Friday, October 29, 2010

DWTS: Week 6 - See Ya Audrina!

Too much space between the tators.
Some belated bullet points from Monday's Dancing With the Stars:

- During one of the last commercial breaks, they had a commercial for SKATING With the Stars! which has potential to be AMAZING; think of the costumes, the wipe outs and the Canadian accents. Turns out, in 2006, Fox had a show called "Skating with Celebrities" that replaced Arrested Development (I know!) and was a complete disaster. One of the skaters ended up cheating on his wife and marrying his partner (I know!).

- Because I have class on Monday nights, I always miss the first hour or so of DWTS and have to watch it later in the week, online. Seems easy enough, but considering my computer runs like a Commodore 64, it can be unbearable. Instead of my computer flashing the word "buffering" on the screen, I'd rather it just spit in my face. It essentially ends up being an hour where I just click every clickable thing I can click, including "refresh network list" which for some reason I think helps (it doesn't). This type of behavior drives my wife bananas.

Jed Masloff knows what I'm talking about.
On top of this, during the internet broadcasts, instead of having commercials, they have one sponsor show mini-commercials during every break. This week's sponsor was Astra Zeneca promoting their new drug for depression. Very appropriate for a sweatpants'd blogger who spends three hours every week clicking a mouse like a mad man just so he can watch Brooke Burke repeatedly ask people "How does that feel?"

And Is it me or is Brooke Burke an absolutely terrible sideline reporter? I get it, trust me, I do; she has both a natural beauty and sexiness and is attractive to both men and women (a VERY rare combination: think Mariah Carey). She has credibility because she's a former winner of DWTS (I can't believe I just typed that last sentence), but does she have to mention this during every interview? Here's an example of a Brooke Burke led interview.

Sweaty pseudo-celebrities and overly hammed-up professional dancers stumble over to Brooke and over exaggerate as they attempt to catch their breath. Male partner blatantly wraps his arms around (and/or molests) the female like a high school couple standing outside Wawa ... male partner gives female a kiss on the shoulder and/or forehead ... dancers make "funny" faces at camera and wipe their brows. 

Brooke: Wow, so how did that feel?

Dancer and/or celebrity: Yeah, well, we just had a great time and we really wanna be here and we've put in so much hard work this week ...

Me: Really?!?! So much hard work??! That's funny, I didn't see you having to right-click "refresh network list" 37 times to get through any buffering!

Brooke: What was going through your mind during the dance? And I know, I've been there before.

This is Brooke's go-to question! And she always qualifies it EVERY time by telling them that she's been there before. And you know what the answer ALWAYS is?!?!

Pseudo-Celebrity: Yeah, um, I couldn't tell ya. I was just so into the dance.

Brooke: Great, let's get your scores.

Carrie Anne, Len and Bruno hold up paddle ball paddles with numbers on them ...  

Brooke: "Blah blah blah, remember you can only vote 17 times ...." 

Dancers and pseudo-celebs make more faces, flash over-exaggerated smiles and make hand gestures that seem to be trying to tell us to either call them on a rotary phone and/or play the piano.

Back, 3rd from left: what you talkin bout, TODD BRIDGES!
Okay, to the dancers and performances from Rock Week in rapid style!

Kurt Warner - Brett Michaels was brought in to give Kurt tips on how to be a rock star ... whatever, he's got diabetes, we get it ... (I think everyone has the same opinion on Bret these days: nice guy, dumb band that put out some hits, mystery of what's under the bandana will never be revealed and at this point and no one really cares. We all assume that he just has ridiculous scars from hair transplants / acne / a buffering accident and Bret, we're okay with it) ... anyway, Kurt danced to Europe's "The Final Countdown" which is probably the greatest song of all-time. I even owned that cassette as a kid and I hate white people.

Kyle - Showed he's truly determined by giving well-thought out and mature interviews, only to ruin them at the end with some sort of joke and/or fart noise ... nice funny moment when he practiced with his brother at home ... probably should have a nicer house if he's a "star" ... wall-to-wall carpeting? really? ... we all like him, but he's not a threat.

Jennifer Grey - Apparently is really close with Jamie Lee Curtis ... great moment when Carrie Ann told her she needs to "calm down" and is "outta control" ... you get the feeling that she's on LOTS of pain killers ... early favorite is crumbling ... lucky to have Derek as a partner, he could take Elaine Benes to the title.

Hey everybody,  I have diabetes. Wrote a song about it, like to hear it? Here it go!
The Pistol - I can't tell you how proud my wife is of Bristol Palin; in the last few weeks she's worn a monkey suit, danced in her underwear and may in fact have a soul.

Foxy - Just looked over at my notes (yeah, I take notes while watching) and I have nothing written down for Rick Fox ... either he was really boring or I was really sick of taking notes by the time he came on ... or while he was dancing I was ordering anti-depressants from Astra Zeneca.

Maks and Brandy - I mean, at this point, Maks is more of the celebrity. He is WAY MORE charismatic and talented and even dates a pseudo-celeb. Also, they have clearly surpassed Jennifer and Derek as the favorites (it's a marathon not a sprint Derek!).

During their training, Maks was wearing some sort of Yankees #4 jersey that said "Carter" on the back. I have no idea who this Carter fellow is; Lou Gehrig's #4 is retired by the Yanks. Maks is probably just so excited to be living in America and enjoying free enterprise. This reminded me of the Asian kids I knew as a kid. When I was growing up, the only Asian kids in our school were ACTUAL ASIANS, not these fancy, new Asian-Americans who wear name-brand clothing and play basketball. Our actual Asians wore knock-off sports attire such as Charlotte Hornets Starter jackets and San Francisco 49ers hats with different colored brims. I considered these kids to be my only true friends.

Back to Brandy, who responded to Brooke's question of "How important is this to you?" by saying, "It means EVERYTHING to me," which seemed entirely too honest. With Brandy's career crumbling after the cancellation of Moesha and her decision not to date Kobe after his prom, this really does mean everything to her. I expect to see her flipping burgers at Wendy's in 6 months.

Hey! They make great burgers!

Tried to find an Asian wearing a starter jacket, but this is equally as amazing.
See ya Audrina - Audrina getting sent home is a clear indication that she needs better breast implants. She's a nice enough person and a good dancer, but never connected with the audience. She even danced to Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust" (which is MY FAVORITE SONG ... SERIOUSLY!). I feel badly for her partner Tony who really seemed to think this was his chance. Derek is dominant, Maks is dating a leggy blonde and Tony secretly lives in fear that at any moment he'll be sent back to Sicily to sell tomatoes again. Well Tony, the world needs tomato salesman.

Maybe he can go into business with Brandy!

Free enterprise!

Back Row, 5th from left: what you talking bout, Kelly Tripucka?!

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Wednesday Night Channel Surfing: some Lunatics, some Sports and some Housewives

This woman is going to change my life.
Last night, I was ridiculously excited to watch television. There was so much good stuff on like the 76ers vs. the Heat America's Next Top Lunatic, the World Series Modern Family and like 37 more NBA games because NBA League Pass is offering a free trial for the first two weeks of the season and it's just bonkers wall-to-wall basketball The Real Housewives of Atlanta!

Let me preface by saying that my wife used to enjoy watching basketball with me. When we first started dating, she used to come over to my apartment and we'd stay up late watching NBA doubleheader playoff games. She even wore her Latrell Sprewell New York Knicks jersey over once. I'd often put on my fliest sweatpants and we'd sit on my couch and she'd watch with genuine interest as I explained to her the x's and o's of the game. I remember one time we I actually set up some chairs in my living room and showed her how to properly defend against a pick and roll. Dar absorbed the information like a pro and I was smitten.

Fast forward five years and all of our chairs now stay in the dining room. She calls the Sixers "the most boring team in the league." She told me last night that baseball was her favorite sport. But I'm still smitten, especially because last night she brought me a bowl of Boo Berry cereal as we settled in for a night of compromise.

What follows is a timeline of last night's TV watching bonanza.

8:08 - After watching the first hour of the Sixers-Heat game and listening to the HORRIFIC local TV announcers, Dar says that hearing Joe Buck and Tim McCarver's voices on Fox's World Series broadcast is "sort of enjoyable." Minutes later McCarver tells us that Elvis Andrus is the first "Elvis" to ever play in the World Series. The channel gets changed.

8:17 - While putting my empty bowl of cereal in the sink, Dar calls to me from the other room to tell me that "Miss Jay is on!" I race back in to find that the lunatics will not be having a regular photo shoot today, instead they're going to film a commercial for an energy drink and have to wear roller skates and kiss a guy. One girl starts freaking out because she's a lesbian. The channel gets changed.

This guy scored two more points than you did last night ... two.
8:26 - Cliff Lee doubles to left and gives his teammate "the claw" hand signal. I'm almost certain Miss Jay was giving the same "claw" minutes earlier. After Elvis sacrifices in a run, the side is retired and we're suddenly back on Venice Beach, shooting an ad with roller skating lunatics.

8:28 - Now reaching level 9 freak out status, the lesbian lunatic confesses to MISTER Jay (that's the silver haired guy who wears more makeup than ANY of the Real Housewives of Atlanta) that she was sexually assaulted as a teenager and no longer trusts men. I scoff and roll my eyes and then realize that I'm being super insensitive because she probably was sexually assaulted. My wife gives me "the claw" while Nigel Barker instructs one of the models on how to properly flirt with a man.

"Kiss him," my wife says out loud. "Kiss him!"

Nigel does not, and soon the orthodox Jewish lunatic with the size G (not kidding!) breasts takes her turn to shoot the commercial.

8:33 - Okay, this is just ridiculous. Not only have we been watching America's Next Top Lunatic for the last seven minutes, but now another lunatic is crying. This one is like 9 feet tall and is terrified that she'll "fall in the dirt" while rollerskating. I scoff and roll my eyes again until she really does wipe out HARD and slams her elbows on the pavement. She REALLY took a spill and is now even more shaken than before. She can't remember her lines, her voice cracks with every word and she's rollerskating like a baby lamb. Nigel goes and gets her some elbow and knee pads which help about as much as a bowl of Boo Berry. Thank God for a commercial (not because I don't wanna watch, but because the last seven minutes of television have been absolutely riveting and I need a break). Let's go back to the Sixers.

This honestly looks like the saddest Giraffe ever.
8:36 - Thirty seconds into the 4th quarter and Dar can't help herself, "Uggghhh, this is SOOOO BORRINNNGGG." She tries to calm herself down with deep breaths until Comcast Sportsnet shows their "McDonald's Small Fry of the Game", a cute little black baby in the crowd with a superimposed french fry carton around him. It's absolutely adorable and earns me a few more minutes of game action.

8:42 - LeBron almost catches a ridiculous alley-opp, cramming it off the back rim, causing me to blurt out, "HOE DOG!" ... I have absolutely no idea what this means or why I said it, but Dar wastes no time asking, "Hoe dog?"

I have no answer for her and try to keep my eyes on the game, but keep hearing her mumble to herself, "Hoe dog huh? ... Hoe dog ....... Hoe dog? ... Hoe dog."

She eventually stops but then says that "maybe we'll have hot dogs friday night." I tell her that's a great idea.

8:48 - Back to the lunatics where Tyra, Nigel, Zac Rosen and the big black guy who wears a cape are critiquing their commercial shoots. Tyra always has such great posture. I wonder if she played the viola growing up? A few of the girls gave absolutely terrible performances and at least three of them are crying. The orthodox Jew with the bladdow! titties looks incredibly stiff, but not nearly as bad as Big Bird the 9 footer who upon further review roller-skates more like a drunk baby lamb. She also has the worst posture I've ever seen. I want her eliminated. She HAS TO get eliminated ............. So who do they eliminate? ......... the Jew with the absolute humongous yammers.

Life is not fair.

9:10 - After some flipping between games and arguing over how to properly use a remote control, we put on Modern Family, a show we've seen a bunch of times (and like very much), but have never gotten REALLY into.

The father Phil is one of those actors who can do anything and be funny. I like him. I think the gay couple is a little annoying, but the Colombian lady and her orthodox Jew titties are just bonkers, so I'm always up for watching it. Well, Miss Columbia was showing off her ying-yangs so I had no problem missing some hoops. Plus, the Sixers are the most boring team in the league.

Just stop it! ... just stop!
9:29 - As Modern Family ends, we flip back to the Sixers to catch them walking back to the locker room, heads down with shame. Immediately Darrie flips over to the Real Housewives of Atlanta where I am introduced to a woman named Nene, a soul sister who was recuperating from getting her breasts lifted and her nose done.  

(For the record, I never actually plan on writing about titties so much; they're just ubiquitous in our TV watching. Between lunatics who SHOULD NOT have size G's to a Columbian who probably has size H's, it's not my fault I am surrounded by jang-jangs all the time.)

Anyway, what followed during the next half hour of Real Housewives of Atlanta deserves its own post, its own blog and it's own panel discussion with Miss Jay, Mister Jay, Tim McCarver and Nene Hilario of the Denver Nuggets.  

Let it be known that we did not watch the Real Housewives of Atlanta the past few years, but after meeting this Nene woman, we are HOOKED. In a three minute span, she told the Don't Be Tardy For the Party lady not to "squeeze my titties" and "don't hurt Michael Jackson now." Later, she gave an incredible neck-roll and finger-snap worthy of Blaine Edwards and Antoine Mayweather (You remember them! From In Living Color's Men on Film!).

All in all, it was a tremendous night. Yeah, the Sixers lost and my fantasy basketball team is in last place and the only woman I've ever known with straight-up G tators is out of my life. But I got to meet Nene, who promises a future of undeniable drama and comedy. And I got to do it all on my couch, in my sweatpants with a bowl of Boo Berry cereal ... sitting right next to my wonderful Dar.

Stuff I Made: Cooking and Stretching With Don McDick

The idea for Cooking and Stretching With Don McDick (Stretch Expert and Cookmaster) was conceived by Nate Laver and remains in my opinion the dumbest thing Hooray For Funn! has ever shot. However, it was selected to Boston's Best of Open Screen and is widely considered to be the most popular video we ever filmed.

When the "Grilled Cheese" video was shown at the Best of Open Screen, a man sitting behind me started laughing so hard that I thought he might be choking on his popcorn. Nate, feeling that we might be onto something, quickly wrote the script for the second Don McDick short, "Hot Chocs." We filmed that shortly after (once again in Nate's kitchen), but never did shoot Nate's third installment, "Steak in a Bag."

Watch for a breakout performance by Cheese McDickwich, his first and only appearance in a Hooray For Funn! production. 

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

We Played High School Basketball With Kobe Bryant and You Didn't


From right to left: Evan, Kobe and an enormous chipmunk.
By Evan and Feddd

Yes, it's true. My buddy Feddd and I played high school ball with Kobe Bryant. When we were seniors, and Kobe a junior, our Lower Merion squad made it to the District Finals and to the second round of the state tournament. By the time the season ended, Kobe was considered the top player in the country, I had lost my virginity, and Feddd was closer to his parents than he'd ever been.

On paper, it might appear that Feddd and I enjoyed similar athletic careers but in truth our experiences were quite different. I was the starting point guard and Feddds was widely thought to be an assistant coach. What follows is an account from both of us of the District Semifinal against Richard Hamilton and Coatesville, played at the famed Palestra in Philadelphia.

Pregame
 
Ev: As I stroll around the locker room getting loose for the biggest game of my career, Kobe comes over to me excited and raring to go.

“You ready, Triggerman?” Kob asks me. Triggerman is the silly nickname I was given by a local sportswriter who once wrote that I was “the triggerman in the Evan-Kobe alley-oop connection.”

“No doubt, KB.” I give Kob a pound, both of us confident and prepared to take down Richard Hamilton and Coatesville. We discuss how we’re going to defend Rip, try to limit his touches, and deny him all over the court.

Feddd: Half-dressed and suddenly surrounded by Coatesville players, two things occur to me: I’m in the wrong locker room and I might be gay. Shirtless, I wander through the unfamiliar and ancient Palestra hallways until I find my team. I take a locker between my friend Chris Lawson and freshman three-point ace, Dan Pangrazio. Kobe Bryant is three lockers to my right. I really, really want to ask him for his autograph.

The Game

Ev: The pace of the game is frantic, up-tempo, run-and-gun, exactly how we like it. On an out-of-bounds play, I throw Kobe a lob and the crowd grimaces thinking I’m hoisting an ugly 28-foot three-pointer. Kobe leaps over everyone, catches the rock with two hands and flushes it right over some dude wearing Rec-Specs. The sold out Palestra crowd explodes as we strut back on D, and I glimpse up into the student section to see this cute little sophomore give me the most sparkling smile. This is so cool.

Feddd rebounds for Ev and Kobe during practice.
Feddd: Holy shit, my entire left leg is asleep. You’d think this place, storied and famous as it is, would have a more comfortable bench. Lawson and I are at it again, having our customary contest to see who can produce a deeper, pinker rash by resting our elbows heavily on our thighs. We’re off to a furious start, with Lawson slightly in the lead, a fact that I attribute to him having “hippo arms.”

Ev: During a timeout, I can’t hear a word Coach is saying over the deafening crowd. KB, seated next to me suggests that we keep pushing the ball up the court, taking advantage of our speed and fast break. I’m not sure, but it looks like Feddd, who hasn’t played a minute, might be injured.

Feddd: Well, I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I think I just sprained my ankle standing up. I hate timeouts. I can’t hear a goddamn word Coach is saying because nobody will let me in the huddle. Where the hell is my mom? I swear I’ve looked at everybody in the crowd and she swore she’d be here. If she doesn’t show, we’ll be making a little stop in Temper Tantrum City on our way to Baskin-Robbins after the game. Is it just me, or is that old woman in the Coatesville section giving me the finger? Not cool.

Ev: In a tight game coming down to the wire, Kobe fouls out with over 5 minutes remaining. One half of the arena celebrates while our faithful fans are silent, doubtful that we have any chance to win without the big fella. I gather up my fellow teammates and tell them that despite what everyone thinks, we did not get this far being a one-man team. We will pull this one out and this is our chance to shine. Kobe, devastated that he’s fouled out and unable to contribute, agrees and tells us that he has the utmost confidence in us. He says, “Don’t let it end like this fellas, refuse to lose.”

Feddd: Oh, Christ, Kobe just fouled out, we’re obviously going to lose. A whole season of sleepy legs for this? Is Ev talking? What could he possibly be saying? Who died and made him Knute Rockne? Is Knute Rockne dead?

Ev: Inspired by our captain’s words, we go out and blitz Coatesville. We dominate the final stages of the game, converting on numerous fast breaks and playing smart basketball leading us to victory and our first berth in the District Finals in over 40 years.

Best Friends Forever
Feddd: Holy fuck! This is the biggest splinter I’ve ever seen. It really might be touching the bone, I'm not kidding. Oh God, it hurts, it hurts. It feels like someone just threw a spear into my fucking leg. Holy crap! Where are we going…are we charging the court? Oh, it hurts to hug, guys, it hurts to hug!

Ev: Our student body rushes the court as we all celebrate, dancing, hugging, laughing, and enjoying the victory. That cute sophomore runs up to me and kisses me on the cheek, then sprints away with her friends, smiling. A euphoric rush fills my body as we head to the locker room where we talk to reporters, dance some more, and chow down on some free hoagies given to us by a local booster. During a post-game speech, Kobe thanks the team for pulling through, and allowing him the opportunity to play in at least one more game. This is the best hoagie I’ve ever had.

Feddd: Dickballs! Would it kill somebody to get a cheese hoagie? Or tuna? They know I’m a vegetarian. I do not eat red meat, they know that! What kind is this…ham, of course. Here’s a roast beef, oh, and here’s an Italian. And here’s a wad of meat wrapped in another wad of meat. Assholes! And this splinter is starting to look really bad. Is there such thing as wood poisoning? It’s turning pink, Jesus, it’s turning pink, what does that mean? Wait...Kobe's talking now. This looks emotional. Did he...son of a bitch, did he just call me Fred? Holy crap, Lawson just ripped one. How does nobody smell that?


Twittaaaaaa: @Evsterrr

Mad Men: Season 4 Finale - So Many Questions

Golden hair, smooth skin, eyes like a Danish gypsy.
Finally got to watch the Mad Men Season Four finale last night and woke up this morning with so many questions: Is Don really gonna marry his secretary? Is Betty scarier than my 7th grade shop teacher? Why does my wife insist on cocoon'ing herself with our comforter? Did her mother not teach her how to share?

Let's tackle some burning Mad Men questions one at a time.

Is this the last we've seen of Glen?

With the Drapers moving to Rye, Sally should be putting her maniac friend in her rear-view mirror allowing Mad Men creator, Matthew Weiner to end his son's role as Glen. In an interview with the New York Times last week, Weiner said that he doesn't understand how people find his son's character to be so creepy. Weiner explains, "He’s got very big eyes and very thick black hair and that may be part of why people think he’s so intense." No Matthew, that's why we think Brian Wilson (the closer for the Giants) is intense. We think your son is crazy because he stares blankly at other humans and collects Betty's hair. Fortunately for him though, some equally as creepy teenage girl will probably love that intensity and one day introduce him to her breasts. He will then most likely kill her.

Speaking of death ...

How will Henry end up killing Betty? And can the writers also kill off Harry Crane? That guy is so annoying.

Amazing how when Don told Betty of his engagement, I actually felt sorry for her, considering she has cemented herself as one of the nastiest villains in entertainment history (along with Richard Hatch, Nurse Ratched and Jason Wahler from the second season of Laguna Beach). However, I still think Henry is going to end up killing her, probably with the politicians' preferred weapon of choice, the shoe horn.

I mean, there's still the oft chance that Henry does not murder the cold wench and chooses instead to sleep with a variety of other women like Don did. But I still think that he's smart enough to realize that the only true way to rid yourself of a crazy lady like Betty is to chop her head off. Even dumb-ass Tara from True Blood came to this conclusion when dealing with her whacked-out vampire lover. And she is really dumb and annoying. Kinda like Harry Crane.

Remember me?
I'll take any medicine you prescribe! Please don't hurt me.
If only Betty would move to Laguna Beach.
What the freeps'd is up with my eyebrows?

Ever since I turned 30, my eyebrows have started to sprout like whoa. I now look like a high school math teacher. For the first 29 years of my life, I had very nice, proportionate eyebrows; I never even had to groom or tweeze them. Now, I have stray hairs popping out in every direction and have to trim them at least once a week. This is reason #437 why I am nothing like Don Draper. Thanks, Don.

Speaking of Don,

Did Don really fall for his secretary?!?! Really?!

During the entire scene when Don was proposing to Meghan, my wife kept repeating, "This is a dream sequence, this is a dream." Four minutes later, when Don was putting the ring on Meghan's finger, my wife was still mumbling to herself (but now also shivering), "This is a dream, right? Please tell me this is a dream. What the freeps'd? This has to be a dream." Turns out Don saw something in the French-Canadian, possibly the way that she calmly dealt with Sally's spilled milkshake? (whereas Betty would've knifed her daughter in broad daylight.) Maybe it was the way she stepped up in the absence of Miss Blankenship? Maybe she has great taste in television programs and Don wants to blog about it? Regardless, Don is smitten (for now).

Please God, I don't want Andy's eyebrows! I'm sorry I was a peeping Tom!
Although Don's impulsive behavior seemed at first to be premature and silly, his proposal mirrors the way that many of us wish we could lead our love-lives, making decisions with our heart (although maybe Don was making decisions with something else ...... I'm talking about his dork ...... maybe he made that decision with his dork). Meghan's acceptance was quite romantic as well, as she said yes right on the spot, taking a leap of faith. Interesting how she chose not to make a pros and cons list like my wife did when I proposed.

Pros: Great eyebrows, no signs that he collects female hair. 
Cons: Family has history of mental illness, just because I haven't found locks of hair doesn't mean he doesn't have any.

It's exciting to make decisions with your gut, to elope with your secretary or to secretly chop off strands of clean, blond hair. I'm curious to see what happens when Don starts leaving his dirty socks in the living room; or when he playfully insults her mother and she takes it too seriously. Also, seeing as she's in her early twenties and seems to be cultured and educated, how is she going to react to the upcoming political problems during America's late 1960's? Will she protest the war and have conflicting ideologies from Don (who is both a veteran and a conservative suit)? Will she burn her bra with Peggy? Will Glen watch them burn their bras? Will Glen use binoculars to spy on them? Were there even binoculars invented in the 1960's? How many pairs of binos do you think I own? The answer is one.

A young Evster spies on Tiger Woods's wife.
Quick tangent: When I was in 7th grade, a middle-aged woman moved into the house next door to ours and did not put up blinds for the first month that she lived there. Her bedroom was across from mine and yes, every night I would spy on her and watch her undress. There would be times when I would stay up until 3am watching her read Time magazine. I remember wanting to write a letter to the editor of Time magazine telling him to shorten their articles (so she could go to bed at a more reasonable hour). My friends even made a waiting list at school where they would sign up to see who could sleep over my house. Amazingly, my friend Nick the Dick always seemed to wind up at the top. Eventually, my neighbor put blinds up and my popularity diminished. To this day, I cannot thank Ryan Silverman enough for getting me a pair of binoculars for my Bar Mitzvah. Ry Guy, if you are out there reading this, THANK YOU. 

To continue with some deviousness,

Will Joan's baby have silver hair?

The consequences for Joan not going through with her abortion are obviously heavy, but even more serious is that fact that when Joan gives birth, she may no longer work at the office! And if this is the case, will she no longer be on the show?!?! Say it ain't so Weiner! I was readying myself for her husband to get blown apart in Vietnam and have her start slutting it up with anyone she could find, kinda like this lady.

What is the highest acceptable price for Tropicana Pure Premium Orange Juice?

This one keeps changing on me. A few years ago, I would NOT buy Tropicana OJ unless I found it on sale at two for $4. Then, I compromised and felt as though two for $5 was doable. Yesterday, I got excited when I saw it for $2.99. Florida's Natural has to take advantage of this. Peggy Olsen and Ken Cosgrove should solicit them for new business.

What a segue!

Peggy Olsen and Ken Cosgrove? ... Ehhh? ... Ehhh?

Cleans up quite well.
I know Ken is engaged, but that means about as much to ad men as it does to a guy named Nick the Dick.  Peggy and Ken's ability to make magic could translate into more collaborations, more late nights at the office and more illegitimate children. Also, between Ken's savvy, Peggy's bra burning and Pete Campbell's obsession with being appreciated, I could foresee the three of them branching off and starting their own firm. Maybe they could hire Joan?!?! No wait, she'd still have that stupid baby ........ stupid baby!

Is Peggy attractive? I still have no idea.

I keep flip flopping on this one. Sometimes she looks great, and other times she looks like my friend Nick the Dick. Overall, I'll give her the thumbs up.

Who the freeps'd do I think I am?!?! Like Peggy Olsen (who probably has a real name) cares what some sweatpants-wearing, bushy eye-browed blogger, who hangs out with guys named Nick the Dick thinks of her looks! I'm sorry Peggy Olsen. You are beautiful. If I were 13 years old, I would totally watch you undress.

So now that Mad Men is over, what should I watch and blog about?

It's official, my wife and I now have ZERO actual, decent shows in our rotation. Should we watch Boardwalk Empire? ... The Mentalist? ... Glee? ... Please don't say Glee 'cause we're not watching Glee. We're also not watching The Mentalist.

Also I would love to see Peggy Olsen naked.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

NBA Preview - For Dudes and Chicks


 Manute Bol, R.I.P. ... Also, how cute is Muggsy?
Initially when I conceived this blog, I thought my target audience would be dudes whose girlfriends or wives made them watch lousy television shows. Turns out after a month of writing it, it seems as if my target audience is mostly women (and dudes whose boyfriends or husbands make them watch lousy television shows).

This is very upsetting because I envisioned being able to write about guy stuff too! like sports and cheeseburgers and hot chicks who I could never possibly have sex with. And so, I'm still going to write about those things; but I'll just have to tweak the content to make my posts more gender friendly.

So with dudes across the country reintroducing their women to TNT this Tuesday night, I thought I'd write an NBA preview targeted to both sexes. We'll break it down by looking at some of the most intriguing story-lines and putting them in big, bold letters.

So here it is: 

The Evster's NBA Preview For Both Dudes and Chicks

Look at Sue Bird! ... I want her and Allen Iverson to make a super baby!
I realize this is very sexist approach to writing a post. There are plenty of chicks who watch basketball and plenty of dudes who shave their asses and watch Nurse Jackie. This could easily be called The Evster's NBA Preview For Both Sports Fans and Non Sports Fans, but that just sounds dumb (and I'm a bit of a chauvinist).

Honey, I'd like to introduce you to two young men; this fella here is John. And this guy here, with the red hair, this is Blake.

Not pictured: guy in crowd whose head exploded.
For dudes: I couldn't be more excited for the arrival of John Wall and Blake Griffin, especially considering we've had to wait an extra year to see Griffin. He's a complete freak of nature and could potentially be a 20-10 guy in his rookie year. Down in Chocolate City, Wall is being compared to Rajon Rondo, but he's much more explosive and well-rounded offensively. Wall's jumper is half-decent, whereas Rondo shoots like my Aunt Maxine. Also, Wall's height and leaping ability make him a much more outstanding finisher. He's more of a combo guard and we all know that Combos are much better than regular snacks. 

For chicks: You know when you go to a game and the giant furry mascot comes out and jumps on the trampoline and does a flip and then dunks the ball? Well, there's two guys that are new to the league this year that have the potential of flip-dunking without a trampoline. Yeah, and one of them happens to be one of those weird, light-skinned red-headed black dudes. I know, so exciting!

Yeah, he's on the Heat this year. And so's that guy who looks like a dinosaur!

Totally normal; we'll just get a couple of stools, chill out, maybe wear high tops ...
For dudes: I don't understand why some writers are uncertain about the Heat; Who will take the last shot? Will they play defense? Is Chris Bosh actually a dinosaur? I have ZERO concerns about Miami; they will be unstoppable and I can't wait to see them. Folks, THEY HAVE LEBRON, D-WADE AND BOSH! You could stick my Aunt Maxine and Uncle Ivan in their starting five and they'd still win 63 games (geez, I sure am being hard on my Aunt Max's hoops game today). Not to mention, Pat Riley has surrounded them with decent enough role players, Mike Miller, Udonis Haslem and Mario Chalmers. Provided they stay healthy, the Heat will be in the Finals.

For chicks: Okay, you know how ABC put together that show The View? And they tried to assemble the most annoying women of all time to collaborate on one, unwatchable, train-wreck of a talk-show? Well, imagine if the producers put together a good panel; no, an AMAZING panel with Ellen Degeneres, Sandra Bullock, Wanda Sykes, Marie Antoinette, Cleopatra and Tinkerbell. Well that's what the Miami Heat are this year: LOADED. Oh, and Dwyane Wade recently left his high school sweetheart and their two kids for Gabrielle Union ... I know!
     
The Little Men are taking over.

Spud Webb is wearing Ponys ... Manute seems to be wearing Bobos.
For dudes: Think about how many good point guards there are these days! Top tier guys like: Deron Williams, CP3, Rondo, Derrick Rose ... OG's: J-Kidd, Steve Nash and Chauncey ... Young Bucks: Steph Curry, Russell Westbrook, Tyreke Evans, Brandon Jennings, John Wall ... Dudes that are good that you don't even think of when you think about good PGs: Tony Parker, Jameer Nelson, Aaron Brooks, Devin Harris, Baron Davis ... guys that are 47 years old that could still drain a jumper in your eye: Derek Fisher. There hasn't been a league dominated this much by point guards since the 1987 season at the JCC in Wynnewood, PA featuring Jason Eisenstadt, Josh Levin and Ari Goldfarb.


For chicks: Little guys!

People need to chill out with all this Kevin Durant hype. 

I think a black mamba could eat a durantula.
For dudes: Look, the Durantula is fantastic and Oklahoma City has surrounded him with some nice, young talent, but people need to calm the freeps'd down. He may be on the cusp of superstardom and could probably dunk a ball with his mouth, but there are three players that are far and away the league's best: Kobe, LeBronski and D-Wade. You could make the argument for any one of them, but KD still has a ways to go to reach their level. In my opinion, LeBron is the most talented, D-Wade the most electric, but in the NBA playoffs, when the money is on the line, I"ll take KB. He's a killer.


For chicks: There's this guy who plays for the Oklahoma City Thunder (yeah, that's a team) who looks like a giant string bean. He's really good, but not as good as the media is making him out to be. Kinda like foie gras.


Coming soon to Bravo: The Real Small Forwards of Los Angeles.

This man will kill you.
Totally normal!
For dudes: With the addition of Matt Barnes to play alongside Ron Artest, the Lakers now have two of the craziest dudes on the planet. And they're both very different kinds of crazy. Ron Artest is straight loopy crazy, like I wouldn't be surprised to read on The Superficial that he was found hot tubbing with Zsa Zsa Gabor and Wink Martindale in the Hollywood Hills. While Matt Barnes on the other hand is "hide your children" crazy 'cause if you look at him the wrong way, he will choke you. Then again, Ron Artest has also been known to choke people out, so that's a double dipper. I'll give the slight edge to Ron Ron just because HE ONCE RAN INTO THE STANDS AND STARTING PUNCHING SOME DUDE WHO HE THOUGHT THREW A SODA AT HIM!! But I wouldn't be shocked to hear that Matt Barnes burnt down someone's house, either.

For chicks: If Danielle Staub played basketball, she would play for the Los Angeles Lakers. And so would her sidekick, Lisa Left Eye Lopes. Put them together and you'll understand why your husbands and boyfriends won't be going to bed early on Thursday nights. Also, for the record, I think Barbara Walters is crazier than both of those other two nutjubs combined ... yeah, I said it. 


Let's rank the craziest guys in the NBA:

Run puppies, run!
1. Ron Artest - the Malice at the Palace, "Queensbridge in the building," partying all night in his uniform after the Lakers won the title ... indisputable numero uno.
Matt Barnes probably has the best sense of smell ever.
2. Matt Barnes - after being arrested last month for domestic violence, Barnes tweeted his innocence and  disputed the charges, "Don't let your ears witness what your eyes didn't see!!!" ... Well Matt, my eyes can see that you're insane ... please don't kill me.
Honey, you gotta check out this sunset!
3. Kenyon Martin - tourettes-like tick combined with neck tattoo of shiny, red lips ... cuckoo! cuckoo! ... also recently broke up with rap-star girlfriend Trina who has a very dirty mouth.
I wish the other side said "Willy."
4. The Birdman - whatever, just gonna get this giant "FREEBIRD" tattoo on my neck, not that big of a deal.
5. Charlie Villanueva - completely and totally hairless. 

I get to see my friends again!


For dudes: Whenever my wife sees that TNT's halftime show is on, she calls me into the room and says, "Honey, your friends are on!" and I come running in to see Ernie, Kenny and Sir Charles. It's really been too long since I've seen my old pals (not to mention C-Webb, Jalen Rose, Mark Jackson and Jeff Van Gundy). This year, ESPN has added Chris Mullin and his Brooklyn accent into the mix as a studio analyst and I couldn't be more excited. You haven't lived until you've heard him say, "point gahwd."

For chicks: Look, the bottom line is that the coolest athletes are basketball players because the coolest people are black people. This is undeniable. And so, whereas baseball has lame-o white dudes analyzing their sport and Top Chef has Gail Simmons, the NBA has charismatic, hilarious, cool brothers analyzing theirs. If nothing else, we can all get behind the NBA for this reason. Plus, black people have way better fashion sense and wear amazing custom-made suits. Like this one, and that one, and this one, and that one.

Enjoy the season. I couldn't be more excited to welcome black people back into my life.

Little known fact: the Doctor was looking up at a bird eating a cheeseburger when this picture was taken.

Walt Frazier to replace Miss J as judge on America's Next Top Lunatic.
"The Dream takes time away from playing to oboe with the New York Philharmonic to be selected #1 overall in the NBA Draft."
Should've been drafted by the Rockets just so he could have the hat to match.
Just sitting on a couple of wooden boxes. Not that big of a deal.
Nash Bridges
You mess with the bull, you get the world's most disgusting beard.
This guy once put out a video game where he went around karate chopping people.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Dancing With the Stars: Week 5 - See Ya Flo-Ho

Oh, don't look so shocked Flo-Ho ... you knew your time was up!
With playoff baseball dominating our television, I did not see this week's Dancing With The Stars and the final performance of Florence Hendy (nor did I see Mad Men ... but expect a report on the finale soooooon).

Although looking back, it's probably better than I didn't see DWTS, because I'm turning into a bit of a DWTS snob. Look, I'm even referring to it as DWTS. How snobby is that? I might as well show up at cocktail parties and start every sentence with, "You knowwww, I just read in the New York Timessss ...." It's gotten to the point that when I watch these pseudo-celebrities dance, I actually critique their performances with my wife. We discuss their abilities to "stay in the frame" and their "musicality" and whether or not they "really believed that they were a swan."

When we first started watching, we'd simply look at each other and say, "that was fun!" or "wow, I never knew Russian women could take their feet and clamp 'em around a man's ear and then propel themselves into the air like a golden swan!" When did we make this switch? And how flexible are Russian women?

I think I can pinpoint the time that I started taking American Idol too seriously. We were watching with our friends Law and Mandy, and thought it'd be a good idea to pause the show after each performance and have our own panel discussion. This lasted about two songs until we realized that we were the biggest losers of all time and Law was standing up to demonstrate how to properly handle a microphone. This was fascinating considering Law had not performed in front of anyone since his marginally impressive performance as a snowman in our 3rd grade play. And yet, here he was giving Crystal Bowersox pointers as if his name was Andrew Lloyd Webber. And even more embarrassing, Crystal Bowersox WAS NOT EVEN IN HIS LIVING ROOM!

Perfect form: mic jammed in face, left hand on the hammer.
I think my week off from Dancing With the Stars will be beneficial. Maybe I can check myself and return to the days of watching the show free and easy, the way Crystal Bowersox probably does. Despite my six weeks of ballroom dancing experience and the interpretive dance solo that I performed at Law's wedding, I'm probably not as credible a judge as Len Goodman. I'm done being so hard on these sort-of-celebrities who are just trying their best.

I'll tell ya what though, Florence Henderson danced like an absolute slut. She had to go.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Phillies Baseball, America's Next Top Lunatic, Real Housewives and Surviving "The Look of Death"

Chooch ponders life after baseball; photo by Nigel Barker
Along with sweatpants and Raisinettes, the remote control is one of the greatest inventions in history of western civilization. But when used improperly, it can cause more carnage than most Eastern European warfare. And after my wife unleashed her vaunted "look of death" at me last night for my misuse of the clicker, I question whether or not I should be left with such a responsibility.

Now I know what you're thinking; we're a stereotypical Timothy Busfield thirtysomething couple and I hogged the remote and sat and drank my beer and wouldn't let my wife disturb the precious game. Nope, not the case. Not the case at all. Let me explain.

At the start of the Phillies game, my wife asked if we could flip to something else during commercials, to which I obviously agreed, because I like watching other things and am not interested in having my wife divorce me. So in between innings we watched some of America's Next Top Lunatic, and this was fine, because I sort of like that show and would like my wife to stay with me so that I don't end up homeless and alone like I imagine Timothy Busfield must be.

I even let her watch a full, uninterrupted ten minutes of her favorite part of the show when Tyra Banks and the good looking British photographer critique the lunatics' photos. Last night they had a big black dude join them who wore a cape. He was filling in for the other black dude who is actually more of a lady and teaches the lunatics how to walk. I'm not sure where the man-lady was last night, but I miss him dearly and imagine wherever he is, he is probably also wearing a cape. When we got back to the baseball game, I had missed the Giants score two runs, but this was okay because I love my wife and was very interested to hear the cape-donning judge's thoughts regarding the lunatics' photo shoot.

I imagine he/she also has a "look of death."
Later, during the nine o'clock hour, we routinely flipped to see what the Real Housewives of Atlanta were up to. Apparently, the "Don't Be Tardy For The Party" lady is now performing her self-titled song live in concert for thousands of gay men, for which I also allowed my wife ten minutes of uninterrupted viewing pleasure. This time when we returned to the Phils, Shane Victorino was chasing balls in the dirt, precisely the same thing most of the gay concert-goers were doing.

(Oh! ... He breaks out a gay joke!)

Now, here's where the problem arose:  during the late stages of the game, I started flipping to an ESPN 30 for 30 documentary about the relationship of two former Yugoslavian basketball players whose lives and friendship were torn apart by their warring homelands (one was Serbian, the other Croatian). It's a gripping movie and features the enormously lovable Vlade Divac who goes back to his hometown in Serbia and looks through old shoeboxes of photos rehashing memories of playing basketball with his old friend, Drazen Petrovic.

Now up until this point, any time that I wanted to flip back to the Phils, my wife allowed me to do so. She understood that I deeply cared about my squad and conceded that what she was watching was absolute garbage. My wife is a rational person. She wears age appropriate clothing. She realized that her programs were for commercials, but tonight's game was the main event. But this time when I tried to change the channel back to the Phillies, my wife got angry.

"No! You can't go back to the game. Not now," she said.

 "What?"

"Not now, put it back."

"What? Why not, Dar? The Phillies are batting."

"You can't put that on and then turn it off, because that's real stuff and I'm into it and you can't do that."

This woman is NOT normally this attractive.
Now in her defense, she had stated each time during the last few commercial breaks that we shouldn't watch the ESPN documentary now, because we would get hooked. She maintained that we should watch it when we had time to actually realllllly watch it and could sit and take it all in. I agreed and understood what she was saying, but there were SO MANY commercial breaks because it was the time of the game when there are like, four pitching changes every inning, so I still flipped to it during every break. And besides, they were showing old footage of Petro draining threes on hairy European dudes and I couldn't deny myself from seeing that!!!

But now they were showing footage of dead bodies and wartime in the former Yugoslavia and meanwhile Carlos Ruiz was batting and the Phils were threatening. My wife wanted to watch a sports documentary and I was keeping her from doing so, probably the first and last time that will ever happen. That's when she unleashed her "look of death;" a look that only Serbian soldiers and female African American school teachers can give, and I changed the channel, threw her the remote and sprinted up the steps like an overtired six-year-old to watch the two-inch tall Ruiz in our upstairs bedroom on our microwave-television.

Over the next four minutes, I sat at the end of our bed, yelling down to her every sixteen seconds to see if the game was on yet (knowing she'd put it back on as soon as the documentary went to a commercial). She ignored me every time. I eventually settled into my new space, watched Mini-Chooch strike out and just as I got comfortable she notified me that the game was back on the big TV in the living room.

Ye Ole Microwave-TV ... you can still find 'em!
When I got back downstairs, everything was all good. We had had a slight disagreement, she unleashed her crazy eyes, and I had to watch miniature men play baseball for about five minutes.

If the remote had never been invented, I probably wouldn't have received the wrath of Kahn, but then again I wouldn't have seen a black guy in a cape either; and that's just straight gangsta.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Ellen: Recap - w/ Christina Hendricks

Is Ellen on the phone here?
I have never considered myself to be the manliest man, as evidenced by the fact that:

a) I have a blog about women's television
and
b) I once spent an entire afternoon shopping at Bed Bath and Beyond without my wife (and loved it),

but I am certainly not the lamest dude either. I actually have some very primal, masculine qualities that may not be on par with Bruce Willis', but are certainly comparable to say, Maxim Chmerkovskiy's or Elton John's. For example, I have a decent amount of chest hair, can dribble a basketball with either hand and once ate an entire Roast Beef Hoagie with a stick. That being said, I have never done anything softer than centering my day around an episode of Ellen like I did last Thursday afternoon.

In my defense, my intentions were VERY manly. My sole reason for watching the show was to see special guest, Christina Hendricks. As I have written before, I can't get enough of her mesmerizing bosom and here  was my opportunity to see how Christina (the actual woman / bosom combo) compared to Joan (the Mad Men enhanced woman / bosom / sexpot combo bonanza).

Please tell her to stop looking at me like that. I can't handle it.


If you've never seen Ellen's talk-show, it is structured similarly to every other talk-show, but Ellen has a few signature wrinkles that set it apart. Following her monologue, they play music and Ellen starts wiggling her shoulders and proceeds to dance up and down the aisles along with her audience. THE WOMEN IN THE AUDIENCE GO ABSOLUTELY BONKERS. They all love it and smile as if they're staring at a thousand babies, especially the women who are seated in the aisles and have the chance to potentially dance with Ellen. Occasionally some do get this opportunity and do so with the most intense look in their eyes as if they must dance harder than they've ever danced before. Ellen normally gets a kick out of this and then leaves the women behind like her name was Charlie Sheen.

Later, Ellen introduces her mystery word of the day (which is a blatant rip-off of Pee Wee's Playhouse) and tries to get her guests to say the word, thus winning an enormous case of Pampers for her entire studio audience. Thursday's word was "papaya."

It was at this point in the show that I received a text message from loyal reader and my very masculine friend, Sergio, which produced the proudest moment in the history of TV My Wife Watches. Sergio wrote:

Dammit, I can't believe I'm watching Ellen. 

With renewed excitement and male companionship, I sprung up during the commercial break to get a glass of A&W Diet Root Beer (we were out of Crystal Light). When I got back to my seat, I placed my full glass of root beer down next to the empty glass I had left on the side-table the night before, which sat right next to the glass of Gatorade that I had forgot I had poured myself before Ellen had started.

(Let it be known I was drinking out of my favorite 1992 Portland Trail Blazers glasses. I have the complete set: Clyde Drexler, Terry Porter, Cliff Robinson, Jerome Kersey, Buck Williams and Kevin Duckworth RIP.)

That's Clyde the Glide just laying back in a hammock wearing his tennis whites.

Ellen was now interviewing her first guest, Simon Baker, The Mentalist. I've never seen The Mentalist and know a grand total of one person who has, but it's one of America's most popular shows along with around 17 other shows with one word titles: Bones, House, Chase, Glee, Benson, Maude. Clearly, I wanted to hate The Mentalist (the person, not the show), seeing as he's on a show called The Mentalist and oozes masculinity, but considering he wore sneakers, admitted to loving ping-pong and had a British accent, I was charmed. Minutes later, Ellen got him to say "papaya" and I jumped out of my chair with excitement, quickly realized what I had done and started coughing to cover it up. I then realized that no one was around, leading to the following question: if an unemployed guy wearing sweatpants cheers while watching Ellen in the middle of the day and no one is around to hear it, is he gay?

Okay Mentalist, if you could just lean to your right and stick your elbow out ... perfect!

Eventually, after a musical performance by Bruno Mars in which he sang some song about a girl he knows that has a perfect smile and an amazing laugh and a round butt, Ellen brought out Christina.

This was it, the moment I had waited for all day long.

Would Christina be as amazing as Joan? Would she ooze sex-appeal like Hillary Clinton? Maybe she'd admit to loving blogs or men who drink diet soda. I hoped she didn't laugh like a horse.

And then, there she was, walking out in that elegant way that she does, with one foot in front of the other and with both breasts leading the way, in a red, Mad-Menny dress with her legs looking smoother and whiter than sour cream.

(Quick tangent to show how amazing my wife is and the fact that she is not repulsed by dudes who make sexual references to women with smooth, sour cream legs: her LIFELONG DREAM is to take a bath in a giant, moving, truck full of milk. Picture a huge eighteen-wheeler pulling a large, oval-shaped cylinder, like one that's filled with petroleum, but cut it in half lengthwise and fill the container with milk instead of gasoline. Yeah, she wants to swim laps in there while I drive her around town like Morgan Freems. What a woman!)

So anyway, there was Christina, sitting next to Ellen, a moment that I had waited 46 agonizing minutes for. I sat up in my seat, turned up the volume and put down my root beer for fear of subconsciously pouring it all over my chest in some sort of sexually deviant way.  And just as Christina lowered herself in her chair, with both legs closed a la Lady Di and sat up straight to smile at Ellen, a graphic appeared on the screen covering up her entire lower body that read:

"appearing tomorrow: Kevin Nealon" 

Now I must say that before this moment, I really liked Kevin Nealon (especially Mr. Subliminal). In fact, I always felt kinda bad that he never achieved the level of success that so many other SNL cast members did. But at this moment, when they flashed that Norm MacDonald-wanna-be's name up on that screen covering up my girl Christina, it might've well have said "Adolph Hitler" was appearing on tomorrow's show.

Hey Kev, I'm gonna shove that apple up your ass if you get in the way of me and Christina ever again.

I calmed myself down with a few sips of root beer and went on to listen to Christina talk about how she grew up in Idaho and reinvented herself as a goth teenager when her family moved to suburban Virginia. They even showed a picture of her as a teen in all-black, with a bowl-cut, possibly the same haircut that my friend Sergio had in 1991. She was mildly entertaining, had really great posture and according to Sergio, "did not show nearly enough cleavage." The highlight came when she showed Ellen how to swing her hips when she walked, and dangle her arms like a cat. This caused me to spit my root beer all over the floor, which is fine because I recently bought a really cute and efficient Swifter from Target.

All in all, a pleasant, masculine afternoon hanging out with a sneaker wearing lesbian, a mentalist and the  current spokeswoman for London Fog jackets.

Who just so happens to sort of laugh like a horse.