Christopher Walken

I started watching Saturday Night Live when I was about 6 years old. I still remember watching all the old greats doing their thing. I remember watching the Cowbell sketch the very first time it aired. I remember watching Chris Farley dance at Chippendales with Patrick Swayze. And I remember being blown away by the hilarity of the sketches whenever Christopher Walken hosted.

For those of you who don't know. Christopher Walken is awesome.

Here's my favorite.




Who ever knew creepy could be hilarious. He redefines the word. That, to me, is great comedy.

Time's 100 Most Influential People

Today I came home to find that my weekly Time magazine had come and featured on the cover were the 100 most influential people for 2008. Inside were 100 short profiles of innovators, actors, ambassadors and terrorists. As shallow as TIME can be at times, I appreciated the diligence in their selections. But that appreciation quickly faded when after reading, I realized just how ridiculously gushing some of the profiles were. Anytime you have anything written by guys like Donny Osmond and Andie Roddick, you have to expect your audience to come with reservations. Sorry TIME, but I don't order your magazine to hear rich celebrities tell me just how great their rich celebrity friends are. But don't get me wrong. There were some good aspects. I really liked that they asked Bishop Desmond Tutu to contribute and Ben Stiller's profile of Robert Downey Jr. was randomly really intriguing (and well-written might I add). But again, who knows how much of what was actually written made it through editing.

Going back to the most influential of 2008. What I took from skimming through that magazine (since for the most part, that's all that it allowed you to do) was the realization that it doesn't take much to be influential. Bunched in the same group of the "most influential" were humanitarians and terrorists sharing the same pages. And what I mean by "not taking a lot" is that if I were to leave the US, join some militant guerrilla terrorist unit in the middle of nowhere, and go about wreaking havoc on America all the while dropping my name in as many places as possible, I would have a great chance at cracking the top 100 without breaking a moral sweat. Strong moral conviction typically connotes some sort of good, but by definition, it can go both ways. Notoriety and influence are not one and the same. Let's not forget that.

Funny to realize I just rebuked myself through this rant.

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Douche

There comes a time in every young man's life when he looks back on his past experiences and laughs at all of his stupid mistakes. For me, that time is now.

Exhibit A:
I know. That's all I have to say. I know. I'll just cop out and say I was going through a phase, a very incriminating phase. While scanning this picture, it took a total of 2 seconds to come up with a name before I settled on "Fatboy Bangs". My face looks like a damn tomato... with bad hair. My God.

Here are a few more for YOUR entertainment and MY embarrassment.
Look at the woman holding up the peace sign. That's my mom. It's as if she's perpetuating an ongoing joke on me. It's ironic that my eyes are closed isn't it? So oblivious, so stupid, so naive. No wonder I'm the only one that isn't smiling in this picture.


I'm sitting at my computer as a picture-perfect posterboy for a Bud Light commercial. You know those commercials where the guy keeps repeating "dude"? That's me right about now.

But that's not it. You see, most people have that one haircut that they regret for the rest of their lives. I have several.


That my friends is a bonafide mullet. I have nothing else to say. Except maybe that I was a mistake and my mom vowed to make me her very own personal inside joke.

Dancing Queen
As a young man, my mom knew I was a special child. I guess I just really loved dancing... and I guess the Pharaoh was the "it" dance back in the early 90's. As you can tell, my sister is the mature one out of the two of us.

Our relationship in a nutshell

Ditto

Sexual Identity Crisis
Here's an interesting picture, with an even more interesting explanation. My family and I went to a resort with another family and as we were all preparing to go swimming, my mom started putting swim trunks on me. When I realized that I would have to enter a public domain with my nipples exposed, I refused to wear them. My mom tried desperately to save me the embarrassment of wearing a women's 1-piece without the proper pelvic structure (let's not get TOO graphic here), but I adamantly refused and ended up wearing identical swimsuits with my friend Sarah (bottom left). Why the hell did I choose the pink one?

Maybe I should have been beaten more as a child.