Finally, I Accidentally Enter The Dance Off
July/25/2009 08:17 PM Filed in: Dance Off
Back months and months ago, Clay claimed he was the best dancer in our crew. It turned into a full “Dance Off” between all of my Boom Tho bros.
Anyways, everyone did their videos except me. There wasn’t really a reason for the lack of dance video. Two nights I put on some “Flock of Seagulls” and it got me hyped. I turned on my camera and... Well, just check it out.
So I think you should check out all the videos and give me a final judgement on who won. Remember that nobody is using their real dance moves, but just feeling the music. Here are the past submissions:
JGants Dance Off vid from Rod Benson on Vimeo.
Aubrey Enters the Dance Off from Rod Benson on Vimeo.
Untitled from Rod Benson on Vimeo.
Now it’s voting time.
Anyways, everyone did their videos except me. There wasn’t really a reason for the lack of dance video. Two nights I put on some “Flock of Seagulls” and it got me hyped. I turned on my camera and... Well, just check it out.
So I think you should check out all the videos and give me a final judgement on who won. Remember that nobody is using their real dance moves, but just feeling the music. Here are the past submissions:
JGants Dance Off vid from Rod Benson on Vimeo.
Aubrey Enters the Dance Off from Rod Benson on Vimeo.
Untitled from Rod Benson on Vimeo.
Now it’s voting time.
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Just One Funny MySpace Message
July/23/2009 09:29 PM Filed in: MySpace Messages
MySpace is nearly dead these days and it really hinders my “Funny MySpace Msgs” section on my site, however this gem just came up and KILLED me. Seriously. I have no words.... The msg was sent to Clay and he forwarded it to me, saying that all he gets is msgs from gay men now for no reason. I had no idea EXACTLY what he meant.
From: The King Of Gay Music
To: absolute -- twitter.com/claytyclay
Date: Jul 20, 2009 6:52 AM
Subject:
Sup.. did u see i was on Mediatakeout the other day?
Headlines as the Gay Rapper and they showed my video..
so now mainstream america views me as "THY" Gay Rapper.. I Love it.. here is My controversial Video
and Link to the site
Addicted 2 Boyz
From: The King Of Gay Music
To: absolute -- twitter.com/claytyclay
Date: Jul 20, 2009 6:52 AM
Subject:
Sup.. did u see i was on Mediatakeout the other day?
Headlines as the Gay Rapper and they showed my video..
so now mainstream america views me as "THY" Gay Rapper.. I Love it.. here is My controversial Video
and Link to the site
Addicted 2 Boyz
Compete or Get Urinated On: A True Story
July/21/2009 10:09 PM Filed in: Random
Every year, former Cal Wide Receiver Chase Lyman holds a series of competitions at his house on one day in the last weekend in June. These competitions range from Quarterback Challenge to Darts to Bocce Ball to Home Run Derby. These events are called the “Lyma Bean Olympics.”
This past OLYMPICS, I went down there to compete against Prelle, Richard Midgley, Mike McGrath, Tosh Lupoi, Conor Famulenor, and others. I did pretty poorly, but this story isn’t about me, it’s about Prelle and Mike.
I guess Mike has always performed pretty poorly at these events and Prelle has always done pretty well. So to spice things up a little bit they made a bet. They made it a little uneven given Mike’s performances in the past, but still, the difference was miniscule. The bet was that if Mike had a higher score at the end of the competitions, he would get to Pee on Prelle’s Chest. If Prelle won, he would get to Pee on Mike’s back. So it was written, so it shall be done.
We used aliases for everyone, but since Mike is balding, he’s on the board as “Rogaine.” Prelle is “The Nose.” As you can see, going into the final event they were all tied up. All that was left to establish a champion was pool. They would play each other to see who would get the golden shower.
Right before the final match
The pool game came down to the last couple of shots. What you’re about to see is video of those last few shots and what ensued. Be advised that there is no actual pee in this video, but that there is quite a bit of profanity because I didnt want to spend hours editing every cuss word they throw out.
This past OLYMPICS, I went down there to compete against Prelle, Richard Midgley, Mike McGrath, Tosh Lupoi, Conor Famulenor, and others. I did pretty poorly, but this story isn’t about me, it’s about Prelle and Mike.
I guess Mike has always performed pretty poorly at these events and Prelle has always done pretty well. So to spice things up a little bit they made a bet. They made it a little uneven given Mike’s performances in the past, but still, the difference was miniscule. The bet was that if Mike had a higher score at the end of the competitions, he would get to Pee on Prelle’s Chest. If Prelle won, he would get to Pee on Mike’s back. So it was written, so it shall be done.
We used aliases for everyone, but since Mike is balding, he’s on the board as “Rogaine.” Prelle is “The Nose.” As you can see, going into the final event they were all tied up. All that was left to establish a champion was pool. They would play each other to see who would get the golden shower.
Right before the final match
The pool game came down to the last couple of shots. What you’re about to see is video of those last few shots and what ensued. Be advised that there is no actual pee in this video, but that there is quite a bit of profanity because I didnt want to spend hours editing every cuss word they throw out.
Where Have I Been?
July/21/2009 10:07 PM Filed in: Random
This is What Happens When You Forget What You've Done
June/16/2009 07:55 PM Filed in: Random
So I was at my girlfriends apartment in San Francisco one afternoon and she had to leave the house to go to work or something. The problem with this was that her roommate absolutely despises my presence, and hates when I’m around without her. She once since my girl a text message reading: “What about ‘I don’t want Rod here when you’re not here’ do you not understand?” -- cold-blooded to say the least.
Anyways, I decided to stay and take a nap despite the fact that her roommate was home. My girl warned me to stay in the room with the door closed until I left and to not make much noise so that I wouldn’t get her in trouble. I agreed and fell asleep.
I woke up a few hours later and could hear her roommate rumbling the next room. Damn. I would have to put my headphones on and watch a movie on my computer so as to not make a peep. I laid there for quite some time and her roommate kept rumbling in her own room now, with the door open so that if I left the room I was in, I would be seen for sure. Damn.
After another hour or so of hiding in the bedroom, the urge to drain the main vein hit me like a ton of bricks. What was I to do? I couldn’t leave the room, not yet at least. I didn’t have many options. It’s not like I could piss out the window from the fourth floor of a San Francisco building onto a busy street. As time wore on, I tried to hold it, but it became unbearable.
I started to panic. This was gonna be all bad unless I found a solution soon. I have always believed that being able to hold it is mental, meaning you can hold it all day long, but as soon as you get near a toilet, it becomes impossible and you start jumping around like the counter finally hit zero. With that in mind you should always be able to remain composed as long as you keep the mental focus. My mental focus is very strong, but I feel like the fact that the bathroom was seven feet away eroded my mental ability to withstand the pressure. It seemed too close to hold out. I was torturing myself.
Finally, when my bladder countdown turned from minutes to seconds, I made a play. I ran over to what used to be a glass of water and was now empty, stood over it, unzipped, and did my deal. It felt great, truly great.
As soon as I was done, a full glass nearly to the brim, by the way, I said to myself: “Don’t forget to dispose of this glass before you leave.” Can’t just leave piss lying around these days, you know?
Later that day I was walking with my boy Prelle. We had just gotten some Jamba Juice in the marina and were headed to grab some real food somewhere in the area. My phone buzzed. It was a BBM from my girlfriend.
“Is that Urine in a glass on my desk?”
I froze. I yelled. I laughed. I worried, Prelle looked at me like I had gone crazy. He asked me what I was reacting to. I first set up the backstory, then I showed him the BBM.
“Wait, wait, wait. This is the greatest question ever. It has like three parts, each worse than the part before. Is that Urine? In a glass? On my desk?” He exclaimed.
He then spent the rest of the day repeating that same statement. As for my girl, she didn’t even get mad at me. In fact, she said that she at first thought it was apple juice and leaned in for a sniff, getting a little of Benson’s Own on her nose. Even I was grossed out by that. It just made her angry at her roommate, who was such a tyrant that I didn’t feel comfortable walking the seven feet to the real bathroom.
I guess I’ve learned my lesson. If I’m gonna piss in a glass, I need to leave a note saying that it isn’t Martinelli’s, it’s Rod’s.
Anyways, I decided to stay and take a nap despite the fact that her roommate was home. My girl warned me to stay in the room with the door closed until I left and to not make much noise so that I wouldn’t get her in trouble. I agreed and fell asleep.
I woke up a few hours later and could hear her roommate rumbling the next room. Damn. I would have to put my headphones on and watch a movie on my computer so as to not make a peep. I laid there for quite some time and her roommate kept rumbling in her own room now, with the door open so that if I left the room I was in, I would be seen for sure. Damn.
After another hour or so of hiding in the bedroom, the urge to drain the main vein hit me like a ton of bricks. What was I to do? I couldn’t leave the room, not yet at least. I didn’t have many options. It’s not like I could piss out the window from the fourth floor of a San Francisco building onto a busy street. As time wore on, I tried to hold it, but it became unbearable.
I started to panic. This was gonna be all bad unless I found a solution soon. I have always believed that being able to hold it is mental, meaning you can hold it all day long, but as soon as you get near a toilet, it becomes impossible and you start jumping around like the counter finally hit zero. With that in mind you should always be able to remain composed as long as you keep the mental focus. My mental focus is very strong, but I feel like the fact that the bathroom was seven feet away eroded my mental ability to withstand the pressure. It seemed too close to hold out. I was torturing myself.
Finally, when my bladder countdown turned from minutes to seconds, I made a play. I ran over to what used to be a glass of water and was now empty, stood over it, unzipped, and did my deal. It felt great, truly great.
As soon as I was done, a full glass nearly to the brim, by the way, I said to myself: “Don’t forget to dispose of this glass before you leave.” Can’t just leave piss lying around these days, you know?
Later that day I was walking with my boy Prelle. We had just gotten some Jamba Juice in the marina and were headed to grab some real food somewhere in the area. My phone buzzed. It was a BBM from my girlfriend.
“Is that Urine in a glass on my desk?”
I froze. I yelled. I laughed. I worried, Prelle looked at me like I had gone crazy. He asked me what I was reacting to. I first set up the backstory, then I showed him the BBM.
“Wait, wait, wait. This is the greatest question ever. It has like three parts, each worse than the part before. Is that Urine? In a glass? On my desk?” He exclaimed.
He then spent the rest of the day repeating that same statement. As for my girl, she didn’t even get mad at me. In fact, she said that she at first thought it was apple juice and leaned in for a sniff, getting a little of Benson’s Own on her nose. Even I was grossed out by that. It just made her angry at her roommate, who was such a tyrant that I didn’t feel comfortable walking the seven feet to the real bathroom.
I guess I’ve learned my lesson. If I’m gonna piss in a glass, I need to leave a note saying that it isn’t Martinelli’s, it’s Rod’s.
Randy Goes For His Own Manage
June/14/2009 02:29 PM Filed in: Random
As it so happens, “Jimmy” wasn’t the only one to try for the 3 of a kind. A few weeks later, “Randy” had his own encounter. Once again, Randy is not his real name, it’s been changed to protect the guilty, as have all the names in the following story.
So one day Randy was telling me about how he doesn’t like to talk about potential good things in his life because he always jinxes them. It was an odd conversation to have with him. It seemed rather pointless.
I asked him why this was at all relevant. He explained that he would tell me because there were a couple of other people who knew what the deal was already.
Randy showed me a BBM conversation that he had had with a girl he has been talking to. She had asked him something about what he would want to do for fun. I can’t remember the exact words, but somehow a Manage came up. Expecting to read that she denied the idea quickly, she actually embraced it.
I looked up at Randy with a grin. It would appear that the improbably was now possible for him and I got excited as if it were me. I would now do anything in my power to coddle such a situation.
The situation developed over the next few days. The girl, we’ll call her “Stacy”, recruited a friend to participate. We’ll call the friend “Monica.” So Stacy found Monica and told her about the deal. Monica agreed and it looked like ol’ Randy was good to go. He consulted me on the situation.
He didn’t know if he should get a hotel room or whatever. I told him that of course he should. It would only add to the comfort level. Meanwhile, he was getting dirty texts from the girls about what they were going to do to him. He was riding high on a wave of emotion.
Finally the day came. He got a hotel room right across from the club that we were going to go to that night. The situation was primed and ready.
The girls met up with him after dinner so that they could pre-party at the hotel. Now they were all drinking in the hotel and Randy was sending me the updates via BBM. It all seemed like it was good to go. He said that he was taking very awesome pictures of Stacy and Monica making out. He said that clothing may or may not have been a factor during the pictures. It sounded pretty damn official.
Me, my girl, and the rest of the crew, met up with Randy and his women at the club and the three of them were dancing with each other. I pulled Randy aside and asked him what the progress was. He told me that Stacy was beginning to have reservations, but that Monica was all for it. I told him to get more liquor and do his deal.
See, our whole crew knew the story at this point and we were all pulling for him. We watched his every move. We watched as he gave both girls a fair amount of attention. We watched him do the normally very innocent “dance in-between two women” move, that now meant so much more. He was actually attempting to keep two separate women stimulated for hours. It was quite entertaining. I left him at about 1am. Randy was now on his own to handle the situation.
The next day I called Randy to see if it all went down. He told me that when he got back to the room, Monica was ready to go. The problem was that Stacy, the one who initiated the whole thing, now had cold feet about her friend possibly gettin down with Randy and put the brakes on the whole thing. Monica, tired of waiting, left the hotel room to go meet up with her boyfriend for some sweet lovin, while Randy and Stacy passed out.
He was so close, but yet so far away. Now my friends are 0-2 in the summer of ’09. There’s still plenty of time to get it done, though.
So one day Randy was telling me about how he doesn’t like to talk about potential good things in his life because he always jinxes them. It was an odd conversation to have with him. It seemed rather pointless.
I asked him why this was at all relevant. He explained that he would tell me because there were a couple of other people who knew what the deal was already.
Randy showed me a BBM conversation that he had had with a girl he has been talking to. She had asked him something about what he would want to do for fun. I can’t remember the exact words, but somehow a Manage came up. Expecting to read that she denied the idea quickly, she actually embraced it.
I looked up at Randy with a grin. It would appear that the improbably was now possible for him and I got excited as if it were me. I would now do anything in my power to coddle such a situation.
The situation developed over the next few days. The girl, we’ll call her “Stacy”, recruited a friend to participate. We’ll call the friend “Monica.” So Stacy found Monica and told her about the deal. Monica agreed and it looked like ol’ Randy was good to go. He consulted me on the situation.
He didn’t know if he should get a hotel room or whatever. I told him that of course he should. It would only add to the comfort level. Meanwhile, he was getting dirty texts from the girls about what they were going to do to him. He was riding high on a wave of emotion.
Finally the day came. He got a hotel room right across from the club that we were going to go to that night. The situation was primed and ready.
The girls met up with him after dinner so that they could pre-party at the hotel. Now they were all drinking in the hotel and Randy was sending me the updates via BBM. It all seemed like it was good to go. He said that he was taking very awesome pictures of Stacy and Monica making out. He said that clothing may or may not have been a factor during the pictures. It sounded pretty damn official.
Me, my girl, and the rest of the crew, met up with Randy and his women at the club and the three of them were dancing with each other. I pulled Randy aside and asked him what the progress was. He told me that Stacy was beginning to have reservations, but that Monica was all for it. I told him to get more liquor and do his deal.
See, our whole crew knew the story at this point and we were all pulling for him. We watched his every move. We watched as he gave both girls a fair amount of attention. We watched him do the normally very innocent “dance in-between two women” move, that now meant so much more. He was actually attempting to keep two separate women stimulated for hours. It was quite entertaining. I left him at about 1am. Randy was now on his own to handle the situation.
The next day I called Randy to see if it all went down. He told me that when he got back to the room, Monica was ready to go. The problem was that Stacy, the one who initiated the whole thing, now had cold feet about her friend possibly gettin down with Randy and put the brakes on the whole thing. Monica, tired of waiting, left the hotel room to go meet up with her boyfriend for some sweet lovin, while Randy and Stacy passed out.
He was so close, but yet so far away. Now my friends are 0-2 in the summer of ’09. There’s still plenty of time to get it done, though.
Jimmy Goes For the Manage
June/14/2009 09:56 AM Filed in: Random
All of the parties in the following stories chose to remain anonymous, of course, so I’ve changed the names to protect the guilty.
We were in Vegas staying at the Venetian about a month ago. After going out the night before, I was the first one up in the morning the next day. It was about 11am and I knew that it would take a while to rally the troops. So I got fully dressed in my pool garb, grabbed my Ipod Dock (Bose. Very loud.) and went room to room, blasting Techno until everyone was up and ready.
We made it down to the pool at about 1, finally, and started gettin it crackin. We didn’t head into TAO Beach right away. We like to get our swerve on at the regular pool first, using the Ipod speakers to have our own party.
Once we were done doin our thing, we went into TAO Beach to take it to the next level. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to TAO Beach, but I can tell you it’s small, loud, and ridiculous. When we entered, I immediately lost one of my boys. You would think it would be tough to lose somebody at a pool the size of a Texaco, but I couldn’t find him.
The thing about this boy of mine, I’ll call him “Jimmy,” is that he almost exclusively dates Asian women. It’s just his thing. We all know this and that’s why he and I have never clashed on the female front. We have very different tastes.
Anyways, after about an hours, Jimmy comes splashing into the pool with two women who fit his target demographic. He’s clearly all over one as he has her up against the wall of the pool, grinding to the sweet tunes pumping over all the patrons that afternoon.
I was happy for Jimmy, because he is just now gettin his college mojo back that he let slip away over the last year. So when I saw him with his tongue now down the girl’s throat. It was damn near magical. Many photos were taken that afternoon and I would like to say that half of them were borderline Cinemax: After Dark.
After the party was over, I headed back to my room with my roommate “Chris.” I was hella tired from a whole day of partying and needed a nap. Chris left the room and I got in bed. It was then that I started getting BBM’s from Jimmy.
“Man why is everybody actin gay?”
“#$*% these chicks aint dimes, but come on punanny punanny.”
I interrupted him.
“What are you talkin bout Jim? I have no clue,” I asked.
“It’s official, I’m off ‘Randy,’ and ‘Gary.’ All I need is a F#$%@$ wingman and they’re actin like they don’t like punanny,” he said.
Right then, Chris walked into the room laughing. I asked him if he was laughing at Jimmy’s situation and he said that he was. See, I know the Chris would handle business in that situation so I was actually more wondering why he didn’t lock and load into WIngman mode.
“Hold up Chris,” I interrupted his laughter, “WTF is goin on over in Jimmy’s room?”
Chris is a very technical talker. He’s probably as Spock-like as a man can be.
“Basically the situation is this: Jimmy brought the woman and her friend from TAO Beach back to his hotel room. They are currently in his bed, completely inebriated. Jimmy is trying to have sex with his girl, but her friend is hating. Jimmy is trying to put the other girl onto Randy or Gary, both of whom don’t want her.”
Chris’ voice was like that of a narrator.
“So,” I started, “you didn’t want to get on drunk girl #2?”
“Well,” he answered, “I tried to help Jimmy out, but they only wanted black guys.”
Chris is Jewish. He was the only non-black guy on our trip.
“Damn son. Cold blooded. Why doesn’t Jimmy go for the Manage? If they are that drunk... I mean it IS Vegas,” I asked.
From what I was told later on, the girls made many attempts to leave, but Jimmy did his best to keep them there. They had a long meeting in the bathroom of his room and he took the opportunity to call me and voice his concern.
He told me that they weren’t down for the manage. He then spent 5 minutes saying how much he hated all his boys for not taking the other girl, leaving him punanny-less.
If there was one moral to this otherwise moral-less story it’s this: Find a girl who likes Jewish guys. The end.
We were in Vegas staying at the Venetian about a month ago. After going out the night before, I was the first one up in the morning the next day. It was about 11am and I knew that it would take a while to rally the troops. So I got fully dressed in my pool garb, grabbed my Ipod Dock (Bose. Very loud.) and went room to room, blasting Techno until everyone was up and ready.
We made it down to the pool at about 1, finally, and started gettin it crackin. We didn’t head into TAO Beach right away. We like to get our swerve on at the regular pool first, using the Ipod speakers to have our own party.
Once we were done doin our thing, we went into TAO Beach to take it to the next level. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to TAO Beach, but I can tell you it’s small, loud, and ridiculous. When we entered, I immediately lost one of my boys. You would think it would be tough to lose somebody at a pool the size of a Texaco, but I couldn’t find him.
The thing about this boy of mine, I’ll call him “Jimmy,” is that he almost exclusively dates Asian women. It’s just his thing. We all know this and that’s why he and I have never clashed on the female front. We have very different tastes.
Anyways, after about an hours, Jimmy comes splashing into the pool with two women who fit his target demographic. He’s clearly all over one as he has her up against the wall of the pool, grinding to the sweet tunes pumping over all the patrons that afternoon.
I was happy for Jimmy, because he is just now gettin his college mojo back that he let slip away over the last year. So when I saw him with his tongue now down the girl’s throat. It was damn near magical. Many photos were taken that afternoon and I would like to say that half of them were borderline Cinemax: After Dark.
After the party was over, I headed back to my room with my roommate “Chris.” I was hella tired from a whole day of partying and needed a nap. Chris left the room and I got in bed. It was then that I started getting BBM’s from Jimmy.
“Man why is everybody actin gay?”
“#$*% these chicks aint dimes, but come on punanny punanny.”
I interrupted him.
“What are you talkin bout Jim? I have no clue,” I asked.
“It’s official, I’m off ‘Randy,’ and ‘Gary.’ All I need is a F#$%@$ wingman and they’re actin like they don’t like punanny,” he said.
Right then, Chris walked into the room laughing. I asked him if he was laughing at Jimmy’s situation and he said that he was. See, I know the Chris would handle business in that situation so I was actually more wondering why he didn’t lock and load into WIngman mode.
“Hold up Chris,” I interrupted his laughter, “WTF is goin on over in Jimmy’s room?”
Chris is a very technical talker. He’s probably as Spock-like as a man can be.
“Basically the situation is this: Jimmy brought the woman and her friend from TAO Beach back to his hotel room. They are currently in his bed, completely inebriated. Jimmy is trying to have sex with his girl, but her friend is hating. Jimmy is trying to put the other girl onto Randy or Gary, both of whom don’t want her.”
Chris’ voice was like that of a narrator.
“So,” I started, “you didn’t want to get on drunk girl #2?”
“Well,” he answered, “I tried to help Jimmy out, but they only wanted black guys.”
Chris is Jewish. He was the only non-black guy on our trip.
“Damn son. Cold blooded. Why doesn’t Jimmy go for the Manage? If they are that drunk... I mean it IS Vegas,” I asked.
From what I was told later on, the girls made many attempts to leave, but Jimmy did his best to keep them there. They had a long meeting in the bathroom of his room and he took the opportunity to call me and voice his concern.
He told me that they weren’t down for the manage. He then spent 5 minutes saying how much he hated all his boys for not taking the other girl, leaving him punanny-less.
If there was one moral to this otherwise moral-less story it’s this: Find a girl who likes Jewish guys. The end.
I Must Protect the 7'3" Polish Guy!
April/02/2009 04:25 PM Filed in: Random
Have you ever seen the movie “Can’t Hardly Wait”? I have many times. When I was a high schooler, our basketball team room had a pretty nice TV, couches, and a VCR. The problem was that there were only two movies in there. For no good reason whatsoever, one of these movies was Master P’s masterpiece: “I Got The Hookup.” The other was “Can’t Hardly Wait.” I digress.
In “Can’t Hardly Wait,” there’s a scene where the kids make the foreigner say things like “would you like to touch my...” you can finish the sentence. Anyways, that character kind of embodies my Polish teammate Cezary Trybanski. He actually speaks English pretty well, but there are times when he just doesn’t know when he’s being taken advantage of.
This story starts and ends with what happened the other night. We were out at some bar around the corner just talking and listening to this blues musician. One of my teammates is on the other side of the bar chillin, and Cezary is sitting next to some guy with a beard. It looks like they’re talking. A few minutes later, Cezary walks up to me.
“Can you come to tell me what he says?” He asks me.
“What are you talkin bout C?” I ask him right back.
“This guy, I don’t understand him. Find out what he says to me.”
I walk over with Cezary to this new friend. Cezary sits down again while I lean in.
“What are you talkin about? My teammate can’t understand you,” I yell to this guy over the music.
In a ridiculously raspy voice, like a Ken Kaniff from Connecticut type voice, he says:
“What are you guys doing?”
It was clear why Cezary couldn’t understand him. His voice was just do funny and raspy.
“We’re here chillin. That’s obvious,” I say to the creepy voiced guy.
“What are you guys doin later?” he asks me again.
I’m thinkin he knows about some sort of after party or something.
“I dunno man. We ain’t sure yet.”
“Do you guys wanna get in a hot tub with me?”
I thought I misheard him in a bad way.
“What!?!” I yell out even louder than before.
“I said do you guys wanna get in a hot tub with meeee?”
“HAIL NO!”
I grab Cezary and start to walk him away.
“Wait man, you don’t know what I’d do to you man. For real I’d s...”
The guy started a sentence I didn’t need to hear the end of. I took off running, Cezary right there with me until we were on the other side of the bar. RIght then, as if he had teleported over, the guy was right behind us.
“April fools, man. April fools, man,” he was yelling at us in his raspy, nasty Ken Kaniff voice.
I told him to step off. I didn’t believe him. It wasn’t even April Fools day, for one. Secondly, you cant run an April Fools joke on someone who doesn’t speak English. Whatever. Moral of the story is that I now have to watch over the Polish guy so that nobody takes advantage of him.
Whip Game Proper
April/02/2009 04:17 PM Filed in: Random
Since photo’s of my car were already leaked on ridiculousupside.com (via my Facebook), I figured I’d do it right and show you how I’m rollin. It’s gonna be a great summer, baby! Oh yea, and my custom license plates will be here in a few weeks. If you can’t guess the 7 letter phrase that will be on my plates, then you REALLY don’t know me at all.
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:
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.
Boom Tho Girl 2
February/25/2009 01:36 PM Filed in: Random
Ask Boom Tho
February/11/2009 03:54 PM Filed in: Ask Boom Tho
So, I got this email from the other day from a guy who wanted some advice. I figured I’d answer it for everyone...
Subject: Failed Boom Tho Girl
Message: So, Rod benson, there was this one chick, definite Boom Tho girl material. Gorgeous, tall, skinny blonde, 2nd in her graduating class at her large private school, and headed for Vanderbilt next year.
I met her at some party, where she saw me running the beer pong table, and was pretty much craving my keystone-splashing jumpers all night.
We started talking, it turned into something more, and I ended up stealing her from her boyfriend... I know, I know what you're thinking "damn kid, you must be a beast!"... That is what I thought too! But that is not the case it would seem.
After we dated for about three weeks, it became evident that my mustache, and the fact that I drfopped out of high school were angering her. Mind you, this is no Adam Morrisson mustache, think more of a Magnum PI mustache. And I have my GED, so don't know what the big deal is... Her and her ex boyfriend were hanging out regularly, and of course he was scheming to put his stalagmite back in her cave, but for some reason, she still thought that he just wanted to be friends. Everytime I did something wrong, there he was to swoop back in.
NOW, all of a sudden, the girl breaks up with me and is back in love with her scrawny (6'3, 148 pound) ex boyfriend who does nothing but make her cry most of the time.
I thought she was Boom Tho Girl material, should I cut her now? Or keep her on the roster and try to get the unused potential out of her?
Colin
Colin,
the girl definitely sounds very solid. She likes Beirut (Commonly mislabeled “beer pong.” Beer pong uses a paddle.), she’s tall and hot and everything you seem to be looking for, but, alas, you’ve hit quite a snag and there are obvious reasons for this.
First of all, don’t blame the ‘stache. You kiddin’ me? Baseball players rock the dirty ‘stache all day and pull girls like Erin Andrews. Adam Morrison may even pull a solid amount of breezy’s. You never know.
Now let’s check out some of the other things you told me about her:
Going to Vandy next year.
You swooped in on her and stole her from her B.F.
Tall skinny Blonde.
To me, these three things tell your whole tale, son. Clearly you are going after a girl who is still in high school. Although being in high school doesn’t mean much isn’t much, it does mean she has more peer pressure. A girl who is still in high school will look at you differently for dropping out because her friends will hate on you. Friends hating is the #2 killer of men trying to get at women. #1 is another man hating.
Which brings me to my next point. You stole her from her boyfriend. That situation is always a shady one. Yea, you’re a boss for the move, but that means that the girl is open to that sort of thing and always looking for the next best thing.You time appeared to last a solid few weeks. Now, she’s realized whatever about you that doesnt like so she moves on. If it wasn’t him, it’d be someone else. Maybe one of my Boom Tho brothers somewhere would have swooped and made his move. Thing is, they realize that you can’t wife up a swoop. 112 has a song that goes “she got with you when she already had a man, why wouldn’t she cheat on you?” Words to live by, brotha.
Lastly, you said she was a gorgeous, tall, skinny, smart blonde. This may be your main problem, son. You met her, she was feelin you, and you almost immediately fell for her. You stole her away from her boyfriend, who you knew made her cry. You showed her another side that you probly don’t show all women. You gave her the side that would NEVER make her cry, and it worked for a short time. You were so impressed with her that you did all of these things and it worked -- for a short time.
The problem is that she’s gorgeous, tall, skinny, smart, and blonde. That means that 99% of men who meet her treat her that way. She enjoys it, but loses interest in those guys, eventually, because she’s a hot girl. Her current man makes her cry, which she hates, but he doesn’t treat her TOO well, either, which she loves. Watch “My Best Friends Girl.” You’re dusty, the other guy is Dane Cook. Ridiculously hot girls need to grow into a point where they are ready for a nice guy. They get too much smothering all the time to just buy in, especially before college.
Anyway, my final judgement is: cut the cord. Don’t steal girlfriends cuz it will come back later, and don’t be TOO nice, too early. Stay mad boom tho and do what you do, playa!
--Too Much
Got a question for Boom Tho? Hit me up
Subject: Failed Boom Tho Girl
Message: So, Rod benson, there was this one chick, definite Boom Tho girl material. Gorgeous, tall, skinny blonde, 2nd in her graduating class at her large private school, and headed for Vanderbilt next year.
I met her at some party, where she saw me running the beer pong table, and was pretty much craving my keystone-splashing jumpers all night.
We started talking, it turned into something more, and I ended up stealing her from her boyfriend... I know, I know what you're thinking "damn kid, you must be a beast!"... That is what I thought too! But that is not the case it would seem.
After we dated for about three weeks, it became evident that my mustache, and the fact that I drfopped out of high school were angering her. Mind you, this is no Adam Morrisson mustache, think more of a Magnum PI mustache. And I have my GED, so don't know what the big deal is... Her and her ex boyfriend were hanging out regularly, and of course he was scheming to put his stalagmite back in her cave, but for some reason, she still thought that he just wanted to be friends. Everytime I did something wrong, there he was to swoop back in.
NOW, all of a sudden, the girl breaks up with me and is back in love with her scrawny (6'3, 148 pound) ex boyfriend who does nothing but make her cry most of the time.
I thought she was Boom Tho Girl material, should I cut her now? Or keep her on the roster and try to get the unused potential out of her?
Colin
Colin,
the girl definitely sounds very solid. She likes Beirut (Commonly mislabeled “beer pong.” Beer pong uses a paddle.), she’s tall and hot and everything you seem to be looking for, but, alas, you’ve hit quite a snag and there are obvious reasons for this.
First of all, don’t blame the ‘stache. You kiddin’ me? Baseball players rock the dirty ‘stache all day and pull girls like Erin Andrews. Adam Morrison may even pull a solid amount of breezy’s. You never know.
Now let’s check out some of the other things you told me about her:
Going to Vandy next year.
You swooped in on her and stole her from her B.F.
Tall skinny Blonde.
To me, these three things tell your whole tale, son. Clearly you are going after a girl who is still in high school. Although being in high school doesn’t mean much isn’t much, it does mean she has more peer pressure. A girl who is still in high school will look at you differently for dropping out because her friends will hate on you. Friends hating is the #2 killer of men trying to get at women. #1 is another man hating.
Which brings me to my next point. You stole her from her boyfriend. That situation is always a shady one. Yea, you’re a boss for the move, but that means that the girl is open to that sort of thing and always looking for the next best thing.You time appeared to last a solid few weeks. Now, she’s realized whatever about you that doesnt like so she moves on. If it wasn’t him, it’d be someone else. Maybe one of my Boom Tho brothers somewhere would have swooped and made his move. Thing is, they realize that you can’t wife up a swoop. 112 has a song that goes “she got with you when she already had a man, why wouldn’t she cheat on you?” Words to live by, brotha.
Lastly, you said she was a gorgeous, tall, skinny, smart blonde. This may be your main problem, son. You met her, she was feelin you, and you almost immediately fell for her. You stole her away from her boyfriend, who you knew made her cry. You showed her another side that you probly don’t show all women. You gave her the side that would NEVER make her cry, and it worked for a short time. You were so impressed with her that you did all of these things and it worked -- for a short time.
The problem is that she’s gorgeous, tall, skinny, smart, and blonde. That means that 99% of men who meet her treat her that way. She enjoys it, but loses interest in those guys, eventually, because she’s a hot girl. Her current man makes her cry, which she hates, but he doesn’t treat her TOO well, either, which she loves. Watch “My Best Friends Girl.” You’re dusty, the other guy is Dane Cook. Ridiculously hot girls need to grow into a point where they are ready for a nice guy. They get too much smothering all the time to just buy in, especially before college.
Anyway, my final judgement is: cut the cord. Don’t steal girlfriends cuz it will come back later, and don’t be TOO nice, too early. Stay mad boom tho and do what you do, playa!
--Too Much
Got a question for Boom Tho? Hit me up
The New Boom
February/02/2009 10:38 PM Filed in: Random
In the next month, I’ll be dropping my first set of videos for 2009. Starting with “Boom Tho Girl 2,” I’ll then do my Dance Off video and “The Rockumentary 2,” among others. In these videos I’ll be wearing the new shirts featuring new designs that I feel are ridiculously boom tho. They’re all on the “Gear” page, but I’ll post them here too so you can see.
Keep rockin the movement!
The detail for the above shirt:
Keep rockin the movement!
The detail for the above shirt:
I Came Back to North Dakota and Craziness Came Back Into My Life
February/02/2009 08:33 PM Filed in: Dakota
I’ve been back up in North Dakota for quite some time and I didn’t think I’d get a lot of great blog material out of this place so quickly, but I did. I’ve actually taken many photo’s that help me to tell the stories, all except for one. So, here goes, the stories you can only get in Bismarck, North Dakota...
Oh yea, you can check out the old Dakota posts here.
There is no story to go along with the following photo’s, but you need to know how cold it was. It was somethin like 40 or 50 below. To tell the truth, anything below 10 feels like life as you know it will soon come to an end. I have no clue why anyone says there’s global warming when Dakota has their coldest, snowiest winter ever so far.
I hadn’t been to Buck’s in nearly 9 months, so I headed over there on a random Monday night. The place was empty, except for maybe 4 or 5 people, excluding myself and my two teammates. It sure as hell didn’t stop us from C-Walking, Cha Cha Sliding, and Cupid Shuffling. It didn’t stop us from playing Black Jack and it certainly didn’t stop us from getting handed a Hilary Clinton mask by the D.J. and wearing it the whole time:
Teammate in the mask, an old boom tho shirt, and two balloons under his shirt.
Hilary Clinton must be mad boom tho. She must be.
Then there was after Saturday’s game againts the Ft. Wayne Mad Ants. My boy Coleman Collins, his teammate Sean Sonderleiter, and I went to a bar called Stadium because I informed them that there was a Jukebox for the music and a table for the blackjack.
I won about $170 (baller, I know), then left the table about 10 minutes before the bar closed (at 1, grr). I walked over to talk to our game time P.A., Scott Woodmansee. He happened to be near a table that had a woman wearing a little white vest. I thought it’d be funny to put the vest on for a second since it was so small. I traded her for my sweatshirt and wore the white vest around for a couple minutes just to be funny.
When it was time to head out, we couldn’t get a taxi together so we had to scrap a ride. We found out that the white vest woman could give us a ride, so we headed out to the car. What we didn’t know was that she was there with her daughter, her daughters friend, and her daughters friend’s husband. Now we had to fit three 6’9”-6’10” guys in a car with 4 other people. It was a five seat SUV type thing so Sean sat in the trunk area, while Coleman, the Daughter and her friend, and I sat in the back, and the mother in the passenger seat while the husband drove. Oh yea, we found out that the mother was the mother at this point when she started arguing with the daughter. I had no clue because she was only 38 years old and the daughter was 22. This age dynamic would play a role very soon.
So all of us ballers thought we were going right to the Days Inn to drop the Mad Ants off, but we started taking some odd turns that I know weren’t quite the right way. I asked the driver out loud where we were going, because the Days Inn was the other way. The mother answered.
“We’re going to pick up Tyler first,” she said.
I think everyone in the car knew that there was nowhere for anyone else to fit in that bad boy. I was starting to suspect that she may have been a little drunk. Her daughter interrupted my thought process.
“We are NOT picking up Tyler mom. I tired of you f*$%king doing this $#!t!”
Coleman and I looked at each other like, “oh man, what have we gotten ourselves into?”
The mother and the daughter got into a heated argument that lasted nearly ten minutes. Finally, we pulled into an empty, snow covered parking lot. The mom hopped out and began yelling out Tyler’s name. This is the reason I remember his name and nobody else’s, because I heard this woman scream it out into the snowy distance for the next 15 minutes, occasionally turning back to the car to yell and argue with her daughter.
The mother gave up the Tyler search and got back into the car. That’s when some vital information came out.
“Mom, you’re such a bitch! You always want to f*&R^king hit on my friends, but Tyler is MY boyfriend, not yours!” the daughter yelled.
The truth was finally out, Tyler was daughters man, but Mom was making the move to find him. All of this happening while we sit, crammed in the back of some tiny car, waiting to get home.
The driver then told everyone that he knew where Tyler was. We started driving somewhere else -- not to the Days Inn. We stopped somewhere else and the mom got on the phone with Tyler, then hopped out. The daughter yelled out that Tyler couldn’t even fit in the car. The mom then yelled back: “He can sit on my lap, bitch!”
The daughter was oh so mad.
After a few minutes, mom came waltzing back with Tyler. Tyler was clearly drunk and stumbly and walked right up to the back right door, the door I was sitting next to. He flung open the door, looked at me and said “Who the f*&k is this? Get the f^%k out of the car! Who the f^%k are you?”
I calmly stepped out and took a step towards him. I towered over him and I think he assumed I was some short little punk he could say anything to, but that was not the case. He immediately began to apologize. He took his seat -- on top of mom’s lap -- and I got back into my seat, and we drove to the Days Inn. Finally.
After some more arguing, I ended up back at my apartment. Night over.
The next day was Super Bowl Sunday. Coleman and I went to Buffalo Wild Wings to see the game, eat some food, and chill. Here I am with my sooper dooper three dee glasses on:
After the game was over, we were sitting at the bar chillin, finishing our meals, when the bartender point to some guy in the walkway.
“He’s not being serious right now, right?”
I looked over. The guy stumbled left, then half stumbled right, then caught himself, then stumbled again.
I turned back to the bartender.
“Yea, I think he’s being for real. He’s just that drunk.”
See, I don’t know what it is about this place that makes people want to drink until they have an irregular heartbeat, but it’s got to be something in the air -- something that has yet to hit me.
We laughed at the guy and how he walked over to this table of women behind me. He had no balance or motor skills so he leaned all his weight onto their table. He was standing so funny due to his lack of balance. He was on his toes, but he was standing like he was on his heels. He looked like a flamingo with cerebral palsy.
I got back to Coleman and to talking with him and the people around me when all of sudden the bartender’s face turned pale. Her eyes grew big and her mouth opened. She almost stuttered but instead the words came right out.
“OMG He just pissed himself!”
I turned around and looked at him. I noticed what she did. There was a small wet spot around the zipper of his jeans. In real-time I watched it grow and grow and grow. Then I watched it go down his right leg slowly until it stopped around his knee. He had no clue. I then whipped out my BlackBerry, handed it to the bartender, and had her take a photo:
First, notice the guys right leg. There is clearly a wet spot. Next, notice the blonde next to him who is grossed out and trying to control her laughter. Now, notice his friend, who also has no clue about the urine. Last, notice me, thumbs up baby! Mad boom tho!
I must say, it’s good to be back in town! I’m here til mid-April. Who knows what will happen next?
Oh yea, you can check out the old Dakota posts here.
There is no story to go along with the following photo’s, but you need to know how cold it was. It was somethin like 40 or 50 below. To tell the truth, anything below 10 feels like life as you know it will soon come to an end. I have no clue why anyone says there’s global warming when Dakota has their coldest, snowiest winter ever so far.
I hadn’t been to Buck’s in nearly 9 months, so I headed over there on a random Monday night. The place was empty, except for maybe 4 or 5 people, excluding myself and my two teammates. It sure as hell didn’t stop us from C-Walking, Cha Cha Sliding, and Cupid Shuffling. It didn’t stop us from playing Black Jack and it certainly didn’t stop us from getting handed a Hilary Clinton mask by the D.J. and wearing it the whole time:
Teammate in the mask, an old boom tho shirt, and two balloons under his shirt.
Hilary Clinton must be mad boom tho. She must be.
Then there was after Saturday’s game againts the Ft. Wayne Mad Ants. My boy Coleman Collins, his teammate Sean Sonderleiter, and I went to a bar called Stadium because I informed them that there was a Jukebox for the music and a table for the blackjack.
I won about $170 (baller, I know), then left the table about 10 minutes before the bar closed (at 1, grr). I walked over to talk to our game time P.A., Scott Woodmansee. He happened to be near a table that had a woman wearing a little white vest. I thought it’d be funny to put the vest on for a second since it was so small. I traded her for my sweatshirt and wore the white vest around for a couple minutes just to be funny.
When it was time to head out, we couldn’t get a taxi together so we had to scrap a ride. We found out that the white vest woman could give us a ride, so we headed out to the car. What we didn’t know was that she was there with her daughter, her daughters friend, and her daughters friend’s husband. Now we had to fit three 6’9”-6’10” guys in a car with 4 other people. It was a five seat SUV type thing so Sean sat in the trunk area, while Coleman, the Daughter and her friend, and I sat in the back, and the mother in the passenger seat while the husband drove. Oh yea, we found out that the mother was the mother at this point when she started arguing with the daughter. I had no clue because she was only 38 years old and the daughter was 22. This age dynamic would play a role very soon.
So all of us ballers thought we were going right to the Days Inn to drop the Mad Ants off, but we started taking some odd turns that I know weren’t quite the right way. I asked the driver out loud where we were going, because the Days Inn was the other way. The mother answered.
“We’re going to pick up Tyler first,” she said.
I think everyone in the car knew that there was nowhere for anyone else to fit in that bad boy. I was starting to suspect that she may have been a little drunk. Her daughter interrupted my thought process.
“We are NOT picking up Tyler mom. I tired of you f*$%king doing this $#!t!”
Coleman and I looked at each other like, “oh man, what have we gotten ourselves into?”
The mother and the daughter got into a heated argument that lasted nearly ten minutes. Finally, we pulled into an empty, snow covered parking lot. The mom hopped out and began yelling out Tyler’s name. This is the reason I remember his name and nobody else’s, because I heard this woman scream it out into the snowy distance for the next 15 minutes, occasionally turning back to the car to yell and argue with her daughter.
The mother gave up the Tyler search and got back into the car. That’s when some vital information came out.
“Mom, you’re such a bitch! You always want to f*&R^king hit on my friends, but Tyler is MY boyfriend, not yours!” the daughter yelled.
The truth was finally out, Tyler was daughters man, but Mom was making the move to find him. All of this happening while we sit, crammed in the back of some tiny car, waiting to get home.
The driver then told everyone that he knew where Tyler was. We started driving somewhere else -- not to the Days Inn. We stopped somewhere else and the mom got on the phone with Tyler, then hopped out. The daughter yelled out that Tyler couldn’t even fit in the car. The mom then yelled back: “He can sit on my lap, bitch!”
The daughter was oh so mad.
After a few minutes, mom came waltzing back with Tyler. Tyler was clearly drunk and stumbly and walked right up to the back right door, the door I was sitting next to. He flung open the door, looked at me and said “Who the f*&k is this? Get the f^%k out of the car! Who the f^%k are you?”
I calmly stepped out and took a step towards him. I towered over him and I think he assumed I was some short little punk he could say anything to, but that was not the case. He immediately began to apologize. He took his seat -- on top of mom’s lap -- and I got back into my seat, and we drove to the Days Inn. Finally.
After some more arguing, I ended up back at my apartment. Night over.
The next day was Super Bowl Sunday. Coleman and I went to Buffalo Wild Wings to see the game, eat some food, and chill. Here I am with my sooper dooper three dee glasses on:
After the game was over, we were sitting at the bar chillin, finishing our meals, when the bartender point to some guy in the walkway.
“He’s not being serious right now, right?”
I looked over. The guy stumbled left, then half stumbled right, then caught himself, then stumbled again.
I turned back to the bartender.
“Yea, I think he’s being for real. He’s just that drunk.”
See, I don’t know what it is about this place that makes people want to drink until they have an irregular heartbeat, but it’s got to be something in the air -- something that has yet to hit me.
We laughed at the guy and how he walked over to this table of women behind me. He had no balance or motor skills so he leaned all his weight onto their table. He was standing so funny due to his lack of balance. He was on his toes, but he was standing like he was on his heels. He looked like a flamingo with cerebral palsy.
I got back to Coleman and to talking with him and the people around me when all of sudden the bartender’s face turned pale. Her eyes grew big and her mouth opened. She almost stuttered but instead the words came right out.
“OMG He just pissed himself!”
I turned around and looked at him. I noticed what she did. There was a small wet spot around the zipper of his jeans. In real-time I watched it grow and grow and grow. Then I watched it go down his right leg slowly until it stopped around his knee. He had no clue. I then whipped out my BlackBerry, handed it to the bartender, and had her take a photo:
First, notice the guys right leg. There is clearly a wet spot. Next, notice the blonde next to him who is grossed out and trying to control her laughter. Now, notice his friend, who also has no clue about the urine. Last, notice me, thumbs up baby! Mad boom tho!
I must say, it’s good to be back in town! I’m here til mid-April. Who knows what will happen next?
Clay's LOLBoom
January/28/2009 12:22 AM Filed in: LOLBoom
Clay knows about a lot more “I’m bored at work, what do I do now?” sites than I do. One day he told me about something called “LOLCat.” Basically they just put captions on funny photo’s of cats and people love it.
So, Clay decided he could do the same with popular photos here on TMRB. The difference being that he would have a boom tho related caption on his photos. He decided to call it “LOLBoom.”
He’s gonna update this a few times a week, if not more, so check back. Here’s the first couple:
So, Clay decided he could do the same with popular photos here on TMRB. The difference being that he would have a boom tho related caption on his photos. He decided to call it “LOLBoom.”
He’s gonna update this a few times a week, if not more, so check back. Here’s the first couple:
I Don't do "Dress Code"
January/23/2009 05:16 PM Filed in: Random
The day of the Emerald Bowl, Cal’s bowl game against Miami, all of my friends and I had grand plans for the day. We were going to wake up early, buy our tickets, support the bears, etc. The game started at 5pm so we figured we would head down to Momo’s at around noon to meet up with Prelle, Conor, and Chase for a full afternoon of tailgating.
At around 3PM, I finally made it over to Clay’s house and he was still asleep. So much for those plans. Grabbed some food and some drinks and decided to meet up with JGant who was at Dayo’s apartment (try to keep up) which was right by Momo’s which was where the other guys had been all day.
As we got dressed to get ready to leave, Clay put on his Cal sweatshirt and some jeans and whatever, figuring that he would come back to his apt before he went out later that night. I put on my New Jersey Nets sweats (I wear em all the time), a boom tho shirt, and my trusty Stewie Griffin slippers. When Clay questioned the slippers I, under the influence of some pre-tailgating, told him that I would not, under any circumstance, go anywhere or do anything else for the rest of the night WITHOUT my Stewie Slippers. Of course he had more questions and concerns, mainly regarding our after-party choices and the dress codes that coincide. (I also had on my favorite beanie -- not dress code friendly:
)
I told Clay that I knew the risks and that I didn’t care. He then said a statement that made me believe in myself even more.
“Well,” he admitted, “if anyone can pull it off, you can.”
We hopped a cab and headed down to meet JGant. He and seven other people were inside of Dayo’s apartment, while Dayo was at the game. That still makes no sense to me.
Everyone immediately questioned the shirt, then the beanie, then the slippers. I knew it was about to be a glorious evening. The tailgate was really no tailgate at al. It was just us watching the Cal domination from Dayo’s living room.
Towards the end of the game, it was time to head to Momo’s to meet the rest of the guys. It would be the Stewie slippers’ first test. Could I get into a decent restaurant/bar dressed like a comedian who was ready for bed? We were about to find out.
I walked right up to the bouncer, who didn’t notice my slips, dapped him up, and walked in. JGant and Clay seemed a bit shocked, but it wasn’t like Momo’s had a dress code, so they rolled with it.
After a few hours there, partying it up, I spotted my boys from EA Sports. Gary wanted to go to some other bar and meet up with some people in north beach, so I left with him to head over there and party some more. I got into that bar with no issues either. It was beginning to seem like I might be able to keep this streak alive all night and party w Stewie slippers on like I had vowed to earlier that afternoon.
When Gary called it a night, it was about 10:30PM. I was out by Clayton’s house, but Clayton was at Fluid with JGant and Cedric. It was now officially time to see if I was indeed the one who could “pull it off.” What you need to understand is that everywhere I went that day, people immediately noticed the slippers and were LOVING them. So theyweren’t exactly inconspicuous. The were actually a conversation starter (and the beanie) whenever I bumped into someone I didn’t know. You also need to understand that fluid is a real club with a real dress code, a line, and MANY bouncers, who have shut me down for wearing a hat before. It was about to get interesting.
I stepped out of the cab in front of Fluid. The line was average size, but I never wait in line there anyway (Ha, trust me, I’m not big time). I usually talk to my boy Big Matt out front and he lets me right in. I didn’t see Matt that night, but I did see the other guy who claims he can dunk on me, but usually lets me right in as well.
I walk up behind a group of people who have just paid for VIP bottle service. When I say behind, I mean RIGHT behind them. I actually went up so close, that there was no way my feet could be seen. My face, however, was easily visible, and the bouncer said I was cool to go in -- as long as I took the beanie off. Deal. I loitered a bit so that I could stay amongst the group and hide my feet.
When we all got in, they went right and I went left and found my boys. Clay couldn’t believe it. Heck, I couldn’t believe it. I was wearing big, floppy, red and yellow Family Guy slippers, blue sweats with 3 stripes all the way down the side, and a boom tho shirt inside of my favorite club. There was only one thing left to do: dance.
Clay and I went on an incredible dancing tear. Due to the super long “pre-party,” the whole thing is a little fuzzy in my mind, but the memory of fun remains very clear. Like all good things, however, it had to come to an end.
Clay told me that someone was hating, but I couldn’t see who, and I didn’t care. I was enjoying myself too much. All of a sudden, a VIP hostess and a bouncer were all up in my grill. My night in fluid was done. I had no regrets. It was my time to leave. Clay came right on with me as we re-grouped and made plans about our next spot. We would see the VIP hostess again a few days later at the Starlight Room and she informed us that the guys in her section got angry when they saw my slippers, because one of their boys wasn’t allowed in due to his faulty shoe game. Fair enough I guess.
We decided to head over to the marina and try our luck there. The marina is a place where there are a lot of bars without specific dress code rules, so we figured we would be alright. We headed over to Circa, which wasn’t the smartest move because they have a dress code and multiple bouncers outside. The line was also very, very long. The only reason we went is because I had some very strong persuasion by a member of the opposite sex.
So here we are, standing outside trying to strategize a way inside without waiting in line and without allowing them to notice my slippers. After strategizing for about 15 minutes, the girls came out and talked to the bouncer. Clutch play. We got right in, but with the condition that I had to take the beanie off again. Grrr. Still, there was no mention of the slippers, so once again there was a slippers, so I was still batting 1,000 for the night.
Clay and I kept dancing until it was time to go. If there was one downside about wearing the slippers it was that people kept wanting to step on them to see how puffy they were, or kick Stewie in the face, or put their high heels in his eye. I don’t understand what prompted that response, but I assume it was 75% alcohol related and 25% not knowing how to react to seeing someone wear those out on a random Saturday night.
Regardless, I had done the seemingly impossible. I had worn an outfit completely against all dress code rules from 3PM until 3AM. 12 hours of strict boom-tho-ness. I guess it’s true, if anyone could pull it off, it would be me.
At around 3PM, I finally made it over to Clay’s house and he was still asleep. So much for those plans. Grabbed some food and some drinks and decided to meet up with JGant who was at Dayo’s apartment (try to keep up) which was right by Momo’s which was where the other guys had been all day.
As we got dressed to get ready to leave, Clay put on his Cal sweatshirt and some jeans and whatever, figuring that he would come back to his apt before he went out later that night. I put on my New Jersey Nets sweats (I wear em all the time), a boom tho shirt, and my trusty Stewie Griffin slippers. When Clay questioned the slippers I, under the influence of some pre-tailgating, told him that I would not, under any circumstance, go anywhere or do anything else for the rest of the night WITHOUT my Stewie Slippers. Of course he had more questions and concerns, mainly regarding our after-party choices and the dress codes that coincide. (I also had on my favorite beanie -- not dress code friendly:
)
I told Clay that I knew the risks and that I didn’t care. He then said a statement that made me believe in myself even more.
“Well,” he admitted, “if anyone can pull it off, you can.”
We hopped a cab and headed down to meet JGant. He and seven other people were inside of Dayo’s apartment, while Dayo was at the game. That still makes no sense to me.
Everyone immediately questioned the shirt, then the beanie, then the slippers. I knew it was about to be a glorious evening. The tailgate was really no tailgate at al. It was just us watching the Cal domination from Dayo’s living room.
Towards the end of the game, it was time to head to Momo’s to meet the rest of the guys. It would be the Stewie slippers’ first test. Could I get into a decent restaurant/bar dressed like a comedian who was ready for bed? We were about to find out.
I walked right up to the bouncer, who didn’t notice my slips, dapped him up, and walked in. JGant and Clay seemed a bit shocked, but it wasn’t like Momo’s had a dress code, so they rolled with it.
After a few hours there, partying it up, I spotted my boys from EA Sports. Gary wanted to go to some other bar and meet up with some people in north beach, so I left with him to head over there and party some more. I got into that bar with no issues either. It was beginning to seem like I might be able to keep this streak alive all night and party w Stewie slippers on like I had vowed to earlier that afternoon.
When Gary called it a night, it was about 10:30PM. I was out by Clayton’s house, but Clayton was at Fluid with JGant and Cedric. It was now officially time to see if I was indeed the one who could “pull it off.” What you need to understand is that everywhere I went that day, people immediately noticed the slippers and were LOVING them. So theyweren’t exactly inconspicuous. The were actually a conversation starter (and the beanie) whenever I bumped into someone I didn’t know. You also need to understand that fluid is a real club with a real dress code, a line, and MANY bouncers, who have shut me down for wearing a hat before. It was about to get interesting.
I stepped out of the cab in front of Fluid. The line was average size, but I never wait in line there anyway (Ha, trust me, I’m not big time). I usually talk to my boy Big Matt out front and he lets me right in. I didn’t see Matt that night, but I did see the other guy who claims he can dunk on me, but usually lets me right in as well.
I walk up behind a group of people who have just paid for VIP bottle service. When I say behind, I mean RIGHT behind them. I actually went up so close, that there was no way my feet could be seen. My face, however, was easily visible, and the bouncer said I was cool to go in -- as long as I took the beanie off. Deal. I loitered a bit so that I could stay amongst the group and hide my feet.
When we all got in, they went right and I went left and found my boys. Clay couldn’t believe it. Heck, I couldn’t believe it. I was wearing big, floppy, red and yellow Family Guy slippers, blue sweats with 3 stripes all the way down the side, and a boom tho shirt inside of my favorite club. There was only one thing left to do: dance.
Clay and I went on an incredible dancing tear. Due to the super long “pre-party,” the whole thing is a little fuzzy in my mind, but the memory of fun remains very clear. Like all good things, however, it had to come to an end.
Clay told me that someone was hating, but I couldn’t see who, and I didn’t care. I was enjoying myself too much. All of a sudden, a VIP hostess and a bouncer were all up in my grill. My night in fluid was done. I had no regrets. It was my time to leave. Clay came right on with me as we re-grouped and made plans about our next spot. We would see the VIP hostess again a few days later at the Starlight Room and she informed us that the guys in her section got angry when they saw my slippers, because one of their boys wasn’t allowed in due to his faulty shoe game. Fair enough I guess.
We decided to head over to the marina and try our luck there. The marina is a place where there are a lot of bars without specific dress code rules, so we figured we would be alright. We headed over to Circa, which wasn’t the smartest move because they have a dress code and multiple bouncers outside. The line was also very, very long. The only reason we went is because I had some very strong persuasion by a member of the opposite sex.
So here we are, standing outside trying to strategize a way inside without waiting in line and without allowing them to notice my slippers. After strategizing for about 15 minutes, the girls came out and talked to the bouncer. Clutch play. We got right in, but with the condition that I had to take the beanie off again. Grrr. Still, there was no mention of the slippers, so once again there was a slippers, so I was still batting 1,000 for the night.
Clay and I kept dancing until it was time to go. If there was one downside about wearing the slippers it was that people kept wanting to step on them to see how puffy they were, or kick Stewie in the face, or put their high heels in his eye. I don’t understand what prompted that response, but I assume it was 75% alcohol related and 25% not knowing how to react to seeing someone wear those out on a random Saturday night.
Regardless, I had done the seemingly impossible. I had worn an outfit completely against all dress code rules from 3PM until 3AM. 12 hours of strict boom-tho-ness. I guess it’s true, if anyone could pull it off, it would be me.
Don't Urinate on the Stock Room Floor!
January/13/2009 08:00 PM Filed in: Random
On the Monday before Christmas, I was in San Francisco chillin with my boy Clay. He wanted to go check out a bar in the Marina called “Gravity.” So, I rolled with him down the this bar and it had a huge line that the bouncers were holding (effin bouncers holding effin lines). I hate when that happens, so I suggested we go next door to Jones and wait there until the line died down or until they started letting people in.
We walked into Jones and sat down and there was just the bartender and a couple of girls at the bar. Clay’s a lightweight, so it didnt take much more than a couple Patron shots and a mixed drink to get him feeling frisky right off the bat.
We were enjoying ourselves and our impromptu pre-party when a group of five young women walked in and sat at the bar also. Now it’s me, Clay, and seven women at this bar. That’s when the fun started.
Clay has a BIG thing for Asian women and one of the girls just happened to be Asian, so he was zoned in. I started watching Clay, who was staring down the Asian girl, who was too drunk to comprehend anything at all.
To be honest, her whole crew was RIDICULOUSLY drunk. I couldn’t tell immediately, but Clay must have had his drunk-dar on high reception, because he seemed to hone in on the group and their actions. He was watching as they climbed over the bar and made their own drinks. He was watching when they fell out of their stools and chairs, laughing the way that drunk college girls tend to laugh when even they realize how drunk they are.
All of a sudden, Clay made his move. He yelled out, to all seven women at once: “who wants to do body shots?!”
I, personally, thought he was being ridiculous and that they would call both of us creepers since we were the only two men in there. Instead they started cheering. Clay started to unbutton his shirt as he stood up. I couldn’t believe it was really going to go down like this. In fact, all the girls were cheering on the Asian girl to let Clay take the body shots off of her. She was a little hesitant though and took her sweet time deciding if she wanted to go through with it. All the while, Clay was looking around, shirt unbuttoned, asking people “so, are we gonna do this or what?”
After about ten minutes of what basically amounted to the girl getting even more drunk, drunk enough to have no control over her decisions, she agreed to let Clayton take his body shot. With all her girls cheering, she laid down on the bar. Clay was handed a cup full of Patron (yea, a cup, not a shot) from which he then poured a small amount onto her stomach. He leaned in and hit the shot. Someone then shouted “do another one,” so he did. The girl didn’t move or seem to care, so he went on to do six more. The whole scene was pretty ridiculous.
Clay sat back down next to me (I hadn’t moved) and let the alcohol sit it. He was now drunk. The girls were still doing shots and getting more drunk. I was laughing at everyone and everything because it was quite funny. Seriously, the girl to my left started singing “Silent Night.” Like REALLY singing it like she was in the choir. The girl to her left started talking to Clay. Although I didn’t catch much, I did catch a phone number exchange and I SWEAR she said (cover your eyes if you don’t like Rated R): “c*m on my face!” I still have no clue as to why. I was the only sober person in the building besides the bartender.
All of a sudden, Clay gets down on the ground and starts ding push-ups. I gave him a look that said: “you gotta be kidding me,” but it was pretty funny. It got funnier when all the girls got down on the floor and they had a push-up contest. I guess alcohol gave them all extra chest muscle or something, because the all did upwards of 30 push-ups each.
They were still debating who did the most push-ups when somebody yelled out “hey! Everybody get the f*^k out! Bar’s closed!”
It was the bartender, and he had the asian girl thrown over his shoulder like a wet beach towel. I didn’t even notice she was gone from her friends who were doing push ups and arguing for the past 20 minutes. Everyone then turns and looks at the bartender, who is livid.
“Everyone’s got to go, I caught this girl, pants down, pissing on my stock room floor. Get her out of here and go home.”
Her pants did look like she may have missed the floor a little bit. That’s when Clay and I took our cues and left. Clay tried Facebooking all of the girls before he went to bed, but as far as I know, none of them have accepted. Cold blooded. He’ll always have his body shots though
We walked into Jones and sat down and there was just the bartender and a couple of girls at the bar. Clay’s a lightweight, so it didnt take much more than a couple Patron shots and a mixed drink to get him feeling frisky right off the bat.
We were enjoying ourselves and our impromptu pre-party when a group of five young women walked in and sat at the bar also. Now it’s me, Clay, and seven women at this bar. That’s when the fun started.
Clay has a BIG thing for Asian women and one of the girls just happened to be Asian, so he was zoned in. I started watching Clay, who was staring down the Asian girl, who was too drunk to comprehend anything at all.
To be honest, her whole crew was RIDICULOUSLY drunk. I couldn’t tell immediately, but Clay must have had his drunk-dar on high reception, because he seemed to hone in on the group and their actions. He was watching as they climbed over the bar and made their own drinks. He was watching when they fell out of their stools and chairs, laughing the way that drunk college girls tend to laugh when even they realize how drunk they are.
All of a sudden, Clay made his move. He yelled out, to all seven women at once: “who wants to do body shots?!”
I, personally, thought he was being ridiculous and that they would call both of us creepers since we were the only two men in there. Instead they started cheering. Clay started to unbutton his shirt as he stood up. I couldn’t believe it was really going to go down like this. In fact, all the girls were cheering on the Asian girl to let Clay take the body shots off of her. She was a little hesitant though and took her sweet time deciding if she wanted to go through with it. All the while, Clay was looking around, shirt unbuttoned, asking people “so, are we gonna do this or what?”
After about ten minutes of what basically amounted to the girl getting even more drunk, drunk enough to have no control over her decisions, she agreed to let Clayton take his body shot. With all her girls cheering, she laid down on the bar. Clay was handed a cup full of Patron (yea, a cup, not a shot) from which he then poured a small amount onto her stomach. He leaned in and hit the shot. Someone then shouted “do another one,” so he did. The girl didn’t move or seem to care, so he went on to do six more. The whole scene was pretty ridiculous.
Clay sat back down next to me (I hadn’t moved) and let the alcohol sit it. He was now drunk. The girls were still doing shots and getting more drunk. I was laughing at everyone and everything because it was quite funny. Seriously, the girl to my left started singing “Silent Night.” Like REALLY singing it like she was in the choir. The girl to her left started talking to Clay. Although I didn’t catch much, I did catch a phone number exchange and I SWEAR she said (cover your eyes if you don’t like Rated R): “c*m on my face!” I still have no clue as to why. I was the only sober person in the building besides the bartender.
All of a sudden, Clay gets down on the ground and starts ding push-ups. I gave him a look that said: “you gotta be kidding me,” but it was pretty funny. It got funnier when all the girls got down on the floor and they had a push-up contest. I guess alcohol gave them all extra chest muscle or something, because the all did upwards of 30 push-ups each.
They were still debating who did the most push-ups when somebody yelled out “hey! Everybody get the f*^k out! Bar’s closed!”
It was the bartender, and he had the asian girl thrown over his shoulder like a wet beach towel. I didn’t even notice she was gone from her friends who were doing push ups and arguing for the past 20 minutes. Everyone then turns and looks at the bartender, who is livid.
“Everyone’s got to go, I caught this girl, pants down, pissing on my stock room floor. Get her out of here and go home.”
Her pants did look like she may have missed the floor a little bit. That’s when Clay and I took our cues and left. Clay tried Facebooking all of the girls before he went to bed, but as far as I know, none of them have accepted. Cold blooded. He’ll always have his body shots though
My Blessings
January/13/2009 07:59 PM Filed in: Random
The other day I got an e-mail that made me laugh out loud. I get a lot of boom tho related e-mail, and 99.99% of it is really cool, great stuff from good people. Then I got this:
Your Name: alex blakeney
Your Email: alexblakeney@yahoo.com
Subject: give it up
Message: give it up Rod. you are not that good. you should have stayed in europe. how much do you want to bet that you never make it to the NBA this year? $50, $100, $500, $1000? you got no game
I got this while I was at the D-League showcase and I was surrounded by other ballers and officials. We laughed, hard, then they told me that I had to respond, so I did:
Alex,
Thanks for your constructive input. I will strongly consider the questions posed.
Keep supporting the movement!
Rod
I went on about my day.
The next day, I got another response:
I was once again surrounded by other players, including my boy (and soon to be blogging here on TMRB) Coleman Collins who said this guy was ridiculous, a hater, and stupid. To quote Coleman:
“What does this guy think you’re gonna just go quit basketball today because he sent you this message? What does he expect to come out of this? Idiot.”
Coleman is a smart guy who has a point, but the e-mail did kind of get me to thinking. See, as cool as it would be to get called up this season, I’ve been here before and I haven’t. So what if I don’t? Did I waste my time? The answer, clearly, is no. Here’s why:
-- I spent 4 months in France and made more tax free money than every one of my friends, and most of the American public.
-- I haven’t payed rent since college.
-- I work for a few hours a day and spend the rest being creative.
-- I get to travel the country, and the globe, and get paid to do it.
-- My job is FUN.
-- I can go back to Europe in a heartbeat and make big money for the rest of my days. I made enough this year to where I feel comfortable chillin for a bit.
Those, among other reasons clearly indicate that playing hoops, at any level, is one of the best jobs there is. I’ll bet $50, $100, $500 on that! I, and every person I play with, am blessed to be able bodied and skilled enough to do it. So, I actually thank Mr. Blakeney for helping me to remind me of why I do it. 2009 is gonna be huge, I can feel it! In other words: “my horn can pierce the sky!”
Your Name: alex blakeney
Your Email: alexblakeney@yahoo.com
Subject: give it up
Message: give it up Rod. you are not that good. you should have stayed in europe. how much do you want to bet that you never make it to the NBA this year? $50, $100, $500, $1000? you got no game
I got this while I was at the D-League showcase and I was surrounded by other ballers and officials. We laughed, hard, then they told me that I had to respond, so I did:
Alex,
Thanks for your constructive input. I will strongly consider the questions posed.
Keep supporting the movement!
Rod
I went on about my day.
The next day, I got another response:
| face it, you had one good year at Cal, the other 3 were sub par at best. I guess it is hard for me to see an otherwise mulit- talented individual waste good years on pursuing something that is not feasible. sorry bro, sometimes you need to let the dream go and get on with your life. |
“What does this guy think you’re gonna just go quit basketball today because he sent you this message? What does he expect to come out of this? Idiot.”
Coleman is a smart guy who has a point, but the e-mail did kind of get me to thinking. See, as cool as it would be to get called up this season, I’ve been here before and I haven’t. So what if I don’t? Did I waste my time? The answer, clearly, is no. Here’s why:
-- I spent 4 months in France and made more tax free money than every one of my friends, and most of the American public.
-- I haven’t payed rent since college.
-- I work for a few hours a day and spend the rest being creative.
-- I get to travel the country, and the globe, and get paid to do it.
-- My job is FUN.
-- I can go back to Europe in a heartbeat and make big money for the rest of my days. I made enough this year to where I feel comfortable chillin for a bit.
Those, among other reasons clearly indicate that playing hoops, at any level, is one of the best jobs there is. I’ll bet $50, $100, $500 on that! I, and every person I play with, am blessed to be able bodied and skilled enough to do it. So, I actually thank Mr. Blakeney for helping me to remind me of why I do it. 2009 is gonna be huge, I can feel it! In other words: “my horn can pierce the sky!”
LMFAO Gets Groupies!
January/10/2009 12:13 PM Filed in: Random
I’ve been away from the court for the better part of the last month, but it clearly led me to really enjoy myself. I basically had a winter vacation for the first time since I was a high school freshman. One of my first orders of business was to get out and party with my boys, because I never get to do that outside of a couple summer months.
I was loungin at Clay’s apartment, trying to figure out our plans for the night, when we were told that LMFAO would be performing at one of my favorite spots, FLUID Ultralounge. We looked up LMFAO on MySpace music to see if we knew any of their songs and, sure enough, I had heard a couple of them before. I really like their song called “I am not a whore.” Thats some quality electronic hip hop right there. They also sing “I’m in Miami, bitch.”
So we cabbed it over to Fluid later that night to catch the performance and to get our dance party on.
When we got there I realized that the crowd was about 70% women and that they were dressed like it was a sexy halloween party:
Maybe that should have been an indicator of the extreme groupie-ism that was about to transpire, but I just considered it to be a good ratio. Then the group started performing and every woman in there went buck-wild.
I just don’t understand why the girls go crazy like that? They had a fat guy walk around the club and invite girls backstage for little rendezvous all night. They pulled their pants down and grinded on hella women. They pulled tops down and signed bare boobies. They made out with half the women WHILE PERFORMING. The funniest part is that their song is called “I AM NOT A WHORE!”
Look at Exhibit A above. Girl on right has the two handed wrap-hug/smile-for-the-camera pose going on. Girl on left has completely neglected the camera, because she has floppy tongue in her mouth. She completely ignores the fact that this picture is on NapkinNights.com and can be seen by the entire world. Afro-headed LMFAO member in the middle has his pants down, Carolina blue tight boxers, his tongue out, his sunglass lenses in the garbage and his eyes closed. I swear this photo was taken while he was on stage performing.
In the spirit of not hating, I think this is a signal that I need to hold special live performances for “Boom Got Them Three.” If LMFAO is any indication of how these small concerts go, I should be pants down, tongue out, eyes closed be the start of my second verse.
I was loungin at Clay’s apartment, trying to figure out our plans for the night, when we were told that LMFAO would be performing at one of my favorite spots, FLUID Ultralounge. We looked up LMFAO on MySpace music to see if we knew any of their songs and, sure enough, I had heard a couple of them before. I really like their song called “I am not a whore.” Thats some quality electronic hip hop right there. They also sing “I’m in Miami, bitch.”
So we cabbed it over to Fluid later that night to catch the performance and to get our dance party on.
When we got there I realized that the crowd was about 70% women and that they were dressed like it was a sexy halloween party:
Maybe that should have been an indicator of the extreme groupie-ism that was about to transpire, but I just considered it to be a good ratio. Then the group started performing and every woman in there went buck-wild.
I just don’t understand why the girls go crazy like that? They had a fat guy walk around the club and invite girls backstage for little rendezvous all night. They pulled their pants down and grinded on hella women. They pulled tops down and signed bare boobies. They made out with half the women WHILE PERFORMING. The funniest part is that their song is called “I AM NOT A WHORE!”
Look at Exhibit A above. Girl on right has the two handed wrap-hug/smile-for-the-camera pose going on. Girl on left has completely neglected the camera, because she has floppy tongue in her mouth. She completely ignores the fact that this picture is on NapkinNights.com and can be seen by the entire world. Afro-headed LMFAO member in the middle has his pants down, Carolina blue tight boxers, his tongue out, his sunglass lenses in the garbage and his eyes closed. I swear this photo was taken while he was on stage performing.
In the spirit of not hating, I think this is a signal that I need to hold special live performances for “Boom Got Them Three.” If LMFAO is any indication of how these small concerts go, I should be pants down, tongue out, eyes closed be the start of my second verse.