Big Al
Winnipeg Chronicles #6: I Thank God For Nights Like These
Either/Or - Elliott Smith
There's a common belief out there that when I go out with my boys we, as the black people put it these days, run this town. While that's a notion that I've enjoyed and perpetuated for years, I'm afraid that the time has come for full disclosure: We do not run Toronto or Winnipeg or any other town for that matter. Then again, I wasn't along on the now legendary Montreal trip that occurred within the last couple of years and I've been told again and again that they ran the shit out of la ville. To clarify, I, personally, have not had the pleasure of indulging in the running of any towns. Perhaps the following will dispel any further confusion.
William and Paolo arrived Friday afternoon after their flight was delayed for several hours. It was on me to feed them, which sounds daunting except when you consider my new found cooking prowess and the plentiful supply of meat that is available when one lives with a Maple Leaf Foods employee. Also, Paolo did most of the work.
I insisted that the two of them take a nap, but was ignored. Paolo was kind of half asleep, but it looked more like he was passed out on/making love to Derek's sofa bed. William was entranced by the Winter Olympics. The two would later pay for their insolence.
The big deal on Friday was that we'd be attending our first live mixed martial arts event. I'd been excited about going to see the Canadian Fighting Championship for months and I would have been happy to go all by myself, but it was nice to have the Toronto crew along for the ride. Surprisingly, I also agreed that drinking would enhance the experience exponentially. After all, we had no idea who the hell any of these fighters were. The biggest name there was former UFC referee Big John McCarthy. Not a good sign.
Our first mistake was buying Absente, which proudly declares itself to be "Absinthe Refined". We were all hoping it would be like that scene from Eurotrip, but we were sorely disappointed. For one thing, it tasted like black licorice and a dude's dick. It was also 55% alcohol and 110 proof, which prompted Paolo to chase it with a shot of Jägermeister. And another thing, with the exception of that one part with Fred Armisen, Eurotrip was shit and shame on us for wanting to recreate anything from that movie.
Suffice to say, Paolo and William were wiped out within the first hour of the event. Lesson to all the kids out there: It's best not to combine jet lag with sleep deprivation and heavy drinking. But what do I know? For me, the event was a blast and William agreed with me that watching the fights in person did have a baseball-y feel to it. Of course, he said this moments before passing out so make of that what you will. In retrospect, I should have asked the boys if they wanted to bail after the preliminary fights because they were totally out of it. I do appreciate them gutting it out.
The next night was what the visit was all about anyway. Derek had arranged for us to meet with some friends from work for some drinks and clubbing. I passed on Saturday's round of Absente though I did have my first Jägerbomb, which I didn't find unpleasant. The Toronto boys were definitely in full effect as we arrived for drinks at Moxie's. Paolo began chatting up with the ladies right away, gleaning information while at the same time providing levity. The alcohol had clearly gotten do Derek already as he launched into his usual routine of playful belligerence. William did his thing where he attempts to be sociable, but inevitably says something inappropriate or overly revealing, which only makes whatever he's saying a hundred times funnier. I, as always, played the straight man.
Ivy and Kerry (who I met at Festival du Voyageur) brought their friend Michelle, a schoolmate of Kerry's now living in Toronto. I'm not sure I heard her say more than four or five words at a time. She left soon after we began our shtick and while I believe that she really did have a flight to catch (she is a flight attendant after all), I can safely say that our conduct made her decision to leave less difficult.
After waiting in line at Whiskey Dix for about half an hour we decided to bail and check out a club called Mystique. I enjoyed the set-up there as it had just the right touch of seediness that I need. The DJ was on a stage flanked by two slutty dancers and there was easy access to the upper level. The good thing about the upper level was that it wasn't particularly crowded on this night so you could go up there to cool off and look down girls' shirts.
I don't have much to add to what William already said about the pick-up artist. The trick was absolutely terrible and at first I thought he was trying to steal William's watch. I still have no idea what the hell he accomplished. I will also corroborate his claim that some U of M students bought him and the guys some drinks. These dudes were definitely trying to get in William's pants and it's a shame that William passed on the opportunity to have his first African. Another regret he'll have to live with.
I feel like I found a kindred spirit in Kerry, who looked comfortable, but sedated. She was the designated driver so she couldn't even get hammered to kill the time. I understand where she's coming from. You want be sociable and get out of the house, but after a while you realize you'd rather be sitting at home in your pajamas watching those episodes of The Bachelor: On The Wings Of Love you PVR'd before going to bed at 11:30.
Alas, with the role of "reluctant club-goer" taken, I found myself having to come up with something new. I decided, Fuck it. Let's dance. The group was already splintering. Paolo appeared to have reached an ideal state of intoxication and was sort of maundering about like some kind of Filipino Mr. Magoo. I hit the dance floor running. I jabbed and poked and probed, but I couldn't engage any fine lady to dance with me. This was harder than I thought. I almost gave up when this one girl made a fatal error. She made eye contact with me for more than half a second. Gotcha!
She quickly turned around to return to her friends, but in a moment of sheer delirium, I tapped her on the shoulder. She looked at me and I believe I said, Hey, where are your boys at? I have no idea what I was going for.
To her credit, rather than feign deafness or slapping me in the face, she explained that her boyfriend and her friends' boyfriends were all at home. Somehow, the fact that she was oddly forthcoming with this information did not deter me.
That's cool. My boyfriend is at home too.
A cheap trick, I know. She asked if she heard me right and I told her that I was kidding, but I'd already disarmed her with my false faggotry and before I knew what was happening she invited her two friends to come over and dance with us. I wish I could tell you what they looked like, but it was dark and...oh, wait a minute...
These girls. From left, Melissa (I think), Anna and Christina. Keep in mind that at this point I was on my second Jägerbomb and we're dealing with club lighting so I couldn't tell at the time how attractive these girls were. After analyzing this photo for the last three hours, I can safely say that I was not dancing with a trio of bruisers.
Melissa was the one I initially spoke to and she was more than willingly to pass along my story to her friends. She told them I was from Toronto and that I was a writer and that I was just looking for people to dance with. We got along swell. A few songs and several clumsy dance moves later, I worried that this situation was dying down. God bless the DJ for putting on that brilliant Follow The Leader song. There's nothing like a tune that turns intelligent adults into glorified cymbal monkeys to reignite a party. I held onto Anna's hips for dear life and we almost got another hot girl to join our impromptu congo line. Unfortunately, she remembered that she wasn't at a grade school MuchMusic Video Dance Party and released me in disgust. After the song ended, Anna thanked me for the dance (um, you're welcome?) and she went to get some water. Her friends joined her and my waltz with the women of Winnipeg was over.
Now back to where this post started. The idea that Derek, Paolo, William and I are a quartet of big time rollers is a fantasy that I enjoy and always will. Look, the truth is that the four of us are never going to be the type of guys to go out and get a dozen phone numbers or wake up in some college sorority house or whatever. That's not who we are, that's not what we do. But it's nice to pretend for a while, you know? For four or five hours on a weekend night we can escape into whatever world we want to. Whether that means getting buzzed or flirting with some girls or just dancing, you sort of forget the mundane things you'd be doing on any other evening.
When we got back to the apartment, the guys were straight-up demolished for the second night in a row. Derek and William had been the beneficiaries of the free drinks and Derek swore that he must have been roofie'd because he felt like he was dying. William looked like he was already dead as he lay face down on Paolo's sofa bed. It was almost five in the morning and their flight was leaving at 9:30. I surveyed the damage one last time before laying down on the floor of the apartment and as I began my personal prayers, I made sure to thank God for nights like these.
*****
I don't know whether to be disappointed or relieved that I'm not the only one who thinks that the Massachussets Literacy Foundation logo seems to be evocative of something unsavoury.
I hate to just link to Wikipedia pages, because I find that random Wiki surfing is best kept to oneself, but this article on the Beard Liberation Front was too cool not to share.
I wrote a song. I'm gonna throw it in.
I swear to God, you cannot add a song.
It's gonna happen.
I will smack your face off of your face.
Choking Yak
What Happens In Winnipeg Stays In Winnipeg
Party For Two - Shania Twain
Two things prevent me from launching into a full recap of the events of this past weekend. First, I don't know if my current memory of these events is even really that accurate. There was a lot of alcohol involved. Second, I don't know if I did anything that I'm actually that proud of and want to record in this space. Again, there was a lot of alcohol involved. However I do want to thank my gracious hosts for showing us around town and cooking all sorts of delicious pork products for me to eat.
Of particular note was the Saturday night, where I felt Team Toronto represented itself very well both in the staging area at Moxie's and also after full field deployment at Mystique Night Club, in the illustrious Exchange District of Winnipeg. I don't really remember what was said and what jokes were made...only that they were pretty funny. True, it was only a handful of days ago, but that was also approximately six to eight drinks ago too, so I hope you can forgive me for not being clear on everything.
I do (explicitly) remember participating in some extracurricular activity during the walk from Moxie's to Whiskey Dix/Mystique (Welcome to Winnipeg, home of the douchiest sounding clubs and lounges ever!) but the details of that must remain sealed, as part of a gentleman's agreement between Derek, Asian Dan, and myself. This may or may not mean we had a quick homosexual tryst in a dark alley on-route - I can neither confirm nor deny this.
All I remember is that a some point during the night a group of U of M students bought me a tequila shot (and a chaser!), I could not stop patting people's cheeks Godfather-style, and I got into a wacky conversation with the black washroom attendant which ended with him teaching me me a four step handshake for no reason. I think he was a leprechaun of some sort...because things started to get really crazy right after that, and when I turned around again he had magically vanished. That may have been because the door had closed behind me, but I honestly don't know what the fuck was going anymore at that point.
The full details of the weekend can be retold by AL if he so chooses...he probably had a much more accurate and sober viewpoint on everything, so I feel it's necessary to cede to his perspective in this case.
I don't know how much of the magician act he caught though, when this sleazy pickup artist type dude tried to open our group with this magic trick routine. I'll be honest you...I really don't see how card tricks can be effective in a night club. You just come off looking like an idiot, especially if you don't stack to the next bit. He almost immediately lost the group, and tragically the guy tried to lock me in with a watch trick instead of one of the girls in the group, so I was the only guy stuck there while everyone fled from him like he was on fire. Suggestion for next time...don't try the stop the watch trick in a dark club, no one can see the second hand. My watch doesn't even have a real second hand, incidentally. Not sure how much worse this guy could have bombed. I tried not to be an ass about it though, but I think I oversold my fake enthusiasm and everyone interpreted it as hilarious sarcasm instead. Oh well, at least one of us benefited from your silly magic tricks.
I have to admit I was getting tired of his shitfucking though...I mean the dude asked me to buy him a drink after he chased off my group. That is some serious audacity, especially after you try and take a super strong magnet to my watch for no reason. If he had taken out a clown nose, I would have stabbed him in the neck with a broken bottle, I'm not even kidding. Fucking douche, I hope you die alone.
I think that's really all I can recall about Winnipeg.
You gotta pay the troll toll to get in!
Choking Yak
The Good Old Hockey Game
As a somewhat casual sports fan, I regularly see outrageous claims of instant history, and there is a big what-have-you-done-for-me-lately type of mentality that dominates the public perception of players and teams and events as they happen. Too often are we looking at guys to hold up as the next Gretzky or the next Jordan, too often are we saying this was the best team/game/era of all time...the whole thing gets goofy after a while. Everyone is so eager to establish that they witnessed the best ever in their lifetime, to insert themselves into history.
Case in point, it's unfair - and it's been unfair since Day One - to even compare this Sidney Crosby guy to Wayne Gretzky. Gretzky was a relatively scrawny dude who was not athletic, too small, and too slow to ever succeed...only he ended up being like the Mozart of hockey and dominated at a level almost beyond comprehension. Gretzky was a 160 pound weakling when he finished third in goals and points in the WHA as a 17 year-old rookie...I mean how do you compare anyone to that? And now all this talk about how Crosby is on pace to be even better than Gretzky because he's got an Olympic Gold Medal that Gretzky doesn't have...well...that's just asinine.
And all this talk about the game being the greatest hockey game ever played and the most significant sporting event in Canadian history?
...not that asinine.
The greatest hockey game ever played? Hard to say. There's a lot of classic Stanley Cup games that need to be considered first, like the Game 7 of the '94 Finals when New York beat Vancouver for their first championship in 54 years, in the same playoffs that Mark Messier famously guaranteed that he'd beat the Devils in Game 6 of the Conference Finals...and then scored a hat trick to do it, and beat them again in Game 7 in double overtime. Or even Fight Night At The Joe, when Darren McCarty scored the overtime winner...after bloodying the ice with Claude Lemieux's face to avenge Lemieux's cheapshot on linemate Kris Draper in last year's playoffs.
But international hockey has always carried a special significance, beyond the international competitions for any other sport. International hockey is competitive between a large number of countries and there exist more international powerhouses in hockey than almost any sport. (We of course discount things like soccer and cricket, because they are weird and we don't consider them real sports in North America.) International hockey carries all sorts of historic bad blood between countries, which carries deeper than the rivalries between local teams. There's something bigger there, something which relates to you beyond just as a sports fan, but as a citizen of the country you root for. The 1980 Miracle On Ice between the Americans and the Soviets amid all the new Ronald Reagan/Margaret Thatcher Cold War tensions. The 1972 and 1974 Summit Series between Canada and Russia. All the annual World Juniors and the Canada/World Cup tournaments. Hockey has a history of international competition far longer and far more illustrious than other sports.
Was this the greatest Olympic hockey game ever played? It's up there as well. Of course there's '80 in Lake Placid when an amateur US team upset the terrifying Soviet team...but honestly that was a semifinal game, it's hard to care about that. I remember in '98 when Dominik Hasek stoned Team Canada all throughout the game in Nagano, and still during the shootout where the Czechs completed the upset, with Gretzky passed over and sitting on the bench. I felt like puking after that one. Although that was in the semifinals as well. In '02 when both the Canadian men's and women's teams won Gold again for the first time in 50 years...I remember exactly where I was, and I remember counting down the seconds in that last game and wanting to punch a guy in the face at the end, I was so excited.
But I think when you consider the actual thrill of the game itself along with the context that surrounds it...I really think we did just finish watching the greatest hockey game ever played, and indeed maybe the most significant sporting event in Canadian history. And I think that would have been true regardless if I had watched it at home or if I had watched it along with the huge crowd at Philthy McNasty's with Jess, and Annia and Shirley.
It's hard to argue with actual drama of the game itself. Two extremely high powered teams playing fantastic cohesive team hockey up and down the entire game...clearly showing why hockey is the absolute greatest international best-on-best competition there is. Stacked with NHL All-Star, All-Time talent it wasn't even like the first match-up when Ryan Miller single-handedly stole the game along with a few bad bounces against Canada. I honestly had no idea who was going to win this game, and honestly I don't know if Canada really significantly raised its game to another level until the overtime period. And like all great games you wonder about the controversy surrounding it as well - should Babcock really have pulled Brodeur out of the tournament as quickly as he did? Doesn't the greatest goalie who ever lived deserve a a bit more benefit of the doubt, even if the next guy is the hometown favourite? Do we even go to overtime if we had Brodeur was between the pipes with an actual working glove hand instead of a very rebound happy Luongo? How big of a bitch would Ryan Kesler have been if the US had actually completed the comeback? Do Iginla and Crosby still pull off that two man cycling game if the puck didn't bounce off the referee's skate in the corner there at the end? Do these things even matter now that we've won? It doesn't really - watching a game like this with so much legitimate hockey talent, you're reminded of great of a sport this is, especially if you've been following the Leafs for the past half decade. Hockey isn't just about sitting in front of the goalie and wacking at the puck into it goes in. It's about strong positional play that puts you there in the first place to be able to do that. It's about generating quality scoring opportunities by advancing the puck through the neutral zone by playing the passing angles and creating distance with speed and size. It's about forechecking and cycling and battles in the corners and winning face-offs for puck control to set up these opportunities. Just like how baseball isn't just about who can hack the bat at the ball the hardest, or basketball isn't (or shouldn't be) decided by who gets to the freethrow line the most based on name recognition. Honestly I blame the local lack of appreciation for well played hockey on typical idiot Toronto fans who glamourize the "toughness" and "grit" of unskilled hacks like Tie Domi, unable to distinguish thuggish posturing from actual hockey skill. The best versus the best, with your country's name on the line, on the biggest international stage there is...games like this are exactly what is needed for the game of hockey to legitimize itself as an actual top tier sport again. And not just here in the cradle of hockey civilization, but internationally. A game like this...the first ever overtime goal to win a Gold Medal, scored by the team's best player and the appointed face of Canadian hockey...I don't know how it gets better than that.
Consider as well, that this took place on the last day of the Olympics, the most significant sporting event to ever have taken place on Canadian soil. Consider that it took place on the last day of these Olympics, one with so many stories, and one where anyone involved in Canadian Olympics was ready to embarrassingly cede the overall medal count to a number of other countries. And specifically to the United States, made especially embarrassing after all that nonsense "own the podium" talk. But to rally back with a late surge to a record 14 Gold Medals...and to do it as the home country...that's a story you can have to be proud of. But fairly or unfairly (...probably very, very unfairly), none of it meant anything if the flagship team of Canada's Olympic team couldn't win it all. Gold in hockey would legitimize every other medal, and silver would render them irrelevant. A chance to "win" the Olympics at home, in front of a Canadian crowd...I don't think you can beat that in terms of significance in Canadian sporting history. Consider that the game drew 16.6 million people in Canada, and 28 million in the US. It was most-watched television event in Canadian history, sporting or otherwise. It's a cliche thing to say that this wasn't just a hockey game...but it's true. It was a chance to establish a new standard of winning on the biggest international stage there is, and a chance to cap off the efforts of all the other athletes and to legitimize it all to the local and international audience.
On the other hand...it really was just one hockey game. And if you are a fan of any level of sports, and you missed it or just didn't happen to even be casually interested in this one hockey game, then that's too bad. Because you really did honestly miss something historically great.
And it's going to be a shitload of time before we accomplish anything like this again.
LUOOOOOOOOOO
Big Al
Winnipeg Chronicles #5: Psycho Killer, Qu'est-ce Que C'est?
And Me - Beastie Boys
On my personal list of Dos and Don'ts, you can highlight "Don't go see a movie in the theatres by yourself" as a rule that I have stood firm on my entire life. When you think about it though, there isn't much justification for that rule. Yes, sitting in a crowded theatre and laughing or crying with your party can make a movie more involving, but it's not essential. It isn't like you can engage in deep conversation during the film either, in fact the better the movie is the more inclined I am to tell whoever I'm with to shut their holes. Yet, I've always considered solitary theatrical film-viewing to be dangerously anti-social. That's right, there's actually an activity that I'm against because it's anti-social. Please don't ask me to explain myself.
So what is the difference between going out and watching a movie by yourself and going out and watching a UFC pay-per-view by yourself? That's not a rhetorical question by the way, I'd really like someone to answer me because I'm definitely starting to creep out the employees and patrons at the local Boston Pizza.
There have been two UFC events on since I came out to Winnipeg and Derek has been unavailable for both of them. I've made passing inquiries towards my associates at the MMA gym, but since most of them have wives and kids to deal with, they've been a no-show so far. At first I was excited at the prospect of getting to watch one of these things by myself. I could sit down, eat at my own speed and take notes without anyone asking any questions. Sounds like an ideal scenario for a budding author like myself.
When I went last month it was strange enough because it was the day before Valentine's Day. That had slipped my mind for some reason so when I went to the bar it took me a moment to process all the pink and red hearts that were scattered about. Luckily, I managed to find a seat that was mostly out of the way and the night went without incident.
Last Saturday, there was only one area left that was right next to the bar entrance. I felt bad because I think I was taking up four potential seats, but hey, nobody said anything so screw 'em. My waitress brought me two menus, which I found odd until I realized that she must have thought my friend or date was on their way. She would be sorely disappointed. Her cheery disposition seemed to wane as the night went along and she figured out that there was no friend and no date coming. I was one man, all alone, writing in my notepad and gorging myself on ice tea and a double order of chicken wings. When she brought me two plates, I should have shattered one against the wall and said, I won't be needing this. She's not coming. NOBODY IS FUCKING COMING. That would have been flat-out rude of me.
I also considered conjuring up some sob-story about how my now-dead girlfriend and I used to go out all the time to watch the UFC and share chicken wings and ice tea and that I left Toronto to escape those memories and that all I was really looking for these days was for someone to hold me so I could forget for one second the pain...the pain...the pain...but I'm still holding out hope that I'm not going to Hell so I decided to let that one go.
Besides, I did find myself momentarily entertained by this punk rock chick named Nikki who couldn't help but ask what I was doing taking notes while watching grown men beat the crap out of each other. I explained that I'm looking to become a writer and that I wanted to write about fights. She told me she loved fights and that it was the coolest thing she'd ever heard. I have to admit, it is a pretty good story. Now if only I could actually get to the writing.
*****
Here are some MMA clips that I'm throwing up on the WAMBAG strictly for archiving purposes and also because of their awesomeness.
The infamous Toby Imada inverted triangle choke. This clip actually doesn't do this moment justice because you've got to understand that Imada was getting his ass kicked until he managed to pull off this maneuver. This submission has apparently become an internet sensation, but I was lucky enough to catch the entire fight on television before hearing about it so I got to fully appreciate how insane it was.
This is the only double knockout in MMA that I'm aware of. This looks staged to me. I'm not an expert, but I don't see how it's physically possible for two people to hit each other with enough force at the same time to knock each other unconscious.
Lastly, David Gardner's unforgettable greeting to the Japanese people. I plan to break out "Hello Winnipeg!" at my next MMA class.
Pro-choice is pro-death!
Wow! Great rhetoric!
Thank you.
Hey, you're really hardcore, aren't you?
Oh, well, you know. I mean, if you really want to see hardcore...
What's this?
That's the list of doctors I'm gonna kill.
There's two already crossed out.
Yeah, I know.
Big Al
Winnipeg Chronicles #4: Voyager
Excuse Me Miss - Jay-Z
Look, I'm usually the last person to complain about needing to interact with people (er, barring that last post), but seeing as how my only company over the last month has been Derek and the reprobates at my gym I think this recent bout of loneliness is more than understandable.
Derek took me out on Saturday night to meet some of his friends from work. They included two Dans (in both white and Asian flavours), white Dan's girlfriend Alex and this girl named Ivy who Derek was trying to hook me up with. At least I think that's what was going on.
The night got off to a poor start when Derek decided to park about thirty kilometers from our destination. We were headed to something called Festival du Voyageur and Derek was informed that the surrounding streets would likely be packed. As we pulled into the distant lot, Derek proudly declared, Hey, free parking! I would have dropped a C-note if I'd known how long we were going to walk.
On the bright side, I did get to walk along the Provencher Bridge. I'm no bridge connoisseur, but I appreciated the experience. That was the only nice thing I have to say about journey.
As we walked along the streets with no clue where we were, Derek kept saying Damn, we could have parked there about every five minutes. Good to know. There were signs for the festival everywhere, but none that actually pointed in any specific direction. We finally cracked and asked someone for directions, but even they could only give us a vague clue. As we wandered off the main street into the residential areas, we could hear music in the distance. The weird thing is that every time we thought we were getting closer to it, it seemed to either get farther away or move to another area completely. Like two delirious Bedouins, we stumbled from mirage to mirage in search of an oasis that grew increasingly intangible.
Be honest with me, cousin. Am I going to die tonight?
Somehow, someway, surely through the grace of Allah (He, Exalted and Ever High As He Is) we found the festival and rendezvoused with Derek's crew. The first thing we did was head over to the living museum section where people have to portray what life was like back in ye olden times. Obviously, the potential for shenanigans is high anytime you're dealing with these poor interpreters, but seeing as how we're a group of twenty year olds and not a group of teenagers on a high school field trip we were on our best behaviour. Though all the guys shared a chuckle when the fur trader talked about how men loved to "have beaver on their heads". Hee hee hee.
After exhausting our tolerance for historical minutiae, we headed over to the winter activities section, which was clearly intended for kids. There was a maze and a big ice slide and a large snow hill on which I slipped and nearly cracked my damn head open. Later, I had my first taste of a drink they call "caribou". As we posed for photos that will undoubtedly end up on someone's Facebook page, I thought to myself, So this is what white folks do for fun.
Later, we went to the Rumors comedy club and were treated to the stylings of Daryl Lenox. I couldn't find a great clip of him online, but I guarantee you that this guy was killing. I don't recall ever watching live stand-up and I have to say it is so refreshing to see a comedian go up there with no censorship and no time limit. The act feels so much more comfortable and fresh. Daryl reminded me of Dave Chappelle mixed with Samuel L. Jackson and with a lazy eye.
We were all spent after Daryl's act, but somehow we ended up at a cafe at the end of the night. I hate when that happens. Yeah, it was only midnight and it was a long weekend, but when the night is done, the night is done. Of course, if it were up to me I would never get off the futon, so there's that to consider. As for Ivy, there isn't much to say. I don't think she was feeling me and I'd be lying if I said the feeling wasn't mutual. Nice girl, though.
*****
I'm clearing out some old links, so here's a clip from last year of some guy jump kicking another guy at a soccer game. There ya go.
You know what your problem is Jack? You intellectualize everything with your big head!
Well you have big boobs!
Which you will never touch again!
This conversation has taken an unfortunate turn.
MaxSnax
Balls.
NSFW. Please don't watch this at work because there is no way you'll be able to contain your laughter/crying.
"World Record Kick to the Groin"
Choking Yak
The 5 Wackest Rap Cameos Of All Time
I was wasting my life away on YouTube at 2:00 AM last night, and I discovered that there are some really wack rap cameos out there. One thing lead to another, and so here we find ourselves once again ready to embark on an exciting new journey.
The following is one man's humble attempt to scientifically quantify these levels of wackness, and to identify the five most offensively wack songs that feature a rap cameo.
Let's start by outlining some simple criteria, to define the scope of our investigation.
Anything featuring Timbaland, Nelly, Pharrell, and similar artists is exempt from this list. Since these are really more pop artists than actual rappers, and there's nothing very wack about pop artists having cameo appearances in pop songs by other pop artists, for example Girlfriend by 'N Sync featuring Nelly or Boys by Britney Spears featuring Pharrell.
Similarly, notoriously promiscuous rap cameo whores like Ja Rule, Fabolous, Jadakiss, and Snoop Dogg are also exempt...because the more you do it, the lower standards are for wackness. It's hard to be wack when there are no standards for you already.
Also, a full rap cameo is defined as something more substantial than one or two lines in a looping voiceover, for example Timbaland's chanting in New Republic's Apologize remix or even his bit in Justin Timberlake's Cry Me A River.
Remixes - fan made or not - are all inherently wack, and thus disregarded here...but noted as a potential for future study.
Finally, it should be noted here that wackness does not necessarily imply that the quality of the song is detracted from in any way - some of the wackest songs of all time have brought me endless listening pleasure. I happen to love most of the songs on this list, in fact. Regardless, in the end, it still must be noted that they are extremely wack, and concern needs to be paid to the fact that if you do enjoy them...then you are enjoying some wackass songs.
With that in mind, here are the five wackest rap cameos of all time, ordered by degree of wackness. Or basically how shitty the cameo is (or the song overall). A good rule of thumb is to imagine approximately how much money the original artists had to pay or how many favours they had to call in to make it happen. The bigger the sellout, the wacker the cameo.
5) Hey by 3OH!3 featuring Lil' Jon (2009)
Just barely qualifies as per our above stated criteria. Lil' Jon collaborating with a super popular, soulless, teen "hip-pop" band with an exclamation mark in their name? This is like saying Madonna and Magic Johnson hooked up in the late 80's and expecting me to be surprised. I'm still trying to figure out who paid whom in this team-up. Rates extremely low in wackness - I don't even think he drops a real verse - but there is just something timelessly entertaining about Lil' Jon in a song called "Hey" doing nothing but screaming stuff "YEAH" and "HEYEAH" with the odd "I DON'T CAREAH" here and there constantly throughout. Honestly, I just wanted to post this one up so that I would have easy access to it in the future. Afford me this indulgence, and let us move on to #4.
4) Numb/Encore by Linkin Park featuring Jay-Z (2004)
How can you say you put 8-balls in corners without using pool sticks and then turn around and party hearty with honksters who have championed the anthem of "Crawling in my skin / These wounds, they will not heal" into the hearts and minds of white, suburban, parent hating, middle class America? Do you really still have any gangster cred left when you decided to make an entire "mashup album" with the guys eventually responsible for the main theme of Transformers 2? On the other hand, both parties are all about making that scratch, and no real strangers to the commercial art of selling out. And this probably made them both truckloads of cash. Jay-Z's not a businessman, he's a business, man. I mean in the end...it's just pop music baby, who cares how wack it is, just get that money and run.
3) Can't Stop Partying by Weezer featuring Lil' Wayne (2009)
Pretty much everything Weezer's done in the last couple of years has been superwack anyway, so it shouldn't be surprising that they would mess around like this with their "experimental" album. (Didn't they already do their experimenting with the Red album?) Still, for one of the greatest rock bands of my lifetime, working with a guy like Lil' Wayne who has made a living off super slick, razor sharp production...on such an underproduced, meh-level song...that is wack as hell. This song also makes my head hurt when I try to imagine a singular party that would feasibly include both Weezer and Lil' Wayne...I just imagine that club that Forest Whitaker, Jake Gyllenhaal, and Ron Howard are rolling up to at the beginning of Jamie Foxx's Blame It video.
2) Baby by Justin Bieber featuring Ludacris (2010)
You are shitting me! Really? Is it true Usher and Justin Timberlake were really fighting over the rights to harness the power of the BieberZone? Does that make it okay that Ludacris dropped a verse about how "when he was 13" in this song? I know the man already did a song for Rush Hour 2, but even this is a new ridiculous level of selling out. I mean... She had me going crazy, oh I was star struck
She woke me up daily, don't need no Starbucks ...seriously? 1) Radio Song by REM featuring KRS-One (1991)And the wackest rap cameo of all time goes to KRS-One for putting a stamp on his collaboration with REM and mailing in this weird match-up. Awkward backing vocals throughout the entire song, coupled with an absolute classic gem of a verse to bring it all home at the end... Check it out
What are you saying
What are you playing
Who are you obeying day out, day in?
Baby, baby, baby, baby
That stuff is driving me crazy
DJs communicate to the masses
Sex and violent classes
Now our children grow up prisoners
All their lives, RADIO LISTENAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS Ladies and gentlemen, the wackest rap cameo of all time. Stay tuned for next time, when we rank the best buddy cop movies that feature one white cop and one black cop. ...or maybe not. Honourable mention: Straight To My Feet by Deion Sanders featuring MC Hammer (1994)This might be the most insane collaboration of all time. This music video features...3 Grammys, a diamond record, 9 Pro Bowl selections, 2 Super Bowl rings, a National League triples title, one Belgium Kickboxing Tournament championship, three MTV Movie Award nominations for Most Desirable Male, and two $100+ million grossing movies. That is pretty fucking insane. That's not even considering the fact that it's the only music video for the greatest movie of all time, 1994's transcendent Street Fighter, a movie that needs no introduction in this space. This is definitely on the shortlist for Best Music Video of all time if even just for Van Damme's absolutely mind blowing dance moves. The reason it only makes this post as an honourable mention? There's absolutely nothing wack about it. There is nothing in this world LESS wack than this video. They say that two is better than one
But sometimes one is better than two
If you had two heads you'd wish you had one
How is this different?
If you had two dogs attacking you
You'd want just one
There we proved our point!
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