For those familiar with NBC’s “The Office,” you may remember Rashida Jones from several episodes between 2006 and 2009. Others may know her from the throwback favorite “Freaks and Geeks” or more recently, from another NBC Thursday night comedy, “Parks and Recreation.”
I remember her frommmmmmmmmm every dream I’ve had in the past six months.
Holy hot.
Now that I live in Hollywood, I feel like my chances of living the dream (i.e. dating a “Balls hot” + wealthy Hollywood actress) are closer to reality than they have ever been. People that know me know that – when it comes to approaching women - I fear nothing. I will pretty much walk up to anyone, anytime, anywhere and strike up a convo (this doesn’t mean I’m a man whore that does it a lot, it just means I ain’t neva scurred). Lately, I have been hoping to run into Rashida Jones so I could do just that.
After seeing Rashida in the movie “I Love You, Man” with Paul Rudd and Jason Segal, I could not stop thinking about how adorable she was. She has the perfect face, hair, teeth, eyes, skin, body and smile. All of that without mentioning her impossibly charming personality and the fact that she appears to be quite funny. Oh, and she just happens to have an extremely lucrative job.
Further:
She’s part African-American ---I’m super attracted to brown-skinned ladies.
She’s part Irish---------------------I’m a huge Notre Dame Football fan.
She’s part Russian-----------------I drink vodka like it’s for a grade.
Who could deny all of that obvious compatibility? This is some E-Harmony-type shit.
It’s kind of weird how into this girl I am, given my “Absolutely NO BANGS under any circumstances whatsoever” rule. As luck would have it, the latest episodes of “Parks and Recreation” suggest that she is growing her hair out. Thus, she gets hotter with every single day (as if this weren’t already hard enough).
As soon as I finished watching “I Love You, Man” I jumped on IMDB because I just had to know her story.
Seconds after reading her IMDB profile, I decided to set Rashida free (even though we’ve never met).
At this point, you might be asking yourself why I prematurely broke up with a woman I have never met.
Well, I did this because seconds into reading about her, I realized that her father is Quincy Jones.
Like, THE Quincy Jones.
Like, “Michael Jackson, Paul McCartney, Thriller, Off The Wall, 2 million Grammys,” Quincy Jones.
Meeting a girl’s parents is scary enough. When daddy is Quincy Jones, the thought is even more terrifying.
From time to time I have flashes of what I would say to Quincy Jones if I ever met him while accompanying his daughter to a family dinner. In every occurrence Quincy and I shake hands (I botch the handshake), he says “Nice to meet you” and I say “Hhhhhhggggguuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrlllllllllllmmmmmmm” and then smile tensely.
I just cannot envision an interaction with Quincy F-cking Jones that goes well.
As if embarrassing myself in front of her father would not be enough, I get the feeling that at least one of her sisters would hate me. Rashida’s sister Kidada was engaged to Tupac Shakur at the time of his unfortunate murder. Being the ridiculous music historian (and major Tupac fan) that I am, I would undoubtedly harass Kidada about ‘Pac every time she was within shouting distance (or logged in to any type of online messenger service). I would hate myself for it, but I would do it. I don’t like it either, but I would do it.
I would do it.
And just for fun, let’s say I was able to somehow compose myself enough to speak to Rashida’s father like that of at least a highly-functioning mentally retarded person, and also found the strength to NOT continuously hound Kidada for stories about Tupac - I STILL feel like the relationship would be in jeopardy.
Why?
Because I doubt Rashida would react favorably to finding out that her ex-fiancé Mark Ronson has been a personal hero of mine for the past decade. Hmm. Awkward.
In addition to the Mark Ronson stuff, Rashida would probably also not like the fact that I would constantly babble about how her ex-ex-fiancé Tobey Maguire is a total soup sandwich (though it’s partly the Tobey Maguire thing that makes me think I would actually have a chance of convincing her to date me).
Knowing that Ms. Jones has been romantically linked to Josh Hartnett in the past, things would also get awkward when I inevitably made fun of her for that, or when she eventually read this piece of my blog.
I mean, dating Rashida Jones would be a really good way to finally get my rap career off the ground, but I just can’t see it working. For now, I just have to DVR “Parks and Recreation” every week, scream at the TV about how lovely and adorable she is during every episode, and let my wasted heart secretly love her for eternity.
In the words of Mayer Hawthorne, “It Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out.”
So, I recently landed a spot writing for a dope music blog called Audio Muffin – and my first ever post for them goes up TODAY (7:00 A.M. PST)!
The Audio Muffin is a collection of music uber-enthusiasts from all corners of North America that help spread the word about sonic freshness. Whether it’s something mainstream like the new Hova, or an underground act just beginning to create musical fusion in a storage unit next to your house, it is likely that one of the Muffin writers already has it on lock. Articles, mp3s, videos, pics, streams, “The Muffin” has it all.
And now, they’ve got me – so you know it’s serious.
I am turbo-jazzed to see what happens when I join forces with a bunch of other obsessive collectors who were always the “music person” in their respective social groups.
Audio Muffin is really emerging in the blogosphere (for some reason, I really hate that word). They are about to completely take sh*t over, so I went ahead and jumped on The Dream Team.
If you don’t know, now you know. And on that note, go ahead and inform your friends that don’t already know about Audio Muffin (it makes you look extra fresh when you inform people of the cool websites first).
If we end up having some sort of official Christmas party /music nerd-fest, I will be sure to report back about it.
Until then, bookmark Audio Muffin and follow that bitch like it’s for a grade.
Make your way over to Audio Muffin now and read my first post about Afrojack!
You’re welcome,
-The Todd
[Please be aware that I will continue to write on this blog as I always have. The Audio Muffin gig is simply in addition to my WordsByTodd franchise. Also be aware that the first 5 readers to jump over to Audio Muffin, read my post, and leave a comment on Audio Muffin will receive points (Standard scoring rates apply).]
At this point in my life I do not feel like I want to have kids.
I have no idea how I will feel about this issue in the decades to come, but presently I feel like I would probably end up trading my kid(s) for any combination of goods, services, future draft picks, and cash.
Since I get the feeling that being a parent is not on my horizon, I try to integrate that which I find most attractive about being a parent into my life, as if I do have children.
I am, of course, talking about “Parent Speak.”
Great question…
“Parent Speak” is when you talk to a person in either a dismissive manner, like a drill instructor, while using a condescending tone, or all of the above (as if you were that person’s parent).
Just because I will probably never have a kid (on purpose) does NOT mean I should have to miss out on talking down to people like they are my children. For this reason, when my friends ask me to do things that I know I will never do, I tell them “We’ll see.” Further, it is common for me to attempt to send lippy girlfriends to their bedrooms without dinner. I am also known to end conversations with the phrase “Do you understand me?”
As with most things, my “Parent Speak” has not been very well-received by any of my friends or co-workers (which is exactly why so many of my friends and co-workers are currently “grounded”).
Cumulatively, my mother and step-father have five children – the last of which just moved out on his own - leaving the ‘rents one-on-one for the first time in their lives.
I recently rang my mother to ask her what, if anything, she is missing most about having kids in the house to slap around and talk down to. Below is the exchange in nearly its entirety (unedited so it’s extra gully)…
Mom Dukes: “Hello.”
WBT: “Mommy Dukes, it’s your 5th most-favorite child.”
Mom Dukes: “Hey.”
WBT: “What’s goin’ down?”
Mom Dukes: “I’m in London right now.”
WBT: “Work?”
Mom Dukes: “Yes.”
WBT: “’YOU SOUND LIKE YOU’RE FROM LONDON! (Me quoting Paul Rudd in “Forgetting Sarah Marshall).’ Is it gonna cost extra for the phone?”
Mom Dukes: “Not for you, but for me, yes.”
WBT: “How much extra?”
Mom Dukes: “I don’t know.”
WBT: “Well…should we reschedule, because I know this is going to go at least 30 minutes?”
Mom Dukes: “Well, why don’t you try to condense it?”
WBT: “Whatever.”
WBT: “I am calling about the ‘Parenting’ interview I told you I was working on for my blog. Are you ready for this?”
Mom Dukes: “Probably not.”
WBT: “And a correct answer right out of the gate!”
WBT: “Now, this interview is about me not ever having kids, so instead I talk to everyone in my life like they are my children. I am calling this “Parent Speak.” This way, I get to be impossibly condescending and order people around without the stress or expense of having to produce my own offspring.”
Mom Dukes: “Gotcha.”
WBT: “Great. Away we go…”
WBT: “First off, can you think of a better name than ‘Parent Speak’? I’m really not happy with it.”
Mom Dukes: “Nothing is coming to me. That name really doesn’t flow well. Everyone will say ‘What?’ It’s hard to process. I’ll get back to you on that. Wait, how about ‘Because I Said So?’”
WBT: Nah; not good enough. And, it was the name of a bad Diane Lane movie.”
Mom Dukes: “Diane Keaton, but you were close.”
WBT: “Hahahahahahahahaaaaaa…this is classic already.”
WBT: “Moving ahead…”
WBT: “Do you remember the first time you used ‘Parent Speak?’”
Mom Dukes: “No, but I imagine it was not long after your sister was able to understand words. I expected you all to do whatever I said whenever I said it – beginning just as soon as you could comprehend verbal instructions. It was your job to do what I said, because I did what I was told when I was a kid. It’s a natural progression.”
WBT: “That’s never been a good enough reason for me to do anything.”
Mom Dukes: I know.
WBT: “Did you instantly fall in love with the level of condescension that you were able to get away with – and with absolutely zero repercussions?”
Mom Dukes: “I have never really thought about it.”
WBT: “People don’t think about a lot of things until I bring them to their attention. This is just another case of me seeing the funny in a place that has forever been ignored.”
Mom Dukes: “You know, you’re right. It is kinda funny when you explain it the way you do.”
WBT: “Trust me; I know.”
WBT: “Was it easy to abuse ‘Parent Speak?” It would be for me – and I wouldn’t be able to turn it off when I went out into the world with other people.”
Mom Dukes: I don’t think I abused it, but I definitely used it. When every penny you make you pour into your kids (food, utilities, gas) you feel like, yeah, you own those little robots.
WBT: “And see that’s my thing: I like owning things. So, you would think I would be into wives and children…but I just can’t see it.”
Mom Dukes: “Give it time. We’ll see what happens.”
WBT: “I think you just used ‘Parent Speak’ right there.”
Mom Dukes: “…(laughing)…”
WBT: “When did you last employ the phrase ‘We’ll see’ in response to something that you knew there was no chance of you either engaging in or purchasing – and to whom did you say this?
Example:
[Child: “Mom, can I have a pony for Christmas?”
Parent: “We’ll see.”]
Mom Dukes: “…(laughing…) it would have been your brother, but I’m not sure when the last time was.
WBT: “Your ‘mom pants’ don’t appear to be on right now.”
Mom Dukes: “The last thing I think he asked for was help paying for his college books.”
WBT: “And you told him ‘We’ll see,’ when you knew there was not a shot is hell you guys would be forking out any jack for his books?”
Mom Dukes: “…(laughing) Yeah.”
WBT: “Very ‘Parent Speaky.’”
WBT: “Now an ‘Empty Nester,’ in what ways are you continuing to integrate ‘Parent Speak’ into your daily life?”
Mom Dukes: I try to tell anyone that will listen what to do. I called your brother yesterday and asked if he and his roommates had paid their rent. He was like ‘Yes mom.’ I’m like, ‘ALRIGHT – I guess I’m done; I’ll talk to you later.’ I could tell I was getting on his nerves.
When you’re a parent, it’s just what you do. Its part of who you become. It’s always on. You don’t flip back and forth. Once you’ve been that; you are that. It’s not a pair of pants that you put on and take off. I’m motherly in everything I do. I worry about kids that look cold on airplanes. I always get blankets for them even though they have not asked for one. I just like to take care of people.
WBT: “Well, all of this sweet/serious stuff is taking all of the fun out of this, so thank you.”
Mom Dukes: “I’m sorry.”
WBT: “Ugggghhhhhhh!!!”
WBT: “Due to there no longer being any children under your roof, have you had to resort to telling my step-father to ‘Do what he is told?’”
Mom Dukes: “Yes.”
WBT: “Is he slacking on his ‘Man List?”
Mom Dukes: No, but sometimes he won’t do what I tell him to and it makes me crazy. Crazier now because I have no one doing what I tell them to.”
WBT: “I feel really bad for the poor guy. It’s got to be tough being the only one there dealing with a control freak while she goes through control withdrawals. Tell him to keep his head up.”
WBT: “Have there been any recent occurrences where you have had to send your husband to his room without dinner?”
Mom Dukes: “No. Not ever anything like that. I do a lot of growling and rolling my eyes.”
WBT: “And what is his reaction that stuff?”
Mom Dukes: “He doesn’t care. He acts like he can’t hear or see me when I’m being a brat. It’s nothing juicy. We don’t’ fight anymore. If I am pissed off, I don’t yell, I just go buy something. He hates when I spend money.”
WBT: “Hahahaha. Good Stuff.”
WBT: “What is it like telling YOURSELF to ‘Do your chores?”
Mom Dukes: “It sucks.”
WBT: “HAhahahahaaaaaaaa. Amazing!”
WBT: “Do you miss the army of five that you used to have at your disposal?”
Mom Dukes: “…(laughing)… Absolutely. Now, I can’t even get your brother to wash my car for my birthday or even Mother’s day. He always says he will and never does.”
WBT: “I used to wash your car. I remember doing it many times.”
Mom Dukes: “Yes you did. It was wonderful.”
WBT: “Do you miss your kids because that 5-person staff was a lot of manpower for knocking out household chores, or because you ‘Miss miss’ us?”
Mom Dukes: “Miss miss. You were all so interesting, and at times, so much fun.”
WBT: “I can’t use any of this crap for the blog.”
Mom Dukes: “Sorry. But if you do, I want to proofread it before you throw it out on the internet.”
WBT: “I owe you at least some sort of approval rights, but I’ll probably forget.”
WBT: “Do you miss coming home from your job in an angry mood and projecting that onto your children by yelling irrationally?”
Mom Dukes: “No. I hated that. And I hate that I did that. I never thought that was a good idea. You just have no idea what it’s like.”
WBT: “Can you think of a time where you told one of us ‘GOOD JOB’ after we really sucked terribly at something? Please be specific.”
Mom Dukes: “Yes. When you all painted the front porch and there were big globs of paint and runs everywhere.”
WBT: “Did you guys laugh about it?”
Mom Dukes: “Yes?”
WBT: “What did G-Money say about the porch?”
Mom Dukes: “’They tried their best.’ I wanted everything perfect; he just wanted it done.”
WBT: “So…we slaved to paint a huge wrap-around porch on an enormous house for free, and it wasn’t’ good enough for you? I think you got what you paid for.”
Mom Dukes: “But still…not good enough.”
WBT: “Do you miss ‘Parent Speak’?”
Mom Dukes: “I do, because when you don’t get to use it anymore, it means your kids are all gone.”
WBT: “Aw, that’s very sweet, and also not going in the funny direction in which I intended. Give me something mom, JESUS!”
Mom Dukes: “I’m trying. It’s hard to instantly recall all of the stuff all five of you did and said over twenty-some years.”
WBT: “What was your favorite ‘Parent Speak’ phrase to utilize?”
Mom Dukes: “That’s why they call them accidents - nobody ever means to.”
WBT: “Very boring.”
Mom Dukes: “It’s hard when you put me on the spot.”
WBT: “I don’t even know what that means. I refuse to acknowledge clichés.”
Mom Dukes: “Oh, and ’Because I said so.’ I like that one a lot too.”
WBT: “Now, see? That’s the kind of stuff I’m talking about. That’s one of those phrases you would use with your children, but not with friends or co-workers…unless you’re me.”
Mom Dukes: “You’re terrible.”
WBT: “I’m totally aware.”
WBT: “Now, name your least-favorite ‘Parent Speak’ phrase?”
Mom Dukes: “’I’m sorry.’ That’s always hard for me to say. I will; I just hate to.”
WBT: “That’s actually hysterically funny.”
WBT: “When was the last time you grounded one of your children?”
Mom Dukes: “The last time it worked?
WBT: “Hahahahaha…Yeah.”
Mom Dukes: “When your brother got his most-recent grades and we saw some letters that we did not particularly care for.”
WBT: “You grounded him in COLLEGE?!!?
Mom Dukes: “Haha…Yes we did.”
WBT: “What were the terms?”
Mom Dukes: “He couldn’t go anywhere but work and home.”
WBT: “I still can’t believe you grounded him in college…and he listened! He’s 20 years old and has a job and money. There would have been no chance of that working with me. If I were him, I would have respectfully declined and gone to the beach.”
WBT: “Keeping with that. Aren’t you glad don’t have to wrangle me anymore?”
Mom Dukes: “No. I miss doing that.”
WBT: “Impossible. I was a wild, untamed, running, wandering thoroughbred Mustang.”
Mom Dukes: “…(laughing)…Yes you were.”
WBT: “Okay, so, which of your children did you find the most entertaining? Yes, pick a favorite.”
Mom Dukes: “Everyone has their highlights. Everyone is different and everybody fulfills something different in my eyes.”
WBT” “Nice ‘mom’ answer. Very diplomatic. You know none of them read this, right? You can totally say it’s me.”
Mom Dukes: “Whatever. It’s true. You’re all great.”
WBT: “Yeah. There’s that. But, only one of us has an amazing blog that is lighting up the netweb. I mean, I don’t even feel like it’s a close race, but if it were, I’m feeling like the blog would easily put me over the top.”
Mom Dukes: “You’re all great. That’s still my answer.”
WBT: “Yeah, but maybe that won’t be what gets printed. I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.”
Mom Dukes: “You wouldn’t.”
WBT: “It’s like you don’t even know me.”
Mom Dukes: “Whatever.”
WBT: “Which of your children is the tallest (by about 6 inches)?”
Mom Dukes: “You, of course.”
WBT: “I know. Sorry. I just wanted to guarantee that my name was in here at least once, so I threw this in as the last question - just in case you stiffed me on the ‘Most Entertaining’ award…which you did. I mean, it is my blog, so I figure I should at least get one mention, you know?”
Mom Dukes: “…(laughing)…”
WBT: “Just one last thing: is your homework done?”
Mom Dukes: “Yes. My homework is done.”
WBT: “Do you miss reminding us all about homework?”
Mom Dukes: “No, it was like a job.”
WBT: “Not a job I want to put my resume in on, you know what I mean? I’m not ever having a kid on purpose. Luckily, I’ve been involuntarily celibate for a while now. Judging by the current (and past) state of things, accidental procreation may never again be a concern.”
Mom Dukes: “…(laughing)…”
Mom Dukes: “Alright, I am going to try and get some sleep.”
WBT: “What? No non-interview small talk? I can keep it off the record, you know?
Mom Dukes: “…(moaning)…It’s like $2 a minute!”
WBT: “We’ve been on 49 minutes, just like I said. And, do you realize that at first you didn’t know how much extra that placing this call to you internationally would cost, but now you are claiming to know exactly how much it is per minute?”
Mom Dukes: “That’s part of my mom powers.”
WBT: “You must have your ‘mom pants’ on. Oh, that’s right they’re always on, aren’t they”
Mom Dukes: “Yeah.”
WBT: “Okay moms, I’ll let you go – I know you need to rest.”
Mom Dukes: “Okay punkin. It was nice talking to you. I have missed you.”
WBT: “Me too mummy. I’ll speak to your soon. Love ya.”
Mom Dukes: “I love you too. Buh-by.”
WBT: “…(click.)…”
Just wait until your father gets home,
-Todd
*** [If anyone is interested in scoring some points, send me your replacement name ideas for “Parent Speak.” You can either post it in the “comments” section on the blog or twit your answer to me on Twitter. Standard scoring will be in effect.]
Also, I would like to officially note that I refuse to use the word "tweet" in regard to Twitter. Instead, I declare that I send and receive "twits" (and you can get over that too).
Scoring opportunity: Can you name the famous Cali landmark in my Twitter pic? If so, list it in the "comments" section of the blog or twit it to me. Points will be awarded to all who guess (standard scoring rates apply). Bonus points (5) for the first to answer correctly.
(I had a lot of fanmail action in my inbox last week in response to the “Love Actually” blog, so I figured I would keep the football theme going for one more…)
My friends are always suggesting that we “hit up a bar, grab a few beers and watch the game.” One, I am a HUUUUUUUUUUUGE football fan. Two, I am not a big drinker. Three, I like to actually watch games instead of intermittently glancing at the screen between meaningless conversations with strangers, orders of rubbery boneless chicken wings and “excuse me, I need to get by you”s.
If I am going to plan my day around watching a game, then I plan to do exactly that. If I wanted to go to a bar, stand in the aisle, constantly move out of the way of people who need to get past me, eat bad food and have hard-to-hear conversations over the dull roar of 300 people, I would have invited my friends to go out and do that, instead of watch a football game.
When it comes to watching a game, I like to be engaged for every snap of the contest. This is impossible when you only glance at the screen every couple of minutes due to the constant interruptions of “bar activity.” When I watch games this way, every time I look up more points are on the scoreboard and I have no idea how those points got up there. Was it a fluke flea-flicker? Was it a fluke turnover that lead to points? Was it one little missed assignment on Special Teams that lead to a fluke kickoff return for a score? Or, did one team just jam the ball down the other’s throat en route to a dominating seven-minute, 18-play scoring drive? You see, I like to know who’s offensive and defensive lines are controlling the line of scrimmage, and which team’s coordinators have the other team best figured out. This is the only way I can get a real sense of which team is truly “beating” the other - as the score does not always reflect the better team at every juncture of a football game.
This is where it gets fun…
Of all of the people I have noticed that like to try and move game viewings to bars, the majority of the perpetrators seem to be female.
I understand this.
On average, women seem to enjoy watching sports on tv less than men. So, wives, girlfriends, chick friends, bust-it-babies and “We’re just seeing where it goes”-es tend to try and push to get out of the house so everyone can meet up and watch games at bars. This way, the women get to socialize with the girlfriends of my guy friends, get drunk on our tabs and make every attempt possible to ensure that I do not pay any attention at all to the game we all came out to watch in the first place.
One of my ex-girlfriends used to always push to get out to the bars on Saturday evenings in the fall while I was still immersed in that day’s College Football action. I would explain that I wanted to stay in and watch tv until all the games were over-which, in the Eastern Time Zone meant getting to the bars around 12:30 A.M. She would kindly enlighten me to the fact that these bars would actually have their own televisions displaying the very same games I was currently watching (which, to her, was apparently the same thing as me watching from the quiet, clean, pleasantly fragrant comfort of my home). Eventually, I would explain myself using all of the same arguments listed above in this blog and a fight would inevitably ensue
(A “fight” for those that do not know, is when a man is right and a woman does not want to admit it).
You see, she never really understood where I was coming from…
…until I came up with the greatest idea EVER…
This ex-girlfriend of mine was particularly consumed by MTV’s fake reality show “The Hills.” She and her friends liked to get together every week, make food, gossip and DVR the show…while they watched it live (in case a part was missed or needed to be rewound for further clarity). So, in many ways, they were equally as anal-retentive about “The Hills” as I am about football.
Hmmm...
Sooooooooo, of course I would suggest one Thursday that we move the “Hills” party out of the house and over to our favorite bar. This way, the girls could bring their boyfriends and the guys could chat and get drunk while the ladies squinted to see the screen, constantly moved out of the way of passers-by, and labored to hear muffled dialogue.
Of course, I was an idiot for suggesting something so absurd.
My idea was instantly met with an avalanche of criticism. I was quickly reminded that it was a weeknight (Thursday) and that everyone needed to get up early Friday morning. Quickly, I reminded everyone about how many Monday Night Football games we had been forced to move out to bars at the suggestion of the women so the chicks could socialize. Getting up early for work the next day never seemed important on those weeknights. Further, I made sure to bring to everyone’s attention that “The Hills” ends 2.5 hours earlier than MNF games, which would mean far less sleep deprivation.
Wouldn’t you know it, another “fight” ensued.
You’re welcome.
-Todd
(Scoring opportunity: Points will be award to the first five people to post their favorite football team - College or Professional. Standard scoring is in effect You must post your favorite team in the "comments" section of this blog (at www.wordsbytodd.blogspot.com), and your favorite team must NOT be Ohio State.)
If you have read any of my past entries, you have heard me make numerous remarks about my longstanding love affair with College Football.
I love it.
Seriously.
Love.
The whole thing is kind of comical.
It is also disturbing.
Almost everyone in my life tries to give me ish about how CFB takes over my life from September to December every year.
To that, I say this:
Friends have lives and get too busy to hang out with me. Girlfriends come, nag, irritate, cost me money and go. College Football is there for me every time it promises to be every September through December.
And I don’t know what it is with people always needing to tell me how to live my life. If I was addicted to doing rails of blow, my friends and family would probably wish that I stayed home more often to do less harmful things, like watch football games. But, since I am currently addicted to College Football, everyone wants to ride my ish about how I need to “get out more” and “do something about my football obsession.”
I do “do something about my football obsession.”
I feed it.
I wonder if my friends and family would stop trying to tell me things if they knew that I dismiss their words of “wisdom” almost immediately after they speak them to me – and that I am affected zero by anything anyone ever tells me.
.
First, I have three TVs (see picture). Second, I watch games on all three of them at the same time. Next, I have remotes for all three screens which I set to two games so I can hit the “previous channel” button on each remote to effectively watch pieces of six games simultaneously.
I get the special football package that lets me watch nearly every game that is being televised. I blow my friends off to stay home and watch games. I tell my girlfriends (during the brief stints that they are around) that I promise we can “get out of the house next weekend…when there are fewer good games on.” This is obviously a lie because there are ALWAYS good games on, but I say this anyway because it buys me more time.
Part of me feels bad for the women that temporarily happen into my life. From Jump street I am upfront with them about this obsession of mine and the time I allocate to it each and every season, but they still just don’t seem to get it. Every girl feels like she will be the one I will find so interesting that I will miraculously waver in my conviction and watch less football during the season in which I date her…because she is just that amazing.
I don’t need to tell you how every single one of those stories ended.
To all the girls I’ve loved before (and those I will break up with in the future): I am about to explain why you will never be more interesting than a day of watching football (in advance, I would like to say “Take it personal”)…
Ladies, think of your favorite tv show.
Now, imagine that your favorite tv show is three hours long.
Next, imagine that this 3-hour favorite tv show of yours airs every Saturday September through December. New (and completely different) episodes play each Saturday on 4 different channels simultaneously. The first wave of episodes begin at noon (EST) on MTV, NBC, Oxygen and The Style Channel. Different (and again, All New) episodes of your show appear on each channel back-to-back-to-back until that last episodes end around midnight (EST). This means that 12 different NEW episodes of your favorite show air in one day…EVERY SATURDAY in the Fall. That’s 48 hours of run time in ONE DAY of nothing but your favorite tv show (which is low, because if you were really a fan you would pay for your local service provider for their “Obsession” package and unlock 15 more channels that air even more new episodes of your show. You’ve gotta want it.).
If this happened, do you think you would want more than one tv when the season rolled around? Would your boyfriends be able to get you to leave in the middle of the day to go with them to the grocery store? Would you forgo watching your shows in lieu of mowing the lawn? Would you be eager to miss your show so you could go to a bar to hang out with your boyfriend’s friends?
Exactly.
So, shut it.
And keep it shut.
We don’t want to hear it. We won’t hear it. We are no longer listening (and not just because there’s a game on).
“Actor,” as everyone knows, is a highly sought after and well-respected occupation. Knowing this, most people find it arrogant when I tell them that I know I could be an actor. I figure they find this arrogant because when they hear me say the word “actor” they immediately think of their favorite actor, and then when I try to throw my name into the same industry as, say Leonardo DiCaprio, it seems like I am over-estimating myself.
When I say that I know I could be an actor, I am not even thinking about being on the “A-list.” In reality, I’m not shooting for any list higher than the letter “W.”
You see, I don’t want or need to be any sort of leading man. I just want to be a working actor that makes hundreds of thousands of dollars annually for working what equates to only a couple of months. You know, one of those guys whose name you do not know, but whose face you recognize from a few scattered movies, TV shows, commercials and Jonas Brothers videos.
I am about to explain my inspirations for this blog.
Danny Masterson. – I am sure Danny is a nice guy, but I don’t think anyone would confuse him with being any sort of extraordinary acting talent. In actuality, he was doing a bunch of nothing until he was cast into the most boring/non-demanding role in what would become the hit TV show known as “That ‘70’s Show.” Masterson walked around (but most often sat on a couch) and delivered what limited dialog was written for him without changing facial expressions. And he was extra-average at doing so.
Now, he’s rich from the TV show, has a social network of rich/famous/powerful people and has parlayed all of that into restaurants and other investments that have only made him more money.
I could be him. Easily.
(I’m already a better DJ. Yes “DJ Mom Jeans,” I am talking to you. Let me know if you think you want it. But trust, you don’t. I would take you out. DJ battle threats feel a little bit like threatening someone with a dance-off, so I will stop here.).
Josh Hartnett. – Another actor that I find unimpressive. It’s people like Josh that make people like me think becoming and actor is possible, even easy. The fact that, with zero talent, he has overcome the obstacle of looking like he has Down’s Syndrome only further fuels me. His resume reads: “Blah, blah, blah, landed the “C” role in one of the worst movies ever (“Here on Earth”), fell assbackwards into “Pearl Harbor” where he was surrounded by enough action and skilled actors that no one noticed he was completely worthless, parlayed the success of “Pearl Harbor” into the backseat of “Black Hawk Down,” parlayed BHD’s success into being handed the leading role in “40 Days and 40 Nights” (where he got paid millions to tongue down Shannon Sossamon), and all of the sudden he’s considered a “leading man.”
I am pretty confident that I could have fake flown those airplanes and for real kissed Shannon Sossamon just as effectively as Josh. I’m sorry, but I could have.
Freddy Prinze, Jr. – This d-bag is the single worst actor I have ever seen in a movie that was not for a grade.
He is completely worthless.
I get embarrassed for him when I see him “acting”…and he had his own TV show for a stretch.
I am not sure if it is more embarrassing that I saw “Summer Catch” (Jessica Biel = yums) or that in the film Freddy threw a baseball like such a school girl. What I do know is that I could be as poor of an actor as he is (all while throwing a baseball like a male).
It’s not that I think I could be as good as the best (Leonardo DiCaprio)---It’s just that I know I could be as bad as the worst (Freddy Prinze, Jr.).
Is anyone going to fight me on this?
If so, it doesn’t matter because:
1) I was asking rhetorically
2) You can’t tell me nuthin’.
Points will be issued to the first five readers to name a male actor we both know I could out act. As always, list your answers in the “comment” section of the website at www.wordsbytodd.blogspot.com (standard scoring will apply).
You’re welcome,
-The Todd (Shooting for “second-to-last” since 1981)
Things appear to be pretty jammed up at the top. We should have that cleared up in the next couple of weeks.
1 - The Carter Posse = 10 points
2 - Jenna & Jackson = 10 points
3 - lindynicole = 5 points
4 - trina = 3 points
5 - everyone else = 0 points
If you are serious about scoring points and winning the ShamWow! that I am giving away, then bookmark/RSS this blog, read it religiously, find the trivia questions and leave your answers in the "comment" section.
I first heard about Mayer Hawthorne back in November of 2008. I was taking my weekly cruise through DJ A-Trak’s blog when I found an interesting piece Trizzy wrote about a heart-shaped vinyl record (http://djatrak.com/2008/11/25/trizzy-likes-stones-throws-heart-shaped-vinyl/). Always looking to add interesting pieces to my vinyl collection, I scoured the netweb for the song on the heart-shaped record to see if the vinyl was worthy of a purchase. After landing at YouTube and watching the unofficial video for Mayer Hawthorne’s “Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out,” I was mesmerized (okaaaaay, obsessed). “Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out” instantly became my favorite (current) song. Four minutes and ten seconds later, it was bumped to #2 after I watched the video for the B-side track “When I Said Goodbye”…and nearly shat myself. Next, I pulled up the video for “I Wish It Would Rain” and went officially crazy in my apartment. Seven minutes and fifty-one seconds after “Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out” became my favorite (current) song, it dropped to 3rd place behind two other Mayer Hawthorne tracks that, to this day, remain tied for my #1 spot.
It is not often that one goes to check out a new artist and finds that the first three songs he stumbles upon are unbelievably dope. Well, it happened.
From there, I jumped on his MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, iTunes and YouTubed everything that came up under any and all spelling variations of his name.
It’s not “stalking” if I’m not sexually attracted to him, right?
Who was this guy? And, why was he making Motown/Soul/Doo-Wop records in 2008? All of those questions could be answered later, but at that point, I headed straight to Stone’s Throw’s website (http://www.stonesthrow.com/) and dropped one of those heart-shaped 7”s onto my America Express card as if it were hot.
The answers to the aforementioned are: He is a 29-year old white guy from Ann ArborMichigan that writes, sings, produces and plays multiple instruments. Oh, and he was a DJ before any of this happened. He makes Soul music because he grew up outside of Detroit (like, “Hitsville” Detroit…as in “Motown”). The wild part is, he had been Djing primarily Hip-Hop for years before recording his first Doo-Wop tracks as a side project. After hearing only two demo tracks, Peanut Butter Wolf (head of Stones Throw Records) asked Mayer to record an entire album under the Stones Throw imprint. The best way I can describe the sound is: “Smokey Robinson meets…that kid you know from down the street that plays an instrument.”
It has become fashionable of late to say things like “People don’t sing about anything anymore” and “They don’t make music like they used to.” If you are one of these people, please check out Mayer Hawthorne and then stop talking (Oh, and pick up Raphael Saadiq’s “The Way I See It” album that came out last year).
While Mayer Hawthorne is taking it back to the old Soul sound, he is also incorporating contemporary elements into his material in an effort to take the movement even further. For example, at the beginning of “I Wish It Would Rain” he plays an arpeggiated synth line that reminds me of what Jazze Pha laid down on Tela’s club classic “Sho Nuff” (yeah, that was back in ’96 but you see where I’m going with this).
Unfortunately for my generation, we primarily associate going to a club with raging out to Hip-Hop or Electro. Don’t get it twisted up, I love and own more Hip-Hop and Electro records than anyone you know, but at the same time, I have been aching for a Soul singer to come out so I could put on a suit, go to the show and slow dance with my date like they did back in ’68.
I’m tired of raging.
I want to go concerts where artists are performing music that evokes the type of emotion that makes me want to look my girl in the eyes, kiss her passionately, and tell her that we should really consider “taking things to the next level”… as soon as she graduates high school. A Mayer Hawthorne show seems like the type of setting where that could happen.
Man crush? Maybe. Either way, I the full-length dropped this Tuesday and I am copping it today.
If you are from L.A., you have probably known about MH for a while since DJ Felli Fel has been playing “Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out” in his “New @ 2:00” mixes on Power 106 for months now. I did not write this piece for you AngelCity residents already in the know. I wrote this for the people that have not had the privilege of hearing Mayer Hawthorne’s music yet. I am less concerned with who heard it first and more concerned that people simply get it. I mean, I just bought a Donny Hathaway album last week. It doesn’t matter when I got it; it just matters that I have it.
I am always calling my friends to tell them about new artists. Often times, I will email these friends mp3s for their iPods to help drive the message home. One of the interesting things about Mayer Hawthorne’s music is that, for the first time, I want to call my grandpa and tell him that I have some new hot sh*t for is tape deck.
Consequently, if they release Hawthorne’s album on cassette, I may already have grandpa’s X-mas present in the bag.
All of this because Stone’s Throw pressed up MH’s first single on turbo-dope, heart-shaped vinyl and A-Trak thought it was cool enough to post a picture of said record on his blog. It’s crazy how word gets around these days.
If you don’t know about Mayer Hawthorne, get familiar.
The picture above has sparked a debate within my circle of friends (okay…triangle of friends), so I am looking to my readers to help settle the dispute with some sort of majority vote.
I emailed the photo in question to several of my friends with a message that said:
“Really?!?!When the material is that sheer?!?!I mean, I know you are going to return the dress, but…”
Several emails came back laughing that I caught the lady wearing a dress that she obviously plans to return.Other emails replied back that the defendant must have simply forgotten to remove the tag and surely plans to keep the dress. Lastly, one email replied back that I was ugly.
Specifics:
I took the picture last weekend in BurbankCalifornia at a Chipotle (Mexican restaurant).The lady was pregnant and had three children with her.I figure the ages of the children to be around nine years-old, six years-old, four years-old, and T-minus four months-old.
The three children not wearing an umbilical cord all had ice cream cones from the Coldstone Creamery next door.Mom apparently skipped the ice cream in favor of a burrito, as she was the only one in her party who ordered while at Chipotle.
Also, the children screamed a lot.
So go on.Consider the facts and weigh in.We really need to get this settled.
Also, the first person to leave feedback in the “comment” section of actual website www.wordsbytodd.blogspot.com will receive ten points.Second place will receive five points.Third place will get three points. Fourth place gets two points.And, last and also least, Fifth place will receive one measly point.Sixth place can suck it along with the rest of you slack-ass bastards.
You’re welcome.
-Todd
(A little proof that every thought I have somehow comes back to a Jay-Z song…)
