I like Asian people. Hell, I co-existed with one for 10 months or so during my senior year of college. I find them to be tall, goofy, prone to peeing in their rooms, but always decent fodder for shtick. Perhaps the former roommate/Asian in question is the exception to the rule in regard to height, but certainly not in matters of sexual performance or being the butt of ongoing jokes.
Never is this more apparent than on Engrish.com, which posts some of the best, bastardized, most outlandish American signs found across the globe. The majority of these are found in Japan where, apparently, literal translation is for the birds.
With that, here are several that I find to be particularly ridiculous and/or hilarious.
Benicio Del Toro stars in this Steven Soderbergh-directed film about that dude who occasionally apears on cool t-shirts. What is his deal, anyway? Doesn't he know that berets are stupid?
In all seriousness, this looks outstanding, although I fear the rekindling of Che t-shirt love as a result of this movie's success may outweigh any benefit to society the film would have on its own.
With Cheeze's birthday just around the corner (in August), it may be prudent for you all to begin the quest to find him the perfect gift. Might I suggest his dream item?
The Cristiano Ronaldo 2009 Soccer Calendar - $10.99
This two-footed star is rapidly rising to the top echelon of the game. Playing for both his national team and Manchester United, Ronaldo is known the world-over for his skills with the ball. This calendar is for fans of his on-field moves and his off-field physique (yowzers!). 12-month, full color calendar.
In October 2006, YaleUniversity student Aleksey Vayner applied for a job with UBS AG. That's cool, people apply for jobs all the time, myself included. Apparently we all missed the memo about what should really be included in applications. Cover letter and resume only? Scoff. A big, swinging D produces the following to prospective employers:
Cover letter
Resume: One and a half page
Writing Sample: Eight pages
A glamour shot
Seven-minute video that features the following feats (in order):
o Interview: gives advice for achieving life goals
o Bench press: 495 pounds (225 kilograms)
o Downhill skiing: with jumps
o Tennis serve: 140 miles per hour (225 km/h or 63 m/s)
o Ballroom dancing: with female dancer
o Karate chop: seven bricks broken
The video resume is below. Please watch whilst keeping in mind that this ass-clown is 100% serious.
Awesome. What's more awesome is Michael Cera's parody.
I'm fairly certain that the majority of these are either staged, or completely unreal, but nevertheless, some good footage of people narrowly missing having various limbs severed and the like.
As the title suggests, here is a compilation of goals scored in the past several months, all of which are straight out of the top drawer. Absolute class from these boys.
Bonus points for being one of the few compilation videos found online to not feature the worst music of all time. In fact, they did quite well.
With the exception of the Junkies, I’m not too keen on talk radio. So imagine my surprise when I stumbled across a wonderful concert link on the mother of all talk radio web pages. The link I refer to is NPR’s All Songs Considered, which describes itself as follows:
“All Songs Considered is the place to discover music. The acclaimed weekly program – available as streaming audio, a podcast and a broadcast – melds contemporary music, live concerts, videos and artist interviews to offer a truly eclectic music mix.”
It’s awesome and you should check it out. Below are some of my favorites:
Radiohead. Not much of an intro needed for these guys. As anticipated, a lot of the set list comes from In Rainbows, while they sprinkle on some older stuff to mix it up a touch. Great concert.
OkkervilRiver. As my friend PK says, it took me forever to get into this band because of how stupid their name is. I just didn’t want to. But finally I caved and boy, do I not regret it.
Kings of Leon. This best part of this show is that the recording takes place in the summer of 2005, right after the release of their sophomore effort, Aha Shake Heartbreak. This leads to over an hour of true, vintage KoL – before the naysayers cried “Sell Outs!” (which I find to be loads and loads of horseshit, by the way. If a band decides to alter their direction, and play the larger venues they’ve always dreamed of playing, that’s their prerogative. That said, it kind of sucks to see them on MTV. Oh well).
Spoon. These four guys from Austin, TX just put on a helluva show – 90 minutes of gems from their recently-released Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga (worst album title ever, or is it so bad that it blows your mind?), and past albums like GimmeFiction, Series of Sneaks, Kill the Moonlight, etc. My man-crush on this bad is no secret, and this show justifies it nicely.
My Morning Jacket. For a band that has built the majority of its reputation by being one of the best live acts around (rocking so hard that your face will crap out of your ears doesn’t hurt, either), this recording from Austin’s SXSW does nothing but solidify that notion.
Vampire Weekend. You’ll scarcely find a more hyped band than these guys, who drew the ire of many by skyrocketing to fame shortly after their self-titled debut album. Unfortunately for the haters, it was just really effing good. Paul Simon’s Graceland and blah blah blah – very catchy hooks, creative melodies, and a host of other things you don’t run into particularly often make for a terrific effort on their part. Curious to see how these Columbia-educated lads respond to everyone and their mother showering them with praise for the past year. In any event, this is their SXSW show.
The Hold Steady. When Craig Finn sings (perhaps the term “singing” is being a bit generous), I want to drink. It doesn’t hurt that the majority of the songs center around drinking with friends, the Minnesota Twins, and a tad more drinking with friends. They rock. Especially in this 9:30 Club performance.
The National. A very nice show from the Brooklyn-based quintet, featuring mainly songs from their latest two albums, Boxer and Alligator.
The Arcade Fire. “Arcade Fire, bro! Arcade Fire!!!!” (head explodes)
Now, let me preface this by saying that I think the Arcade Fire are terribly, terribly overrated. Never has a band been sucked off harder than this gaggle of Canadians (French-Canadians, at that. Eesh.). All that said, they are a good, original band. I just never have understood the absurd fuss that is generated over them. Can’t win ‘em all, I suppose.
This is by no means a comprehensive listing, obviously. It is just a sample of some of the acts that I’ve found myself listening to on several occasions. For $0 American. I highly suggest you check it out and discover some new music while you fill out that spreadsheet or do whatever the hell is that you do.
If you were ever to find yourself in the most unfortunate position of being a passenger in Cheeze’s automobile, several things would strike you as odd. First, the bumper sticker that is featured prominently on his rear windshield – I’d Rather Be Casting a Level-IV Demon Spell. Next, the music. Oh dear, the music. In all the years I’ve known Cheeze, there have been but two general CD’s on a constant rotation in his car’s player. The first is any given “Now: That’s What I Call Music! Volume (Insert any number between 1 – 436)” or Limp Bizkit.
Would you listen to a “band” that was fronted by this man?
If the answer is yes, then I probably hate you. Scratch that. I do, in fact, hate you and hope for a case of back-acne so severe, the purveyors of ProActiv would cringe at the sight of you.
You know who isn’t the worst (aside from nearly every other band on the planet, in comparison)? Spoon. And to prove it, have a listen.
Also, amazing goals are very much not the worst. Here is Mario Stanic of Chelski with a moment of brilliance in 2000 against West Ham. As the commentator said – not a bad way to find the back of the net on your Premiership debut. A wonder-strike, to be sure.
I give you Brendan Fraser. Not Frasier, mind you, Fraser.
Aside from being Cheeze’s personal style hero, Brendan has made quite a living starring in some of the worst films of all time. That is not hyperbole – I wish it were. Place some form of protection over your keyboard to prevent vomit damage and have a butcher’s at the below list.
Encino Man Son in Law In the Army Now George of the Jungle Blast from the Past The Mummy Dudley Do-Right Monkeybone The Mummy Returns Journey to the Center of the Earth The Mummy: Why Did We Make a Third Installment?
To get the bad taste out of my mouth just from typing those vile creations, I’ll be forced to watch this video. You should do the same.
I do enjoy ESPN’s Bottom Line, especially their newest feature, The Lead, which depicts the top stories of the day in 6-8 word snippets. Much to my chagrin, the “top” story a few days ago was the following:
“Romo Vows to be Better Leader”
I don’t even know where to begin, frankly. That isn’t a sports story, I’m sorry to say. Particularly not one in January, about a quarterback whose team failed to make the playoffs after some of the loftiest expectations in the NFC. Todd Archer, the Dallas Morning News reporter who penned this landmark piece, should seriously consider touring the amateur tiddlywinks circuit over sports journalism. What’s next, I wonder?
Rookie Flacco Considers Switching to Two-Ply After AFC Championship Loss
Pittsburgh, PA – With head in hands in the visitor locker room below the hostile confines of Heinz Field, all Joe Flacco could do was second-guess. Following the Baltimore Ravens defeat at the hands of the surging Pittsburgh Steelers, the young quarterback was asked the biggest factor in the game. The four sacks given up by his usually-reliable offensive line? The three costly interceptions, including one that was returned 40 yards for a touchdown by All-Pro safety Troy Polamalu? The crowd noise? According the Flacco, none of the above.
“The cheap (expletive) toilet paper that my girlfriend bought,” confessed the rookie with no shortage of emotion. “This is twice now that she has gotten that tissue-paper thin stuff, man. I haven’t been able to sit down comfortably in two weeks. It played a huge role in today’s outcome, no question about it.”
His teammates seemed to agree: “Joe just didn’t look at ease during the game, at any point,” mentioned veteran receiver Derrick Mason. “He was constantly scratching himself and wincing in the huddle. That ain’t what you want from your field leader, you know?”
It is unclear what brand of toilet paper was purchased by Flacco’s live-in girlfriend to stock their one bedroom, Inner Harbor apartment in downtown Baltimore. One thing is certain, however: those sandpaper squares may well have cost the Ravens a trip to Tampa.
“I promise you this,” pledged Flacco, “we’ll be back next year, and I’ll be having a talk with Christina.”
Evidently we can only post videos that feature acclaimed actor John C. Reilly is ridiculous character. And frankly, I'm all for it.
"My mom keeps calling me, asking if I'm gay. I don't think I'm gay..."
You'll do well to find a more ridiculous video than the following. The premise - Japanese guys playing soccer with binoculars affixed to their domes. Hilarity ensues.
There are standard male reproductive organs. Then there are grapefruit-sized, alter your walk, elephantiasis-stricken testes. Surely these lads have custom-made undergarments to accommodate their extraordinary nether regions.
A tip of the cap to all those of you who have viewed and hopefully enjoyed the site thus far. If it weren't for our distaste of so many things in this life, it wouldn't be possible.
As a treat, enjoy some good music accompanied by video. And by all means, keep checking the site often and telling all your friends that have reasonable senses of humor - no simpletons allowed.
Fleet Foxes – He Doesn’t Know Why
Vampire Weekend – M79 (with a Julliard-trained string trio)
Made up words are often enjoyable. They also have the potential to be rather obnoxious when lacking the necessary creativity to be considered a proper neologism.
As a for instance:
Rick: “Trevor, man, I totally dig that fauxhawk! I saw a picture of one just like that in my local HairCuttery!” (high five into secret handshake)
You can see how lame it can be. Thankfully, these are considerably less so.
The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly neologism contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words. The winners are:
Coffee (n.): the person upon whom one coughs. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp. Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms. Frisbeetarianism (n.) (back by popular demand):The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there. Circumvent (n.), an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.
The Washington Post's Style Invitational also asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year's winners:
Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future. Foreploy (v): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period. Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it. Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late. Hipatitis (n): Terminal coolness. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease. Karmageddon (n): its like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you. Glibido (v): All talk and no action. Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
And finally –Cheeze’s own failed submission: Inflatuation (n): an obsession with the smell of one's own farts.
I highly suggest using any of these in your everyday vernacular. Extra points for a combination of Cockney and neologism.
As Cheeze mentioned below, and as I’m sure you’re more than aware, Tiger Woods will be sworn in as the 44th and first black president of the United States momentarily.Wait.What’s that?Forgive me – Barack Obama will be sworn in.
Given this momentous occasion, change is sure to be ushered in across the landscape of all our lives; nowhere will this be more apparent, however, than in headlines.
A rather tongue-in-cheek view into the future…
Charles Barkley Fires Final-Round 62 to Win Masters.
Popeye's Stock Still On the Rise!
Purple Drink is Country's New Favorite Soda.
Watermelon: The New Cash Crop.
Obama Family Dog Remains Undefeated at Bad Newz Kennels.
Tyler Perry Wins Record 10th Academy Award.
40s: The New Kings of Beer?
Brian Williams to Anchor BET’s Surging "Nightly News."
Middle East Leaders Convene at Local BBQ to Continue Peace Talks.
Basketball Usurps Baseball as National Pastime.
Lebron James Unanimously Voted Mayor of Cleveland.
A few things occurred to me a short while ago whilst riding the elevator after lunch.If you’ll indulge me.
Firstly, the notion that I will never equal the riches that Rob Thomas has amassed over the course of his illustrious career struck me with the collective weight of Cheeze’s Lord of the Ring action figures.I would probably equate what he has done musically with the success of CBS’s Two and Half Men, in that both reach levels of ineptitude that are rivaled only by my bitter resentment and paltry jealousy.
Second-of-ly, office culture and norms are beyond ridiculous.Surely this is no ground-breaking revelation, especially given how long businesses, and consequently offices have been around.So for those of you who spend your day wandering about these breeding grounds of unease, allow me to suggest some alternatives.I see no reason why we can’t mix things up and put the onus back on our colleagues to deal with less than comfortable situations.
Without further ado, I present the first of a several part series (or until I run out of ideas)…
“Ways to Make Coworkers Uncomfortable”
The next time you enter the elevator in your office, try to be the last one in – the more crowded, the better.At this point, turn and face everyone else, being sure to make solid, unwavering eye-contract with each person.
If this doesn’t chill the bones of every person in this box of horror, then nothing will.You have done nothing wrong but put forth a congenial, “I’m game for networking!” vibe.Unfortunately, it won’t be met with open arms or smiles – quite the contrary.People will be appalled and unsure what to do next.In fact, I’m confident that at least one person will prematurely exit the elevator prior to their actual floor in order to escape your clutches.
*Related note: Try to engage in the “excuse me” dance with passer-byers as often as possible.It is also imperative to make as many related noises while you struggle to gain access to the length of carpet behind your mate.*
----------------------------
How’s about a song or two to finish out the week?Cheers.
Have a listen whilst you work. Notice that I said just listen, not have a listen and a butcher's - some of these are garbage homemade videos that aren't worth seeing.
Can you spot the common ground between the following works?
Tyler Perry's Diary of a Mad Black Woman
Tyler Perry's Madea's Family Reunion
Tyler Perry's Daddy's Little Girls
Tyler Perry's Why Did I Get Married?
Tyler Perry's Meet the Browns
Tyler Perry's The Family That Preys
Tyler Perry's House of Payne
Tyler Perry's Madea Goes to Jail
I can.
Raw, unadulterated hilarity.
For the life of me, I cannot understand why you would consistently opt for the usage of possessory credit on all your work, especially given how unfunny, unoriginal, and generally obnoxious they all seem to be, Mr. Perry.Oh, that’s right; because 3 million effing people tune in every Wednesday night to watch your show on TBS. Stupid America.
Now hear this, Latarian. You are undoubtedly a bright young lad as you've managed to find yourself not only out of the watchful eye of your grandmother, but behind the wheel of her rather lavish Dodge Durango - a sumptuous prospect, to be sure. I can fully appreciate your desire to engage in "hoodrat stuff" with peers. Moreover, getting one's jollys by way of "doing bad things" is undeniably tempting.
To that end, I am hereby exonerating you from all wrongdoing in this instance. If your grandmother had been driving a Buick like every other grandmother on the planet, perhaps you wouldn't have been drawn into the allure of an SUV with custom wheels that span upwards of 20+ inches.
"Every day"
"Good. Then what's your problem?"
"I don't know"
With the advent of Google's email system, it would seem that AIM has been rendered an endangered species amongst post-collegiate "professionals." I cannot confirm this for sure, as my desktop computer is the runner of said program and it is at present less useful than Rob Thomas in song-writing competition with a box of hair.
(Aside: this is the first of what is sure to be countless, ruthless, unsolicited attacks on one, Rob Thomas. And by unsolicited, I mean completely justified, because for 10+ years he has infected the masses with his garbage. Never has there been a more misguided waste of resources than the money spent by record companies to sign and promote Mr. Thomas. Even writing his name raises my blood pressure to unsafe levels. Aside from all that – helluva guy, I'm sure.).
So with instant messenger being out of the picture, Gmail has seemingly swooped in on the untapped market of humans who have, A) jobs that allow for uninterrupted internet access and B) a need for constant virtual interaction with friends and others. Thusly, the Gchat revolution began. Unlike its predecessor and distant relative, AIM, Gchat permits butterflies of varying degrees of social skill to banter with their peers. All. Day. Long. Until, that is, they have a change in "status."
Which brings us to Away Messages 2.0. What started as a way for you to say, "Listen, broseph, my circle is red, so refrain from the vivid recap of your four-flusher after lunch" has turned into the ability to actually create away messages (while it may lack the profile capability that AIM once featured so prominently, you're too old for that anyway, so shut up).
Invariably, with away message penning comes great responsibility – one that I'm afraid has been taken entirely too lightly.
Exhibit A (name has been changed to protect the lame)
Chiriquí's new status message – ummm case of the Mondays! 7:23 AM
Chiriquí's new status message – so glad that I forgot my umbrella >:( 7:43 AM
Chiriquí's new status message – happy hour tonight???!!! LOL 7:46 AM
Chiriquí's new status message – Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?? :)!!! 8:04 AM
*Note the short period of time between messages*
This trend of remarkably poor decision making continues throughout the morning and into the early evening. Literally 8+ hours of rubbish. Now, before you think I'm finger-pointing and calling the kettle a "black pothead", allow me to come clean. I too, made a similar error in judgment. Once. The only problem was that the song lyric I was quoting was from a band that was so indie, they had yet to be conceived. Therefore the reference sailed over heads of my collective contact list.
Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, this blog will be written under the impression that the reader enjoys good music, good film, good sports, and just about everything else we deem awesome.
Lemmings
About the Authors
Pursuant to the provisions of Virginia’s Megan’s Law, Cheeze must inform you and yours that he has recently moved into the neighborhood. He prefers his prophylactics to be cut extra slim and his wizard's magical powers to be plentiful. Favorite albums include Matchbox 20’s award-winning debut, “Yourself or Someone Like You” and Baha Men's smash hit "Who Let the Dogs Out?"
B Harris is most definitely his parents' son. He gets those dashing good looks from his father, who, as one would naturally assume, hails from Easter Island. His mother, God bless her, took it upon herself to raise him to be the daughter she never had, which is evidenced by his general demeanor. Malcolm and Roberta are the main reasons B Harris has become the (wo)man he is today. On a side note, the rash has temporarily gone into remission. The Doc said, and I quote "don't hold your awful breath."
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