Beasley To Phoenix. T-Wolves in remission. (meaning, Michael Beasley was cancerous and has been removed)

Last season, I watched a scary amount of Minnesota Timberwolves games on #NBALeaguePass.

Don't believe me? Fine.

I watched so many T-Wolves games that I figured out that the in-game DJ/Music Director at Target Center played the same wolf howl during games that Duck Sauce sampled in their massive 2011 single, "The Big Bad Wolf."

         

Given that I am a caucasian rec league role player who wears "Stockton" shorts, keeps his jersey tucked in, and makes his free throws, it's probably not surprising that I have a hard-on for Kevin Love.  Watching Love continuously beat guys with effort and precision never gets old for me. Yelling at the tv in an attempt to get other "superstar" players to give more effort, however, does.

Ricky Rubio might be my second-favorite player in the league. The kid can pass the rock. It's wild. Every time Rubio leads the break and deals a no-look dime, I feel a jolt in my swoon unit.

Suffice = As soon as the T-Wolves update their logo (or revert to the old one), I will own 2 T-Wolves jerseys.

The worst part of watching Wolves games last year was Michael Beasley. I hate him. I hate his name. I hate that his nickname is "B-Easy." I hate that he refuses to defend. I hate that indifferent look he always has on his face. I hate ALL of his haircuts. I hate his tattoos. I even hate the handful of times he will come in off the bench and drop 30. He is a cancer. The only thing I wanted more than a uniform re-design was for them trade Beasley. If any team should ever "amnesty" Michael Beasley, I demand they say that they "chemo'd" him.

After the "Beasley to Phoenix" news dropped July 4th, it appeared the Minnesota Timberwolves were finally in remission. Though I have been scouring the internet, I haven't seen any official articles confirming Beasley's signature has dried on any Phoenix Suns paperwork. So, I'm still nervous.

After removing Michael Beasley, Minny went right back out and dropped another free agency bomb when they dragged Brandon Roy out of retirement and brought him to the tundra of 10,000 lakes. I don't even care if Roy doesn't play well. Shit, I don't care if he retires again after three games. Regardless, he is one of the most likable guys in the league and, in my opnion, has made the T-Wolves the NBA's most likable team (except for their location, logo, and location...and their logo). That said, the cold weather should help keep the swelling in Roy's knees down.

All of that and I haven't even mentioned the Nick Batum offer sheet.

Mark it down right now Minnesota, I'm watching all 82 next season.

The Wolves could go 0-82 and I'd look at you like, "This shit gravy." But, that won't happen, because they're going to the playoffs.



You're welcome,

_Todd



["Swoon Unit (c)" is the property of, and was not used with permission from, Digable Planets.]

Top 5 Racially-Insensitive Sneaker Ideas

By now, you are all probably familiar with the ADIDAS "Shackle" shoe.  Word recently surfaced that ADIDAS would cancel their release, due to an incredible amount of backlash (no pun intended).  I found them to be spectacularly offensive.  So, last week I sat in the SportieLAB, popped an Aquafina, and set off to see if I could generate any fake shoe ideas that the public might find more cringe-worthy than ADIDAS' attempt to set Black people back five decades.

[Editor's note:  All text in this article reflects only the ideas of the writer (who is a freelance hack) and not the thoughts or opinions of SportieLA.  It is all meant to be humorous.  We love everyone equally.]

Now that we got that out of the way-hold on tight, these might sting a little...


 1 - SUPRA "Sex Offender."  Imagine a Supra SkyTop III in a faint peach colorway.  Imagine each shoe's suede upper having a chunk missing to comfortably accommodate those bulky ankle monitoring devices.

 2 - Jumpman "Welfare."  A lifestyle shoe if ever there was one, the Jumpman "Welfare" is perfect for sitting around all day, rolling up blunts, talking in movie theaters, and claiming other people's kids on your taxes.  Imbedded in the toe of the shoe is a digital clock that is set 90 minutes ahead, so you're always on time.  The initial launch will be in the "Newport King" colorway.  New colorways will follow each 1st and 15th.

 3 - "Middle" Eastland.  All white Eastland Freeports.  Dark, tinted laces.  BMW insignias on the toe and heel.

 4 - K-Swiss "Kosher."  Ideal for walking to temple, being coddled by your (s)mother, filing other people's taxes, taking the L-SAT, and negotiating a cheaper price.  The sticker price has already been knocked down 60% off the suggested retail price.

 5 - Fira "Kung Fu."  The folks at Fila dropped their "L" and added a "R" for this exclusive Eastern Hemisphere release.  The Kung Fu's come with interchangeable logo inserts for each color of the martial arts belt system.  Don't even think about wearing these to hoop, the Kung Fus were specifically designed for the three most popular hobbies in Asia: Algebra, Trigonometry, and Calculus.  The lacing eyelits are thin and slanted.  I couldn't think of a funny way to incorporate karaoke or traffic school.


If you were offended, feel free to drop a comment.


You're welcome,


_Todd

NBA Finals 2012: Haircuts and Consequences

Tonight is Game 5 of the 2012 NBA Finals. But, who can forget what we just saw in Game 4?

Russell Westbrook put up Shaq numbers. LeBron gave us damn near a triple-double. The Thunder eventually came up short in the "final" seconds of an instant classic.

Even with all of that, the best part for me was Norris Cole's haircut. It currently resides somewhere on the border of two different school districts: "box cut" and "high-top fade." Either way, I feel like if he doesn't do something soon, his mother may send him to live with his auntie and uncle in Bel-Air. My question is, are the veterans hazing him, or did he cut his hair that way of his own free will?  Regardless of who is to blame, he and his teammates need to be aware of the historical significance at play here.  Pictures and video from every NBA Finals gets replayed at nauseum during the months following the series.  Sometimes (Game 4 from this year, for instance), the games are replayed in their entirety on ESPN Classic or NBA TV.  Then, each year around NBA Finals time, we revisit crazy games and anniversaries from the past.  I am not so sure Norris Cole is aware that he is etching that haircut in stone for eternity.

The other problem is, at a glance, we can generally ballpark the year a game took place, based on the hairstyles, sneakers, and trouser lengths of the players.  Norris Cole has sent that straight to East Hell.  In 30 years, someone is going to see the 2012 NBA Finals and think it was the 1992 NBA Finals, because they won't realize Norris Cole's haircut was meant to be ironic (or as part of a cruel rookie hazing program).

I feel like at some point tonight, Norris is going to catch an alley-oop pass from Bobby Hurley and dunk it to give Duke an early 7-1 lead over Kansas in the 1991 NCAA Championship.


          




You're Welcome,


_Todd

Lea Thompson.

  

Like most people born in the 80's, my favorite movie is "Whichever volume of Back to the Future is Playing at the Time."  I have spent an incalculable number of nights blowing off friends to watch Marty McFly shred skateboard at Hill Valley's town square, and guitar at "The Enchantment Under The Sea" Dance.  Admittedly, the trilogy's 3rd installment blows in comparison to the first 2, but regardless, I will forgo anything my other 5,000 channels have to offer in order to watch all, or even fractions, of any BTTF film.

Moreover, I want a Delorean.  Not so much in a nerdy "Comic-Con" way, but in more of a "fuck yeah" way (though, those may be the same).

A few weeks back, when I was "researching" George Clooney's address for a post, I stumbled upon a very sexual nugget of information.  As it turns out, Lea Thompson (Lorraine Baines-McFly) currently lives just a few driveways down from GC's Fryman Canyon home.  Had I known her address during my teenage years, I probably wouldn't be able to legally get within 200 yards of her today, due to the amount of "research" I would presumably have done with my binoculars.  By now, it has probably become clear that Lea was the object of my affection (loins) for most of my life (AKA, I wanted to take her to "The Enchantment Under The PANTS" Dance).

Recently, while discussing my Clooney post with a friend, I mentioned how it was actually cooler for me to see Lea Thompson's house than it was for me to snoop around George's.   My friend proceeded to tell me that her brother randomly met Lea in '92 and "went on a few dates with her."  Immediately sick with jealousy, I launched a full-scale interrogation, with my iPhone serving as the scorching hot admission-evoking lamp.  I needed details.  She wasn't about to simply leave it at "went on a few dates."

After some back-and-forth, I deduced that the 1992 dates took place in Kansas City, Missouri. As legend has it, the brother approached Lea from the opposite side of a fence while she was jumping on a trampoline at her friend's house (presumably in a wet t-shirt).  Flirtatious conversation ensued and contact information was exchanged.  Sadly, the story was too odd and specific to be fake.

Though I didn't know if my poor heart would be able to deal with the answer, I had to ask "The Question."  I knew Lea poked her phone number through a hole in the fence on that fateful day back in 1994, but I had to know if my friend's brother poked his penis through the hole in Lea's vagina.  After several deep breaths, I demanded the answer.

Could my friend possibly have a brother smooth enough to defile Lea Thompson at the height of her fame and sexiness?  If so, could simply hearing about it decades later scar me for life and ruin all future viewings of the BTTF trilogy?  In the event the relationship was consummated, would I consider Lea to have cheated on me, though she was much older and we have still never met?  Though I found out years ago that Lea had kids, was I still foolishly hoping that she was "saving herself" for me?  Regardless of the goings-on in 1992, would I still smash Lea Thompson today, just for sport and legend?

1) Yes.
2) Yes.
3) Yes.
4) Yes.
5) Yes.

As told to me, the guy beat Lea's cakes like they owed him trick money.  Thankfully, he didn't do it in the back of a Delorean.  That would have sent me barreling over my threshold.

After learning all of this news, I am not ashamed to admit I was semi-comatose for a couple of weeks. Several days were spent in a catatonic state.  As you can imagine, all of my creative projects were pushed back.

And so it is.  I am currently on the long road to putting the pieces back together, which includes finding a new favorite 80s movie.  Fortunately, there are a lot of solid films to choose from.  Unfortunately, I had already chosen the best one of all - and now that's completely fucked.


Forgive the crudity of the article; I didn't have time to build it to scale.



You're welcome,


_Todd



         

Chuck, Chuck, Bo, Buck...

A close call with Claire Dunphy.

The first time I saw Modern Family's Julie Bowen at the Studio City Sunday Farmer's Market, I was excited.  The second time, I realized she probably lived in Studio City.

Recently, I landed on a real estate website that listed a mother load of celebrity addresses.  Julie Bowen was on that list.  Now, if you'll remember, I recently visited George Clooney's house.  And, since I knew that Julie lived only a mile away from George, I decided to swing by Julie's house on the way home from Clooney's.  It must be stated that celebrity address websites are often out-of-date.  Thus, I was not certain if Julie Bowen even still lived at the Studio City address I had for her.

Here come he hijinks.

My g/f and I rolled by the address we had for JB.  It's a modest house with a black Toyota Prius in the driveway.  There was also a big black Cadillac Escalade parked in the driveway.  Immediately, I thought two things:

1 - She still lives in the house.

2 - She is either being picked up or dropped off by a car service right freaking now.

Due to some very thick shrubbery, the view of the house is only visible for a brief window as you pass the driveway.  Since we got a such a short look at the house, we decided to turn around at a neighboring property and do a second drive-by.  As we neared the driveway for a second run, we slowed to maximize our time in the short viewing window.  When we actually approached the opening, the Escalade was waiting at the end of the drive!  It was obvious to whomever was in the Cadillace that we were gawking.  The only question that remained was whether or not Julie Bowen was in the truck.

Did she still live at the residence?  If so, had she just been dropped off, or picked up.

Two hours later, I went home to watch Game 7 of Lakers v Nuggets.

Look who had just been dropped off for her courtside seats (presumably in a black Cadillac Escalade)...

George Clooney's House.

This past weekend, I went hiking with my girlfriend at Wilacre Park in Studio City.

One of the trails just so happens to end on George Clooney's street. To get back to our car, we just so happened to pass George Clooney's house.

I just so happened to get semi-erect.

Since President Barack Obama was on the property for a star-studded $40,000 per plate fund raiser two days prior, I was especially interested in having a look around the estate.  In doing so, I came upon another trail that runs up and behind Clooney's property.  Adamant about trying not to appear to be a sleezy photog, I kept my iPhone in my pocket...for the most part.  As we reached the end of GC's acreage, my girlfriend mentioned his satellite dish.  When I looked, I saw a small DISH NETWORK apparatus.  On sight, I admittedly lost 31% of the respect I had for the man.  The reason?  DirecTV has an exclusive contract with the NFL for NFL Sunday Ticket.  Thus, I know Clooney doesn't obsessively watch NFL football every Sunday like myself.  Then again, given the types and amounts of recreational opportunities as his disposal, watching unhealthy amounts of professional football probably seems boring (and sexless), relatively speaking.

As I walked the perimeter of the property, I was hoping I might catch George and briefly discuss the possibility of me referring him to DirecTV.  For, if he were to accept, we would both receive a $100 credit to our respective accounts.  I can't speak for him, but I could really use the money.

I also had a moderately funny discourse planned about a fake screenplay of mine I wanted him to read.

Alas, we never came face-to-beautiful-face.

As I walked away from George's house (I call him "George"), I started to think about the very thorough tour he gave to CBS' "Person to Person" back in February.




Then, I added to that the highly-publicized fund-raiser Clooney hosted for President Obama last Thursday night.  I came up with a conspiracy theory about how he used all of the publicity to showcase the home because he plans to put it on the market this Summer.  Given how much his home has been on TV and the internet lately, he would make a Madoff.  When it goes on the market, remember that I wrote this.

[Industry note:  George Clooney's Studio City, CA home was previously owned by Stevie Nicks.  There may not be a cooler two previous owners of a home in all of the world.  Shout to Fleetwood Mac.  I still bang "Dreams" at least twice a week.]  

Clooney is one smart son-of-a-bitch that is obviously operating on a level light years away from the rest of us.  But, this is not news.


You're welcome,


_Todd


Todd is a freelance stalker from Los Angeles who lives 2.7 miles from George Clooney.

Danica 500

I am going to make this quick, because I hate car racing.  I most loathe when people try (unsuccessfully) to convince me it is a sport.


So...


When will the day come when a woman causing a crash during a car race is no longer news?


I thought we all just assumed this.


It should be news when a female driver finishes a race.


I fully expect the female drivers to bump into someone accidentally. The wreck Danica Patrick caused at the Daytona 500 this past weekend was nothing compared to the carnage she and every other woman cause on a daily basis while running errands in their respective communities.


Somehow, women make mundane drives to the grocery store look like an audition for The Bourne Identity 4.




#WomenCan'tDrive


Let's get that trending.


You're welcome,



_Todd

Celebrity Sighting 2/17/12

Friday, after lunching in Beverly Hills I had to head back across the hill for a 4:00 meeting in Studio City.

[That sentence makes my life sound a lot more important than it really is.]

About 6 minutes into my drive up Coldwater Canyon, I realized that traffic was going to turn my 25-minute trip into 2 hours, so I headed East on Sunset toward Laurel Canyon Boulevard.  Predictably, Sunset was packed like a mother, but eventually I made my way onto LCB. 

Since I was stuck in my car for a classic Friday 4:00 West Hollywood traffic extravaganza, I had my iPod working hard.  And, because I feel like I am always listening to the same playlists over and over, this time I scrolled to "Songs," spun down to "S" and let the bitch ride.  About 5-6 songs into the Ss, I had advanced nearly 400 feet to the intersection of LCB and Hollywood Blvd.  At that time, "Seasons of Wither" by Aerosmith came on my iPod.  Full disclosure, I only keep 2 Aerosmith songs on my device.  But, since I really enjoy "Season of Wither," I decided to let it run.  45 seconds into the song, Steven Tyler blew past me (going the opposite direction) in a black Porsche Carrera GT convertible. 

Full-on irony.

I laughed for a second and then said aloud, "Fuckin' L.A."

It was wild to see him right when 1 of 2 Aerosmith possibilities was playing in my car.

And it was so clearly him.  Because he was speeding downhill in a convertible, his tinted hair extensions were blowing everywhere.  His scarf was blowing everywhere.  The blonde woman in the passenger seat's hair was blowing everywhere (in a complete stunner, she was wearing a scarf too).  There was literally shit flying every which way. 

Does anyone out there think this is as amazing and funny and ironic as I do?  Exactly zero of the friends I have told this story to so far have even bothered to look up from their phones.

At any rate, I have recently decided to write an e-book about my celebrity encounters and this story might just bat lead off.  I'll let you all know when the book drops, and I am expecting you all to buy it for you Kindles and iPads.


You're welcome,


_Todd