My main Knicks man, David Lee (no, he's not Asian you racist bastards) won MVP in the Rookies vs. Sophomores game by being perfek from the field. Without question, this guy is one of the most enjoyable players to see in real life. The man hustles and plays around the rim with fire. St. David's Fire, bitches. I posted this awhile ago, but just to rub it in some mo', here's me with Mr. Lee himslf:
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_uuN5kuq74] Watch with sound. Bitches.
The juvenile in me chortles at this new song I just got (which is actually a hot track) and the name of the song is "What are you doing after the orgy?" I usually get some White Castle afterwards.
I am Anna Nicole Smith's baby daddy.
I've been reading Gawker since its inception back in the day (the days of then scribe, Elizebeth Spiers) and I always enjoyed its no-holds-barred, gloves off gossiping and trash talking. Of course, Gawker blindly smacks around people who I have no connection with or know on any sort of a personal level, so it was bizarre to read them talk shit about someone who I am friends with. Basically, the NY Observer, which I read incidentally, had a profile on him and this story was like a big fat softball tossed in the air to Gawker.
Anyway, there's no such thing as bad publicity (Quick: Who first said this? Answer without running to Google) and so, for you kiddies obsessed with celebrities, fashion, stylists, and the New York social scene, keep your eyes out for Kristian Laliberte--your next uber stylist/publicist.
Just a mixmash of randomness...
Some flashing action. WOOHOO.
"Hark, I see a party, yonder!"
But first, a jump, natch.
I have to give C Low a 10 on this jump, if anything for effort because afterwards, he came a-crashing to the ground.
C is actually 10 feet tall, evidently.
C and Jamarah look incredibly bored (or hipper than thou arrogance?) at Marquee.
Ah yea, now it's a partyyyy.
Take 1: I didn't get the no-smile memo.
Take 2: Now we're on the same page. I'm going to steal this joke from Chris: Two Alaskans walked into a bar.
C attempting the sensitive, yet manly tears. Or he was constipated. Not sure which.
I'm going for the pound while H is going for the five.
H's mouth is radioactive.
As my friend Jenn would say, ROAR.
Haha.
I'm a modest guy...but I have to say, I think this just may be the hottest picture I've ever had of myself. I'm sorry, I just look GOOD:
Yea, you can't get that with plastic surgery. GENETICS baby, genetics.
And H is looking pretty good himself here.
This is brought to you by the color yellow.
Mmm, drinks.
P giving the ol' finger to Miami.
Haha.
OH SNAP, It's a TRAIN!
This is brought to you by the color green.
I just feel dirty looking at this photo.
The coolest girl I know in Miami (after Gloria Estefan).
H and S aka my fave getting their groove on.
Blurry photo.
Haha. I think this is my favorite photo of us dudes.
Haha, A in the back was outta control, but in a good way.
Hangover breakfast or er, lunch after being out until 7 am.
At dinner.
The good is a weekend in South Beach. The bad is going straight to the office after getting back and spending my Sunday evening at work. Thanks Wordpress for letting me get that off my (one-day beach tan) chest and now, back to work.
In 12 hours, I'll be going from this:
To this:
Okay, maybe not quite just like that, but this weekend I'll be in Miami, bitches!
The average temperature in NYC while I'm away will hover around the mid to low 30s degrees, while the weather I'm expecting in Miami is 78ish. Not amazing, but this Alaska boy is looking forward to that a lot more than freezing my ass off in the City.
After years of hard time partying, drinking, drug use, old man fucking (for "love") and Trim Spa-ing, Anna Nicole Smith died today. In other news: lots of stuff on the front page of the NY Times.
I predict that these three (Andre Leon Talley, Brit and Kimora Lee Simmons) will have a reunion in five years on a little show on VH1 known as Surreal Life.
Alaskan boy is not happy with this cold weather.
I'm not looking forward to seeing the "hey, I'm just like you guys" smug face of Peyton Manning on every fuckin' commercial.
John Legend's PDA is a hot song.
I found it ironic that the eye doctor said a couple of my tear ducts are blocked up and I could relieve them with a warm compress.
I've been dreaming more and more about work.
Plain cheese and cereal is an awesome dinner.
All that dairy isn't good for someone that is lactose intolerant.
C Low is still in the god damn shower. Hurry the fuck up.
I want to go snowboarding again and have a "phew, I'm still alive" brush with death.
When you don't have health insurance for a while, it feels really good to have it again.
There's a party for Google on Wednesday. I probably shouldn't go.
People need to stop leaving voicemails because I don't check 'em. Ever. I'm voicemail intolerant.
Instead of saying "I need a haircut" (which I do), I think I'm going to say "I need to get a wax."
I need to get a wax, do laundry, and pay bills before this Friday.
This about perfectly describes my current dating life. Went to a party a couple weeks ago, a girl chats me up and gives me her card. I finally get around to sending an e-mail to her. A few minutes later, I get the following response:
This is an automatically generated Delivery Status NotificationDelivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
xxxxxx@xxxxxx.com
Technical details of permanent failure: PERM_FAILURE: SMTP Error (state 9): 550 5.1.1 <xxxxxx@xxxxxx.com>: Recipient address rejected: User unknown in relay recipient table
Sing about that, John Mayer!
This is possibly either one of the greatest or one of the worst dunks in the history of all of basketball in the entire world. I'm not sure which. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l77zaxQbcFo&eurl=]
This might be just a shameless ploy for getting comments--that currency of blogs. Okay it is, but is she hot or not?
I was deleting an old Flickr account I had (before my "Flickr Pro" days, I had three different Flickr accounts just to handle my then substantial photo uploads...Yes, I am a dork) and came across a few old photos from there, which made me laugh. To long time readers and if I may be so bold as to say, fans of my blog, they might be familiar because I posted them a long time ago on my now defunct blog on Xanga. Anyway, please don't be overwhelmed or intimidated by the comedic sophistication of these photos. I can't help it if I find most humor and attempts at comedy nowadays entirely sophomoric or derivative.
1.
My roommate friend Chris and I argue about practically everything, but one thing that we immediately agreed upon without even a discussion really was that the Atlantic Pacific subway stop in Brooklyn is the best stop in all of New York City. Seriously. The N, R, D, 2, 3, 4, 5, LIRR all stop there AND it's right next to Target and a half-way decent mall. Anyway, like that subway stop, I think it's safe to say that what we have here is possibly the world's greatest school class photo ever. God, I love my people sometimes.
2.
This creature here is what scientists call a Scumbag Pervertis. It's a great mystery to the science community how this species did not disappear along with Neanderthals some 24,000 years ago. Perhaps my brilliant friend The Punk Rock Scientist (Seriously, Sam, I need a few of your brain cells) can illuminate this great mystery for us, however my own hypothesis is that they were able to survive by selling upbearfurskirt photos and pictures from Paris Hilton's hacked cell phone to the other upright Homos in exchange for meat, berries, fire and wheel. By the way, this guy's photo turned out amazinggggg.
3.
I just think this photo is hilarious because the two girls are wearing flannel shirts and they are ALL wearing cowboy hats. HAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHA.
Remember in Jerry McQuire McGwire McGayer Mcguire(Thanks Google) after his client Ron Tidwell has that huge performance on Monday Night Football (WOOOO! SHOW ME THE MONEEEEEAYYYYYYYYYYY) and an excited Jerry calls his 'wife' Dorthy Boyd and tells her about what a huge night he had, they had, their company had?
That non sequitur aside, last night my roommate Chris aka C-Low and I decided to upgrade our status from "roommate" to "friend." What does this mean for the future? It means that we no longer have to introduce each other to our friends like, "Hey, meet my roommate Chris," but now I can say "Meet my friend Chris." Although, if I'm mad at him because he didn't do the dishes, or because he let Luca shit in front of my door, I'm going to introduce him as my roommate.
I feel that my relationship with my third roommate Kristin aka D Train was upgraded a long time ago. I think she's my friend now and no longer justaroommateIfoundoffCraigslistIlikegatorade. But...this is New York and in New York, relationships are a particularly fickle creature (Totally channeling Sarah Jessica Horseface from Sex and the City right now...wow...I'm having an out of body experience right now...who is this person typing at my computer...), and unless both parties explicitly have an unequivocal discussion--with lawyers and court reporters present--about the status of their relationship (Roommate, Friends, Dating, Open Relationship, Relationship, Random Play, Swinger, Married, Divorced, or Networking Only) and come to an agreement, then their relationship status forever remains abstruse, ambiguous, and even chimerical. One party might think s/he is in a Relationship, while the other party might think s/he is in it for Networking Only. Ouch. So I think I need to have a sit down with D Train and find out where she and I stand. Just roommates (boo!) or friends (yay!)?
As for the apartment resident dog--spoiled brat extraordinaire aka the little guy--Luca and I like to tag team pillows (he takes the back and I take the front), which makes us practically BFF.
Update: So the prescient statement I made above over a year ago is that relationships are a fickle creature in New York. Having to step over an untrained and un-housebroken dog's piss and feces every morning, day, and evening; smelling cigarette smoke every morning, day, and evening; and trying to deal with unreasonable messiness and hoarding in the common spaces is a whole heap of straw that broke this camel's back. I just want her to give me back my security deposit now.
1. Luca sleeping on my lap...2. ...while I'm watching Future Weapons on Discovery Channel. 3. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. (Although kittens totally get my allergy going.) 4. My long green winter jacket. 5. Saturday mornings. 6. Tall model chicks in Russian fur hats.
Some of My Least Favorite Things Right Now...
1. Luca trying to get all up on my food while I'm eating. 2. Sundays at 11 pm. 3. Friend requests on MySpace from terrible, terrible bands. 4. Having a cold. 5. The Bush Administration (kinda goes without saying here on this ol' lib blog...but doesn't hurt to say it every once in awhile). 6. Not having Gatorade in the fridge.
The Times has an article about the rapidly diminishing popularity of the Motorola Razr family of phones. Along with the company's diminishing profits, Motorola's also rapidly lost the foothold it once held as the Prom Queen of cell phones. I remember when I first saw the Razr a couple years ago, I was blown away by it's thinness and sexiness. Now, it has the same "cool" cachet as a Ford Focus.
When the sleek Motorola Razr V3 cellphone first hit the stores just over two years ago, it carried the price tag of a must-have status symbol: $500.Now? About $30 with a two-year service contract.
Motorola’s fortunes have plunged along with the price of its Razr. Its profits have collapsed, and it announced plans last month to lay off 3,500 workers. Since last October, its stock has dropped 30 percent, attracting the attention of the billionaire investor Carl C. Icahn, who bought 40 million shares last week on a bet that he could push the company to do better.
At first glance, the company’s troubles are puzzling. Almost one billion mobile phones are sold worldwide each year, and Motorola has almost a quarter of the market. Consumers are also replacing their phones faster, on average less than every two years.
But the cellphone business is still relatively young, and Motorola is learning a cruel new lesson about consumer tastes in phones. An industry that has focused more on microchips, screen size and data speed is finding it has more in common with the fashion business.
I was reminded of this article and the fickle and mercurial nature of trendiness, when I was checking my email this morning and found a new email from my bank offering me a free Razr. Sad. Poor, poor Razr--From hero to zero in the proverbial blink of an eye.
Although what's even sadder is this one quote from the article from an "Albert Lin, an analyst at American Technology Research [who] paid $500 to obtain a Krzr a few days before the introduction, and carried it for all of one week before giving it to a friend."
“I was hoping to be treated like a movie star on the streets of New York, like I experienced with the Razr,” he said. When that didn’t happen, he switched to the ultra-thin Samsung model, which he said was having the desired effect. “When I take it out, everyone asks me, Is that even a real phone?”
Seriously? Treated like a movie star on the streets of New York because of a phone? Maybe in White Rock, South Dakota, population of 6. The only phone capable of bestowing such veneration on the user...would...be...the iPhone. Haha. I always enter such a warped distorted reality when it comes to Apple products.
Tangentially and slightly off-topic: this might merely be just a reflection of my old age, but I still think the Moto StarTac is one of the greatest phones ever. Can I get a holla on this from my friends reading this at the senior citizen's home?
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ekXxi9IKZSA] This trailer "outs" what we all suspected about that movie Top Gun, which masqueraded (sashayed?) around as some uber-masculine ode to normative concepts of manhood and notions of brotherness when it really was just one ol' big gay love story. A Brokeback Airforce, if you will.
This shouldn't be a big surprise--look at the title of the movie for god's sakes! TOP GUN, are you kidding me? They might as well have called it "Tom and Val's Romp Through the Sky: Gay Romp Through the Sky." Pornographers always end up making a spoof of all the major hit movies, such as:
However, when they got around to making their own special version of Top Gun, they didn't have to change the title at all. Although I suspect that Top Gun was actually referring to Val Kilmer's character because Tom Cruise is totally a bottom.
Okay, it's less of a show and actually a commercial for Volkswagen. So by posting it and replaying it here (yes, another YouTube vid--apparently that's the unifying theme today), I'm cognizant that I'm just shrilling for a large car company. However, that aside, I'm still awed by the creativity and the execution of this video that involves hand puppetry which is also rorschach-esque. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zIODJsnqXE]
The commercial isn't going to get people to buy the car (VW Phaeton) and so in that sense, it's a terrible commercial (if you look at Ad Age's rankings of most impressionable commercials, it's generally the incredibly crude ones that just pound the viewers with a simple message over and over again--Dial down the center, anyone?), but for artistic merit and originality, I'm sure this VW ad will pick up some industry awards.
