Thursday, March 31, 2011

Rooftops and Invitations

This is a little old, as the news first broke over the past weekend. But since The Hero is a USC alum, I figured I'd give his alma mater it's full moment of "glory".

Photos (see below) surfaced of a member of USC's Kappa Sigma frat and a female (I don't think it's been stated whether or not she's also a USC student) doing God's work on the rooftop of an academic building while a philanthropic event took place in the quad below. The stunt was, of course, incredibly stupid. But...I can't lie, it's kind of pimp, too. This guy's going to have to rely on those pimping skills, though, as it's looking like he may get booted from the university (he's already been suspended from the fraternity).

I'll tell you what else: I really miss Cali girls.

(photos via T.I.T.S. blog)

The story even got the Taiwanese animation treatment given to Tiger Woods and numerous other pop culture moments over the past year.

Future Video Vixen?

Well, a future DJ at least. This little girl loves her some Cudi. Funny shit. My boy Profound with the assist.

Respect My Gangsta: Silvio Berlusconi

The Italian Prime Minister's been making headlines recently for his alleged trysts with a 17 year old prostitute. But despite being surrounded by that kind of scandalous air, he's doing anything but shying away from critics' arrows. In fact, at a press conference yesterday on the island of Lampedusa, the 74 year old pimping-expert threw a shot across their bow.

From The Daily Mail: a press conference, he found time to joke with local women.

The prime minister, who faces an allegation of under-age sex with a prostitute told them: "According to a survey, when asked if they would like to have sex with me, 30 percent said, 'Yes', while the other 70 percent replied, 'What, again?'."
Play on, playa...

Throwback Thursday: "Still D.R.E." -- Dr. Dre ft. Snoop Dogg

I want to live in this video (damn I miss Cali...*shivers*). And letting this beat bump on loop is just therapeutic.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Tehmeena's Back

...and she's doing her part to support the New York Mets. A couple of months ago Miss Afzal put her assets behind a similar pitch for the Knicks. The city of New York owes a great debt to her. As does Crooked Straight (call me girl).

It's almost enough to make me a fan of baseball. Almost...

Tehmeena / Ms. Meena SEXY "New York Mets" Tribute video from TEHMEENA AFZAL on Vimeo.

Monday, March 28, 2011

M-Rod's Dirty Pillows

For guys, the term "slumber party" evokes images of nubile, scantily-clad young ladies gossiping about boys, having pillow fights, and practicing kissing. And I see no reason why anyone should ever contend that none of this is, in fact, reality.

But when one of those nubile young hotties is Michelle Rodriguez...shit can get real.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Gus Johnson's History-onics

If you've ever watched an NFL or an NCAA basketball game where the play-by-play has been done by Johnson, then you know the guy's...a little excitable. Johson's flare for the dramatic, in fact, even earned him the role of lead announcer on Madden 2011.

But Johnson's fame is only now blossoming, as he has been on the scene for a relatively short period of time. What if he had been around to call some of sports history's biggest moments? What if he had been around to call some of history's biggest moments? The folks at Funny or Die have an answer.

Throwback Thursday: "Smile" -- Scarface ft. Tupac

Classic words of wisdom from two of the brightest the game has ever known (R.I.P., Pac.)

Jimmies Jacked

These might be the most responsible criminals ever. I guess someone has some big plans this weekend.


A condom machine has been stolen from a shuttered Washington state sports bar, where fixtures are being auctioned off.

Police spokesman Mark Young also says an ATM machine was damaged in the break-in early Tuesday at the old Quarterback Pub. It's been closed for more than a year.

The Bellingham Herald reports an auction company employee discovered the burglary.

It's unknown if any condoms were left in the machine when it was stolen.

Chappy with the assist.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Sporty Racks

I like to consider myself a bit of an original. There are a lot of things about me that I suppose you could consider status quo at best, stereotypical at worst; but I also have many hobbies and tastes that just aren't that common among the various demographically-configured groups in which someone might put me. Poker, Formula 1, various genres of music from hip-hop to folk, World War II history... I can be eclectic.

Two of my loves, though, are as "red-blooded male" as they come: sports and boobies. It seems the folks at Bleacher Report, though they may not share my appreciation of aces rolled over kings or a late-breaking maneuver approaching St. Devote, still know me pretty well.

Serena's Still Got It

...and if you guessed "it" is a beautiful, big ol' ass, well you're on my wavelength. Here's the new commercial for 2K Sports' new tennis game, "Top Spin".

Friday, March 18, 2011

It's Friday

Time to spread the love...

Tail Report: Moran Atias

Meet the latest addition to the ranks of "wifey status". This delicious actress-slash-model comes to you straight from Israel, and has started making appearances on primetime TV in the US. L'Chaim!

Here's a bonus pic that I would've posted, but it's just a nip beyond our "decency" standards (yeah, it shocks me too to find out we have any).

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Throwback Thursday: "Oh No" -- Mos Def, Pharoahe Monch, & Nate Dogg

Both Mos and Pharaohe spit sick verses (unfortunately Mos' is shortened in the video), and as usual Nate brings a powerful hook. This is probably my favorite track that Nate ever appeared on. R.I.P.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Miss March

Fellas, have you ever had your tourney brackets blown to pieces by a George Mason, Butler, or Santa Clara, while your female friend, who spends more time watching "The Bachelor" than college basketball, shoots to the top of scoring sheets? Or said "WTF?" when you heard on the news that a little old grandmother in Wisconsin was the only person in the nation to have correctly predicted the outcome of every single game?

Well, finally, someone has found a scientific way of breaking down girls' March Madness bracket picks.

From Seven Daughters:

Auto Eroticism: McLaren MP4-12C

There's a new McLaren supercar on the road, and she's a sexy bitch. With a 3.8 litre V-8 engine and happy-in-the-pants performance, the MP4-12C is being toted as a Ferrari 458 Italia killer. Those of you out there who are currently searching for a birthday present for me: I'd like mine in silver, please.

R.I.P. Nate Dogg

1969 - 2011

Hip-hop lost a member of its family today. Nathaniel "Nate Dogg" Hale was an intrinsic part of the the West Coast's rise to power in the early 90s, as well as the seamless blending of rap music from all corners of the country in the years since. His signature voice belted out smooth hooks on hits by Snoop, Warren G., Dr. Dre, Jadakiss, Jay-Z, Eminem, Ludacris, and others.

Hale was 41 years old. R.I.P.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

The UCLA Girl Gets Owned

Comedian David So goes in on Miss Alexandra Wallace and her infamous racist rant against Asians at UCLA.

From Urlesque

Respect My Gangsta: Justin Timberlake

I remember back when JT first came on the scene. I thought he was just another annoying white boy pop star. All he's done since then is consistently prove me wrong.

From Mike Miller of 99.3 Kiss FM in Harrisburg:
While many were shocked to hear that Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel had called it quits after four years together, there may have been trouble in paradise for awhile. According to The Mail, at the beginning of the year, Jessica threw Justin a surprise birthday party and launched into a gushing speech about how in love she was. After going on at length about how much Justin meant to her, Justin dismissed the speech by yelling, "yeah bitches." "It was really awkward," a source told The Mail. "Justin's reaction was almost disrespectful. He just laughed it off."
Bravo, sir. Bravo.

You Remind Me of a Girl that I Once Filmed...

From Mike Miller at 99.3 Kiss FM in Harrisburg:
Somebody is trying to sell a sex tape and two photos that supposedly features Usher and his ex-wife, Tameka Foster. TMZ says the video and pics are definitely Usher and Tameka. Sources close to Usher says the video may have been stolen out of the “OMG” singer’s car a year-and-a-half ago December 2009. Usher reported that $100,000 worth of jewelry and electronics – including two laptops -- were lifted out of his vehicle in December 2009. Usher’s camp is keeping quiet on the reported sex tape, but Tameka spoke out yesterday in a statement sent to Tameka says: "Would I sanction a sextape being out? Absolutely not. I am a mother and entrepreneur. Sex tapes or pornography would not be my lane. I have no desire to be seen in that way."

Monday, March 14, 2011

Karma's a Bitch

...Even soccer balls know that.

Happy Steak and BJ Day

Fellas, if you have a wifey or other romantic connection in your life, and you don't get yours today, I suggest you take next Valentine's Day off in protest. It only seems right.

Official Page for Steak and a BJ Day

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Daily Dunk: Guy Dupuy

Please excuse the fact that we're still calling this a "daily" dunk, when we only post them once every few weeks. Please also excuse the fact that about 90% of my "Daily Dunk" posts are of Guy Dupuy. But this mothashutyamouth is mean.

You thought Blake Griffin's dunk over a car at the NBA Slam Dunk Contest was sick? Mr. Dupuy would like to take this moment to say, "Nucca please!"

Who's That Girl?

Props to The Smoking Jacket for some impressive detective work.

You've been seeing the State Farm and T-Mobile ads starring these ladies for months now, but more than likely you haven't had a clue who they are. Some of these images aren't of the greatest quality, but as TSJ explained, they had to work with what they could find.  (More images are available on TSJ's page.)

"The girl from 4E" (my personal favorite):

Name: Holly Lynch

The T-Mobile Girl

Name: Carly Foulkes

Cute Brunette from another State Farm ad

Name: Angela Sarafyan

Hottie Body Hump Club

Scarlett Jo, I love you. I'm not the biggest fan of Jessica Biel, but I'm sure those of you who are will enjoy this too.

A little old, but still good ish.

Throwback Thursday: "Mo Money Mo Murder" -- AZ ft. Nas

God I miss 90s hip-hop. And why didn't Nas and AZ ever do an album together? Other than the Firm album, which was kind of ehhh...

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

"The greatest emcee of all-time died on March 9th..."

March 9, 1997 was a gutshot to the world of hip-hop. Less than six months removed from the slaying of our patron saint, Tupac Shakur, and still trying to extract some kind of lesson from that tragedy, we were leveled by the senseless murder of our Big Poppa. Christopher “Notorious B.I.G.” Wallace was gunned down by an unknown assailant in Los Angeles, amid rumors and reckless speculation that he had been behind Tupac’s homicide. The realization that Big—a good guy who “went from negative to positive,” and from “ashy to classy”—had been killed paralyzed us with shock and grief.

Biggie lit the way for a generation of emcees on the East Coast, while bringing a charismatic and authentic charm to hip-hop music nationwide; Pac infused raw emotion—be it anger, pain, joy, remorse, or even love—into songs that captivated the minds and hearts of fans. There was a sad poetry to the idea of two artists, who lived and breathed the frustration and danger of street life into every bar of their music, coming to such tragic ends. With their lyrics, Pac and Biggie each painted graphic murals of a world fraught with hardships, shortsighted reactions, and death. And in the end, they fell victim to the very same suffocating reality that they had tried to both illuminate and ultimately escape through hip-hop.

The clouds of anger and resentment that had lingered in the air after Pac’s death, and that had hindered our ability to see the foolishness of resolving petty beefs with violent acts, quickly lifted following Biggie’s shooting. Fourteen years later, we continue to mourn both men and search for answers. Police have made no arrests in connection with either case, and hardly seem interested in changing that. The media has moved onto other individuals in the entertainment world to overexpose and under-appreciate. Hip-hop’s fans have grown fractured and disillusioned; for the younger members of the community, too far removed from the East Coast vs. West Coast “feud” that erased our sense of invincibility, Pac and Biggie are more historical figures than lost idols. They know each artist’s music and story, but they simply can’t grasp the magnitude of the impact that their deaths had on older fans like me, who remember exactly where we were when the news broke the morning of March 9th.

R.I.P. Biggie. And R.I.P. Tupac. We miss you now, and will continue to until the day we join you.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

A Great Benefits Package

Every job has it's perks. But few employers can entice potential hires with a perk like "Get an occasional handful of Rihanna's titty."

When moving through a pressing crowd recently, Rihanna's bodyguard helped secure his superstar charge as she fell. And, as the picture shows, his support is unfailing.

From Hollywood Life

Reports that he's now selling sniffs of his hand on Ebay have not been substantiated.

Monday, March 7, 2011

The Crying Game

Jimmy Dugan: Are you crying? Are you crying? ARE YOU CRYING? There's no crying! THERE'S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL!
Doris Murphy: Why don't you give her a break, Jimmy...
Jimmy Dugan: Oh, you zip it, Doris! Rogers Hornsby was my manager, and he called me a talking pile of pigshit. And that was when my parents drove all the way down from Michigan to see me play the game. And did I cry?
Evelyn Gardner: No, no, no…
Jimmy Dugan: Yeah! NO. And do you know why?
Evelyn Gardner: No...
Jimmy Dugan: Because there's no crying in baseball. THERE'S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL! No crying!

Thank god baseball’s not a real sport. Because in sports, especially those still predominately owned, operated, coached, played, and televised by men, there’s a dirty little secret that our preening machismo normally won’t let see the light of day: We cry.

I should qualify that statement. We cry…sometimes. Sometimes it’s perfectly acceptable. For all of the male gender’s overwrought playground codes, “Respect the player whose love of the game makes him shed a tear” is one of our most guarded. We protect it to the point that, for the sake of appearances, we often appear to violate it, casting aspersions and hardhearted jokes in the direction of any man with a wet cheek. See: “Vermeil, Dick”. But if you think this unwritten law exonerates LeBron James for Sunday’s news that Heat players—right or wrong, most of us have just accepted that at least one of the players in question was Bron-Bron—were crying after their loss to the Bulls, think again.

Timing is everything. Those tears have to be earned, through the stress of years spent shoulder-to-shoulder in battles that have created a sense of brotherhood amongst teammates. What men find questionable about another man crying isn’t necessarily that he cries, but that he’s openly doing it in front of other men. We understand that men, as human beings, cry. It’s a science thing that we know we can’t control, no matter how much we wish we could (Onetrik over at "Us, Bottles, and Friends" wrote a very accurate—and funny—piece on male crying and those occasions when it’s sanctioned). We’d just prefer that it only happen in private moments. Public waterworks displays are better left to mall fountains. But we know that it’s unavoidable…sometimes. If that man has poured every ounce of his heart and soul into the group effort, for the cause of the brotherhood’s survival and glory, then as males in the sports world we absolve his “sin”. We identify with that pain.

For all of the fond anecdotes from my high school football years, including victories over rivals, improbable touchdowns, and last second heroics, the one memory that probably resonates more than any other is of the final few minutes of my “career”. Our team, undersized—and, frankly, often out-manned—had fought our way into the playoffs. In the first round, though, we ran into a team that exposed all of our flaws and capitalized on our mental mistakes, and who quickly turned the game into a rout. As the final minutes ticked off the clock, the coaches removed the starters, and we sat on the sideline as a collective of conquered soldiers. Battered, beaten, and bruised, I sat side-by-side with my fellow seniors, guys I had played alongside since we were freshmen. We watched from the bench, a place that none of us had known existed since our first days as sophomores on the varsity squad. I dropped my head into my hands, unable to bear the weight of the moment. And I cried. But before I could even begin to wonder if I was doing my image a disfavor, our quarterback, only a junior, was kneeling next to me. With his arm slung over my shoulder and his head lowered next to mine, he said, “Thank you for all you’ve given us, man. You played your ass off out there. I love ya, man.”

That’s how it works for guys: When you’ve earned each other’s love and respect, your teammates are your brothers, and every man is his brother’s keeper. LeBron has been a member of the Heat for all of about eight months now. People have been known to bond in less time than that, sure; but it does make me question just how close he is with those teammates not named “Wade” and “Bosh”.

The timing of the tears, though, is even more suspect. LeBron’s never been considered the most expressively passionate player on the court. But now he’s reduced to tears following a regular season loss? Really? Keep in mind that this is the same LeBron James who barely seemed to care as his Cleveland Cavaliers team died slow deaths in Games 5 and 6 of last summer’s Eastern Conference Semifinals. The postseason is typically the one time in sports when a man’s tears are not questioned. Had James fought to the last minute against Boston, fallen to his knees as the buzzer sounded on Cleveland’s season—and on what he more than likely already knew was his final game in a Cavs uniform—and began sobbing at midcourt, very few would have criticized him for it. In fact, I think it’s safe to assume his Cleveland teammates would have embraced him and supported him in that moment of emotional exhaustion.

Of course, less than a month later that very same Cavs brotherhood was publicly humiliated by “The Decision,” as was the team’s entire fanbase. So LeBron playing his heart out for them may never really have been an option.

I wonder how they feel about his sob story?

Tail Report: Carmen Electra

Just in case you were wondering: Ms. Electra is 38 now, and you'd still give your life's savings for a chance to tap it with authority. Especially when she's bringing all of this to the field of mattress battle.


Thursday, March 3, 2011

Throwback Thursday: "Come and Talk to Me (Remix)" -- Jodeci

For those of you too young to remember Jodeci (and no, the "K-Ci & Jo-Jo" years don't count), you need to take your game to the next level.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Extra Credit

Never did I think I'd see the words "Northwestern University" and "fucksaw" used in the same story.

From The Huffington Post:
A Northwestern University professor is defending a controversial after-school demonstration, which featured a naked woman "being repeatedly sexually stimulated" by a device he called a "fucksaw" in front of students.

The Daily Northwestern reports that Prof. John Michael Bailey, who teaches a popular Human Sexuality course at the school, often holds after-class events which include everything from "a question-and-answer session with swingers to a panel of convicted sex offenders."

Last week, the after-class event featured a naked woman being stimulated by a motorized sex toy called a "fucksaw" on stage, the paper reports. The woman was not a student.

Kids, stay in school and work on those grades so you too can attend Northwestern University for free sex shows a superior, well-rounded education. If my college had ever thought to incorporate such lively subject matter, I would've gotten my Masters. And a doctorate.