A lot of people have been asking me lately, “Hey Mike, isn’t Barstool hiring right now? Why don’t you apply?” Listen, I’ll tell you why. The reason I don’t apply is the same reason why I don’t ask girls out on dates. Not because I’m afraid of rejection. But because I don’t know what the fuck I would do when they inevitably say yes. When I see a girl with a cute face, I obviously think it would be fun to spend more time with her. But at what price? Do I really want to go out to dinner with you? Answer: no. I really don’t want to do that. “Oh but Mike, you’re such a regular guy. I’m sure deep-down you would really enjoy getting to know someone.”
Listen, have I not made myself perfectly clear about this in the past? Honestly, have I been writing in fucking Mandarin or something for the past 6 months? I mean, I know my calligraphy in Ms. Gao’s 3rd grade Chinese class was top-notch shit. That lady basically thought I was straight out of the Ming Dynasty or something. But I think I did a pretty good job of explaining how there are very few things that guys care about in the world.
If you still think I’m over-exaggerating how little I care about non-sports related issues, guess again. I literally still have no idea what the fuck happened in Egypt over the past few weeks. Not even kidding, my mom texted 5 days in a row, “Mike watch CNN. History being made in Egypt.” Ok, Mom. Will do. In all seriousness, if you offered me $1 billion to tell you what the name of that Pharaoh guy that they overthrew was, I wouldn’t be able to do it. I would probably say “Ahmadinejad” because that seems to be the answer to questions like that 75% of the time. I don’t even know what the hell an Ahbadidajad is, to be honest. Like, is that a person? A country? Who cares, it’s still probably the right answer. Anyway, the point is: unless this chick is ready to talk NBA, some Red Sox spring-training, maybe even a little hip-hop sprinkled in on top, I'm really not interested.
But then there are those people that will say, “Oh but Mike, you don’t have to go out to dinner, you could try going to a movie. That doesn’t involve nearly as much talking.” Oh really! Do I really want to go see some lame-ass movie with some girl I don’t even know? Because the last time I went down that path, I ended up seeing Marley & Me, in theaters, MORE THAN ONCE! And you’re looking at a guy that deliberately roots for the Philadelphia Eagles because he hates dogs so much. So just try to imagine how thrilled I was about that.
So yeah, that’s why I didn’t apply to Barstool. Not because I’m worried about him tearing me apart or just flat-out ignoring me, but because I have no idea what I would do if he actually offered me a position. The truth is, I have better things to do with my time. Like trying to put together a legitimate career of my own. Seriously, like what if El Pres was like, “Sure Mike, we’d love to have you aboard.” How do I even possibly think about taking that job? Like, that’s a 100% wrap on the rest of your life. You can’t do anything legitimate after working at the Stool, right? I like your beard.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
The Futures Blog
Alright, so even though 95% of my friends pulled some typical Jew-trickery and managed to postpone the real world for at least another year, some of us are actually graduating in May and moving on with our lives. So naturally, I’ve been thinking a lot about the future and what that entails for the Salvuchasaurus and the rest of the Albermarle All-Stars.
My initial reaction: Holy shit, I need to find my future wife while I’m still young. I’m literally freaking out about this right now. I feel like Rachel Zoe during awards season. Just constantly stressed out and ready to kill somebody. Like, even now it’s hard enough for me to trick girls into hooking up with me, and that’s with my moneymaker abs. What the hell am I gonna do when my job starts and I’m working 800 hours a week and pouring milk into my General Gao’s and calling it breakfast? Besides, do I really want to enter that whole “Early 20’s/Young Professional” dating scene?” Just seems like a bunch of hullabaloo to me. Because as you know, I’m a simple man with a simple ideas. I don’t like all the complicated rules that go along with dating.
For the past 4 years, I’ve been operating under one rule and one rule only: As long as you treat girls like a Meal Plan, you won’t find yourself in any messy situations. (The Mean Plan Rule is easy: You know how your meal plan carries over from fall-semester to spring-semester? But at the end of the academic year you lose everything and have to start over next September? Well, girls are the same way. At the end of the year, you have to cut your losses. Because if you’re hooking up with a girl at the end of junior year, allow an entire summer pass, and then start things back up again during senior year, you’re basically screwed. Sparks start flying all over the place. Feelings come creeping in. It’s a fucking disaster. One minute you’re playing ruit with all your boys, and the next thing you know you’re spending your entire weekend cuddling and watching “He’s Just Not That into You.”). But now I don’t know what to do because I’m trying to find Ms. Right and apparently Meal Plan rules don’t go hand-in-hand with relationships.
My second reaction: I think to myself, you know what would be hilarious? A blog about all my friends and where they are in about 6 or 7 years. Mitch and Sarah, you guys are up first. You can spare me the song and dance about how you want your own individual posts. The last time you guys weren’t together, I didn’t even have a Facebook. That’s long as shit. Besides, if the Grammy people are allowed to give Best New Artist to Esmerelda Spalding or whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is over Justin Bieber, then I’m allowed to do this.
2018:
Mitch and I have been living together in Boston for a few years now, just tearing up the accounting world like we’ve always been destined to. My alarm clock usually goes off at 6:00 am because I like to take a long shower in order to wake myself up. Unfortunately, after 15 minutes in the shower, I’m literally standing in an ocean because Sarah won’t clean her hair out of the fucking drain. I mean seriously, you’ve been living here rent-free for like 2 years now. Would it kill you to un-clog it every once in a while?
Anyway, after a quick breakfast, Mitch and I hop on the T and head to the office. We’re pretty excited because we just signed a new client: Dyer Corp., which secretly is about to take over the world. Honestly, it’s like the next Google. The partners in our office seem more pleased with this client than the last one we brought in: Jesse’s Bike Rentals, which had, let’s just say, a very laissez-faire policy on paying its auditing fee.
I could bore you with all the details of what Mitch and I do all day long, but I’d probably fall asleep just trying to describe it. For simplicity’s sake, we sit at our desks changing numbers around until the assets match the liabilities, and then we go home. I usually try to convince Mitch to go to a bar with me after work, but he always insists he’s too tired. It’s cool, though. I had a girl once and she ran my life, too.
As soon as we get home, Sarah immediately begins to tell us about her day, which obviously makes me feel terrible about myself. “Oh, well first I did some research in the lab, which will help like 1 million people. Then they needed someone to fill-in in surgical, so I did that for the rest of the afternoon. And since I finished early, I figured I’d stop by Harvard on my way home and get started on my 8th degree.” Relax chica. I went on 4 service trips in college. I’ve paid my debt to society. Now let me watch this Warriors-Clippers game in peace.
But wait…I just remembered I need to start being nicer to Sarah since we’re getting married in T-minus 14 months.
In order to explain myself, let me take you back to Bigelow Middle School for a minute. In 7th grade, Sarah and I are sitting in Ms. Moore’s art class talking about Friends like we usually do. We eventually start talking about the episode where everyone has a backup. You know, if you’re not married by a certain age, then you get married to one of your friends so you can play the game of life together. Well, being the forward-thinking girl that she is, Sarah asks me to be her backup, and I agree. (Little known fact: this was actually a very difficult decision for me. After successfully asking Sarah to the first dance in 6th grade, things just kinda fizzled from there. If it didn’t work out in the future, I wasn’t sure if I could handle opening up Pandora’s box of emotions again).
Anyway, we then proceeded to iron out all the details. Sarah spent the next 45 minutes going through magazines and making a collage with pictures of all the furniture she wanted in our house (I wouldn’t be surprised if this was in The Burn Book). And most importantly, we agreed upon age 30 as our deadline.
I hope you can see where I’m going with this, because I’m almost about to turn 29, and Mitch still hasn’t popped the question. I mean, we could talk for days about true love and soul mates, blah, blah, blah. Get off your high horse. People make these kinds of deals for a reason. In the winter of 2019, you’re getting an invitation to Sarah’s wedding. And if I’m the lucky groom-to-be, don’t think for one second I’m not asking Mitch to be my best man and forcing him stand up at the alter with us.
My initial reaction: Holy shit, I need to find my future wife while I’m still young. I’m literally freaking out about this right now. I feel like Rachel Zoe during awards season. Just constantly stressed out and ready to kill somebody. Like, even now it’s hard enough for me to trick girls into hooking up with me, and that’s with my moneymaker abs. What the hell am I gonna do when my job starts and I’m working 800 hours a week and pouring milk into my General Gao’s and calling it breakfast? Besides, do I really want to enter that whole “Early 20’s/Young Professional” dating scene?” Just seems like a bunch of hullabaloo to me. Because as you know, I’m a simple man with a simple ideas. I don’t like all the complicated rules that go along with dating.
For the past 4 years, I’ve been operating under one rule and one rule only: As long as you treat girls like a Meal Plan, you won’t find yourself in any messy situations. (The Mean Plan Rule is easy: You know how your meal plan carries over from fall-semester to spring-semester? But at the end of the academic year you lose everything and have to start over next September? Well, girls are the same way. At the end of the year, you have to cut your losses. Because if you’re hooking up with a girl at the end of junior year, allow an entire summer pass, and then start things back up again during senior year, you’re basically screwed. Sparks start flying all over the place. Feelings come creeping in. It’s a fucking disaster. One minute you’re playing ruit with all your boys, and the next thing you know you’re spending your entire weekend cuddling and watching “He’s Just Not That into You.”). But now I don’t know what to do because I’m trying to find Ms. Right and apparently Meal Plan rules don’t go hand-in-hand with relationships.
My second reaction: I think to myself, you know what would be hilarious? A blog about all my friends and where they are in about 6 or 7 years. Mitch and Sarah, you guys are up first. You can spare me the song and dance about how you want your own individual posts. The last time you guys weren’t together, I didn’t even have a Facebook. That’s long as shit. Besides, if the Grammy people are allowed to give Best New Artist to Esmerelda Spalding or whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is over Justin Bieber, then I’m allowed to do this.
2018:
Mitch and I have been living together in Boston for a few years now, just tearing up the accounting world like we’ve always been destined to. My alarm clock usually goes off at 6:00 am because I like to take a long shower in order to wake myself up. Unfortunately, after 15 minutes in the shower, I’m literally standing in an ocean because Sarah won’t clean her hair out of the fucking drain. I mean seriously, you’ve been living here rent-free for like 2 years now. Would it kill you to un-clog it every once in a while?
Anyway, after a quick breakfast, Mitch and I hop on the T and head to the office. We’re pretty excited because we just signed a new client: Dyer Corp., which secretly is about to take over the world. Honestly, it’s like the next Google. The partners in our office seem more pleased with this client than the last one we brought in: Jesse’s Bike Rentals, which had, let’s just say, a very laissez-faire policy on paying its auditing fee.
I could bore you with all the details of what Mitch and I do all day long, but I’d probably fall asleep just trying to describe it. For simplicity’s sake, we sit at our desks changing numbers around until the assets match the liabilities, and then we go home. I usually try to convince Mitch to go to a bar with me after work, but he always insists he’s too tired. It’s cool, though. I had a girl once and she ran my life, too.
As soon as we get home, Sarah immediately begins to tell us about her day, which obviously makes me feel terrible about myself. “Oh, well first I did some research in the lab, which will help like 1 million people. Then they needed someone to fill-in in surgical, so I did that for the rest of the afternoon. And since I finished early, I figured I’d stop by Harvard on my way home and get started on my 8th degree.” Relax chica. I went on 4 service trips in college. I’ve paid my debt to society. Now let me watch this Warriors-Clippers game in peace.
But wait…I just remembered I need to start being nicer to Sarah since we’re getting married in T-minus 14 months.
In order to explain myself, let me take you back to Bigelow Middle School for a minute. In 7th grade, Sarah and I are sitting in Ms. Moore’s art class talking about Friends like we usually do. We eventually start talking about the episode where everyone has a backup. You know, if you’re not married by a certain age, then you get married to one of your friends so you can play the game of life together. Well, being the forward-thinking girl that she is, Sarah asks me to be her backup, and I agree. (Little known fact: this was actually a very difficult decision for me. After successfully asking Sarah to the first dance in 6th grade, things just kinda fizzled from there. If it didn’t work out in the future, I wasn’t sure if I could handle opening up Pandora’s box of emotions again).
Anyway, we then proceeded to iron out all the details. Sarah spent the next 45 minutes going through magazines and making a collage with pictures of all the furniture she wanted in our house (I wouldn’t be surprised if this was in The Burn Book). And most importantly, we agreed upon age 30 as our deadline.
I hope you can see where I’m going with this, because I’m almost about to turn 29, and Mitch still hasn’t popped the question. I mean, we could talk for days about true love and soul mates, blah, blah, blah. Get off your high horse. People make these kinds of deals for a reason. In the winter of 2019, you’re getting an invitation to Sarah’s wedding. And if I’m the lucky groom-to-be, don’t think for one second I’m not asking Mitch to be my best man and forcing him stand up at the alter with us.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Merry Christmas
So Winik’s been all up on my ass lately trying to get me to write another blog. Like, as soon as the Celtics’ season started and I (somehow!) deemed that to be more important than making fun of my friends, she’s just constantly been on my case. So it’s probably my own fault that I didn’t see it coming when she verbally assaulted me the other day. I mean, there we are just canoodling on my couch watching Top Chef: Just Desserts, when all of a sudden she makes a comment about how I’m not actually funny in-person. Excuse me? She says I have a great writing tone, but in real life I’m just kinda boring and not funny. Ok…I guess that’s kinda true, except for the fact that it’s not. I’m freaking hilarious in pretty much every walk of life. Seriously, who’s quicker than me with witty one-liners? Maybe Brady on his best of best days? Maybe?
But that’s neither here nor there. You want a blog? I’m giving you a blog. Although, technically I posted a great one about Teo on the “Barre New Year’s” Facebook event page. But you probably didn’t have access to that one. Zing!
Anyway, I’m going to be doing a few blogs over the next two weeks. I figure since nobody is going to TOUCH my 1250 score on Facebook Snake, I have a little time to spare. Here’s the first:
*******
So earlier this semester I’m at some party and this mush walks past my friend and me. My buddy not-so-subtlety calls him a tool, which the kid hears and then immediately wants to start a fight. Being the intimidating presence that I am, I step in and try to break the whole thing up. To this day I will never know why this worked, but the kid sees me, backs down, and says (direct quote). “Whoa. You look smart. I’m not gonna fight you because you look pretty smart.” And walks away.
So here are 8 ways to trick people into thinking you are smart when in reality you spend 75% of your day watching Bravo and couldn’t point to Palestine on a map to save your life.
1. Read everything by Malcolm Gladwell. Apparently he’s one of those “it” authors that everybody is talking about these days. Listen, I don’t read books. Never have, never will. Just don’t see the point. If I ever wanted to read something, I probably would just write it myself. In fact, before I heard of this Gladwell guy, the only eight books I had read since middle school were the seven Harry Potters and The Book of Basketball (this is sadly true).
But luckily for me, I realized that everybody and their grandma was reading this guy, so I powered through The Tipping Point, Blink, and Outliers. Here’s my advice on the Gladwell books: Know them by heart. Be able to elaborate on his ideas and shit. But never be the one to bring him up first in a conversation. I repeat. NEVER be the first to bring him up in a conversation. Actual smart people will jump on you like a trampoline if you do. It simply reeks of superficial/mainstream intelligence. Believe me, I found this out the hard way. One minute you’re just having a delightful conversation about those hockey players from Outliers, and the next thing you know, you’re getting questioned about Thomas Friedman. Seriously, who? Instead, wait until some other hopeless victim brings up Gladwell in a conversation, then just casually interject here and there and pretend like he’s old news at this point.
2. Start a blog and trick girls into thinking you have a unique writing style. Since they don’t read Barstool and/or Bill Simmons, they will probably think you’re hilarious and witty. But really, you know fully well that you’re just copying their styles and playing it off as your own. But hey, they don’t know the difference!
Side-note: Since I started my blog, writing has become the Number 1 thing that girls admire about me. We all know that girls like guys who are talented, and since I can’t sing or play the guitar, this is really my only viable option at this point in my life. What’s depressing is that my best attribute before I started writing was…wait for it… the way I turn the steering wheel when I’m driving. Yup. With one hand and my palm wide open. Apparently girls love that. That’s what they’re looking for in a future husband. Open palms. Wide open.
3. Always carry the Wall Street Journal around with you. Sometimes when I’m by myself and I know a bunch of people are about to come into the room, I immediately pull out the WSJ and start pretending to read it. Then when people come in, I’m just oozing smartness in every direction. Ho-hum, just reading the Journal. No big deal. Oh hey everyone! Nothing going on over here, I was just reading the Journal. Then I just need to answer a short series of questions and I’m in the clear.
“What’s that you’re reading, Mike? Anything interesting?” Then I run through some pre-determined answers I thought of earlier in my head: “Oh, well the banks are considering lowering interest rates to combat all the foreclosures in the housing market, blah blah blah.” And that’s really all there is to it.
(Note: “Foreclosure” is a great word to throw out there every once in a while. Everybody thinks that everybody else knows what it means, but nobody actually does. So you’ll never get challenged on it, but you come off looking wicked smaht).
4. Know what you don’t know. Can’t over-emphasize the importance of this one. My personal weakness is Vietnam. I literally know nothing about nothing that happened there. Doesn’t matter how many times I read over the Wikipedia page, it’s like my brain just doesn’t want me to know anything about it. But since people reference it from time-to-time, you always need to have an exit strategy. Try to wiggle your way out of the conversation somehow. Or better yet, change the subject to something in which you’re the expert.
My favorite one typically involves me overcooking my raviolis. As soon as someone brings up the topic of the Vietnam War, I usually say something like, “Oh, my raviolis are probably overcooked. Better go check on those!” But Mike, you aren’t even cooking anything…“Well, you’re not Italian. You probably didn’t even know that the meatball is the world’s most self-explanatory food. Seriously, what’s more self-explanatory than a meat ball? It’s just a ball of meat.” Boom. Subject is already changed and I’m back in the driver’s seat. Staples…that was easy.
5. Pick friends that don’t have your major. Difficult to execute, but will pay huge dividends if you can pull it off. Especially if you’re in the business school and can talk with reasonable knowledge about things like… paying dividends. Shit drives English majors up a wall. They can’t get over the fact that we actually go to class and just learn about analyzing financial statements all day. And the irony of all ironies is that usually during my business classes, I’m just on my computer writing (in English!) for all of my successful blogs. Like, you can’t even make this stuff up. My life is just a fairytale.
6. What’s that saying? You learn a lot about a man by the way he acts when he thinks nobody is watching. Well you learn even more about a man by the type of music he listens to when he thinks he’s by himself. Listen, I don’t have particularly great taste in music. When I know I home alone, all I do is blast electro-club remixes in my room. Basically just one Rihanna mash-up after another. But as soon as I hear that front door open, I immediately switch to my “Chill Hip-Hop” playlist on my iPod, full of classics like Nas, Biggie, A Tribe Called Quest and Common. I don’t even like half the shit on there, but I listen to it because it’s universally accepted that you can’t make fun of someone for liking those artists.
7. Be smart about when you wear your glasses. We all know that wearing spectacles makes you appear to be smarter. But you know what DOESN’T make you look smart? Wearing glasses when everybody knows you don’t really need them. Nobody likes a fraud, just ask the NY Jets. My general rule: Wear them on the first day of class, and then you can wear them for the rest of the semester. In my case, I forgot to wear my glasses during the first week of classes in September, so I wasn’t allowed to wear them for the entire fall semester. I have to wait until January. That’s just the way it goes.
Props to Sarah for being the first one to discover this back in like 9th grade. Just completely beat everyone to the punch on that one. Mitch, on the other hand, comes out of nowhere last summer and just decides he’s going to start wearing glasses to help him pull off the whole Kid Cudi/hipster look. I questioned Mitch on this, and his response was that they were prescription. Prescription? Ok, Mitch. That and $2.00 will get you a ride on the MBTA. Congratulations.
8. Dress nicely to class. Ok, so it’s semi-hypocritical of me to say this. The real reason I transferred from Wake was because I didn’t have any boat shoes to wear to class on a daily basis. Now I wear them to class at least four days a week, and I only have class Tuesday-Thursdays. So that’s a lot. Obviously, when you dress like an asshole you sacrifice a little in the “That person looks like a regular guy who I would want to become friends with” department, but you gain so much everywhere else. People just look at you and smell success.
Disclaimer: Don’t make the mistake of looking too smart. You know, to the point where people assume you would be a good person to work with on a group project. Because there is nothing worse in this world than being the #1 guy in a group project. All the organizing meetings and emailing professors and whatnot. Just seems like the absolute pits to me. That’s why I always try to come off as the #3 guy for any group project. Not too smart, but not a complete slouch either. That way, I don’t have to take on the majority of the work, but I pull enough weight that I still get to sit around with the other top dogs and bitch about how the rest of the group is slacking off.
But that’s neither here nor there. You want a blog? I’m giving you a blog. Although, technically I posted a great one about Teo on the “Barre New Year’s” Facebook event page. But you probably didn’t have access to that one. Zing!
Anyway, I’m going to be doing a few blogs over the next two weeks. I figure since nobody is going to TOUCH my 1250 score on Facebook Snake, I have a little time to spare. Here’s the first:
*******
So earlier this semester I’m at some party and this mush walks past my friend and me. My buddy not-so-subtlety calls him a tool, which the kid hears and then immediately wants to start a fight. Being the intimidating presence that I am, I step in and try to break the whole thing up. To this day I will never know why this worked, but the kid sees me, backs down, and says (direct quote). “Whoa. You look smart. I’m not gonna fight you because you look pretty smart.” And walks away.
So here are 8 ways to trick people into thinking you are smart when in reality you spend 75% of your day watching Bravo and couldn’t point to Palestine on a map to save your life.
1. Read everything by Malcolm Gladwell. Apparently he’s one of those “it” authors that everybody is talking about these days. Listen, I don’t read books. Never have, never will. Just don’t see the point. If I ever wanted to read something, I probably would just write it myself. In fact, before I heard of this Gladwell guy, the only eight books I had read since middle school were the seven Harry Potters and The Book of Basketball (this is sadly true).
But luckily for me, I realized that everybody and their grandma was reading this guy, so I powered through The Tipping Point, Blink, and Outliers. Here’s my advice on the Gladwell books: Know them by heart. Be able to elaborate on his ideas and shit. But never be the one to bring him up first in a conversation. I repeat. NEVER be the first to bring him up in a conversation. Actual smart people will jump on you like a trampoline if you do. It simply reeks of superficial/mainstream intelligence. Believe me, I found this out the hard way. One minute you’re just having a delightful conversation about those hockey players from Outliers, and the next thing you know, you’re getting questioned about Thomas Friedman. Seriously, who? Instead, wait until some other hopeless victim brings up Gladwell in a conversation, then just casually interject here and there and pretend like he’s old news at this point.
2. Start a blog and trick girls into thinking you have a unique writing style. Since they don’t read Barstool and/or Bill Simmons, they will probably think you’re hilarious and witty. But really, you know fully well that you’re just copying their styles and playing it off as your own. But hey, they don’t know the difference!
Side-note: Since I started my blog, writing has become the Number 1 thing that girls admire about me. We all know that girls like guys who are talented, and since I can’t sing or play the guitar, this is really my only viable option at this point in my life. What’s depressing is that my best attribute before I started writing was…wait for it… the way I turn the steering wheel when I’m driving. Yup. With one hand and my palm wide open. Apparently girls love that. That’s what they’re looking for in a future husband. Open palms. Wide open.
3. Always carry the Wall Street Journal around with you. Sometimes when I’m by myself and I know a bunch of people are about to come into the room, I immediately pull out the WSJ and start pretending to read it. Then when people come in, I’m just oozing smartness in every direction. Ho-hum, just reading the Journal. No big deal. Oh hey everyone! Nothing going on over here, I was just reading the Journal. Then I just need to answer a short series of questions and I’m in the clear.
“What’s that you’re reading, Mike? Anything interesting?” Then I run through some pre-determined answers I thought of earlier in my head: “Oh, well the banks are considering lowering interest rates to combat all the foreclosures in the housing market, blah blah blah.” And that’s really all there is to it.
(Note: “Foreclosure” is a great word to throw out there every once in a while. Everybody thinks that everybody else knows what it means, but nobody actually does. So you’ll never get challenged on it, but you come off looking wicked smaht).
4. Know what you don’t know. Can’t over-emphasize the importance of this one. My personal weakness is Vietnam. I literally know nothing about nothing that happened there. Doesn’t matter how many times I read over the Wikipedia page, it’s like my brain just doesn’t want me to know anything about it. But since people reference it from time-to-time, you always need to have an exit strategy. Try to wiggle your way out of the conversation somehow. Or better yet, change the subject to something in which you’re the expert.
My favorite one typically involves me overcooking my raviolis. As soon as someone brings up the topic of the Vietnam War, I usually say something like, “Oh, my raviolis are probably overcooked. Better go check on those!” But Mike, you aren’t even cooking anything…“Well, you’re not Italian. You probably didn’t even know that the meatball is the world’s most self-explanatory food. Seriously, what’s more self-explanatory than a meat ball? It’s just a ball of meat.” Boom. Subject is already changed and I’m back in the driver’s seat. Staples…that was easy.
5. Pick friends that don’t have your major. Difficult to execute, but will pay huge dividends if you can pull it off. Especially if you’re in the business school and can talk with reasonable knowledge about things like… paying dividends. Shit drives English majors up a wall. They can’t get over the fact that we actually go to class and just learn about analyzing financial statements all day. And the irony of all ironies is that usually during my business classes, I’m just on my computer writing (in English!) for all of my successful blogs. Like, you can’t even make this stuff up. My life is just a fairytale.
6. What’s that saying? You learn a lot about a man by the way he acts when he thinks nobody is watching. Well you learn even more about a man by the type of music he listens to when he thinks he’s by himself. Listen, I don’t have particularly great taste in music. When I know I home alone, all I do is blast electro-club remixes in my room. Basically just one Rihanna mash-up after another. But as soon as I hear that front door open, I immediately switch to my “Chill Hip-Hop” playlist on my iPod, full of classics like Nas, Biggie, A Tribe Called Quest and Common. I don’t even like half the shit on there, but I listen to it because it’s universally accepted that you can’t make fun of someone for liking those artists.
7. Be smart about when you wear your glasses. We all know that wearing spectacles makes you appear to be smarter. But you know what DOESN’T make you look smart? Wearing glasses when everybody knows you don’t really need them. Nobody likes a fraud, just ask the NY Jets. My general rule: Wear them on the first day of class, and then you can wear them for the rest of the semester. In my case, I forgot to wear my glasses during the first week of classes in September, so I wasn’t allowed to wear them for the entire fall semester. I have to wait until January. That’s just the way it goes.
Props to Sarah for being the first one to discover this back in like 9th grade. Just completely beat everyone to the punch on that one. Mitch, on the other hand, comes out of nowhere last summer and just decides he’s going to start wearing glasses to help him pull off the whole Kid Cudi/hipster look. I questioned Mitch on this, and his response was that they were prescription. Prescription? Ok, Mitch. That and $2.00 will get you a ride on the MBTA. Congratulations.
8. Dress nicely to class. Ok, so it’s semi-hypocritical of me to say this. The real reason I transferred from Wake was because I didn’t have any boat shoes to wear to class on a daily basis. Now I wear them to class at least four days a week, and I only have class Tuesday-Thursdays. So that’s a lot. Obviously, when you dress like an asshole you sacrifice a little in the “That person looks like a regular guy who I would want to become friends with” department, but you gain so much everywhere else. People just look at you and smell success.
Disclaimer: Don’t make the mistake of looking too smart. You know, to the point where people assume you would be a good person to work with on a group project. Because there is nothing worse in this world than being the #1 guy in a group project. All the organizing meetings and emailing professors and whatnot. Just seems like the absolute pits to me. That’s why I always try to come off as the #3 guy for any group project. Not too smart, but not a complete slouch either. That way, I don’t have to take on the majority of the work, but I pull enough weight that I still get to sit around with the other top dogs and bitch about how the rest of the group is slacking off.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Birthday Blog
You know that feeling when the Red Sox have a big playoff game coming up that night, and it seems like everyone is just looking forward to the first pitch at 8:17 pm? You can tell, there’s just a constant buzz in the air. People go to work and go to class, but really they’re just going through the motions. Well, I was walking around campus today, and it had that exact same feeling. I could tell that people had a little extra hop in their step. It’s only Tuesday, but the excitement and anticipation for MikeandJoshApalooza on Friday is already real high. It’s going to be fire weekend. Although topping last weekend could be a difficult task.
On Saturday, the BC football team played at Wake Forest, so naturally, I told everyone that I was definitely 100% coming to visit and then bailed. It’s kinda my thing. This time around though, I actually did visit Expedia and Orbitz and looked at real-life flights before I decided I had no interest in ever going back there. And honestly, at this point you guys should consider that a win because normally I’m walking to class or playing Bloons Tower Defense when I text Mitch: “Looking at flights as we speak. Be there in 3 weeks. I’m serious this time.”
And to really kick you when you’re down, not only did I not go to Wake last weekend, but I decided to go to the exact opposite of Wake Forest. That’s right. Road trip to UVM with D-Robb.
To say my expectations of UVM were met would be like saying I get a little nervous every time Barstool posts a UMass video with a bunch of girls dancing with El Pres. Because my heart skips about 14 beats every time that happens. But in all seriousness, Jesse’s house was everything I imagined it would be and more. As an avid Farmville player, I was pretty pumped for the Chicken Coop in the backyard (obviously one of the chickens laid an egg the night before, which Jesse casually collected and brought to his neighbor as a nice gesture). There were also dogs and guinea pigs running around everywhere. Basically just a barn of a house.
I hit the nail on the head wearing my plaid button-down shirt that day. Fit right in with everybody. But one move that did not go over so well: walking in to a pregame with a FourLoko in my hand. “Oh my god! You actually DRINK those things! Let me try a little! Argghh that’s gross! My heart’s gonna explode!!!!” Relax people. It’s sugar and alcohol mixed together. And you had half-a-sip. You’ll live. The best part, though, was when I told people that I went to BC, and then suddenly it all made sense to them. “Oh yeah, my friend goes to BC. I think she drinks those, too.” Listen, she drinks those because she goes to college, not because she goes to BC. Sorry for partying.
Something else I couldn’t wrap my head around: everyone bikes to the parties. Like, everyone. When we went to this pregame, Jesse forced us to bike even though it was 25 degrees outside and I was protesting vehemently against it. Anyone who really knows me knows that I’m a terrible bike rider. I will always maintain that I am a better pound-for-pound athlete than Lebron. That's just a fact. But when it comes to biking, I’m just the worst. I can’t even get on the bike to start with, I don’t know how to change gears, and I can never figure out if I should be sitting on the seat or doing that standing thing. It’s a miserable experience. And if it weren’t for Halo and Call of Duty, I would say it’s the thing I’m worst at in this world.
Fortunately, by the time we got back to Jesse’s for the official party, things started popping off. The real highlight of the night was when DJ Dangerous Dave started killing it on the 1’s and 2’s. As you can imagine, there were a lot of freshman there because Jesse is a nice guy and doesn’t know how to say no. Everyone’s having an average time until Jesse asks Dave to start playing his iPod. And as soon as he does, the place goes bonkers. Just one jam after another. Beating up the beat, then slowing it down, then beating it up again. He nailed every single song. At one point, in typical Newton North fashion, Dave went back-to-back with Call on Me and Don’t Stop Believing. Must have been at least a 75% hook up rate on the dance floor during those songs.
Dave was working it so hard, there were at least 4 girls that came up to him and asked him to dance. He had to politely turn them down, but was considerate enough to point them in my direction. Unfortunately, every single one of them walked in the complete opposite direction of where I was standing. I really tried to talk to myself into the idea that this didn't happen on 4 separate occasions, but there's really no getting past it. I guess that’s the way the cookie crumbles sometimes. But honestly, I wasn’t even that upset because two of them were wearing the Short Uggs, which have been an absolute deal-breaker for me lately. Like, what could possibly motivate you to get the short ones? Go big or go home ladies.
P.S. Memo to everyone going to Barre for New Year’s: Unless there's some sort of miracle where DJ Desert Storm volunteers his services for the night, Dave is making a playlist and we’re just letting it go. That’s it. Apologies to Hyatt and Calvin, but you guys are being ex-communicated from DJ-ing. It’s called a party, guys. We don’t need Calvin playing an acoustic version of Lupe and Common singing “Buffalo Soldier” in Talib’s basement while Lauryn Hill was upstairs watching Casablanca. It’s rare. We get it. And Sam, we don’t need you to counter that with a song that Lil Wayne won’t even write until 2014, but you’ve somehow managed to already get on your iPod. You like Weezy. Welcome aboard. Save these battles for another time. Let’s play some club bangers that people actually know, and hope we can get Seth to voluntarily start dancing after we kidnap him for the evening.
On Saturday, the BC football team played at Wake Forest, so naturally, I told everyone that I was definitely 100% coming to visit and then bailed. It’s kinda my thing. This time around though, I actually did visit Expedia and Orbitz and looked at real-life flights before I decided I had no interest in ever going back there. And honestly, at this point you guys should consider that a win because normally I’m walking to class or playing Bloons Tower Defense when I text Mitch: “Looking at flights as we speak. Be there in 3 weeks. I’m serious this time.”
And to really kick you when you’re down, not only did I not go to Wake last weekend, but I decided to go to the exact opposite of Wake Forest. That’s right. Road trip to UVM with D-Robb.
To say my expectations of UVM were met would be like saying I get a little nervous every time Barstool posts a UMass video with a bunch of girls dancing with El Pres. Because my heart skips about 14 beats every time that happens. But in all seriousness, Jesse’s house was everything I imagined it would be and more. As an avid Farmville player, I was pretty pumped for the Chicken Coop in the backyard (obviously one of the chickens laid an egg the night before, which Jesse casually collected and brought to his neighbor as a nice gesture). There were also dogs and guinea pigs running around everywhere. Basically just a barn of a house.
I hit the nail on the head wearing my plaid button-down shirt that day. Fit right in with everybody. But one move that did not go over so well: walking in to a pregame with a FourLoko in my hand. “Oh my god! You actually DRINK those things! Let me try a little! Argghh that’s gross! My heart’s gonna explode!!!!” Relax people. It’s sugar and alcohol mixed together. And you had half-a-sip. You’ll live. The best part, though, was when I told people that I went to BC, and then suddenly it all made sense to them. “Oh yeah, my friend goes to BC. I think she drinks those, too.” Listen, she drinks those because she goes to college, not because she goes to BC. Sorry for partying.
Something else I couldn’t wrap my head around: everyone bikes to the parties. Like, everyone. When we went to this pregame, Jesse forced us to bike even though it was 25 degrees outside and I was protesting vehemently against it. Anyone who really knows me knows that I’m a terrible bike rider. I will always maintain that I am a better pound-for-pound athlete than Lebron. That's just a fact. But when it comes to biking, I’m just the worst. I can’t even get on the bike to start with, I don’t know how to change gears, and I can never figure out if I should be sitting on the seat or doing that standing thing. It’s a miserable experience. And if it weren’t for Halo and Call of Duty, I would say it’s the thing I’m worst at in this world.
Fortunately, by the time we got back to Jesse’s for the official party, things started popping off. The real highlight of the night was when DJ Dangerous Dave started killing it on the 1’s and 2’s. As you can imagine, there were a lot of freshman there because Jesse is a nice guy and doesn’t know how to say no. Everyone’s having an average time until Jesse asks Dave to start playing his iPod. And as soon as he does, the place goes bonkers. Just one jam after another. Beating up the beat, then slowing it down, then beating it up again. He nailed every single song. At one point, in typical Newton North fashion, Dave went back-to-back with Call on Me and Don’t Stop Believing. Must have been at least a 75% hook up rate on the dance floor during those songs.
Dave was working it so hard, there were at least 4 girls that came up to him and asked him to dance. He had to politely turn them down, but was considerate enough to point them in my direction. Unfortunately, every single one of them walked in the complete opposite direction of where I was standing. I really tried to talk to myself into the idea that this didn't happen on 4 separate occasions, but there's really no getting past it. I guess that’s the way the cookie crumbles sometimes. But honestly, I wasn’t even that upset because two of them were wearing the Short Uggs, which have been an absolute deal-breaker for me lately. Like, what could possibly motivate you to get the short ones? Go big or go home ladies.
P.S. Memo to everyone going to Barre for New Year’s: Unless there's some sort of miracle where DJ Desert Storm volunteers his services for the night, Dave is making a playlist and we’re just letting it go. That’s it. Apologies to Hyatt and Calvin, but you guys are being ex-communicated from DJ-ing. It’s called a party, guys. We don’t need Calvin playing an acoustic version of Lupe and Common singing “Buffalo Soldier” in Talib’s basement while Lauryn Hill was upstairs watching Casablanca. It’s rare. We get it. And Sam, we don’t need you to counter that with a song that Lil Wayne won’t even write until 2014, but you’ve somehow managed to already get on your iPod. You like Weezy. Welcome aboard. Save these battles for another time. Let’s play some club bangers that people actually know, and hope we can get Seth to voluntarily start dancing after we kidnap him for the evening.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Priorities
Hey everyone. Hope you've been enjoying all the invisible posts lately. Pretty high-tech stuff.
As many of you know, I'm now contributing to CelticsHub.com. It's an actual blog with more than 18 followers, so I'm gonna have to devote my time to that. I'm not going to be posting much for Behind the Arc anymore. Maybe every now and then. But not.
This is basically a win-win for everyone. I move on to bigger and better things, and you guys can focus on your studies without having to constantly hit "refresh" to see if I've posted something new and hilarious.
As many of you know, I'm now contributing to CelticsHub.com. It's an actual blog with more than 18 followers, so I'm gonna have to devote my time to that. I'm not going to be posting much for Behind the Arc anymore. Maybe every now and then. But not.
This is basically a win-win for everyone. I move on to bigger and better things, and you guys can focus on your studies without having to constantly hit "refresh" to see if I've posted something new and hilarious.
Friday, October 22, 2010
More emails
Good Email: This picture that Charles sent of me as Nnamdi Asomugha, aka Miggy Asomugha, aka Asomiggs.
Bad Email:
How about this prank email from Ben that had me thinking I had MADE IT in the blog world. Some friend, huh? Or maybe it's worse that I actually believed this for an entire 24 hours. Like, of course Tommy Wiseau, director and lead actor of "The Room," one of the worst movies ever made, follows my blog.
Dear Mike,
I have followed your blog for quite some time now and it is splendid, it gives me funny feelings in my nether regions. I do have a question though, that has been churning around in my mind for quite some time now, how does one become such a sexy beast like yourself? If you could give me some tips or advice in that regard, I would be very appreciative.
Best wishes and keep up the great, very sex work,
-Tommy
Like no joke, I actually fell for this email. However, in my defense, look at this guy. He's a nutjob. I probably would have believed anything you told me about him.
Bad Email:
How about this prank email from Ben that had me thinking I had MADE IT in the blog world. Some friend, huh? Or maybe it's worse that I actually believed this for an entire 24 hours. Like, of course Tommy Wiseau, director and lead actor of "The Room," one of the worst movies ever made, follows my blog.
Dear Mike,
I have followed your blog for quite some time now and it is splendid, it gives me funny feelings in my nether regions. I do have a question though, that has been churning around in my mind for quite some time now, how does one become such a sexy beast like yourself? If you could give me some tips or advice in that regard, I would be very appreciative.
Best wishes and keep up the great, very sex work,
-Tommy
Like no joke, I actually fell for this email. However, in my defense, look at this guy. He's a nutjob. I probably would have believed anything you told me about him.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Got Me a Ticket to Celtics-Heat
There are very few occasions in a man’s life where he has the chance to witness something greater than life itself. When the entire world has its eyes transfixed on one game, in one arena, for an entire 3 hours. When the Damons and Wahlbergs and Jay-Zs of the world all come together under one roof to share such a spectacular moment in history. It only happens once, maybe twice a year. And it just so happens that Tuesday night at the TD Garden will be one of those times.
To say I’m looking forward to the Heat-Celtics game would be like saying Screech had a thing for Lisa Turtle. Because there are certain things in life that you look forward to…and then there’s this game. For example, I’m looking forward to dressing up for the midnight showing of Harry Potter next month. I’m looking forward to attending Calvin’s wedding with all my friends, which my Google Calendar just reminded me is only 18 months away. And I’m looking forward to COMING HOME ONE DAY AND NOT SEEING OUR FREAKIN’ BATHROOM LIGHT ON WHEN WE HAVE A $204 ELECTRICITY BILL! But that’s just me.
This game is probably one of the most anticipated games of our lifetime. I’m not trying to be hyperbolic (by far the biggest word in the history of this blog), but I’m having trouble thinking of another game that will receive more warranted and impassioned attention than this game. Super Bowls are fun, but at the end of the day, they have one every year. I admit, Celtics-Heat will probably soon be triumphed by LeBron’s return to Cleveland in a couple months. But for now, there’s really nothing that can top it.
How did I score a ticket to the game, you ask? Just used my infinite resources as a basketball insider to purchase myself one on a little website called Stubhub.com. And I got a pretty good deal on it, too. Cost me just about the same as my monthly electric bill. Ba-dum-chh!
Is this too much money for a single game ticket? No way. This is truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. When I’m sitting around in my rocking chair when I’m 65 years old, do you think I’m gonna care if I have an extra $200 in my pocket? Or am I gonna want to pick up Salvuchasaurus III and say to him, “You know what little guy, I was at LeBron’s first game ever with the Miami Heat, before he went on to win those 5 championships. And you know who won that game? That’s right, the Boston Celtics.” Then I’ll whip out my wallet and give my 6-year old grandson $200 anyway because that’s the type of bomb G-Pa I’m going to be.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
NBA Bans Concept 1's
What's that NFL? You announced today that players will be suspended for "head shots" and "devastating hits?" Well I see your over-reactionary rule change, and raise you another crazy and ridiculous ban. That's right, no NBA player will be allowed to wear Athletic Porpulsion Lab's Concept 1 shoe, which supposedly can increase vertical leap.
And I must say: Bravo, David Stern. Bravo. Because if you're truly going to distinguish yourself from the NFL as the best sports league on Earth, you can't even give them an extra second in the spotlight. When I turned on SportsCenter this morning, all anyone was talking about was the new NFL rule change. You can't be having that. And now, I wouldn't be surprised if they lead with your shoe ban story on Around the Horn and PTI. It really is that big of a deal.
Note to Albermarle All-Stars: these puppies are officially banned from our pick-up games, as well. We don't want any 5'8" Rondo-like guards with already astronomical vertical leaps suddenly banging their heads against the backboard every time they go up for a layup. Hypothetically speaking, of course.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Happy Birthday to Me Indeed
Cudder just released the album cover for Man on the Moon II: The Legend of Mr. Rager. It comes out November 9, aka my birthday. Seriously people, I only need one copy. Figure it out amongst yourselves.
What a Roller Coaster Week for T.I.
So on Thursday, T.I. hears on the radio that there is a man about to commit suicide by jumping off a 22-story building somewhere in Atlanta. Like, he’s literally standing on the edge of the building as T.I. is hearing this. So what does T.I. do? He goes and talks the man out of it. Well done, T.I. I honestly didn’t think you had it in you. Then on Friday, he releases a new single “Get Back Up” with Chris Brown, which can be heard every 45 minutes on Kiss 108 FM starting in…let’s give it two weeks.
But guess what also happens on Friday? Some judge is like, “Ho-hum, back in the slammer for 11 months!” Yikes. Talk about killing his buzz, judge. I guess T.I. was arrested last month for drug possession, and given his prior record, the judge had no sympathy. Understandable.
But honestly, T.I. you have nobody to blame but yourself here. You got out of your halfway house in March, meaning you had 6 months to build up some good publicity before you inevitably got caught again. Seriously, all you had to do was make one song with Alicia Keys and you were probably good to go. That’s it. America loves Alicia Keys. They think she’s classy and shit. I guarantee that would have worked, Instead, what do you do? You release a song with Chris Brown on the day of your sentencing? Are you freaking kidding me, guy? I know you’ve been locked up for a while, but newsflash: the only person this country hates more than Chris Brown is LeBron. It really must tell you something when you save a man’s life the day before your sentencing and you still get hosed like that.
Fantasy Basketball is the Only One Worth Playing and I'm Sticking to It
In 6th grade I sat my entire family down and told them I was getting out of the chocolate-eating game. I just wasn’t going to eat chocolate anymore. Just like that. I wanted to live a long healthy life, and completely eliminating my chocolate in-take was a small step in the process. But instead of supporting me like any nice family would, everyone just laughed at me. They said I would last 3 days, a week max, before I caved and had a Kit-Kat or something. Well ha! The joke’s on you, because 10 years later I’m still not eating chocolate. Score that Mike 1, Family 0. Yes I realize that chocolate is delicious and awesome, but so is being a man of principle. And when I said I wasn’t going to eat chocolate anymore, I meant it.
I know what you’re thinking, “Mike, I’ve seen you eat chocolate before. There’s no way this is true. You’re just shaking my tailfeather right now.” Oh really? You’ve actually SEEN me eat chocolate before? When? Where? What was I wearing in this imaginary moment in time? Did I look fresh? Obviously I did, but that doesn’t mean it happened. Seriously, next time someone puts a plate of brownies in front of me, watch how not excited I get compared to everyone else. I don’t eat anything with chocolate. Nothing. Chocolate cake? Nope. Charleston Chews? Snickers? Cocoa Puffs? Negativo. And the worst part is when I’m eating a Hoodsie and can only eat the vanilla half. I mean, those cups are already small enough. The fact that I have the will-power to only eat half is pretty hard body.
Actually, I’m not gonna say I don’t eat ANYTHING with chocolate in it. That’s a little strong. There are two exceptions: Chocolate-chip cookies and chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream (which is really just a cookie in its natural state, with ice cream). The reason I decided to start eating chocolate-chip cookies was mostly because of social norms. Like, you can’t just go through life not eating chocolate-chip cookies and expect to go places. It was already bad enough that I refused brownies when people made them for me, and I didn’t want to be the weird kid who didn’t eat chocolate-chip cookies either. Once I made this decision, eating chocolate-chip cookie dough was logically the next step in the progression.
What’s the point of this story? Well, two years ago I quit the Fantasy football league that the All-Stars and I had been doing for years. This was also a tough decision, because our football/basketball/baseball leagues are a lot of fun. You can say a lot of things about my friends, but don’t for one second say we don’t know how to do fantasy sports. Because we do. And it’s not like we have $100 entry fees or anything like that (I mean, we are talking about a group who, for the past 6 years, has never played a game of poker with more than 10-20 cent blinds. Not to mention that whenever someone has the audacity to raise to 40 cents before the flop, the collective groan from everyone else can be heard a mile away). But for the most part, everyone keeps up with their teams pretty closely and there are a lot of trades, so it’s a good time.
And then of course, there’s the draft. Fantasy drafts are pretty much the greatest thing ever invented. I’m pretty sure they would win the Awesome Game. (For those of you that haven’t played the Awesome Game, it’s a game where everyone writes like 3 things that are awesome on little pieces of paper and puts them in a hat. Once you have all the Awesome Things, you set it up like a March Madness bracket and people discuss/vote on which thing is more awesome, and then eventually there’s one winner. Usually it’s something sexual, like “insertion,” but I’m hard-pressed to think of something right now that’s more awesome than a Fantasy draft).
Anyway, we officially started doing Fantasy drafts the right way, live and in-person, during sophomore year of high school. It was a cold day in March, but everyone was pumped because we were going to do our Fantasy baseball draft at school, instead of conducting the draft online. We convinced Coach Kane to let us use his classroom, so as soon as last period was over, it was straight to the War Room. Let’s be honest here, for 179 out of the 180 days every year, the reason I ultimately got out of bed and went to school was so I could flirt with girls and try to get my mack on. But for this 1 day, girls were the last thing on my mind. Class was simply more time to go over draft sheets, and lunch was time to negotiate trades. Kane’s room was perfect. We all had a computer, we had the Big Board. I think Calvin played Vanna White. Some kid tried to draft Mark Prior in the 15th round. It was just a great time, and it set us on the correct path of doing all of our drafts that way. I can’t even count the number of drafts we’ve had since then, but each time they never disappoint.
So considering all this, why is the infatuation with Fantasy sports wearing off? Or at least with football and baseball? Let’s start with football. I was losing my mind on Sundays and wasn’t able to enjoy the games at all. Constantly having to root for Reggie Wayne took a toll on me, so I quit. Now, I sit down on the couch every Sunday and I’m able to watch the Second Best League on the Planet without any attachment. And I love it. Plus, when you really think about it, football is probably the WORST sport to do fantasy for. Individual player statistics really have nothing to do with the outcome of the game. Yes, it’s easy to keep track of your team because you only need to set your lineup once a week. But I hate how there’s just so much luck involved with the draft. Oh, you got Arian Foster in the 8th round and now you’re winning the league. Congrats, bro. How many 8th round draft picks ever become a top fantasy player in basketball? Answer: Zero.
As for baseball, it’s also just way too unpredictable. You don’t win your Fantasy baseball league by drafting well. You win your Fantasy baseball league by watching SportsCenter, seeing that Jose Bautista is off to a decent start this season, and then adding him as a free agent before anyone else does. And then 54 home runs later, you try to play it off like you actually know something. It’s the worst. You win Fantasy baseball by just staying on top of it. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have the time for that. These blogs aren’t gonna write themselves.
Fantasy basketball doesn’t work that way. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say Chris Paul, Lebron James and Dwight Howard will probably be the best fantasy players this year. And guess what? I’m right. People say they like playing fantasy sports because they get to play the role of GM. Well if you really want that chance, play fantasy basketball. It really is about assembling the best team possible. You basically know what everyone’s stats are going to be. But it’s up to you to balance your roster and everything. Do I sacrifice rebounds and blocks for assists and steals? Or do I load up on big men and hope I can add scoring guards later on? Those are legitimate questions that you ask yourself as a Fantasy basketball owner. Occasionally you’ll have someone like Jamal Crawford have a great season out of nowhere, but it’s not like he’s affecting the entire league or anything like that. Plus, rotisserie scoring is the standard method for basketball, meaning the best team wins every time. Seriously, is there anything more obnoxious than having to listen to your friend bitch about how unlucky he is with his head-to-head matchups? “I have scored the 2nd most points of anyone in the league, and I’m still 2-3. This is ridiculous.” Don’t be that guy. Play Fantasy basketball.
This past August, my friends tried to convince me to play Fantasy football again. I’m sure that won’t be the last time. “C’mon Mike, we’re getting the league back together. Just play this year.” Sorry guys, not budging. I haven’t had a brownie in 10 years. What makes you think I’ll succumb to peer pressure on this?
I know what you’re thinking, “Mike, I’ve seen you eat chocolate before. There’s no way this is true. You’re just shaking my tailfeather right now.” Oh really? You’ve actually SEEN me eat chocolate before? When? Where? What was I wearing in this imaginary moment in time? Did I look fresh? Obviously I did, but that doesn’t mean it happened. Seriously, next time someone puts a plate of brownies in front of me, watch how not excited I get compared to everyone else. I don’t eat anything with chocolate. Nothing. Chocolate cake? Nope. Charleston Chews? Snickers? Cocoa Puffs? Negativo. And the worst part is when I’m eating a Hoodsie and can only eat the vanilla half. I mean, those cups are already small enough. The fact that I have the will-power to only eat half is pretty hard body.
Actually, I’m not gonna say I don’t eat ANYTHING with chocolate in it. That’s a little strong. There are two exceptions: Chocolate-chip cookies and chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream (which is really just a cookie in its natural state, with ice cream). The reason I decided to start eating chocolate-chip cookies was mostly because of social norms. Like, you can’t just go through life not eating chocolate-chip cookies and expect to go places. It was already bad enough that I refused brownies when people made them for me, and I didn’t want to be the weird kid who didn’t eat chocolate-chip cookies either. Once I made this decision, eating chocolate-chip cookie dough was logically the next step in the progression.
What’s the point of this story? Well, two years ago I quit the Fantasy football league that the All-Stars and I had been doing for years. This was also a tough decision, because our football/basketball/baseball leagues are a lot of fun. You can say a lot of things about my friends, but don’t for one second say we don’t know how to do fantasy sports. Because we do. And it’s not like we have $100 entry fees or anything like that (I mean, we are talking about a group who, for the past 6 years, has never played a game of poker with more than 10-20 cent blinds. Not to mention that whenever someone has the audacity to raise to 40 cents before the flop, the collective groan from everyone else can be heard a mile away). But for the most part, everyone keeps up with their teams pretty closely and there are a lot of trades, so it’s a good time.
And then of course, there’s the draft. Fantasy drafts are pretty much the greatest thing ever invented. I’m pretty sure they would win the Awesome Game. (For those of you that haven’t played the Awesome Game, it’s a game where everyone writes like 3 things that are awesome on little pieces of paper and puts them in a hat. Once you have all the Awesome Things, you set it up like a March Madness bracket and people discuss/vote on which thing is more awesome, and then eventually there’s one winner. Usually it’s something sexual, like “insertion,” but I’m hard-pressed to think of something right now that’s more awesome than a Fantasy draft).
Anyway, we officially started doing Fantasy drafts the right way, live and in-person, during sophomore year of high school. It was a cold day in March, but everyone was pumped because we were going to do our Fantasy baseball draft at school, instead of conducting the draft online. We convinced Coach Kane to let us use his classroom, so as soon as last period was over, it was straight to the War Room. Let’s be honest here, for 179 out of the 180 days every year, the reason I ultimately got out of bed and went to school was so I could flirt with girls and try to get my mack on. But for this 1 day, girls were the last thing on my mind. Class was simply more time to go over draft sheets, and lunch was time to negotiate trades. Kane’s room was perfect. We all had a computer, we had the Big Board. I think Calvin played Vanna White. Some kid tried to draft Mark Prior in the 15th round. It was just a great time, and it set us on the correct path of doing all of our drafts that way. I can’t even count the number of drafts we’ve had since then, but each time they never disappoint.
So considering all this, why is the infatuation with Fantasy sports wearing off? Or at least with football and baseball? Let’s start with football. I was losing my mind on Sundays and wasn’t able to enjoy the games at all. Constantly having to root for Reggie Wayne took a toll on me, so I quit. Now, I sit down on the couch every Sunday and I’m able to watch the Second Best League on the Planet without any attachment. And I love it. Plus, when you really think about it, football is probably the WORST sport to do fantasy for. Individual player statistics really have nothing to do with the outcome of the game. Yes, it’s easy to keep track of your team because you only need to set your lineup once a week. But I hate how there’s just so much luck involved with the draft. Oh, you got Arian Foster in the 8th round and now you’re winning the league. Congrats, bro. How many 8th round draft picks ever become a top fantasy player in basketball? Answer: Zero.
As for baseball, it’s also just way too unpredictable. You don’t win your Fantasy baseball league by drafting well. You win your Fantasy baseball league by watching SportsCenter, seeing that Jose Bautista is off to a decent start this season, and then adding him as a free agent before anyone else does. And then 54 home runs later, you try to play it off like you actually know something. It’s the worst. You win Fantasy baseball by just staying on top of it. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have the time for that. These blogs aren’t gonna write themselves.
Fantasy basketball doesn’t work that way. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say Chris Paul, Lebron James and Dwight Howard will probably be the best fantasy players this year. And guess what? I’m right. People say they like playing fantasy sports because they get to play the role of GM. Well if you really want that chance, play fantasy basketball. It really is about assembling the best team possible. You basically know what everyone’s stats are going to be. But it’s up to you to balance your roster and everything. Do I sacrifice rebounds and blocks for assists and steals? Or do I load up on big men and hope I can add scoring guards later on? Those are legitimate questions that you ask yourself as a Fantasy basketball owner. Occasionally you’ll have someone like Jamal Crawford have a great season out of nowhere, but it’s not like he’s affecting the entire league or anything like that. Plus, rotisserie scoring is the standard method for basketball, meaning the best team wins every time. Seriously, is there anything more obnoxious than having to listen to your friend bitch about how unlucky he is with his head-to-head matchups? “I have scored the 2nd most points of anyone in the league, and I’m still 2-3. This is ridiculous.” Don’t be that guy. Play Fantasy basketball.
This past August, my friends tried to convince me to play Fantasy football again. I’m sure that won’t be the last time. “C’mon Mike, we’re getting the league back together. Just play this year.” Sorry guys, not budging. I haven’t had a brownie in 10 years. What makes you think I’ll succumb to peer pressure on this?
Friday, October 15, 2010
FML: Red Sox Officially Purchase Liverpool
My phone/Facebook has been blowing up all day with the “breaking news” that the Red Sox owners are purchasing Liverpool, F.C., my favorite soccer team. First of all people, this happened like 2 weeks ago. It’s been tied up in the judicial system for a little while because the former Liverpool owners thought the club was being undervalued. But the Liverpool board approved this a while ago.
I realize everyone out there is trying to feed me news. Trying to give me new material and shit. Listen guys, I invented the news. And I wasn’t born yesterday. I know how it works. You’re just trying to show me that you’ve been dedicated fans from the very beginning, so when I become rich and famous maybe you’ll get a slice of the pie. That’s all fine with me. But c’mon, texting me a story when it becomes headline news on ESPN? Step it up.
Anyway, I’m actually kinda upset about this. Two reasons.
1. The Red Sox have the best fans in professional sports, at least in the United States. That’s just a fact. Nobody cares more about their team more than we do. I think I’ll love the Red Sox more than I’ll ever love my wife. Over the past few years, we’ve taken a hit as all the Pink Hats and bandwagoners have been making their way to Fenway just to see what all the fuss is about (Hey, it happens. At least we sell out our playoff games, unlike the Yankees in 2009). And I’m not gonna lie, it bothers me when I see people that don’t actually care about the Red Sox, pretending to care. Seriously, people. Why do it? Why do you feel the need to put on a front? It’s not like I go to the MFA to look at the art. I hate that shit, so I stay as far away from it as possible. It’s stupid ridiculous.
And now all of New England is about to become Liverpool fans. It’s not like I’m upset because I thought Liverpool was my personal thing, or anything like that. I could care less. But if you’re gonna follow a team, you need an authentic reason for it. I watched soccer for 3 years before Liverpool truly spoke to me. Steven Gerrard. Anfield. The Miracle in Istanbul. Those words don’t mean anything to people around here. And now they’re all about to become Liverpool fans. I’ve been a loyal LFC fan for several years, and now it’s just gonna look like I’m some schmuck who started following the team because they’re associated with the Red Sox.
2. If you don’t know the background info: Liverpool is one of the biggest and most successful clubs in the world. However, they haven’t won the English Premier League since 1990. Although they are usually a very competitive team, this year they just suck. If we want to get back on par with Manchester United, Chelsea and Arsenal, we need to spend money on new players. Big money. Money that John Henry, Tom Werner and Larry Lucchino might not have. And while these guys certainly all have more money than me, they don’t have more money than other potential owners. Sauidi Arabian princes and Chinese investment groups and shit. We’re talking about the same guys who wouldn’t give an extra $10 million to Mark Texiera. How are we supposed to compete with Chelsea, Real Madrid or even Manchester City when it comes to buying players? If there is one thing we have learned about John Henry and his boys, it’s that they do have a limit. Their pockets are not endless. Basically, Liverpool and the Red Sox both just became less financially flexible, to put it nicely. Not good news if you’re a fan of either.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Arguably the Biggest Decision of 2010
Halloween is my favorite day of the year. It’s really not even close. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love to dress up. Themed-parties. Camp Talent Shows. Wednesdays. You name it, I’ll dress up for it. So naturally, I can’t get enough Halloween. It just does it for me. There was actually a brief 2-year stretch when New Year’s Eve was the day I looked forward to most, but that ended when Officer Izzy pulled the plug on having fun. Now October 31 is back in the driver’s seat, and until I’m 40 and am forced to sit at home and pass out Snickers to little Rugrats, I expect it to stay there.
Not trying to toot my own horn or anything, but I’ve kinda been on a roll with my costumes the past two years. A spot-on Sanka from Cool Runnings, including the dreads and the full-body Olympic bobsledding suit. And then a brilliantly executed Lil Wayne costume with the dreads and tattoos (Some of my friends gave me the business for wearing that dreads wig twice in a row like some asshole. Whoa, sorry guys. I paid like 50 bucks for those dreads. Just trying to depreciate that shit over multiple years. Not my fault you don’t understand what that means).
A few weeks ago I came up with another stellar idea: Cristiano Ronaldo. The similarities are endless. Got that tall, dark and handsome thing going for us that girls seem to love. Kim Kardashian plays/played a significant role in our lives. Both hate Chelsea, F.C. Both are fashionistas in our own right. I admit there is one small, tiny difference on the soccer pitch: Ronaldo really is a natural winger, whereas I sometimes prefer to get high and central and even play from the striker position. But other than that, we’re basically the same person. Not to mention I already have his jersey (I’m sure he has mine, too), so it’s really a no-brainer.
My overall philosophy in life is that when you do things, you need to do them 100%. Nothing half-hearted. That’s why I love Tiger Woods. So if I’m going to be Cristiano Ronaldo, I’m going to BE CRISTIANO RONALDO. That means I’m going to be dressed from head-to-toe in replica soccer apparel. That means I’m going to convince a bunch of girls to walk around with me all night (probably call ‘em Vucci’s Hoochies, or something cute like that). And that means I’m gonna get my hair did so it looks just like him. I’m gonna grow out the mullet in the back, and the day before Halloween I’ll shave the sides of my head and then gel everything else up top.
Well here’s my dilemma: My hair is like 3 weeks ahead of me right now. Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t be a big deal. I’d just put on a hat and call it a day. But since the entire accounting world is after me like a pack of wolves, I need to be looking my Don Draper-best in these interviews. And my hair is officially too long to wear to an interview now.
So now what? I’m probably gonna have to get that haircut tomorrow. 19 days could be enough time to grow it back. Or maybe I just call up my boy Cristiano and have him buzz his whole head, and then I’m set.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Checkin' the Mailbox
Did you seriously wear my pajamas and sleep in my bed when I went home for the weekend?
-Nick, Chestnut Hill
Does the Pope shit in the woods, Nick? Of course I did. We also did a fashion show with all of J-Rod’s clothes. True story.
I think I’m gonna start following the NBA. Do you think I should start following the NBA? What team should I follow? I think it has to be the Celtics because my rule is that whenever I start following a sport I root for the team of the city I’m currently living in at the time. What do you think? Can I start following the Celtics?
-Lovely, Brighton
Hey Steve, what team is from Under A Rock? Because that’s basically where you’ve been living for the past 10 years. Seriously, just do what you gotta do. If you can manage to somehow go to bed at night being a Steelers, Mets and Celtics fan, be my guest.
What does “Behind the Arc” mean? Help me.
-Sara, Ann Arbor
What was that Sara? Do I think you’ll get into Law school? No, I don’t actually. You probably bubbled in your name incorrectly and now it’s all over. Good luck, though.
Who’s the favorite to win the NBA title this year?
-Teo, Boston
Leave it to Teo to actually ask me a legitimate question. I’m going with the Lakers, then the Celtics, and then the Heat. In that order. The thing that people don’t realize is that Pau Gasol is the best offensive big man in the NBA right now. Pair him with Kobe and I don’t see how they don’t three-peat next year. They’re just too big and talented across the frontcourt.
As for the Eastern Conference, I’m picking the Celtics over the Heat for the same reason I’m picking the Lakers: I like their depth and size. That’s what she said. Obviously, Miami is going to be the No. 1 seed, and the Celtics will probably be the 3 or 4 seed. But in a 7-game series, I really don’t see how the Heat could beat Boston. They’re basically throwing Chris Bosh and a bunch of scrubs against the Celtics’ plentiful frontcourt. Joel Anthony (2.7 ppg last year), Udonis Haslem (6’8”) and Zydrunas Ilgauskas (could hardly earn playing time for the Cavs in the playoffs last year) are gonna match up against KG, Shaq, Perkins, Jermaine O’Neal, and Big Baby? Ok.
I’ve changed my mind on the whole “The Heat won’t be able to figure out who’s gonna take the last shot” position. It’s a stupid argument and I feel embarrassed for believing it in the first place. But I do firmly believe that Lebron and Wade don’t really compliment each other that well. They’re both drivers. If Wade drives and kicks it to Lebron for an open 3-pointer, that’s fine with me. Same thing if Wade is taking the long-range jumpers. Neither of them scares me from anywhere outside the paint.
Lakers over Celtics, again.
So according to your rankings, I’m a +6.
-Calvin’s outfit, Miami
Well, let’s take a look at it. Snapback hat. Sunglasses. Lax pinny. Bro shorts. Bro socks. Bro shoes. Yup, that sounds about right.
So according to your rankings, I’m a -14.
-Seth’s outfit, New York
Technically, yes. Although I can’t tell for sure because your socks are looser than your jeans and my system doesn’t know how to quantify that.
I have a QB rating of 105.3. I’ve thrown 8 touchdowns and 0 interceptions. Still think I can’t play quarterback in this league?
-Mark Sanchez, New York
Relax, guy. It’s been 4 games. How did last year go for you? You only had the #1 ranked defense and the #1 ranked rushing game, and you STILL only made the playoffs because Indianapolis gave up on the regular season. C’mon, cue the “Oh, he was only a rookie. He’s still getting better each and every day” brigade. I don’t need to hear it. What did Tom Brady do in his first season? Oh that’s right, win the Super Bowl. I can’t wait for you guys to get spanked by Randy and the Vikes Monday night.
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