happen for me.
obviuosly this is not a totally random thought. i stayed at a holiday inn last night and this happened to me again. tis happens, everywhere: the florida keys, LA, vegas, insert random destination here. i hate myself for this.
i had round 3 with drinking Sparks last night. more and more I know this will be my drink for the rest of 2007, maybe even longer. the taste is not putrid to me, no chance, as long as i’m not drinking the super strong one.
I bought 3 tall boys last night and had a couple of vodka shots. watched the yanks lose miserably, thinking to my myself what is it about the postseason that makes Joe Torre a lazy thoughhtless lunatic? went home, watched some It’s always sunny in Philadelphia, brushed my teeth, an passed out.
This is where shit gets weird.
I had a dream that has me all sorts of messed up in the head.
It starts with me looking into my backyard from the kitchen, and I see a brown horse in my backyard! I pointed out the color of the horse so no one will think “white horse” ala Twin Peaks or the cocaine reference. He’s just there. Doing what horses do when they’re doing nothing when all of the sudden people have taken interest in the horse. Apparently some thought that maybe we could train him to be a racer or something. whatever. i cant tell who has taken this peculiar interest, my dad? family? strangers? too much to think about.
As this intererest increases, a pretty Latin girl is hired as the primary caretaker, and she is hired to teach the horse things outside of regular training. i dont really interact with her, though i am checking her out. She’s not exceptional, but i’ve definitely taken some interest in her.
The most interesting task the horse was taught was how to clean up after itself. By “clean up”, I mean picking up its own shit. this was a total trip. I’m observing this horse sitting on its ass, picking up logs of shit the shape of bowling balls with a supermarket brown paper bag, you know, the big ones you tend to usually ignore in favor of the plastic bags. The horse wraps the poop up with the bag, rolls it closed, and throws in some sort of special horse shit trash bin. Amazing!
This is where I’m concious of my dream state. I know what horse shit looks like, and I know it doesnt exit a horse’s ass looking like a bowling ball. So I feel like i’m in pseudo-control of my whereabouts, but apparently i’m not.
Tom Brady and Peyton Manning show up in my dream. They have also taken interest in the horse and have become financial investors in the success of our horse. Obviously, i’ve been watching too much TV. Manning is in every commercial imanigible on Sundays, and Brady’s attention is just overly queer. Last monday night during the Pats/Bengals game, Ron Jaworsky made a joke about his man-crush for Tom “i’m the new derek jeter” Brady. I felt kind of gay hearing these comments, and I felt super gay having both All Pro QBs in my dream.
For the sake of brevity (sp?), the horse ran away. I find my cousin Tony outside trying to look for him, and we found out our horse has gone the way of Barbaro. He got hit by a car while trying to cross the street. Poor horse. And then I had sex with the Latin chick. The End.
When I woke up last night I was wired; could not go back to sleep for the life of me, all sorts of thoughts circulating throughout my nervous system. I couldnt wrap myself around what I had just experienced; it was so intense I had to tell my brother Oswalsito about it. It didnt take much to figure this dream was about my dog Benny. I hate walking the dog, and I specially hate picking up its shit. But there’s gotta be more to it, and I’m just glad I remember everything so vividly.
I’ll never forget the image of that horse picking up its own shit.
Oh yeah, I’m convinced Sparks was the reason for this dream.
I wanted to drink Sparks. I was curious, never having drank it before. But gotdamn, I had like 4 of those bad boys last night (and a shot of vodka, inexplicably).
it’s now 6:20 in the morning and i’m towed up.
it won’t be a good day, i’m sure of that one thing.
i think i have been up since 5:30 because i dont know what to do with myself. i drank a few of those yesterday, watched a bit of “Akira,” went to my sister’s place to watch the Yankee victory (1.5 games behind now!). i know on my way home i bought some club soda, i’m looking at it right now, so that means i felt it’s totalitarian power last night, Sparks that is. went to bed relatively early.
i have to stop treating my body like a science experiment. i’ve come to the conclusion i’m indestructible like Bruce Willis in “unbreakable,” i might feel the pain, but i’ll never die or break a bone or something to the effect.
so espn is running some article in their homepage regarding overboard fan reaction to the early season. i didnt bother to read it for fear of being even more depressed by my NY Giants, and for lack of caring of articles that have more to do with opinion than sports fact/numbers.
The drawing above is attached to the headline.
now i know GB Packer fans should be excited for their 2-0 team, but the illustration the artist made for their region is too funny/odd to ignore.
I mean, i do figure the Lombardi-trophy-as-phallus idea is plausible in a psychoanalytic form, but the cheese-dick picture seems over the top. Somebody obviously loved the movie “Superbad.”
go to their home page if you wanna read. i’m not gonna link it.
