My roommate Josh.

I don't like the way the internet is getting to know me. My roommate's name is Josh and I find it truly creepy (and not the good, "Hey Miley Cyrus! How you doin'?-type of good creepy) and a bit sad that the internet doesn't have anything better to do than to make up weird fictional stories about my life. My favorite sentence in the whole thing is, "Now, if she would just lose all hope that her husband might still be alive, you'd be in there like swimwear." Even the internet thinks that the only way I'm going to find a partner is if zombies took over the world and I used my rations to bribe chicks into thinking I was a cool guy. But even then it's only a maybe. Not only do I have to share what's left of my food, I have to sit around and pray that Carrie forgets about her husband. Her husband Josh. Then and only then can Uncle Marty get "in there like swimwear." Which is about as disgusting and strange as an analogy can get.

Which Carrie?

Carrie Bradshaw? Not sure that qualifies as swimwear but I wouldn't mind getting in there like trashy-hillbilly-lingerie-that-probably-costs-way-too-much-money-wear.

Carrie Underwood? Please forget about your husband Carrie! The sad thing, I don't even think she's married. She is so uninterested in me that she has to make up a fictional husband during a time when zombies have taken over the world. That is the lowest of lows.

Now this is the Carrie that I hope the internet is talking about. Carrie Prejean. I'd even sing you a very special song. Seriously. Maybe I'll post that video one day. Anyways Carrie, if you want me to hate David Archuleta because of his peter preference, well then, that's just the price I'm going to have to pay.

The internet is onto me. What do all of these women have in common? Blonde bombshells.

Looks like this is going to end up being my future, even if zombies kill everybody:

Photo courtesy of Josh Henning.

You Got Me Twisted Oprah. Finale.

I just recently watched Oprah sob over lesbian accusations and I couldn't help but wonder: Is this all part of the plan? Oprah's life story is unbelievably interesting. Almost too interesting. Poor girl from the South born to a teenage mother, gets violated and then goes on to become the richest African-American of the 20th century and at one point the world's only black billionaire. (Thank You Wikipedia!) I think her true secrets are really known by the people she has stepped all over. If you look at the list of black billionaires, Bob Johnson (founder of BET), who first occupied the Black Billionaire Throne (which should be the name The BET Awards' "Best Rapper of The Year") mysteriously disappears off of the list. They say he's worth a half a billion boneskis these days. I'm sure he'd have some really insightful and interesting stories to share about Oprah. ("NIGGA! You CRAZY?")

Although I think Oprah is a complete mystery I have to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she is sincere when she's offering advice to everyone and anyone. Maybe when she cries it's not a marketing strategy. Maybe she really does love everyone and everything as much as she says she does. Maybe she really had a boyfriend named Stedman and a friend named Gail. Those mysteries aren't my concern. My only Oprah concern: How much can she eat?

Even Uncle Marty thinks this is kinda creepy.

Seriously. I have so many questions about Oprah's eating habits. Is she secretive? Does she take out a bunch of her friends whenever she dines out and then orders a bunch of appetizers and side dishes so that "everyone can share" but then hogs them all? Or does she eat alone making sure everyone in the restaurant is left in the dark about what she orders? Are busboys counting the dishes coming out of her private feasting room? Are the dishes licked clean with big Oprah lipstick outlined bite marks carved out of them? HOW MANY WHITE CASTLE SLIDERS CAN SHE EAT?!?!

For some reason I was reminded of this scene from Matilda. It's one of my favorite scenes of all time, the only thing missing is the end where the disciplinarian smashes the dish over the little tubby's head.

Or are we being duped? Are her weight issues also all part of the plan? Does she purposely struggle with her weight so she can better identify with lonely, sad women (and gay men)? I wouldn't be surprised if this really was the case but I don't believe Oprah would go through such a headache. She's already convinced white women she is their leader because white women love to root for the underdog (and they love free shit). And she's convinced black women she is their leader because she's succeeded in a white man's world. Not only succeeded, but straight pimped it. So Michelle Obama and any triflin' ass bitch standing in the way of Oprah (that includes you BET Bob Johnson):

You blocking the buffet line?

What is an Oprah dump like? Are they huge? Does she have to flush multiple times? Does the toilet water look like Goldschlager after she flushes? Think about it.

The Black Swan.

My thoughts on The Black Swan: When bitches be hungry bitches be going cray-cray. So bitches need to eat a burger before bitches do ballet.

You Got Me Twisted Oprah. Part 1.

Last night my buddy Josh told me a story that he had heard from a friend of ours that was told by this guy:

Could you imagine how John Beasley's life is? Everyone knows who he is but no one knows anything specific about him. He must get, "Man, weren't you in a bunch of movies?!?!" from all sorts of strangers all of the time.

I apologize to those who actually heard the story out of his mouth but it has been such an inspiration for me (to figure out my relationship with Oprah) that I have to share it. Mr. Beasley said that when he got casted alongside Oprah in Brewster Place, he told Oprah, "Look. This is a big deal for me so don't mess it up." Now I'm not sure this is exactly what he said but it's something along those lines. What I do know is this. Oprah replied, "NIGGA! You CRAZY?!?!" which is about the greatest thing I've ever heard in my entire life. The idea of a Hood Oprah blows my mind.

My relationship with Oprah has been a rollercoaster ride. Throughout grade school and high school I found myself constantly disgusted by her (when she was brought up in conversation, I don't want you to think I was sitting around all day thinking about her). I think most of my bitterness towards her was completely unfair and definitely unfounded. I admit that I always thought it was silly how people took her words as fact. And today I'm dumbfounded at how awesome she is at staying popular for such an extended period of time.

After a good hour (+/- a few hours) of discussing Oprah's life Josh and I came up with some really good ideas about our Oprah movie. Since we don't have any money and don't really know anything about Oprah we've managed to cut a few corners. We don't have to pay an actress to play "Gail" (or however she spells it) because I'm convinced she doesn't exist. Josh said he's seen a picture of her and I've heard her name thrown around but for some reason the only image that comes to mind when I hear the name is:

Sorry if it's racist to equate the name "Gail" to a random fat black lady that I love. And I do love Nell Carter. It's a weird coincidence that Oprah's middle name is Gail. I think Josh's theory that she was probably the first person who had a name Oprah could remember carries significant weight.

We also don't have to pay Stedman because I don't know what he looks like either. I mean, I have an idea but I refuse to Google either of them because the images in my mind of what these people look like are a lot funnier. For example when someone mentions "Stedman" I automatically think:

Eric mu-fuckin' Holder in the house yall.

So that takes care of the budget. Any scenes with Gail or Stedman will be Oprah talking to an off camera voice, which of course will be me. Problem(s) solved. Our biggest concern was finding an Oprah. We thought that holding an open call all across America would be our best option. We then realized that those open call auditions would be infinitely more entertaining than any movie we could ever make about Oprah's life. Plus, it is highly probable that Oprah is going to produce and direct a movie about her life which will undoubtedly be amazing (and the most badass "I'm Awesome" thing ever done by anyone in history) and hopefully star Meagan Good playing Oprah.

As for our open call. How many fat black gay guys do you think we'd get? How about women who have never acted before but simply have a "personal relationship" with Oprah? We could have them act out a serious Oprah, maybe a scene from The Color Purple or when Wendy's runs out of Spicy Chicken Nuggets. Or maybe a more light-hearted Oprah like when she's giving away cars and chocolates. Or maybe a dramatic Oprah like when she's crying on a random white guy's shoulder.

What are those tears really for Oprah? Are you happy about the first African-American President or are you sad that Obama beat you to it? And Jim White Guy. You better have sold that tear-soaked shirt.

Wait. How many fat WHITE gay guys would we get?

This is the woman I was actually thinking about when I thought of my mental image of Gail:

It's obviously Shirley Hemphill because I was a way bigger fan of What's Happening? than of Gimme a Break! Yea, I'm pretty sure that's racist. Sorry.

To Be Continued...


Credit to Hector H. for sharing this story. Well, for not killing me for stealing his story.

Missed Connections.

OK. Let me explain. First of all, yes this is definitely me. I was out the other night watching the Lebron vs. Cavs game and I stumbled into a conversation with a couple standing in front of me. (More like forced myself into a conversation.) Either way, we shared some laughs, had a few drinks, and I was on my way. The beginning of a very fun night.

But that is besides the point. What this missed connection really revealed to me was this: Kevin Butler is a fucking genius. (Kevin Butler was the kicker for the 1985 Super Bowl Champions Chicago Bears.) Mr. Butler is an annual guest at the "Invitational" at the country club I worked at for more than ten years. I actually ran into him before the tournament this past summer and made small talk to him about the weather (the only thing I really know how to talk about). I didn't caddie in his group but a few members of my caddie-family (yea I said it) had the luxury of spending the entire tournament listening to Mr. Butler's war stories. Apparently he's writing a book titled "From Butler to Cutler" which consists of the Bears' progression throughout the last 25 years and everyone who has worn #6. A caddie brother of mine asked Mr. Butler if he found out anything interesting about Jay Cutler while doing research for his book. Alright, now I don't want to go into too many more details about the conversation because I don't want to misquote anyone. (It's amazing I have this fear that Kevin Butler is sitting around in his underwear somewhere in the South reading "Play Pretty" and plotting an attack against me. But I really do fear that it could be happening.) Basically, Mr. Butler, very matter-of-factly, said that Jay Cutler wraps his mouth around a certain male body part on a regular basis. Now the question everyone asks, "How would he know this?" Let me just say that Mr. Butler was very adamant when he said, "Trust me!" (Which also makes everyone wonder if "From Butler to Cutler" is really the title of a new adult movie coming out.)

Butthead can kick the shit out of a football. And he can also give me something to talk about with strangers. He's the complete package.

I'm not really sure I believe the whole "Kevin 'B. Jay' Cutler conspiracy" (copyrighted). I like to think the story is completely untrue. I would be ecstatic if this whole thing was just a really really really funny and creative way for Kevin Butler to embarrass Jay Cutler without committing "slander" but also to promote his book. Think about how many people have heard this story and then told a friend. This thing has gone viral! On average, I tell 10 new people every single week about Butler's Cutler story. Look! There is a missed connection about me telling Butler's Cutler story. Think about how many people that work at the country club have told this story to friends/family/strangers. Thousands. Now think about how many golf outings Kevin Butler attends in a single year. What if every weird sports rumor was started by Kevin Butler? Does he come up with a new rumor every single time? How long as he been at this? Where did those rumors about Michael Jordan's gambling problem being the cause of his father's murder start? At a golf outing? Maybe a celebrity golf outing with all of Chicago's hero athletes? Where did all of the Tiger Woods rumors begin? KEVIN BUTLER WHERE WERE YOU THE DAY TIGER WOODS' LIFE WAS RUINED?! I bet you were at a golf outing.

Here's Jay really looking like a lesbian. I don't think that thought bubble should have $ signs. I think it would be a lot more accurate if it had something else.

I studied Advertising in college and I never came across anything so creative. This is easily the best way to carry out your own personal vendettas. I love you Kevin Butler. But not the way Cutler loves. I'm not passing out any sort of "Jobs" with my face anytime soon. Believe that.

Don't you spend enough time on your knees off the field? This is almost too easy.

Oh yea. What was I doing looking at missed connections? Well I hit on a girl from LA for over an hour yesterday at my job and when I was all drunk and lonely last night I decided to search for "Marty" in the craigslist search box. Just to see if maybe she posted something about me. She didn't. You judging me? You think I'm pathetic? Yea...so do I.

P.S. After much thought, I'm going to respond to this ad. But only in the most ridiculous of ways.

Running in the rain.

Ran in the rain yesterday. It didn't make me feel any better about myself even though the run was pretty impressive considering how windy and rainy it was. All it did was remind me how bald I am going to be in a few months.

Wow.

This is what the holidays are all about. Jesus Christ. My God. This is the corniest thing I've ever seen.