We were gonna blog the Oscars, but they were totally lame. The only thing we have to say is that when Jamie Foxx won for Best Actor, the orchestra should have played "Slow Jamz." That is all.
And the NBA All-Real Team is as follows. Once again, we put no consideration into what position they play.
PG: Rafer Alston - Toronto
SF: Latrell Sprewell - Minnesota
SF: Ricky Davis - Boston
SF: Ron Artest - Indianapolis
PF: Darius Miles - Portland
Head Coach: Sam Mitchell - Toronto
Posted by The Realests at 11:31 PM
With the Raiders recent acquisition of Randy Moss, they are well onto their way to having the most douche bags ever assembled. If we had our way, here would be our NFL All-Real Squad. As you will soon notice, there are few offensive lineman and defensive lineman because these positions are of little importance and part of this team's purpose is to revolutionize the game:
WR: Randy Moss - Oakland
WR: Terrell Owens - Philadelphia
WR: Freddie Mitchell - Philadelphia
WR: David Boston - Miami
QB: Ryan Leaf - N/A
QB: Adrian McPherson - (R)
RB: Maurice Clarett - (R)
RB: Ricky Williams - N/A
TE: Kellen Winslow - Cleveland
TE: Jeremy Shockey - New York Giants
C: Kyle Turley - St. Louis
DL: Warren Sapp - Oakland
DL: Leon Lett - Retired
LB: Donnie Edwards - Kansas City
LB: Ray Lewis - Baltimore
LB: Eric Barton - New York Jets
LB: Dwayne Rudd - Oakland
LB/S: Cato June: Indianapolis
CB: Ty Law - Free Agent
S: Donovan Darius - Jacksonville
S: Eugene Robinson - Retired
S: Charles Drake - N/A
K: Mike Vanderjagt - Indianapolis
LS: Don Mulbach - Detroit
Head Coach: Buddy Ryan
Head Coach's Personal Bitch: Jeff Fisher - Tennessee
Offensive Coordinator: Mike Tice - Minnesota
QB Coach: Marty Mornhinweg - Philadelphia
Defensive Coordinator: Jim Mora - Retired
Posted by The Realests at 10:58 PM
If you haven't heard, the pharmaceutical company Merck had a major downfall. What people don't realize is that the reason for the downfall is that in the black community, Merck means death. So Merck ran into the same problem Chevy ran into trying to sell Novas to Latinos.
Posted by The Realests at 9:35 PM
So I went out to LA because I can't hack it here in The City. Here are my observations from the trip.
- Asian people love McDonald's. Yesterday at the airport, there were about 50 Asians on my flight from Los Angeles to Las Vegas and every single one of them was downing McDonald's.It was like a nightmare with no explanation. But then I realized maybe it does: McDonald's was probably the only food place they recognized in the airport and thus, they all stuffed their faces there. Or Asian people love McDonald's.
- Las Vegas is pure evil. Touching down in Las Vegas, I didn't quite realize how ridiculous the city was. I could see Paris, Seattle and New York from the window. When I got off the plane, there were slot machines everywhere. That didn't surprise me. But what did surprise me is that they weren't just next to all the shops, they were even in the waiting area for the planes. I wanted to go over and just shake an old lady that was throwing away her money. Just one long, hard shake. To get her mind right.
- A completely ridiculous event happened while I was getting off the plane at Newark. This event included four people:
Fat Black Husband (FBH)
Fat Black Wife (FBW)
Old White Lady (OWL)
Old Lady's Daughter (OLD)
Being in the back of the plane, it took forever for people to file off the plane. So people were pretty impatient when it was finally our turn to leave. The OWL and OLD were a rough in front of me, FBH and FBW. Right when I start to get out of my seat, FBW makes a run for it and tries to get around OWL. The OLD completely flips out and gives a very stern, "That's my mother". The best part is that OLD, in her rage, accidentally knocked FBH back into his chair. His fall was slow-motion, like when you see those guys on video get hit in the chest with a cannon ball. And he made a small whimper like a small dog that had been kicked. Poor guy.
- Completely unrelated to the trip, I had a very symbolic dream last night. It was a little confusing, but I think Michigan was playing at Washington in a nonconference game at the beginning of the season. For reasons that will soon become apparent, the game was being played in the street. This time we were down about 10 with just a couple minutes to go. Washington had the ball in our territory and everyone was expecting Michigan to pull the last-gasp-effort-that-isn't-quite-enough routine. But instead Lloyd Carr substituted the Marching Band for the Michigan defense. When Washington hiked the ball, our band started marching toward our own end zone while playing some song. Washington just followed our band into the end zone and the game was over. It was the ultimate coot player in a long history of cooterball. It was the apocolypse of Michigan football.
Posted by The Realests at 10:25 AM
We are approaching 16 hours straight in the apartment. We ordered delivery and had to be careful not to step outside in order to pay the man. Still no word on what our demands will be. But we must make ourselves clear: we will not leave until they have been met.
Posted by The Realests at 7:23 PM
Jim and I have gone out the last two nights.
That is unacceptable.
We've spent entirely too much time outside of our apartment and something has to be done about it.
So...we're holding ourselves hostage in our apartment until further notice.
We haven't decided what we will ask for in return for our release. But, we'll keep you posted.
Posted by The Realests at 3:59 PM
This is how pathetic we have gotten - we are blogging about this crap-ass game. And we didn't include times with our observations because we are getting bored with blogging. We simply have observations with think were funny while we were half-drunk.
- (In sportswriter voice) "How ironic: they are called the sophomores when half of these guys didn't even go to college."
- TNT is advertising Gladiator being on 3 nights in a row as if they had planned that for our viewing pleasure and not because they can't afford fresh programming.
- PJ Carleisemo is coaching the Rookie team and is taking it seriously ... is that what it has come to PJ???
- John Thompson just spoke for 30 seconds and we didn't understand a single word he said.
- Who is this white rookie from the Spurs? There are far too many white guys on that team: the rookie, Brent Barry, Manu Gonibili, Tim Duncan ...
- Are John Thompson and Paul Silas the same person?
- The announcers are saying that PJ Carleisemo deserves another head coaching opportunity. Let's make this clear: NEVER HIRE SOMEONE THAT COACHED THE ROOKIE/SOPHOMORE GAME.
- LeBron just back-bumped (the new hotness as opposed to chest-bumping) the Cavaliers mascot, Moondog. Who let Moondog on a plane? Better question: Is Moondog the ultimate Road Dog?
- The Bulls have three guys in this game: are they better without Jordan? Somehow the announcers don't present this question. Irresponsible journalism ...
- PJ Carleisemo is now screaming at his players to stop throwing alley-oops. Bet he wouldn't do that if Latrell Sprewell was on the floor.
- I wonder how many women in the audience slept with Wilt Chamberlain. I wonder how many people in the audience are related to Shawn Kemp. I wonder how many of Shawn Kemp's relatives slept with Wilt Chamerlain.
- Our lives must really suck to be blogging about this game.
Posted by The Realests at 11:16 PM
With my departure from NBC on Wednesday, I decided it was time to visit my old stomping grounds in Ann Arbor. So I caught this 6:00 AM flight to Detroit on Friday without telling anyone. Showing up at Carmen's place at around 9:00, I ran every possible reaction she could have to my surprise visit in my head - over and over. When Carmen opened her bedroom door, she immediately turned her back and stared in the opposite direction for 10 seconds - not one of the reactions I had envisioned. I then ran up and hugged her from behind and kissed her face. She continued to stare at the wall. It was special.
After catching a little more sleep, it was time to pull the flip on Brady. If you have read his blog, you know it was well executed. The chronology: Initially, he had no idea I was coming. Then he suspected I was going to surprise him. Then he was disappointed I didn't surprise him. At that exact moment, I ran up from behind at BW3 and almost gave him a heart attack.
All flipped out for the day, I headed home early content with my first day back in Ann Arbor.
Waking up around noon on Saturday, my stomach immediately started growling for Ann Arbor's food. Brady and I bum-rushed Blimpy Burger. By far the best meal I've had since leaving Ann Arbor: triple with a fried egg on a Kaiser roll, and splitting orders of french fries and onion rings with Brady. When we got to the cashier (and only when we got there), Brady opened his empty wallet.
Ah, just like old times.
Once our faces were stuffed, Brady and I were so full we could barely move. But we also realized we didn't have enough time to enjoy all the food Ann Arbor had to offer. I suddenly had an epiphany: go out in the snow, stick our hands down our throats, puke everything back up and head to Pancheros. Sad to say, we pussed out.
The M Cagers got absolutely hammered by Michigan State. The highlight actually came before the game, when the warmups became the Brent Petway showcase. For those that don't attend hoops games, it's really a surreal scene. The only people on the court for about a half hour were the Michigan players, just shooting layups and jumpers by their lonesome. And whenever Brent Petway was up, he would try some new highlight reel dunk. He even threw one ball off the shot clock once. I have no idea where Michigan State or Tom Izzo were - prolly drawing up plays in the lockerroom.
Leaving with about 15 minutes left in the contest, Brady, Carmen and I headed back to her place to watch The Notebook. The movie was absolute crap. I strongly discourage anyone from seeing it unless you have to pick between that, The Human Stain and Garden State.
Saturday night was also filled with face stuffing. A whole group of us went to Pizza House. As usual, Brady and I slammed down pepperoni stix and pizza. It was delicious. Afterward, Brady commented on how well behaved I was. Good thing I didn't tell him about shitting in the Pizza House urinal just for kicks.
The night was filled with dancing at the Necto. It was my first trip there. Brady made fun of my dancing and I'll be the first to admit, I sucked big time. But I didn't sweat through my shirt. Now that would be really embarassing. Right, Brady?
Sunday was rather quiet. Quick recap: breakfast at Angelos; stopping by the Daily for nice chats with John Lowe, Sharad Mattu and Ian Herbert; watching Mean Girls at Carmen's while she slept.
When I got to the airport, I pointed out that Lloyd Carr was on our flight.
I know it's ridiculous, but this gave me some sort of comfort - knowing Coach Carr was on our flight. It was as if the probability of a plane crash was cut in half. I mean, a Michigan football coach could NOT go out like a new jack in a plane crash. Unfortunately, once we started to board the plane, Lloyd headed with a new buddy of his to the gate for Fort Meyers, Florida. Just like that, the probability of a crash doubled because I realized I could TOTALLY go out like a new jack.
It was a decent flight, though. Except for the guy next to me. Weighing in at about 275 pounds, he had a smoker's cough and blew his noise in between hacks. It was a disgusting. And infuriating. Then he blocked my view of the Manhattan skyline upon descent. In a fit of rage, I convinced myself fat people deserved how society treats them. It was a pretty sick thought and I apologize for it.
Guy Next To Me: if you are reading this, I'm sorry.
Posted by The Realests at 2:48 AM
If you have not heard, the writer of a movie about stoners getting White Castle thinks our movie is stupid. Therefore, it has become apparent to us that we must define what is funny and what is not.
A dog being flushed down the toilet by a cat and turning blue -- a la Meet the Fockers.
1/2 of The Realests getting a pizza pie thrown in his face without flinching a muscle.
Steve the Pirate -- from Dodgeball
If Steve the Pirate was actually Lance Armstrong.
Hunter having a reason to go to Greece.
Hunter going to Greece.
That is all for now ---- dickriders.
Posted by The Realests at 11:09 AM
Super Bowl Sunday. Jim and I decided to do a running blog, because frankly, we had some pretty important stuff to say about this game and we're much funnier than the million other people that blogged tonight.
First, how about some improvements on the Super Bowl? Jim's idea: the NFL builds an island off the coast of Dubai and hold the game there every year - the island's only purpose. The 30 teams that dont make the Super Bowl should be humiliated in some way. Potential jobs for them: massaging cramps out of Todd Pinkston's legs and participating in the halftime show as the planted fans that crowd around the stage.
Now to the real meat of the blog.
4:50 - Ex-Presidents Clinton and Bush were at the game to congratulate the NFL for its tsunami aid relief work. Definitely a good cause. But H.W. Bush came into the stadium with some swagger. While high fiving a fan, he made a priceless face. The best way to describe the motion is that it looked like he lost his mind, which is automatically funny.
5:30 - Just to kill time, Fox ran a ten minute re-enactment of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Marshall Faulk, Michael Strahan, Warrick Dunn, and others all read parts of the Declaration of Independence. I have no idea whose idea this was but they should immediately be fired. (On a side note - is it any coincidence that the Patriots have been winning Super Bowls since Bush has put us in a state of perpetual war? I don't think so. Someone should look into this).
6:18 - Fox announces the Eagles and no one runs out of the tunnel. Wonder what the NFL would have done if the 49ers had run out instead, guns a blazin' ...
6:38 - The NFL decided to let some little kid from Jacksonville do the coin toss. Worst toin coss (yes, I said toin coss, and I won't correct it - like my unbuckled belt) in NFL history - no rotation on the coin. Donovan McNabb pats the kid on the head. Everyone feels warm inside.
6:45 - Eagles win a challenge on a Donovan McNabb fumble. He was ruled down and there was no fumble. Has it ever felt so good to get sacked on third and long during the first drive of the Super Bowl? No. (Clap Brigade).
7:01 - Commercial for GoDaddy.com. What happened to family values?? One of the first commercials during the Super Bowl has a boobmatic woman testifying in front of Congress, making sexual innuendos in a white tank top, and dancing around. Fox is great - they don't care about the FCC and they're not afraid of breasts. This is the same station that brought us Temptation Island.
7:01-7:06 - Jim leaves the room to check out godaddy.com, thinking its an adult website. He returns upset. If you read the blue balls article, you can feel his pain.
7:03 - Joe Buck discusses the hyperbaric chamber T.O used for his ankle and gives credit for the chamber to Austin Powers. What the hell? He clearly missed a Zoolander reference. That mistake, combined with his distaste for Randy Moss, mean that Joe Buck is at the top of our most hated list. He might join the list of dickriders we dedicate the movie to.
7:09 - Mike Vrabel is on steroids. He was marginal at OSU but once he hits the NFL he turns into a pretty good linebacker, who catches Super Bowl touchdown passes in his spare time? He's on the juice.
7:12 - This year's commercials suck. Good thing Fratboy Missionaries is on the way. It's much funnier than the crap you're forced to sit through nowadays.
7:19 - McNabb throws 3453 red-zone interceptions in a row. Donovan - please stop throwing interceptions.
7:22 - Close up of the Eagles cheerleaders. Whoever said the Super Bowl was a family event was completely wrong. Put some clothes on these girls .... or don't.
7:23 - Just saw a commercial for Hitch. OUR MOVIE IS MUCH FUNNIER THAN HITCH. Also, Will Smith did a little Philly intro for Fox during player introductions where he tried to act street. That's always amusing.
7:24 - Promo commercial for 24. Interestingly enough, it takes place 24 minutes past 7. Coincidence?
7:42 - The refs allow the Eagles to run around with the football after a blatant NON fumble because they didn't want to make a call that couldn't be reversed. Now that's cooter.
8:20 - Paul McCartney is on. Half of the stadium is asleep. If MTV was smart, they'd be playing a tape of last year's halftime.
8:48 - Mike Vrabel catches a touchdown and immediately goes into roid rage. His touchdown celebration makes me think for a second: If Gus Frerotte was on steroids, would he have killed himself by headbutting the wall back in the day? Mike Vrabel certainly would. Do they even test for steroids in the NFL?
9:09 - The Eagles resort to out routes to move the football up the field. Andy Reid deserves to be punched in the face.
9:16 - Terrell Owens continues to scorch the Patriots on a broken ankle. Todd Pinkston hobbles off the field with cramps and goes into the locker room to cry. What's wrong with this picture?
9:46 - Donovan McNabb throws another interception. Maybe Rush Limbaugh was right ...
9:54 - Donovan McNabb makes another bonehead play. Rush Limbaugh was right ...
10:12 - With the ball at their own 10-yard line with a minute left, Chris Collingsworth says this is the best possible situation for Donovan McNabb. We disagree. The best possible situation would have been for the Eagles to be up 10 and running out the clock.
10:19 - The Eagles continue to use the huddle with 3:00 left in the game. Rush Limbaugh has just been named the new Eagles offensive coordinator.
10:20 - Harrison picks off the ball, the sob stories begin about rough childhoods.
10:21 - Crap, now what do we do the rest of the night?
10:36 - Patriots owner Bob Craft comes to the podium wasted and makes a fool out of himself. Luckily, Suzy Kolber was not in attendance.
Posted by The Realests at 11:02 PM
Jim and I were walking back from Joe's Pizza last night and decided that there is one absolute truth in this world:
We are the two funniest people on the planet.
That's right. We said it. You can't floss on our level.
When we are on a roll there's no stopping us. When you're thinking of something funny, we're taking that idea, flipping it, twerking it, flip mctwerking it, and handing it back to you three trillion times funnier.
So here it is. A challenge. To any two people that want to go toe to toe with us. If you're a real man/men, you'll take us up on this...but we doubt you will.
Posted by The Realests at 2:02 PM
Sorry I haven't blogged in a long time, but I was going through something of a personal crisis. You see, there's an inevitable downswing that occurs when you've done something amazing. After writing the movie script, sending it out and talking to big-name Hollywood figures, and spitting constant fire on the blog, I lost my way. I didn't know where to go from there and how I could maintain this level of realety. Now, don't get it twisted - I wasn't being a Coot McCoot. I was going through the same self-destructive creative process that every genius in history has gone through - Einstein, Van Gogh, Anders Bard, Hovito, etc. Actually, I take it back. Anders Bard is no genius - but his blue dog is. Anyway, sorry for the digression.
At one point in that phase, I decided to call it quits, like MJ in his prime, like Hov at Madison Square Garden. I thought that maybe being real was played out. Maybe there's more to life than total obnoxiousness and shameless self promotion. Maybe having an incredibly high opinion of yourself wasn't the way to approach my day to day activities. Streets was talking about how it's wack to use a blog as a shameless way to promote and advertise the ridiculous things you do. I didn't know what to do.
But then, something happened. Jim came home from a long, difficult day at NBC and handed me a book. At first, I couldn't see the title because my face was covered with chicken parm, but after a moment I looked at the title and I realized that I had to get back on the grind. The title of the book? Blue Dog Love. It was almost as if Anders Bard had showed up at my door and called me a Coot McCoot to my face. Something in me flipped and I'm ashamed to ever have thought that being real wasn't my true calling in life.
I'm back. I'm real. And this blog will tell you about my realety.
Posted by The Realests at 1:46 PM
As I was getting my teeth kicked in playing Madden online, I realized what a sad state sports video games are in. For example, whenever my opponent got in a tough situation, they just ran corner routes. Well, we've known for years that corner routes should have no part in the game. But when you can't challenge someones manhood in person, they just keep running the same play over and over again. Then there is the defense. The people I play online call the same blitz package everytime and are such losers, they have perfected this blitz by adding the "Playmaker" mode to their attack. It is impossible to run the football, and you get two seconds to throw it. Miraculously, everyone remains covered. It's like in Super Tecmo Bowl when your opponent would pick your play. Except this is every single play. On Super Tecmo Bowl, you had a 75% of having a successful play. To put it simply: video games shouldn't have these elaborate playbooks and formations until they can guarantee the game cannot be manipulated to a point where opponents are simply looking for new gimmicks to exploit each other. Digressing back to the online video game, I called the guy a cooter and felt much better about myself - I think he was twelve.
Posted by The Realests at 8:38 PM