So a lot of people have been coming up to me on the street and saying, “Hey Ryan, why did you just steal my kid’s lunch money?” Or “Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got the approximate cranial structure of Bert?” What I think they mean is, “Ryan, you’re totally wicked dreamy smart. I bet you have lots of great ideas all the time. But I bet you can’t always write a lot about these things. And that they take on sentence or paragraph form at best.”
And these people are absolutely right. My head does look like Bert’s. But that’s beside the point.
Today marks the first of what I hope will be a weekly ritual: the Friday ramblings. They are based off of the master of the ramble, Bill Simmons, (here's his most recent version) and will be hopefully a fun addition to the site. Don’t worry, you’ll get your self-indulgent stuff during the rest of the week, but Fridays will hopefully be a fun change of pace to get your toes tappin’, your booty shakin’, and your head scratchin’.
Without further ado…
In each and every car of the T here in Boston, there’s a sign that says something to the effect of, “Your tax dollars pay to clean this car. Do your part and take all trash with you as you depart.” Excuse me, but isn’t my part already done? Doesn’t my moral obligation end right around the “my tax dollars pay to clean it” part? Am I missing something?
Vegas odds are currently at 5-3 that, during my next visit to a strip club, Outkast’s “The Way You Move” will be playing sometime before midnight. It’s officially on the “Now That’s What I Call Pole-Dancing!” compilation, along with Motley Crüe’s “Girls Girls Girls”, N.E.R.D.’s “Lap Dance”, and Barry Manilow’s “Mandy”.
Newest annoying verbal meme: me going around imitating Justin Timberlake’s impression of Ashton Kutcher on SNL: “I’m Ashton Kutcher! I’m awesome!” Apparently no one saw this episode but me, given the horrified, “keep the kids away from him” look I always get after spontaneously launching into this.
OK, who demanded “Agent Cody Banks 2”? Honestly? Show me this person so I can slap them. Look at Frankie’s face on that link. He’s got this unmistakable, “Can you BELIEVE they paid me to do another one?” look on his face. And how is it coming out this fast? Did they pull a “Lord of the Rings” and film like 6 of these at once, hoping the first would be a hit? That’s just ponderous.
Also, I have two words for Frankie Muniz: Macauley Culkin. It’s a long, dark road ahead, amigo.
Also, Anthony Anderson is the poor man’s Eddie Griffin. I’ll let you think about that for a moment.
Not sure which is sadder---knowing all the lyrics to all 3 Doors Down singles or the fact I don’t turn off the radio when that Clay Aiken song comes on. One of these facts should legally ban me from ever breeding.
This conversation took place over the weekend: “So I’m Cena, and I’m in Season Mode, and then Sable and Torrie Wilson are fighting over me, but then I have to play a match as Sable against Torrie, so in essence I’m fighting for my own affection. This game rules.” “Do you even hear yourself talking?”
I’m waiting for “Man, I worked longer than a Britney Spears marriage yesterday!” to enter the water cooler lexicon. Heard she walked down the aisle to the strains of “Me Against Every Form of Common Sense” and walked out to “Oops, My Publicist is Gonna Kill Me Again”.
Anyone else notice how Mr. Britney looks like every high school golf captain ever? It’s uncanny.
Speaking of Britney, I’m gonna just pick stocks from now on based on Justin Timberlake’s portfolio---the brother seriously knows when to jump ship.
While on this topic: so much for the whole “What happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas” ad campaign. I guess it doesn’t apply to celebrity sham marriages. Or the clap.
In a semi-related stunt, Jessica Simpson reportedly wedded a can of tuna, thinking it was really a buffalo.
Speaking of Jessica---a note to all planning on throwing a party: don’t hire the schmuck who thought it would be a good idea to put Nick Lechay in the halftime show of the Orange Bowl. Good lord. I’ve felt bad enough for the guy watching “Newlyweds”, but I never feared that Jessica would up and throw a full beer can from Section 214 at him. Then again, he deserves it after uttering the phrase, “Back when 98 Degrees were successful…” on the Jessica Simpson “Driven” episode. I had almost successfully “driven” that band from my mind, and now there it is again. Jerk. I’m gonna “driven” over to his how and “driven” something unpleasant into an unpleasant place. And yes, I watched Jessica Simpson “Driven”, you wanna take it outside? Eh?
And may I just say: so help me God if Justin Guarini is at any sporting event I ever attend. I don’t care if it’s girls’ high school badminton. He’s going down.
Speaking of sports: in college, my cousin and I would go back and forth on e-mail inventing new sports. My favorite was “cross-country pole vaulting”.
Speaking of cross-country pole-vaulting, Jennifer Garner is still very hot.
While I won’t mention the actress in question, at one point this weekend I actually caught myself saying, out loud, “You know, I like her, because, like, I bet I’d have a shot with her. If she were drunk enough. And, you know, just sorta fell onto my lap.” My roommate gave me the “We’re just gonna gloss over this moment and move on like it never happened” look and life spun forward, as it’s wont to do.
Lost in all the random movie awards being doled out is the fact that Sean Austin has won roughly six awards for “Role That Made Many Guys Cringe Cuz They Thought He Was Gonna Totally Hook Up With Frodo At Least a Dozen Times”. I caught a quick peek of a 15-year old kid near the end of “Return of the King” who looked like he had just walked in on his folks having sex . Priceless.
It’s great that we donate food to third-world countries, but where’s the “Someone Get Cameron Diaz a Sandwich and Quickly” fund? There has to be one.
B2K’s manager announced this past week that the R&B teen group has disbanded. I dunno about you, but tonite, I’m just gonna go home, light a candle, pour a glass of wine, and weep softly while listening to "Bump Bump Bump" over and over again.
My favorite part of the new Ellen Degeneres talk show is the part at the end where you as an at-home viewer get to play “Spot the Butchest Lesbian Acting Like Courtney Cox in the ‘Dancing in the Dark’ video”. I organize my work schedule so I can be at the gym every time this happens. You wish I were kidding.
My vote for “Best Recent Quote from My Roommate”: “I like the cast of ‘That 70’s Show’. They seem to know their place. They know this is the best most of them will ever get.”
I just want to personally thank MTV’s consistent outpouring of sot-core porn for making the addition of Cinemax to my cable lineup completely and utterly unnecessary. I mean, they showed the Abram/Veronica/Rachel threesome at like, 2 pm on a Saturday. I don’t even have to wait for the post-midnight on Wednesday Shannon Tweed-fest anymore. Simply outstanding.
While on topic---what do these Real World/Road Rules people do when not on these shows? How are they always free? I mean, Norman, please tell me you have a job. And if you do, tell me what it is, so I can get your vacation package.
In another reality TV news, there’s apparently a new show where this girl has to convince her family that she’s married this fat slob, and it she convinces them, she wins a million dollars, but she doesn’t know he’s an actor, and his entire “family” is acting as well, and when reality shows get more complex than a David Mamet movie, we’ve simply gone too far, people.
The word “crunk” bothers me. Not as much as the word “moist”, but close.
Can we just accuse Nicole Ritchie of starting mad cow disease and be done with her?
Do strip clubs have gift certificates? If so, what would be the process to redeem them? I think about these things.
I wish pop groups could trade players like professional sports teams. You know, switch Bono for Gwen Stefani. Lance Bass for James Hetfield. Either Brooks or Dunn with anybody in G-Unit. Just to keep things interesting.
Speaking of Gwen, the part of the No Doubt DVD where she stretches in the dressing room is officially and forever the Greatest DVD Extra Ever.
I keep waiting for the Shania Twain/Ricky Martin “Remember When Everybody Liked Us?” tour to be announced.
Does Mo Rocca throw anyone else’s gaydar off besides mine? I just can’t decide if he’d appear on “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” as the former or the latter.
The 72 steps I take to navigate the handbag, women’s shoes, and makeup sections of Saks 5th Avenue during my shortcut to my in-mall gym might possibly be the scariest 24 yards in all of America.
Three words: WHAT THE HELL?
Posted by Ryan McGee at January 09, 2004 12:14 AM