Remember when LMFAO was just an annoying Internet phrase?

Okay, so I know that standards within the music industry have lowered significantly over the past couple of decades, and that presently, are probably at an all-time low.

I’m fully aware that shitty artists can make it big now based solely on their looks and their gimmick. I’m looking at you, Ke$ha.

Also I’m also aware of the fact that shitty artists can become big based solely on their ability to continuously craft catchy pop song after catchy pop song. Hi, Katy Perry!

Finally, I know that shitty artists can become famous because of who their mother or father is. What’s up, Miley Cyrus?

While having one of those attributes shouldn’t qualify you for stardom, at least it gives you a sense of accomplishment. Being hot, being good at writing shitty songs, and being born to a famous musician are still very rare commodities, and are nothing to be ashamed if that is what led to you becoming famous.

That being said, if there is any incontrovertible proof that absolutely anybody can become a famous musical artist in today’s age, it is these guys:

LMFAO

For one thing, they are absolutely hideous to look at. They are two disgusting, out of shape, unclean bums that looked like a studio executive picked up off the street.

Plus their songs shouldn’t even qualify as songs, since they are just stupid phrases being repeated over and over again while club music blasts in the background.

I’ve seen them perform live on television on awards shows, and this is pretty much how it goes:

There is one endless beat that gives the audience something to dance to, so I guess that is something.

There are tons of dancers they incorporate who do absolutely ridiculous dance moves, so I guess that is something.

This guy comes out on stage also, so I guess that is something:

But then the two LMFAO guys come out, and provide absolutely no entertainment value whatsoever. They yell into a microphone and just jump around the stage. So, in essence, they can’t sing, they can’t dance, and they’re ugly as shit. Why… why… why? How are these guys famous?!

I have never had even the slightest glimmer of hope of ever becoming a musical artist. I can’t carry a tune, I can’t rap, I can’t dance, and I don’t have Justin Beiber-like pureness to appeal to 12-year-old girls. However, lacking all of those traits still makes me more qualified as a musician than the two guys from LMFAO.

In comparison with LMFAO, the Black Eyes Peas look like the Beatles.

And heck, you can’t even hate on these guys. They look like complete average Joes and yet they are making millions of dollars by making party music that other people can listen to at a bar or club while drunk. Who in their right mind would not sign up for that?

You look at what other musicians have had to overcome to become famous. Ke$ha, who overcame a lack of singing ability. Katy Perry, who overcame her unsuccessful attempt at becoming a gospel-rock artist to become famous, and Miley Cyrus, who overcame… well nothing, since she has really accomplished nothing.

And yet, LMFAO overcame the small fact that they possess no musical talent whatsoever. And now they are household names in the musical world. Are you kidding? This is the ultimate success story.

Also, don’t act like you don’t say “Everyday I’m shufflin'” aloud at least one time per day.

Because you do.

Every day I’m muffing it

As a newbie to online clothes shopping, I would like to take this time to express show glad I am with one of my recent purchases.

The other day, on Amazon, I bought these bad boys for $12:

Yes, those are earmuffs. Yes, they still exist. And yes, I am proudly sporting them.

First of all, let me say that I have absolutely no shame whatsoever in wearing ear muffs. I do not understand why they would be labeled as “feminine” or “unmanly.” Okay, maybe the second one I understand a little.

My new ear muffs are not only stylish, but they keep my ears extremely warm and they are very fuzzy and comfortable.

Also, allow me to explain why ear muffs appealed to me. I know that typical manly winter hats consist of these such things:

It’s athletic, it’s sporty, I get it. I also know that hats like these have recently come back into style:

But here is why these hats don’t work for me.

When I go out, I like to look good, so I take a few minutes to do my hair. If I were to wear a hat, it would cancel that out completely. Thus, a hat is not an option.

However, when I go out, and if I know I may spend time walking around outside, then I tend to become cold. Especially my ears. Ear muffs allow me to keep my ears warm while maintaining my groovy hairstyle; it’s win-win.

Also, I bought them online, so it’s not like I actually took significant time out of my life to make the purchase. Because everybody knows that the only thing worse than purchasing ear muffs, is traveling to the mall with the sole purpose of purchasing ear muffs. What was I going to scout out the ear muff section in Macy’s? I don’t think so.

Ear muffs are practical, stylish and comfortable. Until someone can sell me on one single downside of wearing ear muffs, then I will continue to sport them until further notice.

So in other news, Anheuser-Busch recently announced the creation of a new variation of its Budweiser brand, called Bud Platinum. The beer is being advertised as a “light beer that has more alcohol content.”

Thus, it appeals to the people who like to drink lighter beer, allowing them to pace their drunkenness, and consume more alcohol along the way (me.)

It also appeals to those who wish to get as drunk as they possibly can (also me.)

They even designed the logo to look just like the Bud Light can, further reinforcing the similarities.

The beer contains 137 calories, compared to the 110 that Bud Light boasts. So, not too much of a difference. However, after five beers, that is a good 135 extra calories (thanks, computer calculator.)

The beer also contains a 6.0% alcohol by volume, up from Bud Light’s 4.2% . Budweiser, meanwhile, has a 5.0% alcohol by volume, and is 140 calories. So the Bud Platinum is actually closer to Budweiser than it is Bud Light. As far as how close it is in taste, however, remains to be seen.

I for one will be interested to see if the beer catches on, and whether it will be a commonplace addition to local taverns. If it is, and it costs the same, then I’ll gladly give it a shot. And if it does in fact taste just like Bud Light, as the advertising suggests, then perhaps I will form a close affinity with this beer.

All I know is that after the disaster that was Bud Light Golden Wheat, Bud Platinum could only be an improvement. There’s only one way to find out.

I really hope all this beer talk canceled out my ear muff monologue, but… probably not.

Probably not.

“The window”

There’s a tricky time period when you happen to meet somebody who you are attracted to.

In my opinion, it’s extremely tacky and cliche to blatantly hit on someone upon first meeting them. Okay, so maybe if you’re at a bar, and you’re both drunk (or at least you are drunk), then all rules are off.

But when you’re sober, and you’re formally introduced, and you know that you will be seeing this person again, that is when it gets tough.

I say it’s tough because if the two of you were to ever launch into some type of romantic escapade, whether it be hooking up, a fling, or dare I say it — an actual relationship, then your time to accomplish this is limited.

Firstly, there is at least a two-week, or rather, a four-or-five-encounter grace period. That grace period should give you enough time to actually get to know the person, and discover a) if you are both are single (you can never ask obviously; you just have to hope that you never hear a mention of the significant other), and b) if there is chemistry.

You accomplish this through casual conversations. Pay attention to eye contact, and try to note just how interested this person is in you. Because, let’s face it, if she has no attraction towards you, then she probably doesn’t care about you that much. Also, if she laughs at all your jokes then that is probably a good thing too.

This two-week grace period is a good time to, first, Facebook friend them, and secondly, to casually get their phone number in a suave, casual way. If both those tasks go smoothly, then you’re on the right track.

If there is indeed chemistry, then, so begins “the window” phase. What this means, is that you have to act fast. During this window, which I say lasts a good few weeks, things are new and exciting. The two of you know enough about each other to know you like the other person, and you don’t know enough bad traits to scare you away, since it’s so new.

So that is when you make your move. If you let “the window” pass, then things get troublesome. That’s when questions arise, and you start having second thoughts.

These thoughts are “Hmm, maybe this person doesn’t actually like me,” or, “you know what, I don’t actually like this person that much,” etc. Thus, that is why you have to act during “the window.” If you wait too long and miss it, it becomes extremely awkward. The sexual tension may still be there, but yet, there’s this weird dynamic that will deter you two from ever becoming actual friends. Also, the girl in this situation will probably think you are gay.

Of course, if you are unattractive, then none of this applies. From the moment you first laid eyes on the object of your affection, you were always destined for the friend-zone. Sorry, bud.

So if you’re ever debating asking a girl out, the key is folks, to do it during “the window.” Yeah, yeah, I know you’ll find some excuse to say why “you aren’t ready,” and that you are “just biding your time,” but the truth is, you’re probably just a pussy. Man up. Don’t let the window close.

But my question is, what if you work together? Does the window period shorten or elongate? For one thing, it expedites the process. Since you see each other daily, you get to know each other quicker, and thus are able to ascertain more information to help you decide whether you like this person or not. It could work to both your extreme advantage and disadvantage.

Additionally, since you are around this person so often, it gives you more opportunities to find the right time to ask somebody out. It really is an interesting dynamic, and something that needs to be explored further. I honestly don’t really know the answer to the question.

But either way, “the window” still applies. If three, four or five months go by, and you still haven’t made a move, then it’s over.

At the very least, even if you get rejected, at least you still gave it a shot and maintained your pride, am I right people? Our pride is really all we have.

So my advice to all you pussies who think she may be out of your league, is to man up, and make sure you act during the appropriate time. Once that window closes, it’s not opening again, my friend.

My love for Maria Sharapova revisited

I have always been a fan of tennis. First and foremost, it’s one of the most fun sports to play. Unlike sports such as basketball, baseball and football, tennis is a complete individual effort, and that is one of the things I like about it. You don’t have teammates or coaches to give you a boost when you need it. It’s all on you.

Not many sports test your personal will, drive and inner strength more than tennis. And not to mention that it is a terrific workout.

So that is why I love the sport and why I have the utmost respect for professional tennis players. Back in the day, I was an Andre Agassi guy through and through. He was my favorite, and I always rooted for him over Sampras, even though Pete got the best of him most of the time. I also was a big Steffi Graf fan.

Unfortunately, American tennis sucks now. But the sport is still great.

And then one day in 2004, a 17-year-old girl came out of nowhere and defeated the powerhouse Serena Williams to win Wimbledon. Her name was Maria Sharapova. Since then I’ve always been a fan.

But it wasn’t until a few years ago, when Ms. Sharapova grew up and transformed from a tennis wunderkind to a professional women when I really fell in love with her.

In my mind, she is absolutely stunningly beautiful and nobody else in this world is prettier than her.

And it wasn’t just her looks that made me love her. Okay, maybe it was. But a few years ago, I suddenly found myself finding every interview she’s ever done, every video she’s ever been in, and watching them all. For a girl who has really been in the media spotlight her entire life, she just gets it. She knows not to take things too seriously, and most importantly, no matter how many microphones are in her face, she is always herself. She could not be more down to earth.

And what really solidifies my love for her is her determination on the court. She’s not even close to being the most athletic tennis player out there, in fact, she’s actually kind of awkward-looking when she plays tennis. She rarely dominates matches, but she always manages to win. The reason being is because, plain and simply, she wants it more.

Also, bear in mind that she is set for life financially. With her endorsements and her own clothing lines, she could have retired five years ago and moved to Cancun and lived out the rest of her life on a beach. Yet, she still plays the game, still works harder than anyone, and that’s because she wants to be the best. Unfortunately, she only has three grand slams to her name.

My biggest shame in life is that Maria and I never had a chance encounter in somehow. Even if it was just for five minutes. Somehow, miraculously, I think that five minutes would be all of the time I need to convince her that we should be together.

First of all, her and I have a lot in common.

I was born on April 7, 1987.

Maria was both on April 19, 1987 — just 12 days apart!

And the similarities actually end there, really. But that pretty much makes us soul mates.

I can’t help but find myself, every time Maria Sharapova is performing live on television, rooting for her harder than I have ever rooted for anything else. The reason I bring this up is because she is playing in the semifinals in the Australian Open in a couple of hours, and you’re damn right I will be watching.

You know how couples will often make their “top 5 list”, comprised of celebrities, and if by some miracle, one of them ever comes across someone on their list, they are allowed to flirt with them, and their significant other can’t object?

Well, I wouldn’t even need to make that list. I could be happily married, and love my wife more than anything in the world, and yet, if I came across Maria Sharapova, I would gladly — without a moment’s hesitation — sacrifice my marriage just to have a chance with her. In my mind, it would be absolutely worth it.

Well worth it indeed.

Everybody has a celebrity crush. For me, it will always be Maria Sharapova.

Be honest, who actually flosses?

Every year when I go to the dentist for my cleaning, the same exact thing happens.

I tell my oral hygienist, “I’ve made much more of an effort this year!”

She responds, “Great. Open up and we’ll see.”

And then she proceeds to say that I, in fact, am doing a terrible job taking care of my teeth, and that if I continue at this pace, it could become a bigger issue, and most importantly, I need to floss every day.

What the hell? This year, I started brushing twice a day. Once in the morning and once in the evening. I even use mouthwash once a day. I’m pretty sure flossing isn’t the one missing piece of the puzzle that would lead my mouth towards vintage, pristine health.

I think dentists are just perfectionists, and that no matter how white my teeth are, I would still be told that I need to improve.

Honestly, who the hell actually wants to take time out of their day to floss? It just is not something that I could bring myself to do. My normal bathroom process involves: brush teeth, shower, cleanse, wash hair, dry, leave. Flossing doesn’t fit anywhere in that mix.

Additionally, I don’t know any one who flosses, either. When does the word “floss” actually come up in casual conversation? Also, I crash at people’s houses often. When I use their bathroom, I don’t see a pack of dental floss sitting at the forefront of their display (Yes, I check the display.)

To me, dental floss seems like such an antiquated object. There’s no better tool that we can discover that will get the job done? I actually have to take a string, maneuver it between two hands, and slide it between my teeth? It is way too tedious and just too much work.

Or better yet, there should be some type of toothbrush that incorporates flossing. That way, you are killing two birds with one stone. Either way, shouldn’t a toothbrush get all of the food remnants out of your teeth? Where is all this tartar coming from when the dentist cleans my teeth, anyway? I’m half-convinced that she plants it there herself when examining my teeth, just so she could tell me that I need to do better.

Heck, even the word “floss” is so freaking dull.

I’m curious if there are people out there who floss their teeth as part of their daily routine. That it’s so commonplace that they don’t even realize that they are flossing. That if they don’t floss, they don’t feel complete for the rest of the day.

Lastly, I’m 100% certain that if I were to floss every day for the next year, that when I return to my dentist, I would still be told that I need to floss. You just can’t win with these people.

Upon going to the dentist last week, and being told that I needed to floss more, I asked my dentist if she had free floss I could have, and she gave it to me. I have absolutely no idea what I did with it, and I can’t find it anywhere. If that isn’t a sign from God that flossing is absolutely unnecessary and worthless, then I don’t know what is.

Or it could just be a sign that I am an idiot.

What would you choose?

I was meandering around the Internet the other day, when I came across this profound question:

You can choose two of the following three choices about the kind of person you can be. For the the one you don’t choose, you would be the complete opposite.

a. You are rich, worth about 100 million dollars. If you don’t choose this, you are poor at about the welfare level, where once in a while you have to miss a meal.

b. You are extremely good-looking, well hung, and make love like a porn star. If you don’t choose this, you are physically repulsive with a micro penis and horrible in bed.

c. You are a certified genius, Einstein/Stephen Hawking level IQ. If you don’t choose this you are a few IQ points above being retarded.

Which two would you choose?

Keep in mind that you are stuck with your choices. For example, you can’t use your high intelligence to make money. Or you can’t use your riches to have penis enlargement surgery.

Okay, so I thought long and hard about this, and I came to the conclusion that I would choose B and C. Hear me out.

On the surface, the most practical answers would be A and C, while sticking with the logic that “looks aren’t everything.”

Well, call it shallow, but I don’t care. I could live with being horrible in bed (sex is still sex), and may even be able to live with the micro penis (as long as it works — again, sex is still sex), but I absolutely can not live while being physically repulsive, and knowing that every single time I glance in a girl’s direction, she will think, “man, that is one ugly dude.” No amount of money or intelligence could ever make me live with that. So that solidifies choice B.

Then the question comes down to, brains or money?

Well, the question is a little absurd in the fact that if I was really that brilliant, there’s no way in hell that I wouldn’t, at the very least, be able to make ends meet. If I had an Einstein/Stephen Hawking-level IQ, I’m fairly certain that I would be able to get a job and make some amount of money.

But, regardless, I’d still take the brains anyway.

I understand that if I had $100 million and was borderline retarded, then I would basically be the male Paris Hilton. I could still be extremely successful and since I’m blissfully ignorant to all of the world problems (since I’m os dumb), then I’d be permanently happy. But what mark would I make on the world?

Here is what the fundamental question comes down to, in my mind:

If you simply just want to just live a fun life, and not much else, then you take the money. There is no shame in that whatsoever. You wouldn’t have to work a day in your life, you can travel across the globe, and buy whatever the hell you want at any given time. That’s not too shabby of a life, if I may say.

However, if you actually would like to make a difference in the world, and maybe become some sort of technological pioneer a la Steve Jobs, then you take the brains. It’s really what gives you more kicks.

For me, nothing would give me more joy in the world than to be extremely intelligent. Not because I want to be smarter than everyone and act like I’m better than everyone (I do that anyway), but because I want to make a difference.

I want to actually leave my mark in this world in an extremely positive way. If I really was that smart, then I am sure I would be able to find a way to do that. And at the end of the day, I would want to know that I did it myself. That I did it because of nobody but me. No money in the world could buy that for me.

So I would take the brains and the looks, and gladly be poor. If you’re smart, then you’d be able to figure out how to make it through life on a day-to-day basis, and how to please a woman without having money to throw at her. Especially if I was “extremely good-looking.”

Honestly, if this question was proposed, I’d say the most commonly selected option would be B. You can say whatever you want, but being good-looking is extremely important in life. There’s no way to sugarcoat that universal truth. If you look good, you are more likely to succeed in this world.

There is no denying the importance of being a genuinely good person as well, but that is really just a bonus.

So what would you choose?

Is Joe Pa evil?

By now I’m sure you’ve all heard the news of Joe Paterno’s passing. A tragic end to an illustrious life. Also, if you were to come across me in person anytime over the next 48 hours, I will probably make some type of unnecessary Joe Paterno joke and/or reference. Please forgive me for it. And especially you, God, if you’re up there.

I’m a little surprised by the public hatred of Joe Paterno. And by public, I am referring to the Twitterverse and a couple of Internet message board that I frequent (not Reddit.) I emphasize the word “little,” because while I did expect some negative statements towards Joe Pa, I didn’t expect anything along the lines of “have fun in hell!” which, believe it or not, I actually have seen.

Joe Paterno heard about a crime. Let’s not forget that. He didn’t commit the crime, he didn’t even see the crime. For him it was all hearsay. Granted, it was an absolutely malicious crime, and the “hearsay” in this instance is a direct eye-witness, but nonetheless, he was simply informed of Jerry Sandusky’s wrongdoings.

A minor aside: I was hoping to avoid this blog without mentioning that evil, sadistic creature’s name, because if it wasn’t for that sick motherfucker, we wouldn’t be having this conversation to begin with.

Anyway, so Joe Pa did what he needed to do to appease the courts. He informed his superiors, the athletic director and school president, and that was that. Those people should have been the ones responsible for publicly outing and stopping the situation, and they royally failed. Shame on them.

I know the common cry from the masses is, “But Joe Paterno was Penn State. He could have stopped this.”

You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe Paterno could have single-handedly stopped it. But let’s backtrack a little bit.

One on hand, you’re entire life has revolved around Penn State. At the time, you’ve been coaching there for nearly 25 years, employed there for about 40, and you live and breathe Penn State. You’ve given thousands upon thousands of dollars into that program, you’ve guided hundreds of young men through the school, and you’re one of the most successful coaches of any sport to ever walk this planet.

Suddenly, one day — one dreaded, fateful day — a young Penn State employee, whose name you don’t even know, approaches you. He informs you of a heinous, sinister act that he saw Jerry Sandusky, your good buddy, perform. Do you believe it? Your gut tells you yes, but your heart tells you no.

So you do a little inquiring and you find out that it is probably true. You mull it over, and decide to inform your superiors. At this point, there’s no need to do anything further. You’ve done the right thing.

But then days pass. Weeks pass. Months pass. Jerry Sanudsky is still employed, and nothing has changed.

That is probably the point when you inquire further, thinking that a more drastic punishment should have been performed by now.

But what do you do? After speaking again with your superiors, and discovering that the proper means (let’s face it, there is no real proper means — Sandusky deserves to burn in fire and brimstone) are not being taken, then what?

Joe Paterno is one man. He’s not Superman. He couldn’t have snapped his fingers and stopped this situation. People are asking way too much. I’ve read conflicting reports as to whether Paterno, or anybody else, informed police officials of the situation. Most say they were informed, but ignored it. They too, probably wanted to avoid the media shitstorm that would befall the great, prideful institution that is Penn State (established in 1855.) Again, shame on them.

It’s easy to sit comfortably on your couch, watching ESPN and sipping your morning coffee, and say “Oh, he should have stopped it.” This predicament is so dire, so unique, that it’s impossible to even begin to fathom what each of us would have done had we been in Joe Paterno’s shoes. It would have been an absolutely heroic individual effort to undertake. Could it have been done? Sure — people can amount to great things when they are determined. Just ask Martin Luther King or Paul Rusesabagina (If you haven’t seen Hotel Rwanda, you should — great movie) about individual efforts.

It would have cost him, at the time, his job, his reputation and his legacy by exposing it (which he ended up losing anyway), not to mention throwing his good buddy Jerry to the wolves for the remainder of his life, but it could have been done. Think about all that.

And let’s not forget, Joe Paterno is old school. About 90% of his life was before Twitter and before Facebook. Shit, like 75% of his life was even before computers. Before this great media age, people could, and did, get away with a lot of shit. So could he have anticipated the fallout that would transpire over a decade later, with the existence of 24 hour nonstop sports coverage? Hell no. No one could.

This situation was out of Joe Pa’s hands. It was out of any man’s hands. if everybody involved did what was required of them at the time — like Joe Pa did — then the situation would have been resolved immediately. A shitstorm of taint and bad press still would have befallen Penn State, but at least it would have been focused on the wrongdoer itself, and not the “cover up,” like what happened this past year.

Joe Pa is dead now, and he died in disgrace. Recently fired, discredited and outcast from society, his name forever coinciding with Jerry Sandusky. But comparing those two is like comparing apples and… anything that isn’t an apple.

I’m not trying to defend Paterno, I’m trying stay objective, and at the same time, respond to the ignorance and absurdity that many people will exude in the coming days. It’s ignorance because most people who speak about it probably do not know the proper or correct details.

There’s no question that Paterno deserves a lot of blame, but does he deserve to be labeled as evil? Does he deserve to burn in Hell? Excuse the pun, but hell no. Shame on Sandusky, shame on Penn State officials and shame on the police for not doing what they were dutifully and morally obligated to do.

So, for a day, try and forget the scandal, and take a moment of silence for Joe Pa. RIP coach.

And while you do that, I can take the moment to cross him off of my death pool list.