Slumdog / Cats

First, Slumdog Millionaire is a film that everyone should see.

Second, here is a video that might sum up why I like cats so much. AWWW MADDY

Funny Looking Kitten
Uploaded by funnytoo

Chief Kicking Stallion

This guy has the most unbelievable name in sports.

His full name is"Grlenntys Chief Kickingstallionsims, Jr."... quite a mouthful. On the Alabama State roster, he's listed simply as Chief Kickingstallionsims.

I'm speechless... I love this guy. And 7'1"? Maybe the Timberwolves will draft him.

Stories from my childhood, part three: Sophomore year football

This is from my sophomore year of high school in 2004.

I really liked football in junior high... maybe because I was decently good at it and got to play all the time. Being 5'10" helped, because it made me one of the taller kids out there and a good tight end and cornerback. I couldn't really tackle, but I was tall enough to catch the ball and get some interceptions. Coming into high school, however, everyone else started to catch up with me and 5'10" wasn't so special anymore.

I played JV my freshman year, like the rest of my friends. Sophomore year was when all of us suited up for varsity, but only a few got playing time. The rest of us enjoyed JV games as the "older kids." Playing against diminished competition is my favorite thing to do, because it makes me feel good. I had three interceptions that year in JV and a bunch of tackles, and I loved every minute of it. I have no guilt in feeling this way... the only bad thing about JV was our douchebag coach that I still hate to this day, he was the "obsessed-with-lifting" type of meathead that never liked my attitude from the start. Fuck him.

Even though I didn't really want to, all us sophomores had to suit up for varsity games. It really sucked in the playoffs, because by then it was November and it was starting to get really cold. While our friends were wrapped up in blankets and hot chocolates socializing with cute girls in the stands, my buddy Theis and I sat like retards down on the sidelines. We had those gay ass football pants that only went down to our knees, and we couldn't get a team jacket unless we finagled one from an older kid. The seniors used to grab them from us all the time, so we would either give them up like pussies or try to avoid everyone else and stay warm.

It was during playoffs that I really started to hate football. The coaches always used to yell at us to cheer, well what the fuck? Are we the cheerleaders? I didn't want to stand on that god damn sideline, and the last thing I felt like doing was cheering for some douchebags that I hated anyways. There were always the kids that would suck up to the coaches by cheering super loud, we used to roast them all the time because they got the same PT as everyone else that sucked: 0 unless we were up or down by more than 30 points.

Don't get me wrong, we didn't really deserve to go in... we simply weren't as good as the other kids. But the coaches made it seem like we weren't playing because we weren't lifting weights 24/7... WTF? Did they think the other kids were lifting? None of the skill position starters lifted a weight, ever. They went off straight talent, which was something I didn't have. I simply wasn't as good.

Anyways, we were in our second playoff game that year against Kingsland. We were winning by two scores, and once Kingsland got one in they were setting up for an onside kick. The head coach was looking around frantically trying to find some kids that weren't tired as fuck to go in.

He yelled in our direction, "Hey, I need five receivers who haven't played yet." I raised my hand along with a few others. He picked out four kids, then said, "I need one more." He started to point at me, and I perked my head up and said, "me?" He quickly shook his head and picked his fucking son that was a freshman at the time. Everyone on the god damn team got in the game except for me.

Everyone was cheering in the locker room after the game. I was the only one moping in the corner, and I think several people noticed. I didn't know whether to cry, explode, or stoneface... the bottom line is I felt like shit. I changed out of my gear ASAP, didn't go to the afterparty and drove straight to my only friend at that particular time: Taco Bell.

This was the song I picked to play on my ride over there, and I daydreamed violently about what I wanted to do to my meathead coaches.





You can imagine my frustration.

I ordered some tasty ass mexican food, and sat in my '95 Chevy Lumina pondering life. Did I want to continue wasting my time on a team that didn't need me? There was no need for me to suffer on the sideline if there was a 4% chance of myself getting in the game. Hell, I'd rather play Pep Band than keep this bullshit up. At least my man Mr. G appreciated me.

I decided to give it one more year, which was just as disasterous. I was technically the 2nd string strong safety, but after the starter got hurt I quickly realized how there were at least three people that would play before me. I finally called it quits after that year, and joined soccer my senior year and had the time of my life with a fun team.

I still have a deep passion for football, especially Cotter football and the Green Bay Packers. However, I really despise how I was treated by certain coaches, which is why I picked the story of the Kingsland playoff game for my latest "Tale from my childhood."

You thought the Kryptonite costume was cool...

For all you AKONPOO sports fans, here's a page with dunks about as good as the ones from their NBA counterparts: the D-LEAGUE dunk competition. Gotta love guys on teams in Idaho and Iowa coming together to throw down windmills for a 25% full gym.

Nothing like Valentine's Day to make you feel crappy.

I really have no romantic hope at this point, so instead of a blog post about love, how about Japanese foot acrobats from 1904? Yes!

Crazy Japanese Foot Acrobats from 1904 - watch more funny videos

The Lincoln Mazeppa '60

So today my assistant coach Dan and I ventured off to Mazeppa, MN for a 5th grade basketball tournament. Tagging along with us was Tyler, one of our players who needed a ride. This is the conversation that transpired when we got to the gym.

T: Why is it called Lincoln Middle School?
A: Because it's named after Abraham Lincoln.
T: Why did they do that?
A: Because Lincoln is the most famous person to ever come from Mazeppa. Also, when you get straight A's for your entire career at a school, they name it after you. Abe was very smart.
T: So he went here?
A: Correct. He went from here to Illinois to Washington D.C., and now he lives in a nursing home.
T: There's no way he's still alive, he was the 16th president.
A: Think about it... what president are we on now, 44? 44 minus 16 is 28, so do the math... and... it makes perfect sense.
T: How old is he?
A: 140. He's in a wheelchair and is very frail.
T: But didn't he die?
A: No. The nursing home is below the White House, in a cave. There is a secret password to get into the elevator so no more John Wilkes Booths can sneak through.
T: But can't they just shoot the guard?
A: No, because they are armed to the teeth. The guard is always the last president to have served, so George W. Bush just took up the post.
T: How do you know this?
A: Because I tried to get in a few years ago... Bill Clinton stopped me and asked me for the password. I couldn't come up with it, so he made me leave.
T: Wow...
A: I know, astonishing. Lincoln also invented the first car, which is why they named the car company Lincoln after him (much like the middle school).
T: When did that happen?
A: 1860. The model was called the Lincoln Mazeppa, named after his hometown of course. It was made out of all wood and had a coal stove in the back. A fire started in a test drive and killed Lincoln's best friend, so they made driving illegal until the 1900's.
T: Wow...
A: Do you have any other questions? I know everything.
T: Is George Washington still alive too?
A: Have you ever heard of AIDS?
T: Yeah...
A: He was the first celebrity to die from it. He lived in the nursing home for years until he died from AIDS in the 1980's.
T: But that was only like 25 years ago.
A: I know... weird, huh?

Once we got to Fazzoli's I couldn't keep it up any longer, and confessed.

Unbelievable Wu-Tang videos from 1993

All are from their first CD, Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers).

The Wu-Tang Clan is an unbelievable group of nine MCs from Staten Island, NY. They smoke blunts, watch kung-fu movies, and spit rhymes. Their first release is in my opinion, potentially the best rap album ever put together.

"Wu-Tang again?"
"AWW YEAH AGAIN AND AGAIN!!!!"

Beatbox + Harmonica

"How are you?"

I really don't like this question. Every time someone asks me how I am, I feel like it's superficial.

I think less than 5% of those asking this question genuinely care. I know whenever I ask it, I don't. It's usually to spark a conversation or to suck up to a professor.

Whenever anyone asks me, I just reply, "good." I don't return the favor, because I don't really care how they're doing. Is this selfish? Conceited? I'm not sure. I think that deep down, I'm just afraid of the day I ask someone how they are doing, and they reply, "terrible. I was diagnosed with HIV this morning, my parents' house blew up and my girlfriend turned out to be a guy."

Finally, someone rips into the "Snuggie" (I've been waiting)!!

The Snuggie is one of the worst infomercials ever. It attempts to make it look like a family of three that look like Jedi Knights-in-training won't be laughed off the bleachers. And can't you accomplish the same thing by flipping a bathrobe around?

Along those same lines, a friend of mine referred me to one of my favorite YouTube treats of the new year. Enjoy.

Stories from my childhood, PART 2: Bus battle

First of all, I'd just like to recognize the school bus as the single greatest educational tool in my life until high school. After learning meaningless tripe in the classroom, I would board P-11 at 3:30 P.M. sharp and embark on a 10-minute journey to my home. Anything could happen on the bus when the high schoolers were there: fights, yelling matches, drinking, joint smoking. I recall reading one kid's Marilyn Manson autobiography every day before school for about a month... and having enough new words to repeat to my friends for the rest of 6th grade.

This incident happened the next year, in 7th grade. It is important to note that every bus has a "Backseat Bully," or more commonly known as the oldest kid on the bus who sits in the back seat. We rotated several BBs throughout my bus career... they sported intelligent nicknames like "Beezer" and "Skittles." BBs usually all had a few things in common, like a tendency to throw things, the mouth of a dock worker and incredible underlying sociological issues. The BB during 7th grade was a sophomore simply known as "Dustin."

Dustin was a fat fuck. He sported a bowl cut, the trademark style for boys in the 90s. Dustin apparently still found it stylish, despite most other males moving onto the more popular spiked hair of the early 00s. He also had a stupid-looking yellow Columbia jacket that I hated. Who wears a yellow jacket? Answer: the chubby douchebag taking the whole back seat to himself.

For the most part, I kept to myself during bus rides. By junior high I had started taking along my Sony G-Protection CD player and listening to it with my sweet silver wrap-around headphones. For some reason, however, this particular day I noticed Dustin having an altercation with a nice neighborhood girl named Julie. Julie was cool, she always babysat the younger kids in the valley and is now a hairdresser at Cost Cutters. Dustin found it necessary to call her all sorts of dirty names that day, and J wasn't feeling it.

When Julie got off the bus, she kicked Dustin and called him an asshole. It was my stop as well, and in an incredibly bold fashion (I still wonder why I did this) I also kicked Dustin in the shin. He looked up at me, barely showing his beady little eyes from underneath his neatly-trimmed bowl cut. I then took things to the next level:

I kicked him again.

Dustin immediately pushed me into a nearby seat and beat the shit out of me... we're talking four or five direct punches to the face. After being assaulted I quickly gathered my things and shuffled off the bus. The driver (a very nice Eastern-European immigrant) asked me if I was okay; I think I muttered something incohesive and ran into the house.

The first thing I did was what I always did when I didn't know what to do: I called my Dad. He told me to ice the spot where I was punched and that he was coming home in a few hours. A pretty solid black eye was beginning to form, and I was trying to think of lies I could tell my friends at school to avoid embarassment. Then it hit me: I WAS IN A FIGHT! What was more masculine, more impressive in junior high than to be involved in a fight? Besides seeing a girl naked, nothing really.

The next day at school, I recall standing in front of my locker explaining to several girls that I had been in a fight the day before. They didn't take it as well as I hoped, but it still gained style points. Dustin never rode the bus past that year; I heard a rumor that his parents were in and out of jail for drug-related crimes (when you think about it, that explained the haircut). The next year saw a new Backseat Bully, and the legend of fat ass Dustin faded into just another BB in my long career of bus-riding.

Funny pics, new story soon

I have plans in the next few days to release a new story about my fight on the school bus. I've been enjoying an influx in hits lately, so I should probably be posting more.

To tide you over, here's some funny ass pics I've collected in the last few months.

Stories from my childhood, PART ONE

I heard from a friend that I should write more stories on this blog. I agreed, and decided to start a series of periodically-posted stories entitled, "Stories from my childhood."

The first story is from 1st grade, a full 14 years ago.

Back in 1995, I went to a Catholic elementary school called St. Mary's (coincidentally, I still go to a Saint Mary's). I was a meek and mild kid, very non-aggressive and really rather nice. There was another kid in my classroom named Lee. Lee turned out to be a cool guy, but back in the day his name was "Airplane Lee." We labeled him as such due to his tendencies to run around everywhere with his arms outstretched, making airplane noises. The kid was out of control.

We were taking a mass bathroom break, and Mr. Airplane sets up shop in the urinal right next to me (this was before homophobia rules demanded at least a one-urinal separation between men). I was enjoying a standard urination when someone behind us yells, "Hey Lee!" Lee turned around and continued his stream, putting a streak of piss across my Wranglers.

I was in a state of shock. It took a while to register that another human being had pissed on me. I still remember word-for-word what my response was to Airplane Lee:

"You know what, Lee? You're a JERK. I don't like to use that word, but sometimes I have to on people like you."

I really can't explain why I chose those exact words; all I know is that I made him feel like shit. As I marching out of the bathroom in a stink, Ms. Feine inquired as to why there was pee all over my pants. I tried to explain the situation, but it was clear that she didn't believe me. After this whole scene, I was forced to let the urine dry on my jeans and smell terrible the rest of the day.

Like I said earlier, Lee turned out to be a cool guy. I even played in a band with him during junior year. However, he still to this day holds the unique distinction of being the only person to ever urinate on me. Congratulations, Airplane Lee.

Breaking news: America's hero smokes weed.

Michael Phelps, the absolute mascot of America this summer, was caught chiefing out of a "water bubbler" a.k.a. BONG several days ago.

Looking at the photo at right, you can see Phelps clearly enjoying the herb... for medicinal purposes, I'm sure.

I'm sorry, but I get way too much of a kick out of this.