Randomn3ss

Ending a long-standing war between Kidd Chris and everyone else, WYSP 94.1 finally fired the shock jock’s ass. Not only was he unfunny (at least in my opinion), but racist as he played a song by musically-regrettable Lady Gash. He played it not once… but twice… and repeated clips of it throughout the month of March, also prompting the firing of WYSP’s program director, John Cook. Further info on the official corporate response and the offending song can be found at Dan Gross’s Daily News column here.

You know, I’m glad this guy got his. Kidd Chris represents the stereotypical “Pennsyltucky” persona - xenophobic, undereducated, and angry at nothing. Maybe I just don’t personally find his brand of humor to be amusing - and, hey, to each their own - but I think you cross a line when you play blatantly racist music, get your rocks off by attempting to humiliate competing personalities (because you apparently can’t get by on your own), and generally cast a pessimistic shadow over the community. Granted, traditionally “black” radio stations and personalities (Wendy Williams, anyone?) blast white people all the time, promoting a sick double-standard that’s all too prevalent in this ultra-PC (at least for white people) society. I think racism and ethnic persecution is ugly, no matter who is doing it. I am saying that it doesn’t matter who is doing it - it’s never right.

I guess the reaction from most people would be - “You don’t like it, don’t listen.” That’s definitely my stance (if you hate my writing and my blog, fuck off, don’t read it). However, I was disgusted by the effect Kidd Chris had on friends of mine in the industry. His egging on of listeners to harass and threaten other radio personalities was sickening to me and I’m surprised it took this long to can his ass. Everyone is entitled to an opinion (hey, you hate Preston and Steve? Great, that’s totally your call and I respect that. I have no opinion regardless), but the limit of opinion exists at the line where the comfort and livelihood of another sentient being is threatened.

If you like him, follow Kidd Chris to satellite or bumblefuck or wherever the hell he ends up. I don’t wish him ill will, I’m just glad that motherfucker is out of my airwaves and done embarrassing my city. We’re better than this, Philly… aren’t we?

The world’s best speller I am not. It has been pointed out to me in several articles that I’ve published this fact and I humbly put my tail between my legs, fix the errors, thank the person for pointing them out to me and try to learn from my mistakes. I’m a blogger, I can fix my mistakes when they happen. I do not put something permanent on people and hope for the best.

Loyal Randomn3ss reader and good friend Matt sent me a link to a forum post with the proud new owner showing off a photo of his fresh new tattoo.

Decent gray work, the lines don’t look too bad, but wait, something doesn’t look right. Three grammatical errors are in this one tattoo. Its should be It’s, Delt is properly spelled Dealt and lastly, Your should be You’re. Ooops.

Source: vwvortex.com forums

Update: So the poster on the vwovortex forum was posting up a bit of a hoax, it’s a real tattoo but he isn’t the owner. The real owner explains his story of what everything means about the tattoo ala Miami Ink, and then 5 full pages of forum members ripping him to shreds for the horrible spelling issues. Real source: NikeTalk

Here. Just look at the picture below. It’s been in all the major print news outlets since Monday morning. In Metro, it was juxtaposed next to a headline with Bush’s comment that the deaths of 4,000 American soldiers in Iraq has not been in vain.

And shame on you, Easter Bunny. I thought you were better than this - a partisan attention whore who jumps in on any photo-op possible, despite the fact that you are inextricably attached to a religiously-based holiday in a country where church and state are to remain separate. For shame, Easter Bunny!! Added to the fact that I got Luna bars instead of Reese’s peanut butter eggs, now I’m really pissed at you (are you calling me fat, Easter Bunny??). You just keep being pink and fluffy and emotionless with those big, coked-out pupils and hug the demon next to you. By the way, don’t get too cozy - his reign of terror ends on January 20, 2008.

Do you have your barf bags ready? Here’s the picture:

Thanks to Scott for passing on a great photo blog featuring Fail photos.  You know, those little photos that show us how stupid life can sometimes be.

The FAIL Blog

I’m a really tolerant person, but being forced to inhale someone’s cigarette smoke as I was leaving the gym, really made me mad.

I had just finished a workout, and was ready to get some fresh air as usual (gyms always have that sweat and wet clothing smell, it seems). I get my coat on and head to the door.

I see a woman standing outside the entrance talking on a phone. As soon as I opened the door, she turned toward me with butt in hand and exhaled as she ranted about how she’s not that bad of a girlfriend.

Who the hell smokes at the door of a gym??

I am hit with that disgusting second hand smoke and smell from her being out there a while, by the look of her cigarette, and I have no choice but to take that in. And, unfortunately, the only way to get away from the smoke was to walk by her.

I caught her glance and was ready to tell her to smoke elsewhere and have consideration for people coming out of a workout, and to point out the ashtray twenty-five feet away, but she turned away from me and continued making her case in a very pathetic manner about why the problem was her boyfriend’s, not hers.

I hurried away from her as I couldn’t stand the smoke, and figured, based on her extremely disconnected logic and poor arguments in defense of herself, she probably wouldn’t understand my point.

I used to smoke occasionally but haven’t for many years. If people want to smoke, I don’t care, it’s your money and health (though I do have a problem with the butts thrown out of cars and dumped at exit ramps, and the pollution), but I do believe that non-smokers should not have to be subjected to tobacco smoke.

Sometimes coming to the gym I can smell smoke on the people in line ahead of me, or I see people smoking in their cars before they come in. Or, on the cardio machines, I can smell smoke on someone who just walked in, or who is on a machine next to mine. I am sort of offended by the smell, but it’s not smoke, so I would never say anything. Smokers tend not to know how bad they stink until they quit. And if they’re in the gym trying to counteract the effects of smoking, and they’re not smoking in my face, well, I can put up with it, and more power to them.

Um… I just saw this on Sunday night for the first time. It is the next in a series of bizarre but semi-brilliant advertisements for Emerald Nuts. These commercials get the brand stuck in your mind for nothing to do with its nuttiness, but for its “What the fuck?!?” factor.

Example:

Discuss.

Monday night was a good night for drinking, or so we thought. It was the night of the BCS Championship game between LSU (two losses… really?) and THE Ohio State University (vomit). Alright, so I’m not a particularly huge fan of either team, but I love college football and as fucked up as the playoff system (or lack thereof) is, I wanted to watch the game. So did a bunch of my friends, so we decided, “ok, let’s meet at Dave & Buster’s on Columbus Ave because, yeah that looks like a good place to kick back, have some brews, and watch the game.”

We were wrong. Sooooooo wrong.

It’s not like I didn’t get a sign immediately. When our waitress bothered to approach us for the first time (yes, I’m talking about YOU, Sarah), I asked for a “lager.” Now, in PA, that means “Yuengling.” Our waitress replied with the types of lager beers they had available. You may think her reply was logical - and it totally was - except that, really, in Philadelphia especially, no matter where you go all bartenders when you ask for just a “lager” will get you a Yuengling. It’s just how life is. If you live here, you get it, so go with it, it was a bad omen.

We proceeded to wait 20 minutes for our drinks, all of which came in stages, because Sarah was apparently incapable of carrying more that one glass at a time. Three of us were hungry, so we ordered two appetizers - the nachos and cheese fries.

This is where tragedy became pure comedy.

Thirty minutes later, the food makes its way to the table. There were 8 nacho chips on a plate and the cheese fries were served in a soup bowl. Eight chips, for three people. At this point, I felt totally betrayed by our waitress, who should have noticed that three hungry people ordering this elf food dish would have been sorely disappointed at the portion size. But no - bitch let us pay a DOLLAR PER NACHO CHIP because she sucked. I mean - she came back and was all “How’s the food?” and I’m like “It’s small.” Then, with two cheese fries left in the soup bowl, Sarah tries to clear the table. The reaction time of my friend Victoria and I flying across the table, grasping both her hands, and screaming “Nooooooooooooooo! Still EATING!” was incredible.

At this point, I am pissed and hungry and decide that this place is getting no more of my money. I don’t even order water (also because I know it’s not ever going to come). Seriously, how can you charge so much goddamn money for THAT LITTLE FOOD?? And, what do you spend the money on? Certainly not maintaining your technology because none of the TVs were flatscreen nor awesome. The BCS game was on a suspended bigscreen that looked like it weighed 900 pounds. I have a better TV at home; sometimes I don’t know why I leave my house. Damnit. I just feel cheated by this place and I don’t really understand why anyone thinks it’s good at all.

I hate when I get so annoyed with an establishment that I can’t even articulate how bad the experience really was. I bet that makes for good reading, too, eh? Whatever, just don’t give them your money. Unless you really like being hungry and sober.

Okay, so last night I’m chillin’ on my couch, drinking beer 2 of 3, watching god only knows what on TV.  Seriously, couldn’t even tell you which channel I was watching at the time.  I’m zoning out and then this trippy, possibly-funny public service announcement comes on.  Now, there’s some pretty laughable drug-related PSAs as of late: the one where the car full of high kids hits the girl on the bike, the one where the high kid shoots the other high kid as a joke, and the most recent scary-ass one from Canada about kitchen safety (okay, if you’re going to watch the last one, please note that the last 2.5 seconds will burn a hole into your memory.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you).  But this most recent one I saw last night is… something special.  Not only is it stupid, but it blames everyday people for shit they can’t possibly prevent.

The video below - on meth labs, which are apparently running rampany in this country, although personally I think meth is really 1997 and totally un-glamorous, which is probably why it’s so prevalent in parts of the country where there’s nothing to do - takes the cake for both ridiculous shock-value and improbability.  It’s also really poorly done and I just feel bad for the guy in it because 1) he’s just trying to eat his breakfast and 2) how the fuck does he know there’s a meth lab next door?

Okay, give it a watch:

Basically, the lesson is: if you mind your own fucking business, you will get blown up by your neighbor’s meth lab.  So start spying on your neighbors, because according to the powers that be, if you get blown up by someone else’s meth lab, it’s your own fucking fault for not reporting them to the police who are supposed to investigate and save you from other people’s meth labs.  I’m jus’ sayin’…

1. 4 people, 1 bottle Captain Morgan, west San Francisco, 8pm
2. Best long island ever, Amber, Castro 8:30pm
3. Gay Bar, “officially drunk” thank you for the free drinks “Chad”! 9pm
4. Gay Bar, dancing, more drinks, french man, french kiss.
5. Burrito at the expense of gay booty call 11pm
6. 10 minutes of hell in friend’s 4 inch heels
7. Gay Bar, dancing, drinking…. Bars close… “WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!?!?!?”
8. Flirting with cab driver gets me to The Tranni Shack.
9. Drinks, dancing.
10. Too drunk to notice drive by… busy.    (making out in middle of street)
11. Leave friend with police…
12. Pass out in hallway
13. Breathalizer, 10am…         .15

*No persons were harmed in the making of this glorious, glorious evening*

When I was a kid the thought of getting something in the mail was great, no matter what it was. As a grown man in my late 20’s, fetching the mail usually means looking at another bill or some worthless piece of mass marketing where someone is trying to sell me something. Yesterday was no disappointment, getting two bills and an AT&T cell phone brochure. This one is a full magazine sized, stapled in the middle and 25 pages thick, clearly they spent money on this. Since I’ve been interested in upgrading to a smart phone and the one I’ve been eyeing up was just released, I glanced through it to see if specs were listed or some more product shots. Disappointed that the phone I was looking for wasn’t listed, I was about to toss the magazine until a quarter page article stuck out, it was an add-on to an article about texting with your teens. What follows is what AT&T has translated from text messages.

Basic

• YT? - Are you there?
• - Big smile
• 4E - Forever
• F2F - Face-to-face
• GR8 - Great
• LMK - Let me know
• N2K - Need to know
• U@? - Where are you?

Intermediate

• DHYB – Don’t hold your breath
• FFR – For the future reference
• ILBL8 – I’ll be late
• KThxBye – Okay, thanks. Goodbye!
• RB@U - Right back atcha
• PTMM – Please tell me more
• *vin – Starving
• SC$ - Success

Advanced

• B3 – Blah blah blah
• FTBOHM – From the bottom of my heart
• GD&R – Grinning, Ducking and running
• HB2U – Happy birthday to you
• TTYL – Talk to you later
• Y3 – Yadda yadda yadda
• MHOTY – My hat’s off to you

Am I that old to think most of this shit is nuts? Unless you are on a smart phone, making half of the special characters is a bigger pain in the ass than actually typing it out. Now I’ve done more than 6,000 texts in a month, I’m very capable of texting, none of my friends use any of these stupid shortcuts. In any event, the article points to lingo2word for translations, it is where I learned how to say, dis S realy Fkng lamo.

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