How to Lose a Pillow Fight
March/13/2009 12:14 PM Filed in: Random
Clay and I attended the big pillow fight in San Francisco during the D-League all star break. I was dominating everyone all day using my overhead beatdown method. It also led to multiple people trying to jump me and take me out. The following video is of my final confrontation. It left me feeling slightly concussed and with a skinned nose and forehead.
How to lose a pillow fight:
How to lose a pillow fight:
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Coleman Collins: LAX
March/09/2009 03:06 PM Filed in: Coleman Collins
My boy Coleman Collins (College at VaTech, summer league w Toronto Raptors, training camp w PHX, current Ft Wayne Mad Ant, and Boom Got Them 3 cameo guy) has some interesting perspectives on things in life, so a couple months ago, I asked him to join the movement more officially and write for tmrb. It took quite a while to come around, but he finally submitted something. Leave a comment if you like his style, please. I think he’s got a unique sense of humor, personally. So, here it is.
LAX:
So you're walking through LAX...hit security. Woman behind you. Beautiful, naturally. Bangs and a smile and one of those outfits that didn't used to be proper in public but somehow is now. A baby-tee with a sweaterish thing over it, spandex tights and boots. You don't know who decided it was suddenly ok for women to not wear actual pants out and around but you owe whoever it is a drink or a handshake or something. ("Pants are overrated" - Carl Elliott, teammate). So anyway, she's looking at you like she wore those specifically with you in mind, and then the woman behind us asks a stupid question and gives you an in. ("You have to take your shoes off now? I haven't flown in a while, but gosh, that seems a bit excessive.") So you make the lay-up joke about damn how long has it been, what year is it again and then she laughs and she says how she hopes you have a good flight and she walks away but then you run into her again at the Starbucks. She: Tall coffee, cream, Sugar In The Raw to taste. You: doppio espresso, little bit of steamed milk, regular sugar. She's from Nashville for some reason. "Oh, I'm from the South, too...Atlanta," you say. Of course she loves Atlanta. Here's where you start thinking - What's in Nashville? Maybe I'll have a reason to go to Nashville. Young Buck, Graceland? Anyway, you could do Nashville. Didn't you drive through there on the way to _____ that one time? Maybe.
So she asks who you play for - she couldn't help notice all the other tall guys loitering around. You make sure to put "NBA" before "D-League," real official-like (so she'll have a frame of reference). You're flying through CA and are headed to NV and it's alot of travel and gets tiring and all but it's good to do something you love and and although you hate living out of a suitcase you're glad to get the opportunity to travel to a lot of cool places. (You don't mention the Dakotas, but really, who does?) So then naturally you ask why she's in L.A. and then this happens.
I've been here nine months or so.
(Ok, starving artist? Struggling actress? Waiting for that call-back?)
I actually came out here to get sober.
(Damn. You had to cross the country to kick the habit? What was that, heroin?)
Been sober eight months now.
(Yeah, good for you.)
I really think I'm moving in a positive direction. I think things are really starting to come together for me. I'm really starting to Get It.
(Damn. Really?)
Then you say goodbye and she walks away, and you notice her five minutes later walking back in the other direction, having trouble finding her gate even though there are only like 5 in the whole Southwest terminal, and you think that tattoo on her forearm that you thought was cool was probably covering up needle tracks, and you remember that you WERE in Nashville one time, and it was really wack, and that Graceland was really in Memphis the whole time, and f#$% Elvis and country music in general anyway.
Then somehow 15 more women pass by with pseudo-pants on in the next hour or so.
There's really no end to this story.
--Coleman
LAX:
So you're walking through LAX...hit security. Woman behind you. Beautiful, naturally. Bangs and a smile and one of those outfits that didn't used to be proper in public but somehow is now. A baby-tee with a sweaterish thing over it, spandex tights and boots. You don't know who decided it was suddenly ok for women to not wear actual pants out and around but you owe whoever it is a drink or a handshake or something. ("Pants are overrated" - Carl Elliott, teammate). So anyway, she's looking at you like she wore those specifically with you in mind, and then the woman behind us asks a stupid question and gives you an in. ("You have to take your shoes off now? I haven't flown in a while, but gosh, that seems a bit excessive.") So you make the lay-up joke about damn how long has it been, what year is it again and then she laughs and she says how she hopes you have a good flight and she walks away but then you run into her again at the Starbucks. She: Tall coffee, cream, Sugar In The Raw to taste. You: doppio espresso, little bit of steamed milk, regular sugar. She's from Nashville for some reason. "Oh, I'm from the South, too...Atlanta," you say. Of course she loves Atlanta. Here's where you start thinking - What's in Nashville? Maybe I'll have a reason to go to Nashville. Young Buck, Graceland? Anyway, you could do Nashville. Didn't you drive through there on the way to _____ that one time? Maybe.
So she asks who you play for - she couldn't help notice all the other tall guys loitering around. You make sure to put "NBA" before "D-League," real official-like (so she'll have a frame of reference). You're flying through CA and are headed to NV and it's alot of travel and gets tiring and all but it's good to do something you love and and although you hate living out of a suitcase you're glad to get the opportunity to travel to a lot of cool places. (You don't mention the Dakotas, but really, who does?) So then naturally you ask why she's in L.A. and then this happens.
I've been here nine months or so.
(Ok, starving artist? Struggling actress? Waiting for that call-back?)
I actually came out here to get sober.
(Damn. You had to cross the country to kick the habit? What was that, heroin?)
Been sober eight months now.
(Yeah, good for you.)
I really think I'm moving in a positive direction. I think things are really starting to come together for me. I'm really starting to Get It.
(Damn. Really?)
Then you say goodbye and she walks away, and you notice her five minutes later walking back in the other direction, having trouble finding her gate even though there are only like 5 in the whole Southwest terminal, and you think that tattoo on her forearm that you thought was cool was probably covering up needle tracks, and you remember that you WERE in Nashville one time, and it was really wack, and that Graceland was really in Memphis the whole time, and f#$% Elvis and country music in general anyway.
Then somehow 15 more women pass by with pseudo-pants on in the next hour or so.
There's really no end to this story.
--Coleman
Beat Me at the Poem Game?
March/09/2009 03:05 PM Filed in: Poems
If you’re unfamiliar with the Poem Game, I suggest you click here and check it out before proceeding.
Now that you’re caught up, I got the following email a couple weeks ago:
I want to test my BoomThoNess and see where I rank among all that is Boomy. Maybe some sort of fan challenge, or maybe a head to head battle with the creator of the game itself. Below is a sample of a poem. Let me know what you think about the challenge.
Boomin in Iowa,
Mike
My poem:
BBQ Chicken, Macaroni and Cheese,
You're so hot I'm weak in the knees,
You break the thermostat - you're like a million degrees,
If you were Charmin, I'd want to squeeze.
So let's start out with something simple,
Cause when you smile I see your dimple,
Give me a call don't hesitate,
Cause we should already be on our first date!
My initial response is: Did you see Boom Tho Girl 2? Clearly that’s one hell of a poem game. But, still, yours in pretty solid and should have any waitress ready like spaghetti. That being said, I think this poem warrants two other responses:
1. If there’s anyone out there who can use the above poem to pick up a waitress (or flight attendant or whatever), contact me and tell me all about it.
2. If you feel you can do even BETTER, post a comment or contact me with the improved material.
Boom.
Now that you’re caught up, I got the following email a couple weeks ago:
I want to test my BoomThoNess and see where I rank among all that is Boomy. Maybe some sort of fan challenge, or maybe a head to head battle with the creator of the game itself. Below is a sample of a poem. Let me know what you think about the challenge.
Boomin in Iowa,
Mike
My poem:
BBQ Chicken, Macaroni and Cheese,
You're so hot I'm weak in the knees,
You break the thermostat - you're like a million degrees,
If you were Charmin, I'd want to squeeze.
So let's start out with something simple,
Cause when you smile I see your dimple,
Give me a call don't hesitate,
Cause we should already be on our first date!
My initial response is: Did you see Boom Tho Girl 2? Clearly that’s one hell of a poem game. But, still, yours in pretty solid and should have any waitress ready like spaghetti. That being said, I think this poem warrants two other responses:
1. If there’s anyone out there who can use the above poem to pick up a waitress (or flight attendant or whatever), contact me and tell me all about it.
2. If you feel you can do even BETTER, post a comment or contact me with the improved material.
Boom.
