Just to be clear, this column is not that top secret, huge project we're working on, but I don't know what the status of that is right now. Even if it doesn't happen, the explanation of why it didn't happen should make a decent column. Here's a TANBR Recommends--P.T. took the first half.
Journalism via AIM
Just scrolling the mouse over Kevin*****33's AIM screenname provided this thrilling piece of news and one less reason to watch the ESPYs last Sunday. For some reason, the ceremony took place the night of Wednesday 7/11, probably the slowest sports day of the year, but will be broadcast this weekend.
"ESPY's...got 1 man........Praise his name ya diggggggg Ima keep my head up like ma nose is bleedin....I'm trusting in the lord...still keepin my capitol S-W agga up ya dig 2 God be the glory"
Durant's nominated for two categories, Best Breakthrough Athlete and Best Male College Athlete. My money's on Best Male College Athlete, since Ryan Howard's a sexy pick to win the Breakthrough. This is the most I've ever talked about the ESPYs.
"Well I did play with the Sonics in NBA Jam. I mean, all you really need is one guy who can bomb threes and one guy who can dunk, so you're pretty much set with Shawn Kemp and Detlef Schrempf. Things got more complicated when it came to the tournament edition. I'm not so excited about being in a city that just outlawed trans fats though. Does that answer your question?"
Really, it's the candy store at this point in my life. This is kind of how it went down last week:
I'm not even planning on going to Idaho this summer; just hand me the fucking Tourbook, anyway.
Sir, Utah's Bryce Canyon National Park's not even close to your I-25 route from Denver to the Grand Tetons.
Did I ask you? Is the TripTik going to explode? Give me the foldout map, free of charge. I'll need a bag to carry these out, as well.
My trip is so pace, they needed more than a day to compile the TripTik. It almost brought a tear to my eye. TripTiks are pretty homo, though; I still haven't decided if I'm going to pick mine up or not.
It's delicious, it's 34 cents at H-E-B, and it's pretty difficult to mess up, unless the face-to-face between Stringer Bell and Marlowe in The Wire Season 3 is so enthralling, you lose track of the fifteen minute cooking window. I remember picking these up on Thanksgiving Drive morning in high school and feeling pretty depressed. I don't know why. I'm realizing now why red beans and rice is predominantly served in the South. It was like 78 cents for a pound of beans and like 90 cents for a thing of rice. I'm also realizing that Dunbar's probably pulled in 80% profit every time I paced it, even with the free-lemonade-with-Tulane-ID siren song.
You know who else likes cornbread? Ray Lewis. That ain't got shit to do with this, but I just thought that I should mention.
Tank, I know I'm copping this straight from you, but these have become a sort of Tuesday/Thursday tradition for me. See, this excellent bar/grill near the ME building, the Crown & Anchor Pub, has a vat of unsweetened tea right next to the vat of ultra-sweetened lemonade. It's asking for it. I've been making Arnold Palmers ever since. I can't believe I've come around from the day you bought a sketchy canned tallboy of premixed Arnold Palmer-- with the visage of Arnie's face on the label, no less-- from Adams Street Grocery. Those were hungover days.
I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I don't usually go for these blockbuster action movies much, and I never watched Transformers growing up. It was even more enjoyable to dissect it afterward. Like, Shia LeBoeuf needs to get to the top of that 70-story building to get rid of the Allspark, and the Autobots are like, "Yeah, it's right over there. Hurry!" Um, why not just pick him up and place him on top of the building? Why does the Allspark only create Decepticons? Why didn't Bumblebee just turn himself into a better, healthier machine when he was dying?
"Rich Boy" by Baby Boy Da Prince
I'm probably light years behind on this, but whatevs. Fifty pointed it out to me, saying it was probably 100 times catchier than "Tha Way I Live" (which is still in the 93.3 rotation here). I downloaded it, and, of course it's catchy-- it's the "Rich Girl" by Hall and Oates melody! At first I was dumbfounded, then I was excited, then I was straight up giddy thinking about the producer making Baby Boy sit down and listen to Hall and Oates for three and a half minutes. It's been a slow summer.
K, you remember that late season of "The Cosby Show," when it seemed as if everything was going really well for the family, so the writers had to introduce conflict by having Theo teach at an inner-city school and worrying about all those kids' problems? Baby Boy looks like one of those kids. Is that being too specific? I can just picture him being like, "Mr. Cos-by? Can I talk to you for a second? I've been trying to read that thing you gave us on George Washington Carver, and it's like the words get all confused in my head. Like, something says 'peanut,' and I read it 'neatup.' I feel so stupid. I must just be dumb."
Assembling Your Own Furniture
Wifey and I just moved into our first apartment together, so we've definitely been hitting up the Ikea. We've gone there at least once a week, sometimes just for the dollar yogurt.
Ikea is kind of like a singles' bar in that it's second-rate and, ideally, you wouldn't have anything to do with what's offered to you. But within your situation and expectations, it works well. It could be the elitist in me, but no one in Ikea is like, "Price be damned, this is the best desk possible for me." Any time someone pays a compliment to any piece, it's followed by the caveat "...for eighty bucks."
What keeps the costs down is that you have to put the furniture together yourself, which is a pain in the ass but also kind of gratifying. Even if it's only in your own memory, there's a story attached to every table or sofa. You start with nothing, you have a clear goal, and, through a series of minor frustrations, (Is there a reason they can't put words with the diagrams? A simple "make sure you don't have this backwards" would help. I know not everyone can read, but those people can ignore the words; they have to spend most of their lives confused anyway, so why not help me out?) you finish staring at a job well done. I'm not very good at things like that, and there's always a moment when I think of quitting, so looking at the finished product is an especially cathartic enterprise. Few tasks offer such a tangible result. Nothing beats the question "What did you do today?" like "I put together an etagere, bitch."
Cody Paul is an eight-year-old in California that people are calling the white Reggie Bush. I think Reggie Bush is actually the black Cody Paul. I'd like to see the little dude's calendar of lunch dates.
"Hey there, little buddy. This is Bob Stoops, I'm--well, don't worry about it. Let's talk about you, Cody. I hear you were having a little trouble finding a Playstation Three. Turns out they're pretty easy to come by in Oklahoma. We took the liberty of sending that over to you. You know what else is easy to come by over here? Playing time in our 2017 backfield..."
Seriously though, have you ever seen eight-year-olds with plays this advanced? And that field is better than the one at my college was.
When I moved up here, my friend--more like a surrogate father up here--Big Willie Style told me there were a popular activity up north was "quizzo," a trivia competition at local watering holes in which teams competed for bar tabs and other alcoholic prizes. I'm looking for a jokey simile here, but I don't think anyone had ever suggested something that appealed more to me.
Part of the fun is the ardent sense of competition Will and I have: "Why don't you keep your eyes on your own paper and your fucking cell phone in your pocket?"
Part of the fun is coming up with a team name, which is supposed to be both topical and aggressively offensive. One week we were Is Chris Benoit Gonna Have to Choke a Bitch?, but last week the best name was Virginia Tech Is So Not My Safety School.
Of course, it all comes down to the trivia, which is surprisingly random. One week you might have a round on constellation patterns, the next you might have name that TV theme song. It's always fun to figure out what your friends know too; for instance, Will knew instantly that the team name in Bring It On is the Rancho Carne Toros. Pause.
Joining a New Network on Facebook So That I Could Come across This Picture
Quentin Tarantino wears Aeropostale shirts and probably smells really bad.
Saigon's "Don't You Baby"
"I'm like me on 'Entourage,' dog--I'm playin' myself"
Easily the beat of the year. Just Blaze is probably the only one of the early aughts super-producers who hasn't changed his own style an inkling, but he has continued to improve by finding new pockets in his samples and by refining what he does best, which is stringing together treacherous layers of obscurity. And Saigon ain't half-bad either.