El DeBarge

For your Friday night enjoyment I've arranged a little viewing pleasure. This is El Debarge. If you don't remember them, well, screw you.

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Emily Ratajkowski you are an angel of seduction.

I have been wanting to post these pictures all day, but when I look at them, I black out and wake up amidst full body cramping and in a pool of my own sweat and drool. This is precisely why dudes marry supermodels and after about three years, they're sick of them. This chick pictured above is a NOBODY. I mean, for all intents and purposes, she's an actress. Especially, if by actress you mean a music video or two, a carl jr commercial, and a couple of episodes of some BS show on Nickelodeon, iCarly. So, again, she's a nobody....to most. She's pretty much everything to me. She's Polish(check) so I bet her accent is heavy(check) and her English isn't good(check). All of that is what I'm concerned with, but someone anonymous just walked by computer and said something about how good her body was...I guess...if perfect legs, a great ass, real boobs that look fake and a perfect face interests you. Me...you ask? Does it interest me? I'm not that shallow.

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ha ha ha dummy. Schadenfreude.

Tuesday, my arch nemesis, lip synched the National Anthem.  Generally, I would say, "no big deal," but this is the freaking Presidential Inauguration.  Also, the other small insignificant point is, Beyonce is a singer and an alleged good one.  Kelly Clarkson is from American Idol and she crushed My Country Tis of Thee better than I did every morning in Kindergarten.  Besides Beyonce's appalling self-absorption and disconnection with anything normal, rational, or humble, her stupid vocal gymnastics assisted by computer tracks and clever producing, her entire contrived existence, fake hair, hideous fire-starting cheese-covered thunder thighs, and last but certainly not least, horrible Direct TV commercials, I feel like she also thinks I'm stupid.  Well, I'm not.  Fine Beyonce, lip synch the song if you're too scared to do what the winner of a Reality TV talent show did, but don't sing the first verse and pull out your ear piece like you're struggling to find the key because, well, you're not freakin' singing.  When stars get embarrassed because of their own arrogance and stupidity it makes me feel as if there's some sense of fairness in the world.  It's not enough she makes 70 million a year, but she marries a billionaire.  All BS aside, I would rather have sex with a razor blade radiated light socket than Beyonce Knowles.  The fact that she and Chris Brown are famous is how I know with absolute certainty that Satan is real.

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All bourbons are whiskeys, but not all whiskeys are bourbons.

When it comes to poisoning my liver and giving my body what it "needs" and "demands", nothing massages me into a night of lies and foggy memories like a good quality bottle of bourbon.  I don't have a lot of preference, especially if the bottle has a cork (my own indicator of acceptability minus Bulleit...damn you for the screw off top).  In my order of most favorite to acceptable, my preferences are as follows:

Colonel E.H. Taylor

If you think bourbon sucks because you've never drunk it without making the "I'm gonna vomit face", this bourbon is for you.  Granted, it's pricey, but it's far and away the greatest I've ever tasted.  The rest are below...not that you care.

Blanton's

Woodford Reserve

Knob Creek

Rowan's Creek

Bulleit

Maker's 46

Booker's

Basil Hayden's

Maker's Mark

Eagle's reserve

Buffalo Trace

Jim Beam

As a respectable bourbon drinker, I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit, but I recently tried Crown Royal Maple and I have to say, it's fantastic.  If you're diabetic and you want a less sugary substitute for Aunt Jemima's Syrup, make some pancakes and this pour God-inspired nectar over them.  It'll taste like a mixture of an orgasm and cotton candy with those sprinkles from ice cream buffets on top.  That analogy sounded tastier in my head than it does next to my blinking cursor.  Nonetheless, get this...you won't regret it.  

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Jennifer Lawrence is most desirable woman of 2012?

Jennifer Lawrence, of Hunger Games and Silver Lining Playbook, was recently voted Most Desirable Woman of 2012, according to vanity Fair.  I mean don't get me wrong, she's pretty...I guess, but that title is more than just a stretch.  I had hotter girls in my high school than this and trust me, I thought that was impossible.  One thing she is, however, is cool as shit.  Also, she's ridiculously talented as an actress and already hands down the most grounded actor in all of Hollyweird.  In her article from vanity Fair, the Playbook actress talks about acting:

"Not to sound rude, but [acting] is stupid.  Everybody's like, " how can you remain with a level head?' And Im like, 'Why would I ever get cocky? I'm not saving anybody's life.  There are doctors who save lives and fireman who run into burning buildings. I'm making movies. It's stupid.'"


When I read this excerpt, I wanted to join her fan club and start wearing IHEARTJL buttons to work.  Never before has an actor actually been humble and not gotten caught up in the awesomeness of him/herself.  Actors' narcissism is immeasurable.  So is their stupidity, for that matter. All day everyday they're told how amazing they are, how smart they are, how inspiring they are, and eventually, no matter what or where they came from, they begin to believe the bullshit.  In reality, they're just children.  Actually, they're like other people's children.  They've all been conditioned like cage animals to expect constant attention and care, and when they don't get it, they can't cope (see Britney, Lindsey, Marilyn Monroe, Downey Jr, Madonna, Sean Penn, Christian Bale, etc etc etc).  I've always known stars are assholes which is the reason that I'm in love with this chick.  In a cruel world where Chris Brown is still rich and selling the dogshit out of albums, please do your part in 2013 to punch unfairness in the face and support Jennifer Lawrence.

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Rise Up Atlanta, with a knife in your neck.

This is exactly why I don't "Rise Up", whatever the hell that means.  It appears when you "Rise Up" you get stabbed.  In the throat.  Ask the family of the guy that tried to Rise Up on Ray Lewis when he was in Atl.  Anyway, Atlanta refuses to look like a sophisticated city.  Instead, however, we like to rap about murder, commit murder, glamorize illiterate and idiotic millionaire flat-broke Housewives, and traffic human beings in and out of the sex trade.  This city has become the punchline for Sat Night Live fodder and rap moguls that make tons of money but can't manage to stay out of jail or keep from killing people.  It's embarrassing.  I would say you won't catch me dead at the Falcons game "Rising Up" but you actually could catch me dead there.  In fact, the chances are at least 1:1.

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Wes Welker's wife said it so I don't have to

Anna Welker, Wes Welker's wife, took to Facebook to remind everyone of what they already know... that Ray Lewis and his God-like admiration is ridiculous.  I don't know about any of you, but I don't associate with murderers, nor have I ever been with a group of "friends" that murdered someone.  He walks on the field and people pretend he's Christ reincarnated.  Well, as Anna Welker points out, he's not.  In post game press conferences, if you can understand the illiterate gibberish, which I cannot, you'll for sure hear every person that interviews him praising his leadership and explaining how everyone in the league looks up to him.  You better or he'll stab you to death.  This Super Bowl couldn't be more annoying.  I'll either be forced to kneel to Ray Lewis his Holiness, or hear how the coaches are brothers like it's recorded on a repeat track.  Kill me...no, I didn't mean that literally Mr Lewis.  

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