Let's just say I don't like, THEM. My bf on the other hand, believes whole-heartedly that he was born and raised in Irvine, Texas (when he really hails from El Portal Miami)...so needless to say, he's going for them.
This should be an interesting game given that Terrell Owens will be facing his former team. And most importantly, we'll be seeing first-hand how long the tandem reality-tv "stars"fame-whores receivers T.O. & Ochocinco will be able to co-exist in kumbya harmony. How long will it be before one starts crabbing about how the other is getting more touches, or swagger-jacking all the TD dances, or has more groupie hoes on stake out near the locker room?
Well, nonetheless...at long last it's here. Baseball fans, you can't possibly understand. Basketball fans, it doesn't compare. Those six months are loooooooong, and unbearable. But Persephone has gone back to the underworld, and while her mama Demeter is boo-hooing, Hades and the rest of us are rejoicing!!
Fall is (practically) here, and football season is back!! <3
This was the unofficial anthem of North Miami, c/0 2000...and I just dated myself...lol. *sigh*
I remember right before (or was it after...god I'm getting old) they announced that we were to graduate/had graduated, the student body all 600+ of us started chanting, "We Ready!" But in actually, as we chanted this aloud some many years ago, how many of us really were 'ready'?
This past weekend, North Miami c/o 2000 celebrated our 10 year reunion since we embarked upon the world, free from the rigors of mandated schooling. What would we do with ourselves? What would we make of our lives? Would we really and truly be ready to face each other in a decade to find out? My former classmates and I did just that, convening to swap stories, compare notes, see who looked great, who did not, and gossip about who's done what, who hasn't done shit, and all the rest of it in between.
Honestly, I didn't know if I was really ready myself. I was a little nervousapprehensivescared indifferent being that the few of the friends I've kept in touch with weren't going to be there. And since I wasn't exactly Ferris Beuller, I wondered who would I be excited to see, or who would even be excited to see me.
I mean really, who would be excited to see me if all you remembered about me were these eyebrows:
Lawd, Heavenly Jesus, grab a tweezer and hear my prayer!! For this child knows not what she does! :(
And I really didn't. Poor me, circa 2000. SMH. Not. a. frickin. clue.
Oh, the wisdom of retrospect. So ten years later, I knew I GOTS to do better. And I did. I went got those eyebrows waxed, found a baaaad dress, with cute shoes, and had my face beat, HON-NEY!
Not too shabby, eh?? I knew that when I walked up in there, I'd rather it be "Damn what happened to her. :)" not, "Damn, what happend to her. :( "
Well, for that matter, I knew I'd gained small ground in popularity, only in that they had superlative nominations of which I was nominated for not one, but TWO categories. One being "High School Chemistry" which I shared with my boo, (i.e.: the cutest couple award--and we're pretty frickin' cute if you as me *wink*), and the other being "Facebook Fiend," self explanatory, oh the shame. With that being said, I lost both times. The first category, the chance of winning was...zilch. Nominated along with us, (or the category we were thrown into so that they'd have someone to run against), were Yrvens & Rita, who won cutest couple...in high school. Yeah, they were still as popular then as they are now, and well, if you've been together that long, they should've won. And the fb fiend...I accept that defeat with pride, though the monetary award would have been nice.
Anyhoo, the biggest surprise of the night was that there were no surprises. After watching such movies as "Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion", and "Zack & Miri Make a Porno" I guess I had some ill-conceived idea of what was supposed to transpire: hot shot jock/head cheerleader marry & look like trash, geek turns into Brad Pitt with Bill Gates money, class clown still clowns, wallflower turns into a knockout beauty, etc. But there was none of the sort really.
It was held at the Signature Grand in Davie, a nice, swanky-ish location, everything looked nice, and those that attended did not disappoint. I found myself being much more outgoing than I ever was in high school, using those latent social-butterfly skills that hadn't matured until just a few years ago. It was good to see that everyone looked great (or at least made the effort), and seemed to have something going for themselves (though, no one really asked much more than a generic, "How're you doing?"). Besides in this facebook age, it doesn't take much digging to find out what's REALLY going on with most of us anyway. Frankly, the "how're you doing" question is redundant as, most of us already know the answer: This one had a baby. This one's getting married. The other one is standing in line at Walmart frustrated because the lady in front is using pennies to pay. Mood: heated.
No secrets. No mystery. But still worth attending, and enjoying. I would've stayed longer at the after party if I didn't have to go home to finish writing a paper. (Ugh, a procrastinators work is never started done. :-/ ) But overall not bad, no regrets....except maybe it's not seeing my high school crush (boyfriend be damned!! lol...j/k love!) Chris Mercado. Oh, so adorable & dreamy.
So the other day, I'm tired of basketball news so I mosey on over to my favorite blog about the University of Miami to get the low down on some football news. I miss football. :( And low and behold: more basketball. Nonetheless, I peruse through the posts, and there's one about how by Lebron coming to Miami, and Seantrel Henderson choosing to spurn the (<--small caps) Ohio State Buckeyes for the Canes, it kinda somewhat avenges "the theft in the desert" referring to the pass interference bullshit call that robbed Miami of it's 6th overall and 1st back to back National Title Championship. Then in the comments section I begin reading through the back and forth from the Miami fans, and the few Ohio St. trolls, and came across this gem from an anonymous poster:
What are you going to do in Cleveland? Whack off over Ohio State's 2002 stolen title, cry over the Indians' lost World Series title in 1997, drown your sorrows over "The Drive", listen to that first Bone Thugs & Harmony CD or avoid getting shot?
Bone Thugs & Harmony??!!?? ROTFLMAO!! I compeletely forgot that those cats were from Cleveland, and thought that that retort was the funniest shit since...I don't even know.
Anyhoo, I got to thinking about how much I really liked BTNH, and I used to JAM that first tape, Creepin' on ah Come Up. Yeah, I said it: TAPE. For the young'uns, it looks a little something like this:
Whatchuknowboutit??? Nathan!
So I gets to youtubing, and immediately look up Thuggish Ruggish Bone, their first LP that I used to bump so hard, and naturally I start singing/rapping along. And then I wonder, "Hey what the hell happened to Natasha?" Natasha, could've been fiyah! Another Mary J.? Maybe?? Maybe not.
What's that? You mean to tell me you don't know who Natasha is?? Come'on man, Natasha. Oh my bad, I wikipediaed it and apparently her name is Shatasha. Does that help? You know her. She was last seen sporting a mushroom bob with fan bangs, bamboo earrings, red lipstick & black BTNH T-shirt, and let's not forget her square hater-blockers, all while swaying gangsta-like to the beat and singing trills. Wait, you, mean to tell me you still don't know who Shatasha is??
Well, then lemme sing it for you:
"You got Laaaaaaaaaay-zie, and Kraaaaaaaaa-aayzie . Biiiiiiiiiizzy's in the hoooouse. Wiiiiiish is in the hoooo-ooouse! And Flesh. And (pause) Shatashaaaa-aaah. Cleveland's definitatelaaaaaaa-aay, in the house."
Ahem, that Shatasha...lol! Where the hell is she now? VH1, I think you should do an investigation.
There goes the perfect title for a book. However, I hardly have much to write on the subject.
...or maybe I do. I never know when I start a blog/story/poem/etc. how long it'll run. I always hope that it'll be short & sweet, but I'm verbose, I talk a lot...sue me! Anyhoo, this is a tale of my addiction, and my ability to quit while I was ahead.
Well, Quibids entered my world inauspicious enough. One night while my mother was watching the news at a level only reserved for people at a Black Sabbath concert, being held on an airport runway as 1,000 fighter jets fly-overhead, with fireworks cackling in the background. While I took a moment to wipe the blood from my bleeding ears, I picked up the sound of a segment of a story about buying iPads for mere pennies. Pennies?!? I quickly thought, "bullshit," and forgot it from my short term memory. But oh, how you never know how somethings never really go in one ear and out the other. Sometimes, random things get lodged amongst the cobwebs and ear wax en route to the other side and decide to stay there deep in the crevices of your brain until...
You're cruising in your car, and out of the radio comes a song. The melody is vague, and you're not sure you've heard it before, but as soon as the singer starts singing, you realize you know all the lyrics, yet...you still don't know what song it is. So you wonder, "How the hell do I know this song? "
Or you're watching Jeopardy or some other trivia show, and they say, "a kind of cheese made from ewe's milk." And you say out loud, "What is pecorino?" And then you're like, "What the fuck is a pecorino? Have I ever eaten pecorino? Where would I get pecorino? Why would I know that answer? Where did I get that from?" But you knew it. You learned it somehow. Well, when I chanced upon the Quibids again. I knew it wasn't the first time I had heard about it, but thanks to the memory of my mother's loud tv, I remembered where I knew it from.
So a few days later, I was reading some random article, and again I saw a link on the side of the screen regarding a person who won an iPad for a few bucks, and I'm like "how the hell?" So instead of clicking on the link (not trying to get any viruses), I googled this "quibids" thing, and went to the website.
I sat there looking at my screen for a good 15 minutes trying to figure out what the hell the "blips" were, and the clocks, and why the hell everything kept moving around. This surely wasn't ebay. But since I'm not a dumb girl, I was able to get the gist of this thing. I figured out that you have to purchase "bids" to bid on the items you want to win, however, just because you're the clock is winding down, doesn't guarantee that you'll be the last bidder, and the eventual winner, unlike ebay. Here, if you're the last bidder, but someone manages to get their bid in at the very last second, it resets the clock 15 seconds, so you get to bid again (hence the blips were the changing of hands, if you will, from one bidder to the next). Here is where they get you. But I wasn't about to get got, so just kept watching...on the first day.
The second day, watched some more before I dedcided to throw my hat into the ring to start bidding. I erroneously assumed that you'd only have to pay for the amount of bids you'd want to use which ran about 60 cents per bid, so I figured I'd buy about 5 bucks worth, and play with that. Ehhhhnt...wrong! You have to buy bid "packages," which weren't cheap. :( But since I have a sucker's spirit, much like that deaf mama of mine (love her, really I do) I "invested" in the cheapest package. I dropped $27 on it, and was rewarded with a whopping 45 bids. I knew from watching that 45 bids could go pretty quickly so I decided that instead of trying to win an "item" off the bat, I would try to win some more bids which come in packages of 15, 25, 50, 100, 150, and 250.
The first one I won was a package of 25 bids. Yesssss! I could feel the adrenaline. I won them for a mere sum of one dollar, but ended up shelling out another $2 for a "processing fee." Dammit! But that brought my bid tally to 68, since I shelled out 2 of my original bids to win the 25. I knew I wanted more, I could feel the pangs of success roll through me, and i wanted more bids...so I set out stalking an even bigger prize: 100 bids!! I placed four bids to get them, but eventually I won. I paid $1.21 for these, but the damn $2 processing fee, but I felt vidicated, armed with enough bids to warrant a real purchase. But what would I get?
I saw myself lusting after electronics that I previously had no real or immediate desire to own: iPads, camcorders, flat screen tvs, external hardrives, margarita mixers! Literally, like a kid in a candy store, or a woman in a shoe store, or a man in an electronic store, that serious!!
So I set after a small-ish prize, a waterpik. You know, something only a geek like me would really want. It's not like I needed a waterpik, I've done just fine with floss alone, and my teeth are still pretty pearly see:
Nonetheless, that day I VOWED, I was getting this waterpik because, well, I wanted it. It only took me four bids, and that thing was MINE!!! (Oh, and check out the price I won it for...$0.38!) Whoo-hoo! See that, kimmysan...well that be me! :)
And with that, everyday I'd go back trying to win something. However, the problem was that I'm kind of a frugal bidder. If I don't win in 2 or 3 tries, I give up. I once went to Vegas, spent lost 15 bucks and didn't gamble again because I kept losing.
Here on quibids I was winning!! I didn't win anything the next day, though I did try hard for this 19" flat screen (I wasted 12 bids on it!), but the following day I won...
...and I ain't even got a Wii. I'm a hot mess, yes I know, but how could I pass that up...for $0.34, did you see that?? Yeah, suckaaaaah! I wasted a few more bids here and there, and didn't know what I wanted next, but then I realized all the "here and there's" left me with only about 40 bids left. So I was going to save it to reel in a BIG prize, like an iPad, a laptop or a camera, which can take forever to win, so I had to be careful not to bid too early. BUT, I forgot that I promised the boyfriend that I'd win him an iron, and I thought, well okay, "How hard can it be to win an iron, if I'd already won a Wii??"
Well, let's say, that was my last forray into the bidding wars. :( His iron took me 28 bids to win! And the iron cost me more than my Wii & Waterpik...combined, yet was worth less. Dammit...that's what happens when you love people. Gosh!! So with the baby amount of bids left to my name, I tried to win more bids to avoid paying again for a decent stash, but I soon lost those too. So with a sad face, and dejected heart I decided to hang up my hat.
I quit cold turkey, not even going to the site watch the winnings. It made me envious. I wanted more bids, and I knew had the itch of a junkie. I knew I could win so much more, and the click of the mouse was so tempting, taunting. But I see how people could throw away their money with no problem, but I knew I had to stop. And so just like that I quit the quibids. It's sad really. I miss it. I would go back, but only if someone would gimme $27 more dollars for another start up.
The morning after "The Decision," for breakfast I had a lot to soak in, and eat up. Care to hear the menu? Well, I started off stuffing my foot in my mouth, then once I was able to dislodge that, I had eaten my words, some crow, and topped it all of with a big slice of humble pie. Tasty, huh?
Honesty, it felt like I was dreaming because did that fool, Lebron, REALLY (really, really) say that he was coming to Miami...err correction...South Beach? To the Tray-O-Five? To...to...the Heat?? The Heat?? My Miami Heat?? I really had to take a moment to let it sink in, hence the reason I'm writing this post some 6 days later. And speaking of six....
...Pat Riley is really a Svengali if I ever seen one. That's pimp there...THAT. PIMP. THERE!! How in the HAIL did he pull that off?? Dan LeBatard, cackles the same thing, and well...I have to agree.
Yeah, still pretty much in disbelief, fostered by a bit of giddiness at the prospect of this potential MONSTROSITY of talent that is on our team. As you may recall, is a complete 180 from my last post where I REALLY (really, really) didn't want Lebron coming here. However, now that he's here, as I predicted, I find myself defending the guy, while everyone else hopped on the bandwagon that I just stepped off (nobody saw this before??). Nonetheless, here are my thoughts on the si'chi-ashun...
1) Whoooooo-Fucking-Hooooo!!! Yeeeeeeeeeah-Baby!! Alright now!! (ahem) just had to get that out of the way.
2) LeBron, you wrong. You know that, right? Hell everyone's telling you, "You wrong." I know had Dwyane did that shit to the Heat, I'd be, needless to say, HEATED! So Cavs fans I feel you. You're upset, as you should be. And for that to happen on national TV. It's worse than getting "Fi-yad" by Donald Trump on national TV, except keep the TV crew, replace Donald Trump with your real boss, and that fake Apprentice job with your real job, and then have your significant other simultaneously text you pictures of themselves piping down their new shone saying, "it's over," followed by a letter from your vet saying your dog has canine cancer. Sad :( I'm sure it felt like that, but worse. Just ask this guy.
3) There's a whole lotta sour grapes being bottled and sold as Hatorade these days, and people are drinking it up. It's funny how, if these three had assembled themselves on another squad, they'd have been hailed as the best thing since the Comfort Wipe. New York, Cleveland, Chicago, hell even L.A. would talk about how great they were if they managed to land this Big 3, more shit talking would ensue, and there would be few whispers, if any, about ego or chemistry problems. But since they didn't land on any of those teams, everyone, even fans of other teams have all of a sudden become "purists" who don't like to see the co-mingling of Franchise players on the same team. "Thug it out on your own team!" They cry. "You're buying a championship," they sob. "It's not fair," they whine. Someone should have told that to Boston a few years ago, huh? Yet, it seems no one had a problem with that, right??
Boston wasn't buying championships back then, or were they? Franchise players *cough-KG-cough* didn't stick with their teams like Jordan stuck with the Bulls, did they? It was a smart move all around, wasn't it (especially when there were championships to be won)? The difference here is that the T-Wolves, Celtics & Sonics were all lowly teams with nice (older) pieces, and the Celtics chanced out in that lucky lottery to win their Big 3. In this case, you have Cav coming off the league's best record, the Heat fearing pretty well, and the Raptors one game shy of a .500 record--not exactly NBA bottom feeders--with extraordinary pieces, guys in their prime. So when the Heat wins this lotto, everyone feels like the dealer allowed the Heat to get all the wild cards in a game of Uno, and everyone else is stuck with just a bunch of green cards, so now they want to yell, "Cheat!"
However, there was no cheating. Each man was a free-agent, and even though Riley may have been the master shuffler for this deck of cards, he couldn't force any of them, DWade included, to sign with the Heat unless he was holding a gun to their heads. (And as far as I know, no criminal charges have been brought forth.)
4) Ego. Well, I knew it though everyone else seemed to ignore it. Fact: Lebron James has an ego. Yet, NOW everyone wants to point that out, but no one noticed it when went around calling himself The King, The Chosen 1, or referring to himself in the third person. No one noticed when he punked that ball boy from Chicago. And few took offense when he stormed off the court and refused to congratulate the Magic after they got beat en route to the Finals last year. Then lest we forget his quitting in Game 5 vs. Boston; didn't bother Dan Gilbert, until last Thursday.
So now, the aforementioned team owner is predicting that LBJ's ego will follow him to Miami, and bring a plague upon our house...or Wade's house. Sure, that could be a problem, but that's where the ego stops. Wade and Ego don't exactly belong in the same sentence. Allow me a moment to tell you a little story:
Once upon a time, a little guard that could named, Dwyane actually shared his team with one of the game's biggest prima donnas: The Big Diesel a.k.a The Big Aristotle c.b.c The Big Baryshnikov b.k.a. The Shaqtus. Those two virtual strangers co-existed just fine, hand in hand, with the elder statesman oftentimes deferring to the younger, while still being able to teach him a thing or two. The twosome went on to win an NBA championship, with the younger grasshopper winning Finals MVP, essentially dethroning his elder from a spot that he knew all too well. They laughed, they cried, and they lived happily ever after, at least until the ego of the elder showed his face again and milked his "injury" to force a trade, but the two remain friends until this day. The end.
But Dwyane...no ego. Chris, ditto. (As far as I know) They're already friends who have played before on this little, itty-bitty competition called the Olympics, and even managed to win a Cracker Jack prized called a gold medal. This shouldn't be a problem, as it wasn't a problem with the other Big Three. Again, all this huffing and puffing, and evil wishing...it boils down to...dun-dun-dun: hate.
5) Lastly--(because this blog is getting all extra long, and I know very few of y'all actually read my mess)--everybody's scared, even Laker fans who bark extra loud. Don't believe me? Check out how they felt when Derek Fisher threatened to abandon them to come to the Heat. Yeah, their voice quivered, their lips shivered, and they were scuuuuuuuured. Everybody else though, knows that as soon as this team gels, which hopefully won't take long, the Heat will be ON, and will be perennial contenders...every year...for the next few years. Believe that, and doubt it if you want to. If y'all wanna quit watching b-ball, I'd like to see y'all try. Few people quit when Jordan was housing teams, back to back to back. I too writhed in agony seeing my Heat fall to them (or the Knicks...ugh!) But I still watched and wallowed, and can say I was privy to watch that egomaniac Jordan display some of he best balling ever. Yeah, I hated that guy too (more than LeBron), but I can't hate on the fact that he was great. And so, y'all can't either or deny that the Combo 6-3-1 will be (are) great. You'll watch, I'll watch. Some will enjoy, and I'm sure many more will hate the Heat for years to come, and rejoice their failures (much like I do the Lakers), but I'm ready for the ride.
Okay, truth be told I feel like an idiot on the edge of the beach telling the tide not to roll in. But guess what....that tide is a-coming. And it may be good for the beach, or it may be bad for the beach, but who's to say until that tide arrives just what kind of power, or damage it may do.
And what is this tide of which I speak, you ask? The tide...or tidal wave of arrogance heading to South Beach, according to every news report under the sun:
HIM!
At this point it seems inevitable, but "they" (the "they" that I wish would shut the hell up) say that His Queenliness will dawn upon us, and so too will come forth a great dynasty. Now, I'm all for dynasties, and trust me I can turn into a rabid annoying fan (a la Lakers-fans, Celtics-fans, Yankee-fans, 'Canes-fans). In fact, I'm a member of that last group--and, you don't want to see me come August, if you haven't seen my madness already--however, I didn't want to share that dynasty with LeBron.
Yeah, yeah, he's kinda likeable in interviews, and he's a great player, but honestly he reminds me of how I felt when The Big Daddy was coming: hate to love him, love to hate him. And though I vowed I never like him, I too fell under the bewitching charisma of His Shaqness. I fear the same may happen with James.
I just really hated the fact that for as much hype as he got, my boy Wade could never get the same respect, even when he constantly proved to be as good or better than LeBron. Dwyane wins a championship in his 3rd year (damn near got us there his sophomore year), and people say he's just "a'ight." James, wins nothing, but he's still "The King." Wade is clutch. Bron-Bron, just says buh-bye, when he's needed most. After injury and surgery, Flash had to prove himself to everyone again, by been the best sixth man in the Redeem Team's Olympic efforts, by scoring off the bench, and effectively helping them win gold. LeBron can tank his MVP run to the championships3 times in seven years and all is forgiven, right??
Look, in my little NBA mini-world view, Dwyane is my Larry Bird to James' Magic Johnson. They're supposed to be friendly rivals. I'm supposed to root against him. Hope he fails, and that my team triumphs. I had hoped that Wade & Bosh would form their own little Jordan/Pippen with a decent company surrounding them, and house shit from here on out. But it seems like they had their own agenda, and love for trios instead of duos, and 3 Muskateers (or Basketeers?) it seems they will be.
*sigh*
But who knows? I mean, inevitably it'll be all over once this circus comes to town 9:00 EST, and like clowns, most of us will be there to watch The Ringmaster, turn himself into a hero or he'll be made into a heel. My heart hopes he stays in Cleveland, but my gut's telling me...he may be already here.
Wade is Back!! And he's bringing Bosh with him. So that means our pieces are falling into place, and all should be well in Wade-County.
I knew he couldn't leave us, but he did give me a scare there. I really was thinking that, "I know this Judas can't leave us to go to Chicago after all that crap he spouted about loyalty!" Yes, I called Wade a Judas. (Sorry boo!) But really, I just couldn't fathom Dwyane leaving the Heat, and wearing another jersey...a Knicks jersey or a Bulls jersey, ugh!! :( But I figured, he's also a grown man, and I'm sure there's a chunk of his heart that's still a Chicago fan having grown up there and all. (And I can understand that, because as much as I complain about wanting to move away from Miami, you're not gonna stop me from being a 'Canes fan, Heat fan or Dol-fan!) So if he left, I'd hate it, but I'd reluctantly understand it. However, I'll tell you this, it would've been a loooooooooooooong and cold winter, this NBA season, and I would NOT have been able to, ♫ Feel the Heat down in my soul. ♫
But nonetheless, he's OUR guy and he's STAYING, and the sun will be shining and hot like always in Miami!!
*pause for my happy dance*
He is the Heat, as much as Zo, as much as Timmy Hardaway, as much as Riley (even though he also used to be their guy, and their guy...ugh!) And now he'll get some help from Bosh, who scores, and provides nice defense.
The trioika that everyone is waiting on, will still have to pause until Queen Lebron decides to make up his fickle mind. However, I'm not holding my breath. Tomorrow, he will hold an official royal court over at ESPN - primetime no less, and all the jesters will be out in droves to turn cartwheels, and dance a jig, when he proclaims that he's.........................staying in Cleveland.
**cue crickets**
Afterall, he should. He's their guy. He owes them, if only for this display of desperation. So if he left, he'd be a douche. All the drama will be for nothing, but I'm not complaining. I got who I wanted, Wade and Bosh, and everything is as it should be. We have our King & Queen (no offense gentlemen) on our chessboard, now Riley will make moves to acquire our rooks, knights, bishops and pawns, and checkmate suckas!!!
Why, in hell of course!! More specifically Miami, and ironically on team appropriately named, the HEAT. (excuse me while I evilly laugh....muwahhh-haaaa-haaaa-haaaa!!)
I kid, I kid. Nothing's a done deal, and everything seems to be amounting to hearsay begot by one Stephen A. Smith, but the word on the skreetz, and in the blogosphere is that there is a Cerberus heading here to SoBe, and its three heads are named Wade, Bosh & LBJ. Scary business for every outside of South Florida fandom.
Call me a skeptic, but I doubt it will happen, and honestly I prefer to doubt, that way there's no way I can be disappointed if this deal doesn't go through. And frankly, I don't know if I'm all too keen about James coming here with his bad acne sportsmanship trying to be the "King" in Wade's house anyway. I've never been a fan despite his talent, mostly because the media loooooves to suck, savor, and have long discussions about the salt content of his nut sacks. And also because there a big part of me that wants to keep seeing him futilely try to do it on his own, inspite of all the help they try to put around him. (Wade won a ring with aging stars, carried the team, and STILL has to prove himself. Lebron has won nothing, and is the next coming of Jesus. Yeah, I don't care for the guy.) Some call it hate, I call it schadenfreude. (To-may-to/To-mah-to).
But, boy if this deal does go through...Heat haters watch out! You'll have more people jumping on that already loaded bandwagon, which happens to contain some of the Heat's very own Miami-natives. Just scroll through a lot of blogs and you see them out en force. Let's view each breed of crybaby.
1) First, you got the standard Lakers babies, who are so arrogant to think their shit don't stank, and their rapes get swept under rugs with a championship or two or five. Laker fans are posturing, and puffing out their chests trying to avoid appearing scared of this notion that the all three superstars could reside on one squad, and topple their beloved team. (Side note: I've realized, that it's not so much that I hate the Lakers themselves as a team--except Pau Gasol and his fish face. Don't get me wrong, I don't like them, but I don't HATE them, only hate <---small caps. What I REALLY HATE are their fans!)
2) Then you have the others that want to liken Pat Riley's business savvy as being akin to the baseball managers who "buy" their championships (see: New York Yankees). In fact, these people are just upset because their teams either didn't have the money or the cojones to attempt it first. (see: Cleveland fans, Knicks fans, Chicago fans, Nets fans) They may have tried to lure one ('Bron) or two ('Bron & Bosh), but ALL THREE?? That's ballsy, Riley...ball-sy!
3) And then you have haters, who just hate because they know that there's the potential for Heat domination for years to come, a la 90's Bulls, and that doesn't bode well for their team's situation. (see: the rest of the Eastern Conference) I would fall into this category should the Heat fail to land Bosh & LeBron, and they both go to some other team and succeed.
Anyhow, in reality, this is all hypothetics, and none of this could come to fruition. And in my humble opinion, I say just shoot for Bosh, re-sign Wade and everything will fall into place. Let the Queen stay there with his mind-games of, will he/won't he/where will he. I'd hate for the Heat to have all that talent, just for us to turn into the 2004 Lakers stacked with Kobe, Shaq, Malone, Gary P., and I'll throw in Rick Fox who's S-curl, sadly (only for The Mailman & The Glove) couldn't gel and motivate the squad to a championship ring. Hey, a curl can only do so much. :-/
Tomorrow is the "D-day" and the sports news channels, blogs, and radio folk will all continue to hypothesize and theorize as to who goes where, and what impact it'll have on the NBA of tomorrow. But they all know they don't want this triumvirate to transpire...
...but there's one category in which they both could win: ugliness!!
(Here's hoping my future-kids don't turn into hideous goblins on account of their evil mother's harshly judging eyes)
I'm here watching the NBA Finals between The Fakers and the Cry Babies Celtics, and I can't help but notice how much I'm having a hard time finding some eye-candy.
Side note: those (zero) of you that actually read this and/or those of you who know me personally knows that a) I'm a real sports fan who actually watches & understands the game, so I'm not just being a superficial observer, and b) it's been a while since I last blogged, and since then I've gotten into a relationship (yay me!) and I don't need any more eye-candy than my boo, nonetheless...sue me; I still like to peruse the men-folk on tv. ;)
Back to the subject at hand...yes, amongst the two teams a good percentage (I'd say about 85-90% comfortably) have faces that I don't even think their mothers' could love.
Except maybe Ray Allen's mom, being as he looks just like her.
(haha, j/k!) Errrrrrm, not really, but Ray is kinda eh a'ight (especially as Jesus Shuttlesworth)...just not when he's chewing gum, and sneering like something stinks. Not a good look Ray. Not a good look.
But disporportionately there's just not a lot of good looks on either team, let's take a sampling of the worst:
Ron Artest: He's got that crazy eye...he'll choke a bitch (a la Sprewell) or fight a bitch (a la, well...himself)
Pau Gasol: dead fish head. Close your mouth bruh! This one + The other one
= this :(
Kevin Garnett: (just see pic) and I actually chose a "decent one"
Kendrick Perkins: if you think Ron-Ron would snap, or Ray-Ray could sneer...this guy tops them both...I think he was voted least likely to receive the "Little Miss Sunshine" Award. In fact, I do believe this is a rare picture of his happy face:
Rasheed Wallace: brought his cry-baby, ugly face from Detroit; it's most evident when he gets fouled, and followed with one word, two letters, one syllable which 'Sheed lengthens for full dramatic effect...
ME-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?!
Kobe: he's sad...let's move on.
And let's end with this scary mostrosity they actually call "Baby"...Big Baby to be exact. And should my baby ever come out looking like this, making that face, please, PLEASE, someone call an exorcist:
Well apparently Sprite, has quite a few of these commercials, and I frankly find them hilarious (says my sordid sense of humor!) Sue me!
And if anyone knows anything, a sprite in folklore is known for being a mischievous little creature on occassion. So I guess the brand Sprite is harnessing the spark and puckish implication of their name and releasing that into their brand identity via these ads.
So here's one more for the road...if you're thirsty: Enjoy!
Man-o-man, I wish I had been the...no, THE pervert to think up this advertising genious! I mean, yeah sure, they managed to get Sprite banned in Deutschland, and all, but I think I blame this on the captions.
*side note*: Imagine having THAT on your resume:
Kimberly C. Dubb
*Lead Ad Executive - Ad Agency of Terrific Ads Co. - 5/2008 - present
- Created risque, avant garde ads promoting featured Sprite soft drink for German market, featuring white lady fellating strapping black male
- Stirred enough controversy from Sprite ad to ensure brand expulsion from said German market
**References available upon request**
I mean really, since when in the history of bobbing for apples did one ever think to want a Sprite? Maybe some water, maybe some alcoholic beverage, maybe even a breath mint...but Sprite?? Okay, maybe it has happened, but her thinking about it looks so....boring. And then judging on this chick's reaction, she surely wasn't that damn bored.
In my humble, "Christian-like" opinion (*wink* HEY! don't judge me!), she should've said something more like, "I really wish this taste like Sprite." Now, that my friends is much more plausable.
Give it a second.
Think on it.
See, now? Hmm...I think I could go for a Sprite right now. lol! *wink*
Okay y'all, my loyal dozens and doughnut holes of readers! I'm back!! Ya miss me??
Huh?
Huh?
Please say, "yes."
And of course, what prompted me into picking back up the proverbial tablet and pen to scratch down my thoughts...none other than death. Who's dead? Well, dammit where do we start? Let's see, Ed McMahon, done. Farrah Fawcett, really an angel now. MJ, went to meet the Big Gloved One in the sky. *tear*
But, I guess I'll have to discuss the one that (in my humble-esque opinion) is the most interesting. The one who went out with a BANG! (yes, that 'effed up pun was intended.)
Not funny, but that's the way that Steve McNair's Fourth of July weekend transpired. Man. =(
Irony of all ironies...born on a holiday (Valentine's), and died on a holiday (the 4th). Because of "love" he went out with some real fucked up kind of "fireworks." I mean, it's hardly a secret that many celebrity athletes cheat; must be encoded into their DNA, or something. In fact, I think by my non-scientific observation, I'd say about 75 - 99.9% of all sports figures cheat. I mean, look at the nature of their respective sports.
Baseball, those bastards' season last like 365 days of the year, (including leap years or some ridiculousness like that), all I know is they STAY on ESPN when sometimes I just want to see some basketball or football...not a boring ass game that takes eons for SOMETHING to happen! Ugh! (Go Marlins!) Can you tell I like baseball???
Okay, I digress. Anyhoo, my point is baseball dudes stay on the road, away from the old ball and chain wife & kids. And well, chances are as high as Redman puffing on herb in a broom closet, that any red-blooded man doped up on some 'roids is going to need to let out that manly urge to mate. Enter....groupie hoes! They're a dime a dozen, found in any city near you.
Then take basketball celebrity cheaters, stories and rumors are notorious in this sport, throw a rock at any team roster, and you're bound to hit a cheater. Side baby-mamas, STDs, rampant divorce...all that. Most wives are probably lucky to survive the 82-game season with their marriages still intact.
And now good old football. Take your pick, but one of the funniest, two words: Ron Mexico. (google it).
But this one, Steve McNair...just plain sad. Fucked up, and sad. I mean, just as when I twittered about it, I was being dead-ass in the midst of my foolishness...but people really need to learn to ration out their crazy. McNair, should have seen that this little girl, YES - LITTLE GIRL (I'm sure she just graduated primary school yesterday), wasn't ready. She hadn't learned to deal with her crazy. Hell, even I didn't learn how to properly deal with my crazy until I was about 22 1/2 (Don't judge me because even then, it was never of suicide/murder porportions-type crazy!)
I mean, most professional groupie hoes know the deal. Certainly yes, a good percentage of them are prone to delusions of grandeur at times a laKarrine Steffans (a.k.a.: Superhead), but I think most know that they're the side chick, and if they don't complain, stay quiet, and keep out the spot light, Celebrity Sports Dude Du Jour will hook them up handsomely, and break them off on the dickdown when they're in town; but certainly don't expect to suddenly be the new wifey, uh-huh. Best they can expect is to either find some way to harness their crazy, bottle it, and parlay that into some sort of 15 minutes, OR pray for a condom slip/delayed pull out, and try to bank on the sperm-fertilization lottery - where they can milk 18 years of ch'sup out of it. There's gotta be a handbook on this sort of thing, no???
But see, this young chick, Saleh Kazemi, obviously did not read said handbook, and just got ridiculous with it! I mean, she goes from working at D&B and driving a Kia to working at D&B and driving an Escalade. Hey, it's not that much of a step up, but baby-steps folk....baby-steps. But she wanted to go leaps and bounds expecting my man, McNair, to up and divorce wifey of 12 years (TWELVE - can we say alimony??) to marry her, keep buying her Barbie dolls and happy meals, and taking her on trips here and there to go to both Chuck E. Cheese & paragliding...?? Really?? But yes, really. She did. She didn't know her role, and decided to create her own Lifetime Orignial Movie.
Now we have another dead celebrity in our wake to mourn, and goad on about his legacy and about his brilliance on the gridiron. Part of me wants to feel sorrier for Steve though, but I just can't help but think if he'd have just kept his pingain his pantalones, and if love would have brought him home (Toni!), I wouldn't be blogging about him right now. He could've had a hotdog, some ribs, with a side of potato salad, baked beans, and corn...and enjoyed his holiday. Only bullets he'd have had to have worried about were the stray ones being shot from the idiots who fail to heed the warnings about shooting guns instead of fireworks into the night sky...NOT the ones pointed at him point blank by the wrath of a woman scorned.
Fellas...celebrities and non-celebrities alike...let's learn from this, m'kay...Love the one you're with, and...
...that is the question my hypochondriac ass mind is trying to figure out, by comparing pictures and articles gleaned from google & wikipedia, the epicenter of ALL internet knowledge. I'm here going crazy because of a mole that I've had on the back side of my upper arm, since forever, but lately (not unlike the first time I spotted it) it looks like melanoma or something ain't right. Self-diagnosis is a bitch!!
**Dammit I should have went to medical school**
I've looked at the charts:
and I guess, my mole falls in the "normal" category, but I just feel like it looks like this:
Yikes!!
It really just looks like this:
Please excuse the mean mug...it ain't you, I'm just kinda, uh...I just hate the damn thing!! I should probably stop scaring myself with stats and pics that don't apply to my "condition" and just got get it checked out and removed if necessary.
Um...do y'all know when that whole "universal healthcare thing" supposed to kick in???
See, this is why people get and stay sick, because I just don't want to come out of pocket, for some damn mole!!
So on another random outing with my ace, Leannie, we decided to stop into a caucasian-heavy local Marshalls to kill some time. Whilst strolling the aisles, we came across decorative shelf bookends in alphabetical shapes. After debating whether or not I presently need the "K" bookends, we spotted this, for lack of a better term, "arrangement" of letters:
Coincidence?? Intentional? I'll let you be the judge!
So despite my horrible, horrible, horrible family (minus my bro-in-law the only cheering me on) tempting me with
carne asada
spagetti,
pork chops,
wing stop with french fries (!!!),
pico, (sorry no picture, but true Nicaraguans know what the hell I'm talking about!)
chocolate pudding,
and much, much more....
....I managed to stay STRONG during my 10-day attempt at the Master Cleanse (a.k.a.: The Beyonce' Dreamgirls Diet).
This makes me hate her more...damn you Beyonce and your perfect body!!!!
So I got back from Japan, and slowly but surely I saw my waistline, coming right on back, (the coke-bottle figure was starting to look a little like the Kool-Aid Man) and since I didn't have the rodeo-pro to stave off the weight, I knew something drastic had to be done before I got back to being a size I was unhappy with.
Thus after much inner-wrangling, I decided to do the Master Cleanse for 10-days. I know you're not supposed to do it to lose weight and it's all about the inner cleansing, yadi-yada...but after I heard/read that Beyonce did it for like 15 days and lost 22 lbs, I was like: "I'm on it!"
So here's a brief run down on my trial run.
(SEE HERE for the recipe, and method behind the madness).
Starting weight: (not sure, because like an asshole, I forgot to weigh in....however, I had weighed myself a few weeks earlier and at that point I was, **breathe in-breathe out**) 173 lbs.
Day One: Horrible beginning. I woke up drank down the salt water flush, but instead of drinking 1 quart of water with 2 teaspoons of salt, I mixed in THREE TABLESPOONS. (Please never make this mistake.) After gagging this nastiness down, I decided it was far too early to be up--as I'm sooo not a morning person--and went back to bed. So, I tried to sleep, but my belly kept doing flips since this thing is supposed to make ya, ummm...go. But I couldn't, and it felt more like it wanted to come back up the way it went down, which it did unpleasantly when I brushed my teeth. NOT FUN!
Anyhoo, after that I felt better, proceeded to make my "lemonade" (of freshly squeezed lemons, grade B organic maple syrup, cayenne pepper & water) and drank my breakfast. It was tasty and pleasant enough and I enjoyed it. However, what I began to notice was that, I never before noticed how much I think about food. I was like, "ooh lunch/dinner/snack" but then realized, "nope, just lemonade." Very much a psychological brain fuck. NOT FUN!
I made it well through the day, until my oh, so thoughtful mom put on the damn Food Network (good way to tease a starving person), until I couldn't take it any longer, and ended up going to bed early @ 9:00. Did I mention: NOT FUN!
Day 2: Attempted the salt water flush again, made it down fine (now that I properly followed directions), but it was still unpleasant to drink. I never got "hungry" per se, but I realized I missed chewing, yes just CHEWING on something. The pulp in the lemonade kinda helped, but not enough. And then I noticed that the last bit of the lemonade was the worst, because all the cayenne pepper sunk to the bottom, and it made the drink spicy and kinda yuck!
Days 3-7: I kept it up, drinking my drank tirelessly, and resisting all the temptations and stupid jokes to make me "feel better" about my diet. It didn't help matters when my nose became this supersonic smelling machine. I once opened the microwave to make my nightly tea, and the bread fell out, and I was like, "Mmmm, bread!!!"
By day 5, the salt water was easy to drink, but then the lemonade started getting REALLY MONOTONOUS!! (Think Ben Stein's voice droning on and on forever!) I dreamt of eating real food, (even though I wasn't at ALL hungry)...and like I said, my family was sooooo unkind in my plight. But by day 7 I saw my waistline come back, and I figured I'd thug it out for one more day before I gave up, officially (especially since I was running out of maple syrup, and I just didn't want to have to buy more).
Day 8: I soooooo didn't want to even touch the damn lemonade. Mentally, I'd already given up since I just wanted to eat already, and since I figured I'd reached my goal anyway. I drank some of it for breakfast, and filled up on water for the rest of the day, until dinner, where I made a new batch without as much cayenne pepper and a smidge more maple syrup! That was tolerable, and I looked forward to today when I could gracefully tap out of the ring!
Today: So I woke up and weighed myself.....dun-dun-DUN! I was elated to see that I got down to 158 lbs.!!! And that's by not even making it to day 10. So approximately 15 lbs. in 8 days! I'll take that!! So now I just can't eff it up by driving to my nearest Taco Bell, like I really want to do....damn it. =(
So maybe I can really, REALLY--like for REAL-REAL, not for play-play--get to working on that New Years resolution #4. I lost the poundage, now I just gotta keep it off.
But like I said, I kicked temptation's ASS....so I deserve a cookie!
Instead though, I'll sign off with the eloquent words of the cookie connoisseur, Mr. Cookie Monster: C is for cookie, and that's good enough for me.
You know so, every time I logged on there was that 25 Random Things thing making the viral rounds on facebook. I avoided it at first and then I gave in because the narcissist, that I keep tucked deep deep deep down inside, was like let's talk about YOU! So I did. Sue me!
But after I made my list of 25, I realized that there's soooo much more to me that's even more weird and quirky and strange, that for some damn reason just makes me happy to be me! So instead of adding a few more to that list which called for only 25 things (not a list 30 or more, like some other fb friends of mine did who don't follow the rules) I fiugred, let's just take it to the blog; that way, I don't seem so SUPER-narcissistic and people who don't care to read won't have to (isn't that sweetly, considerate of me??). *wink*
So without further ado:
1. I HATE when people don't keep the caps on the toothpaste! Especially, when they leave it so that toothpaste crusts around the rim of the tube. That shit is gross, and I don't see how you think you can get your mouth clean, when all kinds of (doo-doo) particles have probably landed on the opening!!!
2. Speaking of toothpaste tubes....it makes me super happy when I'm able to go from the beginning of the last drop of toothpaste always squeezing from the bottom up like it says to do on the tube. And it pisses me off, when someone ruins it by squeezing in the middle. =(
3. Hot Sauce. Vinegary, hot sauce. I swear if I could eat it in cereal, on ice cream, cake, ANYTHING...and it tasted good, I would! (for now, I'll stick to chicken wings, any meat product, rice, french fries, or anything in the salty family of foods) That shit is just deeeeelishis! Whomever invented it should get like a 1000 gold stars, and automatic entrance into heaven!
4. I like when I have a palindromic number on my odometer. I have 75457 miles on my car? Oh YEAH!!! I even like when there are number pairings that I deem cool: (61111. Sweet! 112182. Wow that's my birthday! 888888. Crazy Eights amazing!!) I've even gone out of my way to make sure no one would drive my car when I knew a good number would come up; and hate myself if I forgot to look down at the odometer when I knew one was coming up (88890...Dammit!). You may think I'm strange, but my friends understand....and they even play along with me now! lol
5. Another road game that I have is spotting interesting license plates, and I have a "Rain Man-ian" like ability to remember the license plate numbers of my friends and family. Not just the custom kind like the bitch lady to totaled my baby Zeus a few years ago who's license plate read, "MEE OOW" (<----I KID YOU NOT!! Cat lover much?!?). But simple ones like, Jezebel's "P33 4CC" and Zeus's "T25 ZIP" two of my old car plates...why do I still remember them?? Because Jezebel had 4cc's of pee (gross, nmemonic device, I know) and Zeus was zippy like The 25 year-old (I dunno it worked for me). And the one below I could NEVER forget! =)
6. In case you didn't catch on above, I like naming my cars. Every car I have ever owned has had a name: - Rusty: My first car (1985 Osmobile Cutlass Cierra) who was appropriately named for his baby blue and rust exterior. - Zeus: My 2nd and favorite car (1995 Nissan 200sx) a stick shift that was cute, small, fast and sporty, like me (minus the who "sporty" aspect)...lol - Jezebel: My 3rd car (2002 Hyundai Elantra), she was burgundy and very moody, stalling at the most inopportune times...*sigh* - Rebel: The car I'm sportin' now (1994 Jeep Wrangler) is just red, but because it's a jeep, makes me feel like I should be riding fast over some bumpy-assed terrain.
7. I REALLY like doodling my signature over and over. Now I don't have grandiose delusions of becoming famous or none of that nonsense, but I just really like my signature. Even though many of my friends say it doesn't look like anything but a bunch of loops, between you and me, I think they're secretly jealous...lol.
8. I'm addicted to "lol". I use it frequently and liberally, even if I don't literally laugh-out-loud, I just think it helps things translate better in writing/emailing/chatting/blogging (as sometimes ppl can't tell when I'm being sarcastic)...lol!
9. Uncreased books and magazines. For some reason that just makes me feel peachy! I like when I am able to read a book several times and keep it in as pristine condition as I can. Thus I hate library/used books. People just don't know how to NOT dog ear the pages. >:-(
10. Guranora Frutsu (Granola Fruits) is the best FRICKIN' cereal on the planet!!! I can sustain myself on this for days; morning, noon, evening snack and dinner! I'm petitioning that Kellogg's import this stuff from Japan for American consumption! I miss this stuff!
There ya go...10 more interesting, random tidbits about me! Don't you feel like my kin/bff, now? *wink*
Welcome to my world!! (and I can say that officially....lol)
**UPDATE**
Bonus Favorite
11. The "divots"...these are what I call the male hip slashes...mmm....just damn sexy, and are my SECOND favorite male body part, next to their......brain =) *wink*
I'm a sometimes writer, often times bullshit talker, who is currently back in my hometown of Miami (aka 305, the Bottom), after living in Japan for almost a year and a half. I'm an outed geek, who quite enjoys this chosen lifestyle, so don't judge me until you know me. And even if you never get to know me...just know this...I ain't no doormat playa, so get off my front porch!
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