rip bling

You know, i am not much for the gambling, well, except for the weekly football pool, and march madness, and, like, who is going to be the next apprentice, or america's top model pool or whatever. oh, and lottery. and, uh, blackjack. texas hold 'em. OH, nevermind, you know what i mean. i hate vegas. still, over at oddjack, they have a great bet going on: nba props: who's going to suffer for their bling? y'all know what i'm talking about? the nba has instituted a mandatory dress code for their players, like homeboy gotta be wearing a suit and shit. nah, it all good. it's just business casual. and by business casual, i mean, brothah can't even be wearing his bling outside his shizzle. damn. that cold. but the morbid sonsabitches at oddjack got allen iverson at 2 to 5 as the first nba player to be fined under the new guidelines. not for nothing, but let's take this opportunity to look at kevin garnett in a suit (marvel above). aaaaaaaaaah. that dude is, like, the most handsome man, ever. just look at him. go on. he looks like a statue.


still, back to AI and the hatorade that the world splashes on him after every victory. he's a good guy, he just has his own style, and do you watch him? he gets thrown around more than a midget in a midget tossing contest. all those big lugs elbowing him and shit. well, here is what allen had to say about the whole thing:

"Honestly, I really think that I will [keep the dres code]," Iverson said. "Once they start talking about suspending me, then I don't have a choice. I don't want them to take my money, either. I don't want to just give my money away. That's just like taking it and burning it.

"But when they start talking about suspending me and hurting what we're trying to do here as a basketball team, then I don't have (any) choice but to abide by it."

it's a mature response and all, i mean, he's not giving his money away to the nba, because lawd knows they don't need it. later in the article entitled Iverson says he can conform to dress code, allen notes:

"I feel like if they want us to dress a certain way, they should pay for our clothes," Iverson said.

"I don't think it's good for the league. I really don't, because it kind of makes it fake. The whole thing is fake. You've got all these guys with different personalities. Tracy McGrady is different from Kobe. Kevin Garnett is different from Tim Duncan. And I'm different from those guys. Everybody has their own style. It's just unfair when you take that away from people."

Iverson was especially bothered by the section of the league memo prohibiting players from having "chains, pendants or medallions worn over" clothes.

"Basically they're saying, `Don't dress hip-hop,' " he said. "What does a chain have to do with your outfit? A lot of guys wear chains with their religion on them or personal things. I have chains with my mom's name on it, with my kids' names on it, a chain with my man that passed away on it, and I don't think that's right for people to say that I can't express it. I think they went way overboard with it."

you know, it is unfair. it is unfair that the corporate fucking machine makes us conform to their little insipid shows of power and control through our dress. it is unfair that they are making us sheople by making us shop at the fucking gap, and live on planet reebok and shit. it is unfair that i have to fucking wear business clothes all fucking day in my fucking cubicle, allen, and i can't show my shoulders, or ankles, or heels. here is the thing, though, about the nba BUYING your clothes for you. listen, allen, you make 12.4 million dollars. TWELVE POINT FOUR. MILLION. DOLLARS. A. YEAR. broken down, this is $6200/hour. i shit you not people. this means, for all you keeping score at home, i make .4% of allen iverson's salary. ain't no nba buying my shit for me. math is not my strong suit or anything, but for $12.4 mil a year, i think i can say, SHUT THE FUCK UP and WEAR THE DAMN KHAKIS, JACKHAT. i mean, come on, that is like a fucking 2 hour commitment to not wearing bling. of taking your fucking job seriously. i agree that me not wearing my "your retarded" t-shirt on a daily basis to the office is sort of fake, but that's what i have to do to pay my rent and feed my childun. it's life, allen. that's what fucking happens when you grow up and stop playing games on the school yard. oh, wait, right. nevermind. bling away, yo.
anyway, in other related interesting factoids about how much my life sucks compared to ai, while i have been writing this blog, allen iverson has made $733.66 and i have made a whopping $3.03. that hasn't even paid for my latte. you can calculate that in weber grills at this site. well, you too can see how much the rich and famous make compared to you here at salary wizard. it is a very cool program, but i just want to say i hate everything.

lusting after the bikes of bucks county

this weekend i did a 50 mile covered bridge ride of bucks county. lots of middle aged guys in spandex. lots of money. lots of sweeeeet rides. damn, if i saw another orbea, my brain was going to explodamente. bianchis. le mond. holy crap, old school pirandellos. check out the orbea if you don't believe me on it's extremely beautiful body and sleek engineering.

but why do the girl's version always look so much dorkier? why can't girls ride black and orange bikes?

there was a dude with an old school, european touring bike and a hoffenbrau jersey, and a stunned into stupidity fucking expression on his face. that dude was my nemesis. i always have to pick one. the person i am not saving if the plane is going down. that is hoffenbrau guy. we'd hit a hill and my girls would kick it. my legs hard steel pistons pumping up the hill, i'd punch by the stupid upright dumbass in his hoffenbrau jersey and think, not in my house, muthahfucker. girls rule, boys drool. booya. yeah, i'd think all that and plenty of more cusses too. he would turn his head and with his stupid simpleton smile nod, and then when i ran out of gears and was down on speed, my girls start bitching and running out of steam, pee wee fucking herman would pull up along side me with his silly, shit-eating grin and blow past me, until i was mad enough to bury him again. then i would hang low, wait for john and repeat on the next hill. i swear i didn't pee next rest stop, just so i could catch 5 minutes and i didn't have to see the dude on any hill ever again. his non-chalance mocked me.

anyway, not to worry, there were hicks and rednecks a plenty in bucks county, even if they can't afford the taxes, they still blow into the county to try and hurt men who shave their legs and the women who love them.rich dickwads with big suvs plowing by us at 50 mph beeping their horn. obnoxious bitches. i got a bottle thrown at me, and consequently a thousand little shards of glass in my tire. damn, a-holes. some guy made chase, but alas, the gmc eagle is no match for the trek 1500. it shook me up, the vehemence and random act of violence always upsets me and shakes my belief in people as inherently good. the bottle crashed against a wall right in front of me, clearly aimed at scaring the crap out of our group of cyclists. john k. had a slow leak after that too. i now need new tires. i am thinking about getting those cool mag tires.
the ride was beautiful, though, here is the breakdown of hills and what not:

2700 feet of climbing in 50 miles. well, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound like much. the wind was fierce though. but all in all, a great way to end the organized ride season. here is a picture of me in the morning (i think i am number 98 of the 447)and here is another making a climb 5 miles from the end (and three photos ahead of john k). i look pretty much the same in both. like a smiling alien. as david bowie so eloquently put it, is there life on mars? oui, david, oui.

strung out on peeps, part 58

strung out on peeps, part 58

my boss just gave me a six-pack of delight-fills, pumpkin shaped peeps filled with chocolate cream. holy shit, these are good. i mean, i am not for messing with peeps too much. call me a peep purist. i get a little turned off by peeps even shaped like fierce kitties for halloween, but they still taste like peeps, just happen to be a different color and shape. i can live with that, but like the orange cream gigantic peep egg that my sister and i got for easter one year was just WRONG. my sister's exact quote was "this is so good, it tastes just like baby aspirin." anyway, the peep delight-fills would be so good on a stick over a campfire. just sayin'. or roasted on my gas stove. holy crap, i'm a genius. i should get the noble prize in crap that will make you throw up. currently, i have one resting on top of my computer monitor so it will get all crusty.

anyway, so to get this picture of the delight-fill at the top of this post, i visited the official peeps website. so, there is a fan club, and a page with crafts and recipes, things like sugar cookie with a peep on it, or a mobile with different halloween peeps hanging off it (that is frightening to have roaches all over your house because of a fucking craft done entirely in peeps). so, then there is a link that says, "ingredient information", which i clicked and i get this screen:



that sucks. it is so lame. it says contact consumer information for ingredients. i mean, just say sugar and nothing found in nature. who cares? we are fucking peeps moonies if we are on your site, popping around and looking at fucking recipes and crafts that will make us more obsessive about peeps, we would eat it if the page said, 'made out of babies and rat's ass.' they are soooooooooo good. that are THAT good. sidney i'm sure remembers when i worked at makam's kitchen on 24th and lombard and would walk to that horrid sleven on lombard, but where the street curves to south street bridge, and i would buy like the worst, most disgusting seeming candy, and mostly just LOVED it, things like gummy burgers. so, my favorite candies are candy corn, licorice, peeps, fun dip, i mean, shitty fucking candy, nothing like belgian chocolate or whatever. in new zealand, i would just buy these bags of penny candy, which everyone calls lollies, and just constantly nosh on crap, get excitable, then be mean, then crash out.  can you tell i'm a little wired on peeps? next thing, i am going to be ramming my head into the wall, and trying to hit someone's little sister.

chewbacca becomes american citizen

i knew that wookie was british. i could tell by his accent. this sort of reminds me of that time i was going to the airport lounge with vero in tucson and we walked in to see the lovermakers, and dude at the money box goes, 'did you hear the princess died?' and i screamed in all my airheaded glory, 'princess leia died?' and then i realized that i was a dumbass and he was talking about diana. still, you can see my confusion.

mickey, mickey, mickey.

you know, you are my main bitch and everything, homes, but please, sweet baby jesus, mickey rourke, let's pull it together. you and me, babe. you and me can figure this thing out. dude, shiny paisley? hair plugs? no and a no. the surgery needs to stop. come on, now. you are rumblefish. I miss you. (call me.)

dirty dirty sock monkey

okay not for nothing, but this is so wrong, it's right.

sock monkey porn i know the lot of you are curious what string of google key words got me to this place, and really, i can't tell you, but porn was not involved, yet somehow, i always get to the porn, don't i? so, if you have children, i would stop scrolling now and tell them mummy needs another drink.actually, my blog box isn't letting me add pictures for some stupid reason, so just click the link. the one withthe two sock monkeys is very very naughty indeed, but the logistics are quite interesting. like, if you too didn't have, ahem, bones, think about the different possib...oh, nevermind.

i have a confession to make.

most of you know that i am not a fan of soda. it hurts my throat and i complain about that. and it makes me hiccup and feel gross. i get seriously rammy and crazy, like a six year old on a hershey bar, and angry and kick people. plus, what i have read about your teeth and soda. GROSS. but right now, at 10:45 am, sitting at my desk, i can honestly say that:


i'm a pepper.

other than that, it's really a pretty normal day at the office.