Trinidad South America?
November/29/2007 01:51 PM Filed in: Dakota
I need your help. I have a teammate named Kibwe Trim. I call him Tribwe because thats what I do. Tribwe is from Trinidad. It was funny when he first told he was a "Trinidadian". It led me to call him names such as "Trinidaddy Laong Legs" and "Trick Daddy".
Anyways, he told me that Trinidad was real close to Venezuela. I told him it was probably approximately 8 stones throws away and he didn't disagree. I then said that he was the second South American I've played with. Morro was the first ("...they laugh at Morro"). Well, Tribwe did not respond well to being called South American. In fact, he refuses to admit that he is South American. I told him there is no shame in being South American. I am a proud North American myself, why not be proud?
He continues to argue with me and contends that Trinidad is an island. He actually defines the word island for me (as if I dont know) as a land mass completely surrounded by water. He then says that since it is not connected, he cant be South American. He also argues that nobody Trinidadian will admit to being South American.
I told him that The Philippines are islands not connected to Asia, and that many people dont even call Filipino people Asian, but they are. I told him that my old roommate Richard doesn't consider himself to be European. He says British people wont spend Euros and they dont play football (soccer) like schoolyard pansies. Trinidadians could have similar views.
So, I have a couple of questions for you, the reader:
Does every land mass have a continental association?
If so, then obviously he is South American, right?
I googled "Trinidad South America" and one of the first results I got said: "Start your South American Tour here, in Trinidad". It really got to him I think. Basically if enough people tell me I'm right, I can go to him and have hours of fun asking him to make me Sangria, Tacos, Brazilian BBQ and many other things that have nothing to do with Trinidad at all. Just basically call him latin for my own enjoyment. Let me know!
Anyways, he told me that Trinidad was real close to Venezuela. I told him it was probably approximately 8 stones throws away and he didn't disagree. I then said that he was the second South American I've played with. Morro was the first ("...they laugh at Morro"). Well, Tribwe did not respond well to being called South American. In fact, he refuses to admit that he is South American. I told him there is no shame in being South American. I am a proud North American myself, why not be proud?
He continues to argue with me and contends that Trinidad is an island. He actually defines the word island for me (as if I dont know) as a land mass completely surrounded by water. He then says that since it is not connected, he cant be South American. He also argues that nobody Trinidadian will admit to being South American.
I told him that The Philippines are islands not connected to Asia, and that many people dont even call Filipino people Asian, but they are. I told him that my old roommate Richard doesn't consider himself to be European. He says British people wont spend Euros and they dont play football (soccer) like schoolyard pansies. Trinidadians could have similar views.
So, I have a couple of questions for you, the reader:
Does every land mass have a continental association?
If so, then obviously he is South American, right?
I googled "Trinidad South America" and one of the first results I got said: "Start your South American Tour here, in Trinidad". It really got to him I think. Basically if enough people tell me I'm right, I can go to him and have hours of fun asking him to make me Sangria, Tacos, Brazilian BBQ and many other things that have nothing to do with Trinidad at all. Just basically call him latin for my own enjoyment. Let me know!
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The New Poem Game
November/15/2007 01:49 PM Filed in: Poems
We were all at Buffalo Wild Wings when one of my teammates told me that he wanted to talk to one of the waitresses. He didn't know which one, and he didn't know how he would do it, but he knew he wanted to. It seemed as though one week in North Dakota had quickly become too long to not attempt to find a woman.
I was very willing to help. Why not? The guy obviously wanted to have fun with it and also hopefully take a phone number with his to-go box as we left the building. All 8 of us there that night knew that if I was to get involved that it could get a little bit ridiculous. I mean, let's face it. Everybody had heard the rumors about my blog and my antics. New guys were curious and returning guys were astonished at how much hype tmrb had gotten since that championship game day back in April.
My teammate finally asked me exactly what we should do. I told him that I have written poetry to a woman before. Although he didn't know who Jenna Fischer was, he understood that if I wrote a poem to an actress, I could easily whip one up for a BWW server who was probably already feeling him. I agreed that I would write a poem as long as he agreed to give it to one of them -- no chickening out.
He asked the server of our table for something to write on. She brought back a pen and some blank receipts and handed them to him. He handed them to me and I got to work. Here's what I came up with on the fly:
Roses are red, violets are blue,
I see a good match between me and you
Dont mind this note, I do what I can,
You be a woman, I'll be a man
Every time I see you, my heart sings,
Thats why I come to Buffalo Wild Wings
My boys don't think I have what it takes,
To enjoy a bowl of frosted flakes
With you the next morning after out date,
I'm just a mammal looking for a mate
I dont know exactly how these things go,
But, do you like me?
Yes No
My teammate showed the poem around the table and everyone laughed at the words, but now it was time to see if it was all jokes or if it would actually pay him some dividends. He got up and handed it to one of the servers he thought smiled at him when we came in. We all watched eagerly as she read the note and laughed to herself. Success? Had to be, but we wouldn't be sure until she came back to our table.
She had the server of our table bring back a note that read:
"I think you're handsome, charming, and sweet, but maybe your boys are right! You might not have what it takes to eat this momma's frosted flakes!"
I personally thought that the first note was successful. Her response seemed to not only challenge his ability to get her, but also kind of dared him to try. On top of all that were the sexual implications of the frosted flakes being eaten. We decided to fire back with something that relayed his ability, confidence, and sexual aptitude. He actually thought he should keep it sweet and innocent like the poem, but since I knew I was gonna blog it, I kept it hot to get a good reaction:
"Well the thing about me you may not know is that I have a big spoon and an even bigger appetite!"
We watched from a distance as she read the note. Her jaw dropped and she quickly closed her mouth. She peered over at us as we desperately tried not to laugh. Her eyes kind of lit up and she couldn't hold back her smile. She scribbled something down for a while then had our server bring it back to us. It read:
"The only thing that's on is you,
Simmer down baby and just enjoy the view.
A big appetite is just not me,
So put your big spoon in your own mouth where it needs to be!
You're a sweetheart! Thanks for the lines,
but maybe some other time!"
Damn. Lost it. My teammate accused me of taking it too far. It is entirely possible that I did take it too far, but hey, if he thought he could get her number by himself, then he should have written his own coddamn poem!
Well, after this ordeal, we decided that whenever we go to a restaurant, that I will write a different poem for him to give to a waitress who he is eying. Thus, the poem game has officially begun. I'll be sure to post all the poems and reactions here.
Hollar.
I was very willing to help. Why not? The guy obviously wanted to have fun with it and also hopefully take a phone number with his to-go box as we left the building. All 8 of us there that night knew that if I was to get involved that it could get a little bit ridiculous. I mean, let's face it. Everybody had heard the rumors about my blog and my antics. New guys were curious and returning guys were astonished at how much hype tmrb had gotten since that championship game day back in April.
My teammate finally asked me exactly what we should do. I told him that I have written poetry to a woman before. Although he didn't know who Jenna Fischer was, he understood that if I wrote a poem to an actress, I could easily whip one up for a BWW server who was probably already feeling him. I agreed that I would write a poem as long as he agreed to give it to one of them -- no chickening out.
He asked the server of our table for something to write on. She brought back a pen and some blank receipts and handed them to him. He handed them to me and I got to work. Here's what I came up with on the fly:
Roses are red, violets are blue,
I see a good match between me and you
Dont mind this note, I do what I can,
You be a woman, I'll be a man
Every time I see you, my heart sings,
Thats why I come to Buffalo Wild Wings
My boys don't think I have what it takes,
To enjoy a bowl of frosted flakes
With you the next morning after out date,
I'm just a mammal looking for a mate
I dont know exactly how these things go,
But, do you like me?
Yes No
My teammate showed the poem around the table and everyone laughed at the words, but now it was time to see if it was all jokes or if it would actually pay him some dividends. He got up and handed it to one of the servers he thought smiled at him when we came in. We all watched eagerly as she read the note and laughed to herself. Success? Had to be, but we wouldn't be sure until she came back to our table.
She had the server of our table bring back a note that read:
"I think you're handsome, charming, and sweet, but maybe your boys are right! You might not have what it takes to eat this momma's frosted flakes!"
I personally thought that the first note was successful. Her response seemed to not only challenge his ability to get her, but also kind of dared him to try. On top of all that were the sexual implications of the frosted flakes being eaten. We decided to fire back with something that relayed his ability, confidence, and sexual aptitude. He actually thought he should keep it sweet and innocent like the poem, but since I knew I was gonna blog it, I kept it hot to get a good reaction:
"Well the thing about me you may not know is that I have a big spoon and an even bigger appetite!"
We watched from a distance as she read the note. Her jaw dropped and she quickly closed her mouth. She peered over at us as we desperately tried not to laugh. Her eyes kind of lit up and she couldn't hold back her smile. She scribbled something down for a while then had our server bring it back to us. It read:
"The only thing that's on is you,
Simmer down baby and just enjoy the view.
A big appetite is just not me,
So put your big spoon in your own mouth where it needs to be!
You're a sweetheart! Thanks for the lines,
but maybe some other time!"
Damn. Lost it. My teammate accused me of taking it too far. It is entirely possible that I did take it too far, but hey, if he thought he could get her number by himself, then he should have written his own coddamn poem!
Well, after this ordeal, we decided that whenever we go to a restaurant, that I will write a different poem for him to give to a waitress who he is eying. Thus, the poem game has officially begun. I'll be sure to post all the poems and reactions here.
Hollar.
My Roll Dawgs
November/08/2007 01:45 PM Filed in: Random
The title of this entry sums up nearly 3 weeks of happenings. I think some of the events described go back as far as my last night in New York, and go all the way to right now. I've got the Kanye West on and no T.V., that means it's time for some bloggin'. Let's do it.
I'll start by taking it back to that last night in NYC. You see, before my agent had even called me to tell me the news that my days in New Jersey were done, I was already heading out to the city to watch then #2 ranked CAL play Oregon State in football. Before I left the hotel I was cutting my hair as usual, when the guard slipped off of the clippers without my knowledge. I gave my head a few more strokes before I noticed that the guard was lying on the ground next to my foot. I looked back up at the clippers and sure enough my #1 cut had become a number zero. Damn. I looked at the mirror and immediately saw that my head was definitely giving that Charles Barkley, K.G., M.J. shine . It wasn't that bad, but people who know black people's hair would definitely notice my spot. I called up Clayton and told him what had happened. We agreed that if any of the white people at the CAL bar noticed my spot, then it was really bad, if they didn't, then if was just a minor patch of hair lower than the rest. My main concern was that I was going to have to practice the next day and that the entire team (esp. Antoine Wright and Vince Carter) would make fun of me. Luckily, as I am a glass half full kind of guy, I was released before any of them had a chance to check me out.
That night I did end up going to the bar to watch CAL play Oregon State. I met up with my boys Stevie P. and Cam Jones.
We watched the whole game and they had no clue what had happened to the side of my head. Nice.
After the game was over, a close loss that should have never been, we sat there stunned for about 20 seconds. The whole bar was sad, down, and in a state of disbelief. I started to let my mind wander. My team had lost, all but ensuring another Holiday Bowl bid (not anymore). I had just been released by the New Jersey Nets, basically sending me back to North Dakota. And, last but not least, I had a patch in the side of my head, causing me to avoid my black homies who would laugh at me. Dang, what a bad 4 hours.
Well, all of a sudden, I realized that it could be worse. Why? Because long after everyone had moved on to thoughts other than the CAL game, there was this CAL fan sitting on the ground of the bar sulking. I mean this guy was literally sitting in a puddle of beer, half cross eyed, half teary eyed, mouth drooped open, arms and legs hanging lifelessly. Picture a homeless guy. Now imagine that this homeless guy is like newly homeless. This guy just realized he has nowhere to go and nobody to lean on and his body goes limp. That is how this guy looked. Just seeing him looking so pathetic over a CAL football game made me realize that I needed to pull myself together. I mean, if this guy ever gets cut by the Nets, and gets a bald spot in his head on the same day as a CAL loss, all of his friends should be on suicide watch. As for me, I still had fun on the night it all happened to me. Thanks to Stevie P and Cam Jones for helping me get it done that night.
getting it done
I flew back down to San Diego from the Newark airport ready to just relax for a little bit. Too bad the whole place was on fire:
Our house ended up being fine, but a lot were not. A lot of people are still in need. If you want to help some of them out, click here:
https://secure.salvationarmy.org/donations.nsf/donate?openform&projectid=USW_SC-07fire
After a couple of days at home I went up to Huntington Beach to kick it with Rell and go up to the UCLA football game. The day before the game was spent beating Halo 3 and battling fiercely in Wii Tennis and Bowling. The night was another story.
Rell and I went with Kam Walton (Luke's cousin), and an all star cast of former Torrey Pines High ballers to some bars out in Newport Beach. When we got the the main bar, I wouldn't exactly say it was cracking. Yea, there were a lot of people in there, but so what? These people didn't know how to party. Well, not get it cracking like Rell and Reeks Benson (as Rell calls me) do. How do we do? Let me tell you.
You can go back to the "Hollywood" entry and get a taste of what goes on when Rell and I hit the scene. Let's just say we always dance. Always. This bar we were at in Newport was not a dance spot, even though there was a D.J. there. Rell and I started dancing with random girls to get the place cracking a little. Rell has a girlfriend, so his dancing wasn't quite as enticing as mine, but let's just say that after about 15 minutes this place started to liven up.
Now Rell and I have another sort of tradition. Actually, let's not call it a tradition, let's call it an "if, then". Let's actually change that. We will call it an "if and only if, then". If, and only if the party is crackin', then Rell and I will probably do our pants off dancing. Basically it is just how it sounds. There were no pictures of that night, so i'll show you the one from the "Hollywood" entry:
As you can see, the pants are down and dancing continues to proceed. In college we had this spreading like wildfire. I now realize that that was then and this is now. In that bar in Newport, which was at this point crackin', we began our pants off C-walk. You must understand that the C-walk is the easiest dance to do pants off because your feet are so close together and the pants kind off restrict your foot spacing. So we are in the bar making it happen, pants off C-walking away, and I'm telling you, everybody around (mostly female) was buying what we were selling. It was just getting more and more cracking. Out of nowhere, the music stops. It was kind of like a movie where the D.J. scratches the record to a stop.
"What the hell are you guys doing?" the D.J. said into his mic, easily garnering the attention of everyone in the building. "This is why I don't play hip-hop, because of guys like this! Security come and do something about this."
Right then, everybody (probably 200 people) turns and looks at Rell and me, who are trying our best to shimmy our pants back up. It was a lot easier for me because I was wearing Jeans that had a regular fit. I had mine up in about 3 seconds. Rell, on the other hand, was STRUGGLING. Ever since this guy became an underwear model (catch him on the new season of Janice Dickinson Modeling Show on Oxygen Network Dec. 4), he has been wearing these jeans that are just way too tight. There were two problems with his tight jeans: the D.J. refused to put the music back on until we had the pants back up, and Rell also wore some his designer underwear which had a downright gross bikini cut. I think that the only reason the D.J. stopped us was because of Rell's designer briefs that were so0o0o disgusting. Security actually threw him out and let me stay...had to be the designers. I left anyways because we are a team and we both did the act. I just didn't gross anybody out.
Speaking of gross, Halloween didn't get any better. I decided to steal my brothers ostrich outfit because it was money in the bank. Man on ostrich, so hot right now. I wasn't the gross one though. I must warn you, this really is gross. Don't look at the next two pictures if you think you will be grossed out. This is my boy Jason, and he was a tennis player for Halloween:
Why he had to buy the fake balls and hang them like that I will never, ever understand.
As for the rest of national dress-up day, I got it done up in the bay area.
ride that ostrich young man
clay rocks out with my Guitar Hero Guitar
JGant once again getting harassed
Seriously though, I thought JGant and I had talked about this. I mean, I had to sock him in the balls twice for crying out loud. But look at him. He is having the most fun ever isn't he? Maybe I am a little shallow, but I know he can do better than this! I know it. If he just doesn't care, then i'll forward his myspace profile to all the girls who message me and they can dance the night away.
Oh, and before I met up with him that day he sent me a Blackberry Message that said: "Rod you know i'll wait for you. Can't leave without my roll dawg!"
I was very confused by this. I asked him what that meant? Did it mean like roll-out dawgs or what? He said: "I dont know its just what people say."
I said: "I dunno man that sound a lot like ROAD DAWGS."
He replied: "Oh yea! Thats what they must be saying."
What would I do without my ROLL DAWGS?
I'll end this entry by saying that college basketball is here. Check out my CAL bears. I think they will make some noise.
Top 5 reasons to watch the CAL Bears:
5. I went there, duh. You read my blog, watch my Bears coddamit!
4. People sleep in the trees. Seriously.
3. 2 first round (projected) draft picks
2. You probably need a new team to get into anyways
1. Devon Hardin (one of the draft picks) can get low!!
Hollar!
I'll start by taking it back to that last night in NYC. You see, before my agent had even called me to tell me the news that my days in New Jersey were done, I was already heading out to the city to watch then #2 ranked CAL play Oregon State in football. Before I left the hotel I was cutting my hair as usual, when the guard slipped off of the clippers without my knowledge. I gave my head a few more strokes before I noticed that the guard was lying on the ground next to my foot. I looked back up at the clippers and sure enough my #1 cut had become a number zero. Damn. I looked at the mirror and immediately saw that my head was definitely giving that Charles Barkley, K.G., M.J. shine . It wasn't that bad, but people who know black people's hair would definitely notice my spot. I called up Clayton and told him what had happened. We agreed that if any of the white people at the CAL bar noticed my spot, then it was really bad, if they didn't, then if was just a minor patch of hair lower than the rest. My main concern was that I was going to have to practice the next day and that the entire team (esp. Antoine Wright and Vince Carter) would make fun of me. Luckily, as I am a glass half full kind of guy, I was released before any of them had a chance to check me out.
That night I did end up going to the bar to watch CAL play Oregon State. I met up with my boys Stevie P. and Cam Jones.
We watched the whole game and they had no clue what had happened to the side of my head. Nice.
After the game was over, a close loss that should have never been, we sat there stunned for about 20 seconds. The whole bar was sad, down, and in a state of disbelief. I started to let my mind wander. My team had lost, all but ensuring another Holiday Bowl bid (not anymore). I had just been released by the New Jersey Nets, basically sending me back to North Dakota. And, last but not least, I had a patch in the side of my head, causing me to avoid my black homies who would laugh at me. Dang, what a bad 4 hours.
Well, all of a sudden, I realized that it could be worse. Why? Because long after everyone had moved on to thoughts other than the CAL game, there was this CAL fan sitting on the ground of the bar sulking. I mean this guy was literally sitting in a puddle of beer, half cross eyed, half teary eyed, mouth drooped open, arms and legs hanging lifelessly. Picture a homeless guy. Now imagine that this homeless guy is like newly homeless. This guy just realized he has nowhere to go and nobody to lean on and his body goes limp. That is how this guy looked. Just seeing him looking so pathetic over a CAL football game made me realize that I needed to pull myself together. I mean, if this guy ever gets cut by the Nets, and gets a bald spot in his head on the same day as a CAL loss, all of his friends should be on suicide watch. As for me, I still had fun on the night it all happened to me. Thanks to Stevie P and Cam Jones for helping me get it done that night.
getting it done
I flew back down to San Diego from the Newark airport ready to just relax for a little bit. Too bad the whole place was on fire:
Our house ended up being fine, but a lot were not. A lot of people are still in need. If you want to help some of them out, click here:
https://secure.salvationarmy.org/donations.nsf/donate?openform&projectid=USW_SC-07fire
After a couple of days at home I went up to Huntington Beach to kick it with Rell and go up to the UCLA football game. The day before the game was spent beating Halo 3 and battling fiercely in Wii Tennis and Bowling. The night was another story.
Rell and I went with Kam Walton (Luke's cousin), and an all star cast of former Torrey Pines High ballers to some bars out in Newport Beach. When we got the the main bar, I wouldn't exactly say it was cracking. Yea, there were a lot of people in there, but so what? These people didn't know how to party. Well, not get it cracking like Rell and Reeks Benson (as Rell calls me) do. How do we do? Let me tell you.
You can go back to the "Hollywood" entry and get a taste of what goes on when Rell and I hit the scene. Let's just say we always dance. Always. This bar we were at in Newport was not a dance spot, even though there was a D.J. there. Rell and I started dancing with random girls to get the place cracking a little. Rell has a girlfriend, so his dancing wasn't quite as enticing as mine, but let's just say that after about 15 minutes this place started to liven up.
Now Rell and I have another sort of tradition. Actually, let's not call it a tradition, let's call it an "if, then". Let's actually change that. We will call it an "if and only if, then". If, and only if the party is crackin', then Rell and I will probably do our pants off dancing. Basically it is just how it sounds. There were no pictures of that night, so i'll show you the one from the "Hollywood" entry:
As you can see, the pants are down and dancing continues to proceed. In college we had this spreading like wildfire. I now realize that that was then and this is now. In that bar in Newport, which was at this point crackin', we began our pants off C-walk. You must understand that the C-walk is the easiest dance to do pants off because your feet are so close together and the pants kind off restrict your foot spacing. So we are in the bar making it happen, pants off C-walking away, and I'm telling you, everybody around (mostly female) was buying what we were selling. It was just getting more and more cracking. Out of nowhere, the music stops. It was kind of like a movie where the D.J. scratches the record to a stop.
"What the hell are you guys doing?" the D.J. said into his mic, easily garnering the attention of everyone in the building. "This is why I don't play hip-hop, because of guys like this! Security come and do something about this."
Right then, everybody (probably 200 people) turns and looks at Rell and me, who are trying our best to shimmy our pants back up. It was a lot easier for me because I was wearing Jeans that had a regular fit. I had mine up in about 3 seconds. Rell, on the other hand, was STRUGGLING. Ever since this guy became an underwear model (catch him on the new season of Janice Dickinson Modeling Show on Oxygen Network Dec. 4), he has been wearing these jeans that are just way too tight. There were two problems with his tight jeans: the D.J. refused to put the music back on until we had the pants back up, and Rell also wore some his designer underwear which had a downright gross bikini cut. I think that the only reason the D.J. stopped us was because of Rell's designer briefs that were so0o0o disgusting. Security actually threw him out and let me stay...had to be the designers. I left anyways because we are a team and we both did the act. I just didn't gross anybody out.
Speaking of gross, Halloween didn't get any better. I decided to steal my brothers ostrich outfit because it was money in the bank. Man on ostrich, so hot right now. I wasn't the gross one though. I must warn you, this really is gross. Don't look at the next two pictures if you think you will be grossed out. This is my boy Jason, and he was a tennis player for Halloween:
Why he had to buy the fake balls and hang them like that I will never, ever understand.
As for the rest of national dress-up day, I got it done up in the bay area.
ride that ostrich young man
clay rocks out with my Guitar Hero Guitar
JGant once again getting harassed
Seriously though, I thought JGant and I had talked about this. I mean, I had to sock him in the balls twice for crying out loud. But look at him. He is having the most fun ever isn't he? Maybe I am a little shallow, but I know he can do better than this! I know it. If he just doesn't care, then i'll forward his myspace profile to all the girls who message me and they can dance the night away.
Oh, and before I met up with him that day he sent me a Blackberry Message that said: "Rod you know i'll wait for you. Can't leave without my roll dawg!"
I was very confused by this. I asked him what that meant? Did it mean like roll-out dawgs or what? He said: "I dont know its just what people say."
I said: "I dunno man that sound a lot like ROAD DAWGS."
He replied: "Oh yea! Thats what they must be saying."
What would I do without my ROLL DAWGS?
I'll end this entry by saying that college basketball is here. Check out my CAL bears. I think they will make some noise.
Top 5 reasons to watch the CAL Bears:
5. I went there, duh. You read my blog, watch my Bears coddamit!
4. People sleep in the trees. Seriously.
3. 2 first round (projected) draft picks
2. You probably need a new team to get into anyways
1. Devon Hardin (one of the draft picks) can get low!!
Hollar!