Well, it’s Friday, and it’s fairly late. Usually I compile these Ramblings after a viewing of WWE Smackdown, email them to myself, proofread over my morning’s coffee and work, and THEN post, but since I’m off tomorrow, ain’t no way in hell I’m waking up early to do something as unimportant as “proofreading”.
Speaking of wrestling, I hope you’re all as excited as I am that Wrestlemania is this Sunday. My brother and his girlfriend will be coming over to my place, where at least two of us will wear wifebeaters and throw a crushed can of beer at the TV once the contents of said can are successfully emptied into our stomachs. The real intrigue lies now in the Lesnar/Goldberg match, with most Internet sites reporting that both Lesnar and Goldberg will be leaving the WWE after the match, and oh wait, none of you care in the absolute least, except for Rob, who’s too busy looking for a job to even notice I'm bringing it up..
Now, most people know the edict of “Don’t Drink and Drive”. A lesser know rule is “Don’t Drink and Post”, which I’m doing right now. Oooh, sweet Woodbridge Merlot, you are such a saucy minx, tempting me so with your fermented grapes of goodness. My actual, honest-to-God thought process tonight was, “OK, I have no soda. I could go to the store and miss a bit of Smackdown, or open that bottle of wine that’s bigger than my torso and watch Cena/Rhyno as the opening match. Mmmm…Cena/Rhyno.” Twenty minutes later, I’m on glass #1 saying to myself, “Christ, I hate Rhyno. I better not write about my hatred though, cuz no one will understand and/or care about it.”
OK, enough with the wrestling (go Benoit!), and on with the ramblings:
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Speaking of red wine just for a minute: who wants to explain to me why my teeth turn blue when I drink red wine? It’s not like my teeth turn bright green when I eat red sauce. It’s kinda freakin’ me out over here.
I’m waiting for the first comedian on a VH1 show to spit out the line: “[Celebrity X] is as washed up as Spalding Gray.” C’mon, you know you’ll hear that within two weeks on “The Greatest Week Ever”.
Speaking of the Greatest Week Ever, I had boneless buffalo wings not once, but twice, this week. Boneless buffalo wings are the most perfect food product in the History of Man. Screw you, Atkins.
People on Atkins are the new millenium’s version of “People who don’t smoke and take a great deal of time and energy to make people who do smoke feel like they’ve just killed a baby with their bare hands”. Honestly, get over it. You’re low-carb, we’re not. Unbelievably enough, we can share the same oxygen. Hate to break it to you.
Speaking of breaking it to you, whatever happened to ‘Breakin’ III”? Did that just got lost in turnaround? What happened to Special K? To Turbo? To the other guy who’s not Turbo? I need to know. Not as much as I need to know "Not Turbo's" name, I guess, though.
Mark your calendars, people. March 9th, 2004. The first episode of “Queer Eye” where the straight guy was prettier than Kyan from the outset. I know, I’m as shocked as you are.
Speaking of shocked: OK, Red Sox fans not-so-silently rejoiced earlier this week when Gary Sheffield re-injured his thumb, reportedly rendering him unable to play for three months. All of a sudden, within 48 hours, he’s back in the lineup. OK, do the Yankees have frickin’ Mr. Miyagi on the payroll now? Did he come in, say, “Gary, close eye,” slap his hands together, and do that weird healing technique? I half-expect the guys on the YES Network to announce, “Gary Sheffield’s gonna bat??? Gary Sheffield’s gonna bat!!! How do you like THAT!” In related news, I hate the freakin’ Yankees.
I’m waiting for the people working on the Human Genome Project to figure out which chromosome contains the “intuitive attempt to wave our cell phones around like morons when looking for service” gene. While there, if they could find the “intuitively try to blow on an old Nintendo cartridge to make it work” gene, that would be great.
It’s official: The Greatest Scene in the Worst Movie of All Time is undoubtedly, without question, the “Eliza Dushku dances around in bikinis for about 90 seconds in ‘The New Guy’”. This might never be topped. The movie goes something like this: “Awful….awful…really awful….where’s my gun…OH MY GOD SHE’S THE HOTTEST GIRL EVER…oh crap, she went away…awful…awful….bring her back in bikinis, please…I’ve lost the point to existence…get me my gun…” I even found a site with screen captures to prove my point. I harassed my IT guy to find the MP3 of the song she dances to in this scene. I need some serious help.
Here’s a quick safety tip: If you’re at work, at you try to manually type in the URL for Craigslist, make damn sure you have the right address, lest you hit a porn site and a million pop-ups appear saying things like “BIG MELONS” all over your screen. You know, just saying.
Did I mention my teeth are blue? This is why I generally stick to beer when I go out.
As I mentioned earlier, I got a double-dose of boneless buffalo wings this week. Well, Trip #2 involved my dad driving my brother and I along the highway. And I remembered that, when I was around 8, I was also in the car with my dad on the highway. I looked around at all the cars, both in front and behind us, and asked my dad who was winning. “What?” he asked. “Well, you know,” I said, “Someone must be the first on the highway. Someone’s always first. So who’s winning?” To his credit, he didn’t make up some BS story, but I know I asked at least a million questions before the age of 10 that caused him to imagine scenarios in which he could beat me with a stick and not get caught.
Posted by Ryan McGee at March 12, 2004 12:20 AM