You know I love to make @Supercuts happen to me and whenever I do that special things happen like usually that thing is a cool dude haircut.

Another one that is an example for that is when London got the Olympics for 2012 and that’s the year after next still at this point.

Well yesterday I went and was like, “Hey how about one of those SuperCuts if you have time because I have money dollars and can pay for it with them”.

So the cutter is using her scissors on my head and then she starts to do her slick sales pitch to wash my hair and that’s a new one so I get my laughing all over my face and fall for her con job because of how her face was pretty and she threw a smile and also her voice.

That was some real talent because I thought she was on the other side of the room and was still chopping up my hair at the same time.

Big Ben, Parliment. lol

The hairwashing started happening to me and I was laughing again because of not knowing how to have my neck be and because I kept doing questions about whether she had found any dirt yet.

Also there was a head massage and the shampoo smelled like mint and I was saying how that flavor is called Christmas Breeze Waves or something.

When it was done being time to have a haircut she gave me a tip and that was a victory for sure and after the tip was in my pocket for awhile I bought a DVD download of Gotta Find Nemo with it.

Here comes some technology for you to have fun learning about and also some art.

I like to take cool pictures that are neat with my Android phone and inside the phone there’s the Vignette App and it lives in the phone and makes your pictures have different ways they can become pictures.

One of the ways is a setting that is called “Action Movie” which for sure is the one for me and this is how it works. First I did a button push to make this picture have its birthday.

It seemed pretty good but then I put the dial on the Action Movie setting and it transformered the picture a little, and then even more it gobotted the picture and then here’s what I got.

This guy isn’t getting his cap sunburned either – keep those glasses on!

Also here is one with the Romance setting.

The 23 is for Michael Jordan and how he is a real-deal alpha dawg with courage about how to make his legacy appear.

So here is something my sister said at me in email.

I’m usually craving popcorn and steak at all times.

My instincts tell me just to leave that be and go away.

The truth is I’m thinking of running this long race in Las Vegas this October and they call that a marathon if you need to know.

This quote was from Kristen Spaeth training protocols. She’s been running these marathons for years now on her legs.

Running long distances is something I hate by nature because of my ADD and also my sprinting and jumping muscles.

I dunked this weekend – it was a basketball and that’s a way for you to know how much explosive power I carry in my legs still.

If the marathon falls through the high jumping contest is in Vegas that weekend and also some restaurants. Check Yelp or Google Maps and you can find them.

If you’ve read my stuff for any length of time, you know the vividly horrific story behind my shoulder tattoo, and my embarrassed self-loathing I do at myself whenever anyone sees it.

If you’re new or whatever, this is it, all oiled up and stuff for you.

The time has come, at long last, to finish this mistake once and for all.

I’ve talked to people several times over the years about what to do about this monstrosity.

The removal options are bad – since it’s been done three times already and there’s scarring to boot, it just won’t look right.

I asked one tattoo artist about putting a roman numeral XIV over it, the rationale being that I could make up different stories every time someone asked me about the deep, hidden meaning of my ancient number tattoo.

This wasn’t going to be doable either, and every other tattoo artist suggested things that just wouldn’t work for me.

I always make this clear before these conversations – my number one option would be for it to not be there at all anymore.

Starting from there, I’m not sure how these people come to, “How about like a cool snake that’s on fire and goes from your shoulder all the way around your chest, and then is flowing into a skull that’s on your back, and it’s the skull of a naked booty stripper?”

Anyway, after many years and much thought, I am giving up…and that’s what this new version of the tattoo will represent.

Inevitably, someone will try and make it artistic or special or whatever.

No, no, nay, nay, booty.

I don’t want it planned or artistic or meaningful – I want it to look like someone scribbled over it in frustration…like which is what I feel about it with my special heart that is inside me.

So I am very close to getting my Nexus One SuperPhone, and in preparation for that – as well as recuperation from WSM? – I am going away for a couple weeks.

I also have a script to finish that requires some underwater research – eliminating all distractions and not getting electrocuted is essential.

No blog posts.
No instant messaging.
No Facebook.
No Twitter.

I even deleted UberTwitter from my phone – frankly I need to rethink the manner in which I personally use Twitter altogether.

Anyway, I’ll see you on or around Monday February 22nd – of course I’ll have email, but like I might be deleting every third message just as a kind of sport or game of chance with myself.

Okay so the other day I posted that stuff about how the dude couldn’t see the moon because of the workout supplement he was taking.

I guess I was confused, because @The_Real_LLC read it as the guy just couldn’t see the sky or something.

The one thing I know for sure is that this guy’s log of his experience is amazing.

Some more:

Vision side effect, I went to bed I couldn’t see a thing, the window blinds were open and there was light outside, but whatever spot I looked at it went dark but I could see from the side of my eye, for example if I looked at the widow directly there was nothing, but as soon as I rotated my eyeballs away from the window I could see it clearly.

my biceps are sore more than ever and I am loving it.

That last sentence is an LOL for sure, but I still don’t understand how this works.

i just got back driving over one hour at night, a little uncomfortable because all the incoming headlights looked yellow tinted and was confusing especially looking in the rear view mirror

Seriously – I thought in the other entry he couldn’t see when he was looking at something?

PS. I didn’t get enough sleep last night due to the energy drink, so I felt really tired today and somewhat lightheaded, but tomorrow is chest day and I’m ready to rip it up

Oh.

i went outside while the lights were off and tripped over a chair, it hurt like son of a b—h, even my son who was walking with me looked at me like (how in the hell you didn’t see that chair!)

Kids are so silly – don’t they know daddy is getting big and strong.

just wanted to report about my vision, the moon was so bright last night according to my wife, she said the whole room was lit, well i couldn’t see a thing, i couldn’t even see where the window was

This next one is also interesting, although not vision-related.

The new [redacted] tastes different, kind of like fiberglass glue, not that I tasted fiberglass glue, but it tastes like the smell of fiberglass

: /

Whatever – regardless of whether this stuff works, I need to understand how this vision side effect works. It seems there’s not just a problem with the moon, but also with seeing windows.

Should I try this stuff or not? I’m still waiting for Mommy to get in touch telling me not to – she may have stopped reading the blog again.

As you may or may not know, long ago I was a personal trainer, a brief gig that sprung mainly from my love for health and fitness.

During that time, I tried probably every nutritional supplement possible, and even now continue to keep an eye on the newer stuff coming, some of which might be deemed “borderline legal”.

It’s rooted in a longing I have to be offered a role where they’re like, “This pays a lot of money and it’s yours, but we need you to put on 20 pounds in two months.”

When that happens, I’ll call and apologize to my mom, then speed-race to the nearest steroid dealer I can track down with more excitement than anyone has ever done anything with.

Anyway, there’s an interesting product swirling around that surely will be banned sooner rather than later.

Perusing a message board where some people are trying it out, apparently there’s a small vision-based side effect that accompanies the ingestion of said product.

Here are some posts made by users.

Occasional blurred vision side [effects] are still something that will have to be taken in account till there is a sure fire way to either stop it or lower the chance of getting it.

Slight and occasional blurring. Annoying, but somewhat mild really.

I did have a blurred vision. It wasn’t much but I remember having to concentrate more to focus on things. I also had a vision sides during the day – yellow tint, color cycling and a definite blurring.

What.

i don’t think any of us experienced blurred vision, we only lost the ability to see farther at night; we could only see where the light was aiming at. also it took longer to adjust from light to dark places, and at night we couldn’t see the sky even with a full moon.

Oh.

God.

BUT DID IT MAKE YOU BIG AND STRONG.

(Click to enlarge pic.)

Hey so Denny over at WFNY sent me this Blame Drew’s Cancer screenshot, and the following note:

I haven’t been on BDC for a while so I looked at it after you tweeted about it. Your tweet popped up and I took a screenshot. Thought it’d make you laugh.

If you’re not familiar with the program, Drew has cancer and like is able to do stuff about it that doesn’t involve moping and/or being defeated.

Also, Denny feels close enough to the entire program to refer to it as BDC, and is one of those “two spaces after a period” people.

I’m not in the former category, and will never be in the latter, but Drew’s endeavor reminds me of the various times I’ve been convinced I had cancer.

1) In high school after we had the testicular cancer lesson in Health Class. I was totally positive, to the point that I asked my parents to get me a doctor appointment.

The family doctor was the father of a friend, and I’m pretty sure there was a conversation at their house shortly thereafter about, “Hey, that Spaeth kid thought he had cancer.”

This is how I got voted “Most Likely to Think He Has Cancer” sophomore year.

2) A few weeks after I got that award, I was feeling a lot of pressure to live up to it, so I went back to the doctor to ask him if he could just tell his son I was in with more cancer paranoia. As luck would have it, there was a spot on my neck he thought I needed to get checked out.

Turned out it was just embedded dirt, but for a day or two I was sure I had skin cancer.

3) Just last week, I coughed really hard and my arm hurt, so I thought I had arm cancer. Still waiting on the diagnosis, but someone told me your entire arm can’t get cancer, so hopefully it’s a stress fracture.

Are you a member of the Who Shot Mamba? Facebook Page, and have you ever thought you had cancer.

Please do tell, and be raw and real about it, like I am.

I’m actually really wiped out from this surgery and probably overdid it yesterday, so I’ma take it easy today. My brain is kinda dead…no jokes or thoughts are happening. I also have to go back to the doctor for inspection.

I was gonna write up my idea for a water-park style playland that’s made of dirt, but I just don’t have it in me. For now, enjoy this picture from Reid Gershbein, aka @thraveboy – he made the film “Here. My Explosion…” that I looked at back here.

That’s the happiest picture on Earf!

While I’m resting, can you tell me the happiest picture you’ve ever take in your life? If you’re more of a miserable sort, how about the saddest picture you’ve ever taken?

Link to either if you can – I’ll send my favorite a free copy of Prelude to a Super Airplane – I just got a shipment, so I’m sitting on a bunch.

(You can follow Inflatable Ben from WSM? right here on Twitter – I think he’ll be out hunting booty babes in his own smooth fashion.)

So I lived through my surgery, and of most fixation, my nose is straight for the first time since mid-2002.

If there’s a WSM? sequel, it’s gonna be my Mark Hamill moment.

The whole thing was pretty fun, and the sheer joy I felt at checking out from the world to the sweet embrace of anesthesia was amazing.

My face is swollen, but I’m off the painkillers and have a working brain again. I’ve had surgery twice in my life, and both times, as I’m laying down on the operating table, I’ve started laughing. It’s for no particular reason – I’m not like thinking about anything specific.

There’s just something about the whole casual nature of it that gets me. Like, “Okay, just lay down there, and we’re gonna knock you unconscious and cut you open with some of these sanitized knives.”

Both times the doctor has asked what I was laughing at, and both times I’ve just kinda shook my head, and been like, “Nothing – let’s do some operating.”

When was the last time you had surgery? Funny? No? Yes?

(Follow the Orange Roundie on Twitter here. That’s right.)

It’s not that I don’t think Wolverine be good, it’s just that as a ex-comic book junkie, I always felt what was cool about the character was his mysterious past.

A movie called X-Men Origins: Wolverine kinda kills that. However, I recently read the review at /film, and needed only three paragraphs to turn.

The opening scene kept me guessing as to how successful the film would ultimately be. It serves as a super-quick introduction to Logan’s rage and guilt, which are given as some kind of inner drive for him and visualised [sic] in the form of a howling motif we will see again and again.

I’m there – this is exactly what I wanted from it, yeah?

Swine Flu – I have it. It’s not that bad – I mean, it’s one of those “hurty” coughs, but like I can eat and exercise and everything. I’m sure it’ll pass.

Okay, here’s the real item on today’s agenda – one of my Twitter friends is a young lady who goes by the name of Miss Destructo. She’s cool, and funny, and more than anything, she loves Bruce’s Yams. (Her Twitter is here. Her blog is here.)

The company that makes this product – Bruce Food Company – has no social media presence, outside of Miss Destructo’s very organic and public love of them. With her permission, I went ahead and wrote a digital letter to the company, asking if they could please discuss hiring her to start jamming them on Twitter or Facebook or whichever social media thing will be big next week.

Here’s an excerpt – this is the part that made me laugh the most:

…and thus it is why I write you this day of yore.

Perhaps it is in our darkest hours, sirs, when the light may shine brightest? Perhaps the tempest of prophesy is upon us? To quote from Hamlet, if I may, sirs, and please excuse what mayhap, sirs, be construed as hyperbole:

“NAY, FATHER! NAY! NAY! NAY! WHAT DOST THOU DO!? NAY!”

The message then, sirs, is clear. Allow me to establish a quagmiric layout of procedural tempest with which one may assuage the binary methodologies, sirs, with which Miss Destructo may benefit your multi-state conglomorate of food supply business doings, sirs:

1) A three-pronged attack of social media, sirs, encompassing the following, including, but not limited to, sirs, the aforementioned Twitter, the venue by which I became associated with Miss Destructo in no less than three mannerisms. Tempest, again – you see this now, I assume.

2) Tempestual matters of this sort as shall be discussed, sirs, related to what we in the industry refer to as “Facebook Tempest” or “The Facebook Tempest”. A redux will perhaps be necessary, sirs, in the event of quakes of thine earth. Hurricanes known to be traditionally more dangerous amongst the smaller of the human race. Height, being an unqualified advantage in times of peril and yore.

Printed out, this digital letter is two pages in length. I’d pretty much pay anything to hear from whoever it is at Bruce’s Food Company who read it first, so if that’s you, please get in touch.

You can take up the cause for Miss Destructo by writing to info@brucefoodsla.com.

I’d suggest putting “GIVE MISS DESTRUCTO YO TWITTA” in the subject line, and then like anything short and sweet inside. I think my message laid out the tempest pretty well.

NOTE: We can add “yams” to that list of foods I’ve never actually had.

(Follow me on Twitter here.)
(Download the first 55 pages of my epic, pretentious, and stupid book, Prelude to a Super Airplane, here.)

(The following is an excerpt from my book, Prelude to a Super Airplane. It can be purchased by clicking on any of the roughly 400 banners adorning this site, or by clicking here. It’s also available on Amazon.

I’ve posted the first 20 chapters (roughly 55 pages of PTSA) on this site. Links to each of those are at the end of this post, or you can download all of them as a pdf by clicking here.

Dr. Ramie Fromica stared at the walls and walls of books that lined her fancy, five-walled psychiatry office.

She loved to read, which is why she had so many walls. Without this vast amount of wall space, there was no way she’d have room to store all her books.

Nathan Hamm was lying on her fancy psychiatry sofa, and Dr. Ramie Fromica was thankful that his hour was almost up. Nathan Hamm was, in Ramie’s eyes, a raw, savage human being, not unlike her husband.

The doctor knew that Nathan owned a large beverage company of some kind, and was very stressed, and that this often caused him to talk loudly, and that it was her job to help him fix these things, and that he paid her well to do this, and…it was, as it was on most days, all quite unbearable.

She sighed to herself, but out loud, so that her patient could hear her frustration with his presence in her fancy psychiatry office. Was this all there was? She also said this out loud, and to her surprise, Nathan Hamm began to answer this question, in detail, and of course, a high volume.

In this moment, Dr. Ramie Fromica was glad that Nathan Hamm talked with his boisterous volume, because it allowed her to finger her Blackberri Tornado, which was far more important and interesting than whatever he was speaking of.

(The irony of this was not lost on Ramie Fromica, because Nathan Hamm had been speaking all day of a disastrous, fiery series of explosions that had taken place at his company, setting great numbers of his employees on fire.)

And so, if it was not already clear enough, Dr. Ramie Fromica was feeling unsettled in her life, despite her efforts to shoot metaphorical injections of excitement into her day-to-day doings.

She was planning a new tattoo, and had joined a new reading group, and was suggesting ill-conceived courses of action to her patients, so that their problems became larger than hers.

Nathan Hamm was incoherent in his ramblings now, and so Dr. Ramie Fromica picked a list of prospective new patients, and chose one at random. To Dr. Ramie Fromica’s dismay, her choice was a young fitness model of some note with a “dual identity issue, and also a unique, airplane-based relationship problem”.

She sighed out loud to herself again, and imagined the pathetic and predictable first meeting, during which the fitness model would surely ask for a prescription within minutes, as all her other entertainment industry patients did.

Nathan Hamm was now standing on the fancy psychiatry sofa, screaming and swearing about his employees, and their tendencies to start large fires. Dr. Ramie Fromica sighed, and waved her hand at Nathan Hamm, wishing it would cause him to fall down and go to sleep. She was unsurprised when he did exactly that.

Dr. Ramie Fromica saw that she was, for all intents and purposes, alone in her office now, and she supposed this was by her own doing. At least she still had her walls, she thought to herself, out loud.

Her five walls, with all of their reading books.

Brad Radby’s Foreward, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 31

(The following is an excerpt from my book, Prelude to a Super Airplane. It can be purchased by clicking on any of the roughly 400 banners adorning this site, or by clicking here. It’s also available on Amazon.

I’ve posted the first 20 chapters (roughly 55 pages of PTSA) on this site. Links to each of those are at the end of this post, or you can download all of them as a pdf by clicking here.

Jennifer Cormier was born into fitness model royalty.

Her father was the famous fitness model, Julian Cormier, and her mother was the even more famous fitness model, Jennifer Cormier, Sr. That her parents shared a last name was pure coincidence, but caused there to be no shortage of jabber in the fitness model gossip newspapers when they married.

Jennifer’s younger brother, Julian Jr., was also a fitness model. He was practically a clone of their father, and the jabber in the online internet fitness model gossip blogs was that he actually was a clone of their father. The distribution conduit had changed, but Jennifer’s parents always laughed that the industry hadn’t: fitness models loved their gossip.

Current jabber also focused on Jennifer, because rumors were rampant that Jennifer Cormier was working outside the fitness modeling industry under the alias of Jewel Dopplepop, the lead singer of the children’s pop/rock trio, The Boppin’ Dopplepops.

The Boppin’ Dopplepops were the biggest thing to hit children’s entertainment in at least nine months, and tonight, in a sold-out arena in her hometown of The New York City, Jennifer Cormier, aka Jewel Dopplepop, was thinking about the mess of lies her life had become.

That she was able to do this while singing the Boppin’ Dopplepops’ biggest hit, “Doople Dopple Down to the Zoo,” was nothing short of a miracle. Of course, Jennifer had sung this song, by her rough estimation, somewhere just north of seven hundred times this month alone.

It wasn’t just the heat from the fitness model gossip blogs that was distracting Jennifer Cormier tonight, though. She was becoming used to the gossip blogs running their side-by-side photos, meticulously comparing the toned, athletic, and eerily similar bodies of Jennifer Cormier and Jewel Dopplepop.

Why, just before going on stage with the Boppin’ Dopplepops’ opening number, “Who Popped the Dopplepops? (The Happy Song)”, a young reporter by the name of Eastham Way had drilled her with more pointed questions regarding the controversy than she’d ever encountered.

Eastham Way, she learned, was working freelance for one of the bigger online internet fitness model gossip blogs, and Jennifer Cormier knew her combination of an all-too-calm “no comment” and a paranoid “where’d you hear that, don’t say that out loud” responses would ignite a fresh week of speculation and jabber.

Of course, Jennifer Cormier was able to compartmentalize the thoughts of her dual lives, because in this moment, all she could think about was the irresistible young actor/writer with whom she’d fallen deeply in love on a recent airplane ride.

Jennifer Cormier sensed that he, like herself, was singularly unique, and that he, also like she, was struggling to come to terms with his power and status as a superior human being.

After all, Jennifer Cormier, who as Jewel Dopplepop was one of the most famous people in the world among 2-7 year old children, was also a fitness model of some note.

Who was she to have a clouded mind regarding her true worth and value to the world? Wasn’t she a force of nature? Isn’t this what Johnny Joe Dopplepop, the lead guitarist of the Boppin’ Dopplepops, told her all the time?

Knowing of this controversy, confusion, and self-torment would disgust Jennifer Cormier’s poor mother and father and (allegedly) cloned brother, were they to find out these things.

What a silly girl she was – with her secret airplane love affair with a Hollywood actor/writer, and her dual life as children’s pop/rock star Jewel Dopplepop!

Oh! But what the jabber in the fitness model gossip blogs would be if they could verify their suspicions with viable evidence of some kind!

Brad Radby’s Foreward, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 31

(This pic is from The Surrogates, which is “Bruce Willis + sci-fi”. I automatically see that without any other info.)

For some reason I’ve gotten 13 emails today asking me what I listen to when I work out.

Rather than answer all 13 of these, I thought I’d just reprint a few of them, and then answer the question outright.

Here’s the first one:

Hey Brian,
You seem like a real tough man. What kind of music do you listen to when you lift weights?

Here’s another:

Hi Brian,
What sort of music do you listen to when you do your important weight lifting? I want to be a tough man like you.

A third:

Hello Brian,
You as a tough man, music, weight lifting. Please connect these three items for me.

Well, this is certainly the query of the day.

In order, here’s everything I’ve listened to over the past 4 days at the gym.

Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Terrordome – Public Enemy
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Seven Nation Army – The White Stripes
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Queen of Hearts – Juice Newton
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Gonna Fly Now (Theme From Rocky) – Bill Conti
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
The Jim Rome Show (Tuesday 12/16 – Hour 2 (3 minutes only))
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Ditty – Paperboy
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Sock It To Me Baby – Mitch Ryder & The Detroit Wheels
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
The Imperial March – John Williams
Suicide Blonde – INXS
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
The Old Apartment – Bare Naked Ladies
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Terrordome – Public Enemy
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Seven Nation Army – The White Stripes
Batdance – Prince
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Bring the Noize – Public Enemy & Anthrax
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Bring the Noize – Public Enemy & Anthrax
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Batdance – Prince
Batdance – Prince
Batdance – Prince
Batdance – Prince
Mama Said Knock You Out – LL Cool J
Batdance – Prince
Batdance – Prince
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Steal My Sunshine – Len
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Batdance – Prince
Be Bop Baby – Ricky Nelson
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Mama Said Knock You Out – LL Cool J
Possum Kingdom – The Toadies
Mama Said Knock You Out – LL Cool J
Mama Said Knock You Out – LL Cool J
Mama Said Knock You Out – LL Cool J
Mama Said Knock You Out – LL Cool J
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Batdance – Prince
Higher Love – Steve Winwood
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Batdance – Prince
Batdance – Prince
Batdance – Prince
Higher Love – Steve Winwood
The Greatest Man That Ever Lived – Weezer
The Greatest Man That Ever Lived – Weezer
The Greatest Man That Ever Lived – Weezer
The Greatest Man That Ever Lived – Weezer
The Greatest Man That Ever Lived – Weezer
The Greatest Man That Ever Lived – Weezer
The Greatest Man That Ever Lived – Weezer
Batdance – Prince
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Hold Me Now – The Thompson Twins
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Eye of the Tiger – Survivor
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses
Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses

That’s how you get big and strong; read: yoked. Eat lots of chicken, also.

Okay, so it looks like any combination of at least two of the following will lead you to this online internet blog website, which is mine:

fictional spaceship
Jennifer Stano
tmobile blackberry storm
airplane

Let’s congratulate me on being way ahead on that “t-mobile blackberry storm” thing, by the way. It was not only relevant, but eventually traffic-inducing, as well.

Which means I won, and was right, and am the winner for being correct.

One internet blog website post I wished I’d never seen is the one that told me that Shaq hasn’t stretched in 17 years in the NBA.

This is no astounding statement by any means, but I’ve always said Shaq only tapped into a portion of his potential, and considering the career he’s had, that’s kinda sad.

I figure his one MVP award means I’m not alone in thinking Shaq has never worked all that hard in terms of basketball.

Whatever, I guess – Shaq can go on the list with the skinny Clippers guard who refused to lift weights, which made him lose his knee in a jumping accident, and Larry Hughes, who doesn’t like the weight room and is therefore always hurt.

I put Stano in the title in order to increase the Jennifer Stano search power. I think if we all, collectively, could become the world’s second most important source for information about Jennifer Stano, it could lead somewhere quite important.

(Special shout out to the person who searched for “Jennifer Stano Brian doing it on airplane”.

Also, a plea to stop emailing me about LeBron. I swear to god, I don’t care if he leaves. It affects me 0%.)

My brother attended the Cavaliers win lasterday, completing his Cleveland sports getaway weekend.

As expected, he was far more excited to go to a Danny Ferry press conference than to attend what was an excellent game. (Yes, I watched.)

Minute by minute, the astounding pictures came in – Danny Ferry talking. More Danny Ferry talking. Danny Ferry talking some more.

Colonel T’s most important basketball memories were the “Steve Kerr as Cav” years – those years corresponding with the “Danny Ferry as player” years.

One assumes they were best friends – it was this connection that surely ensnared the Colonel into the press conference. Hopefully he’ll elaborate upon his return to the internet.

I’m more or less back aboard Team LeBron.

I was visibly and audibly excited at several times during last night’s game, although they were in jump-shot mode in the first half.

But…as LeBron geared up to go for that huge from-behind-block in the fourth, I jumped off the sofa with a yell of “he’s going for the block – he’s going for it”, and then exploded when he went and did it.

Overall, they worked hard and were engaged in the game, which is all I’ve ever asked, especially of LBJ.

One thing about him – he really seems to be having fun this year so far.

Part of me thinks he’s a little too aware of “all eyes on him”, but if he’s having fun with it and working hard, I find no harm.

One person I feel bad for is Wally – he’s contributing, but there’s no way he’s not on the way out by the trade deadline, and he must know it. Probably to a garbage team shedding payroll, to boot.

I guess he gets to enjoy free agency next summer, so it’s not like he’s suffering too badly.

Two weeks ago today I was 179 pounds. We got done shooting, and I went into my typical post-shoot malaise, ceasing all working out, and eating whatever was around.

This morning, I returned to the gym a hearty 204.

That’s 25 pounds in two weeks, and keep in mind, it’s not like I was attending eating contests or something.

That’s a lot of weight, isn’t it? Even allowing +/-2 pounds for different scales, and another 3 for water weight/bloating, at a minimum that’s a 20 pound swing in two weeks.

It’ll take me 6-8 weeks to lose it. The math isn’t fair, but I guess if I ever have to schlub it up for a role real quick, I’m set.

Just imagine if I tried putting on weight – I could be 250 by Tuesday!

(From what I saw, the Cavs didn’t look half bad against the Celtics last night, despite the loss.

Disclosure: I only watched the first half, and then got bored. NBA…I don’t think we’ll ever truly be “together” again.)

I predicted the Knicks would be a storyline to watch this season, and as you may or may not know, this is already true, because fired-but-still-on-the-payroll-in-vague-manner coach Isiah Thomas is all wrapped up in some kind of pill-taking controversy.

He OD’d on sleeping pills, claimed it was actually his daughter despite loads of evidence, blah blah blah. This is the best part.

[Police Person] said the 911 call made late Thursday from Thomas’ multimillion-dollar home in the Purchase section of Harrison went first to state police, then to Harrison. Harrison police on patrol nearby got to the scene first, saw a 47-year-old man on the floor and went into “standard operating procedure,” Hall said.

Isiah live in a section of town that’s a verb. And that section of town is in a town named after a famous Han Solo actor.

I don’t know why this isn’t a bigger part of the story. Maybe the election coverage is impinging on the investigative reporting?

In the 2GG intro post, TVBrain referred to me as “yoked”.

While I initially thought this meant “with inner egg”, I realized that would’ve been “yolkened”.

The Urban Dictionary defines yoked as, “well muscled; powerfully built.”

Well, nobody panic, cause I won’t be yoked if I have too many more days like yesterday.

By my count, I had 4 granola bars, 5 protein bars, a cheeseburger, a corn dog, tator tots, onion rings, a McRib, a medium fry, half a box of crackers, and I think that’s it.

I feel like I’m maybe four minutes from a heart attack this morning.

Not only is that a tremendous amount of garbage, but I haven’t had anything but water, tuna, cucumbers, and protein powder for like 6 weeks.

You might say my body feels like it just consumed massive amounts of poison, or a pumpkin knife poison salad, even. At least I didn’t have any energy drinks.

My mind is pretty shot, but not shot enough to know it was wrong to return most of the props to Walmart yesterday, as well.

One of these was one of those sauna suits that comes in the little box? Like seven bucks in the sporting goods section?

Like when asked if it was used, the answer was no, even though the real answer was yes?

If you’re in Dallas and you’re shopping for a sauna suit at Walmart, you may want to pass on their selection?

And if you buy a fake tree at Walmart in Dallas, it was probably in 2GG?

(Clint Eastwood’s new film looks awesome – not The Changling, but Gran Turino. That character could totally be Two Gun Guy’s dad.)

(Attention 24 Hour Fitness Dallas: I appreciate that you think it’s a nice service to your patrons to have only hot water available for showers, but some of us are crazy, and want to take cold showers.

Luckily, there are four of your locations within (roughly) equal distance from where I’m living – one of you surely can meet my needs.)

If any of you are holdovers from my old site, you know I have a great deal of respect for Mark Cuban.

He wrote a great post yesterday about getting rich. Here is an excerpt:

Before or after work and on weekends, every single day, read everything there is to read about the business. Go to trade shows, read the trade magazines, spend a lot of time talking to the people you do business with about their business and the people they buy from.

This is not a short term project. We aren’t talking days. We aren’t talking months. We are talking years. Lots of years and maybe decades. I didn’t say this was a get rich quick scheme. This is a get rich path.

In my business, I run into so many writers, actors, and “producers” who know absolutely nothing about the actual business, it amazes me. Especially today, where every bit of information on Earth is at your fingertips, there’s no excuse for ignorance expect laziness.

Anyway, there are no jokes here, I just thought it was worth reading.

All the old cliches about “taking 15 years to become an overnight success” and “luck is a combination of preparation and opportunity” are true – I think it’s good to remember it now and then.

(Also, and related to item one, as I went to a new 24-Hour Fitness this morning. It seems like a lot of Dallas streets simply turn into other streets without announcement or fanfare of any kind.

This makes people like me get lost, and suddenly the 24 Hour Fitness isn’t (roughly) equal distance from where I’m living anymore.)

There are an endless number of blog posts throughout the internet about how weird it is in LA, but I’m going to touch on something I worry aboot that I don’t see mentioned all that much.

This would be the concept that, especially these days, you could be on a hidden camera show at any given moment.

I see a lot of things at my gym I would never see back in Ohio.

Among these are Magic Johnson, Mos Def, dudes with one or more star tattoos, Justin Timberlake, a movie theater, the guy who’s there every day tweaked out of his mind on meth*, and 85% of the people who have ever been on The Apprentice.

This afternoon, however, was a little guy that looked like a hair metal dude from the 80s, complete with no shirt, huge blond permed hair, tattoos, wirey androgynous body, torn up acid-washed jeans, and HUGE sunglasses – so huge that they had to have a hidden camera.

There’s no other explanation, because he also kept throwing up in the trash cans, making no attempt to hide it.

He would walk by people and go out of his way to stare at them, clearly going for the money shot for his awesome YouTube prank videos.

I refused to look at him the two times he tried it on me, so I won at everything I did today.

*I wonder if he writes on his blog about “that guy who’s there every day not even tweaked out of his mind on meth or anything – he’s just working out!”