OK, so clearly I’m a little behind on this season of Top Chef. Thank you Bravo for today’s mini marathon! Because I saw that one of my old summer camp buddies, Jamie Lauren, is one of the contestants! What?!?!?
Not sure if she’ll remember me — I haven’t spoken to her in I’m sure 14 or 15 years or so, but Jamie and I both spent summers in Kezar Falls, ME at Maine Teen Camp as kids. MTC was an awesome place — an international sleep away camp where kids from all over the world came and participated in all types of activities, arts & crafts and just learned about people from other cultures. I know my parents really stretched to be able to send me there. But my mom saw the camp advertised in a newspaper or a magazine or something and said to herself that she had to send me. The first year I was soooooo not trying to stay. They took me up there to the middle of nowhere and I was like “UN-UH… No really is there one other black person here? For real.” But they left me. And I was miserable… Until I realized that I could be friends with anyone there. I don’t mean this to sound offensive, but Jamie was the coolest White girl I had ever met — sorry I can’t think of a more PC way to say that. She and another girl called Heather were probably my closest friends that first summer.
I would post old photos of us, but that would probably make me seem like a stalker. Plus she looks exactly the same as she did when we were 13 & 14 and… well, I don’t ;) Hahaha… Wish I knew how to get in touch with her. I’m totally gonna see if she’s on Facebook or something. Yeah… I don’t sound like a stalker at all.
Hope she wins the whole thing. Go Jamie!
As I mentioned two posts back, I was not able to catch the Thanksgiving Day PHI/ARI game. However, BFF Angi who works for the NFL was kind enough to phone and text me with periodical updates during my family’s encore viewing of ‘The Notebook.’ Every time the Blackberry went off, I prepared myself to be angry. When she called to say there was an interception I was like, “Damn you Donovan.” Then she explained that we had intercepted an Arizona pass. When she called to say. You’re on the 3, I was like, “And what we couldn’t get into the end zone, right?” Then she explained that we walked right in…
I’m rather disappointed in myself. I typically come out of my Eagles funks in enough time to be positive about the next game. Perhaps because it was a short week, I didn’t have enough recovery time ;) I’m glad they won — we needed it, especially because we have the Giants again next week. We had the first game seriously within reach though, so I’m hoping we can close the deal this time.
So most of you who know me personally or read on a regular basis know that I have a serious crush on BFF Angi’s son, Roman. So far I’ve chronicled his disdain for Sarah Palin and his Halloween adventures. He’s super adorable and from all reports is a consistently happy and pleasant baby — the kind of kid every new mother or woman who’s thinking about having a baby prays for. But after hearing the story his mom told me on Saturday afternoon, I’m pretty sure I’m not ready for kids anytime soon. My current dating status dictates that birth control is… well, under control, but if I had a need for it, I would totally get on the pill today.
BFF Angi just posted an entry on Roman’s blog about what we now refer to as Operation Stinky Panera. If you don’t have kids yet, but think you like and/or want them, read this post … just to make sure.
Yes, Mussolini… because I’m trying to illustrate a point here.
I was talking with a friend this past weekend about how stinky he thought it was that the NFL Network is holding Thursday Night Football hostage. Can’t really get mad about ESPN carrying the Monday games (except for the fact that I can’t watch in my cable-less bedroom) because it’s basic cable, and you pretty much have to have basic cable to watch anything on TV these days. But the NFL Network? Most cable carriers don’t even offer it. And if they do, it’s at the premium level. I would have to seriously upgrade ($$$) my basic package or get a satellite to get NFLN — and even if I wanted to pay for that, I couldn’t because I live in a condo that doesn’t permit it.
I remember when everyone was switching over to digital cable a few years back… I tried to hold on to my analog cable and in turn Comcast held my HBO’s for ransom. I had like 4 of them and then one day they cut me back to 1 and sent me a letter that said, “If you ever wanna see your HBO Comedy again… you’ll give us $45 more dollars a month… and a learjet.” Now, typically I don’t negotiate with terrorists, but how was I gonna live without HBO Comedy and HBO Latino? (What? I like to get buzzed and giggle at the dubbing ;)
Comcast is so gangsta. I mean they basically demanded that the NFL give them a financial interest in NFLN before they would carry the network in all its markets. In the hood, I believe that’s called ‘points on the package’ (I learned that on ‘The Wire’).
I’m especially bothered this week because on Thursday I’m going to be at the crib with family for Thanksgiving and the Eagles have Arizona at home. I won’t be able to go out to watch the game, and I really need to see how the team recovers from Sunday’s mess…
But I won’t see it, will I?
I think both companies are wrong and the real losers are the fans. Damn u cable fascists.
West coast BFF and always-in-the-know-homie Dawan OwensÂ just informed me that the Obama A-1’s have been out since primary season. But now that I know that, I’m not sureÂ which bothers me more — the thought of people walking around in Obama kicks if he hadn’t even won the Democratic nomination or them coming out after the general. He also told me that they’re not really put out by Nike. They’re just artwork put on Nikes by other designers. Now that *does*make me feel better. Goes to show how much I know about ‘urban’ fashion…Â ;)
Here is the link to the original Obama shoe design Dawan saw back in February — it’sÂ waaaay tighter artistically but equally as disturbing…
I would like to thank the hilarious Andy Kline for bringing this newest atrocity to my attention. Ladies and gentlemen… I give to you Nike’s MB-President Obama custom Air Force One’s.
With a product line name like Air Force One, you could kinda see it coming… but I really thought Nike had more class than this. Click here to see more Obama A-1’s.
Again, I wish this were a joke.
Follow this link for more ridiculous Obama-themed crap…
Just got back from a road trip to Peoria, IL where I worked at Jukebox Comedy Club. Had some great shows, got some work accomplished, got to see an old friend. Great weekend all in all.
I discovered Guitar Hero this weekend — kind of like Columbus discovered America. Tee hee ;) The first nite we got into town good bud Roy Wood, Jr. and I found a Best Buy and he showed me how to play. I was instantly hooked and begged him to take me back every day. This is Day #2 ;) 11:00 a.m. on a weekday — the store was empty. We played G.H. and Wii golf for like an hour and a half. It was awesome ;)
There was a strip club next door to the club. I think the name of the club was Fantasyland. They had a big three-lamp search light in the strip club parking lot. I joked on stage about it being a stripper bat signal. I remember making a drunken remark something like, “Holy clear platform stripper heels, Batman!” Haha… Good times. After one of our Friday shows, some of the ladies came over to invite the folks leaving our show to come see them dance. Not certain that was the best marketing plan, but hey whatevs… I couldn’t resist taking a photo.
P.S. I still don’t know how in the hell they walk in those shoes.
One of my favorite friends from college, Montrelle, drove down from Chicago to come see a show. It’s been years since I saw him so I was super excited.
We hung out after the late Saturday show and ran into some extremely racist lesbians. Some very awkward conversations ensued. Future material for sure…
If you read the entry below, you’ll see how my trip home went… But I’m not gonna let that retroactively ruin my weekend. Hope y’all had a great one too!
This blog is dedicated to the occupants of seats 18-A, 18-B and 18-C on United Airlines Flt. # 340 from Chicago O’Hare to BWI. I know you will never see this blog, but I’m certain the therapist I’ll be hiring in the very near future would have recommended that I find a benign way to vent my frustrations in the interest of good mental health.
So here goes: I hate your family. For myriad reasons which I will attempt to enumerate, but undoubtedly fall short of conveying completely.
To the little boy seated direcly behind me in 18-B:
I’m glad you shat in your pants.
Perhaps if you hadn’t been so consumed with kicking my seat and punching the back of my headrest, you would have realized you had to shit before they turned on the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign. It filled my heart with a Christmas-y sort of glee when I heard your fruitless cries of “I have a boo-boo in my pants” ring out thru the cabin. The awful stench of retribution was suprisingly gratifying. Ha. Serves you right. Sit in it.
To the little girl seated on her father’s lap in 18-A:
While you’re no longer an infant and should know how to behave better, I recognize you’re probably too small to take full responsibility for your incessant shrieking. It’s not your fault you were born to two people so acutely unfamiliar with the concepts of discipline and propriety. So I’m gonna let you slide. Kinda.
To the two turds masquerading as parents in 18-A & 18-C:
As you are responsible for the creation of this family unit, the blame for what I and the other passengers had to endure this evening rests solely upon your shoulders. Perhaps you couldn’t do much about your youngest child’s screaming — maybe her ears were popping, who knows… But your older son’s unacceptable and unchecked behavior warranted a beat down. And you know it.
I travel a lot. And I’ve had to listen to tons of crying babies and restless children. But your absolute refusal to acknowledge your son’s behavior — even after he kicked my seat so hard he woke me up and propelled me forward into my lowered tray table — OUCH; even after two flight attendants came over to ask me if I was OK… Completely unacceptable.
No discipline. No ‘be quiets’. No embarrassed apologies… You should no longer be permitted to fly.
For this edition of the Happy Eagles/Sad Eagles Chronicles I thought I’d just post the text message convo I just had with my cousin Derrick. He’s a huge Redskins fan and so we talk — or should I say *text* — smack back and forth to each other on Sundays. He grew up and lives right outside of Philly in So. Jersey, which makes it doubly weird that he wasn’t drafted into Eagles Nation, but whatevs…
I’m sitting in Chicago O’Hare on a layover and was in transit for most of the PHI/BAL game but I got a text from D as I was sipping on my mocha frappuccino and as soon as I saw his name, I knew it was gonna be bad. Below is the correspondence… Continue reading →