What I'm excited for.

Bigtime.

A hot Michael Jackson?

vs.

Ms. Michelle Monaghan

I don't care what you say, for some reason she reminds me of Michael Jackson.

Just my thoughts on Portland

There's definitely something about the west coast. I thought I figured it out when I was in San Francisco a week ago. I've always thought that maybe the weather just completely changes the way people think. In some ways, I would say that it's very true. Cold winters keep us Midwesterners humble. Keeps us in check. I slowly realized that California isn't as "laid back" as everyone claims it is. On the weekend, most stores don't open until noon in San Francisco, seemingly trying to prove that storeowners and their consumers have an understanding that sleeping in is more important than shopping. I really thought I was getting somewhere, when I was up by 10:00am wondering where I could eat a hearty breakfast to kill my hangover, realizing that opening late on the weekends is more pretentious than anything else. But I wasn't satisfied with that conclusion. I'm not sure I ever really figured out what is so different about the west coast.

It wasn't until we arrived in Portland that I noticed a difference that I could grasp. It's really easy for me to judge a city like San Fran as "pretentious" because I really don't know anything about the place. I don't really understand it. However, what I do understand (in pretty much every situation) is when girls have butts. And in Portland, the white girls have butts! I mean going on short hikes in Yosemite, seeing shooting stars, gazing from overwhelming cliffs, and hearing stories of black bears ripping open cars to eat chap stick and suntan lotion was foreign to me. Foreign as fuck. But white girls with butts?!?!?! It can drive a pathetic little city dude from Portage Park, Chicago to near insanity. "There are a lot of good looking people in this city," I found myself saying repeatedly. What I was really trying to say is, "Is it me or do these white girls have butts?" They did. They did indeed. So from now on Portland shall be known as "home to the white girls with butts." I just wish some of them would move to Chicago. Portage Park area preferably.



-Marty

Roc Boys in the building.

Remi Gaillard!

For anyone that likes the idea of the show "Jackass" they will really appreciate Remi's intelligence at pulling off ridiculous pranks (and how awesome he is at soccer). I saw his videos a few years ago and thought they were hilarious. I'm glad to see he's still doing his thang. I recommend pretty much all of his videos but here are just a few examples:




Here are the rest of his videos.

Sup dawg?

For years Al has been parading around referring to our dogs as "asos." And for years I thought that it was just another sound example of his insanity. I mean, walking around calling things by nonsense names isn't too far removed from any of Al's other habits when confronting the world. When Al puts four digits from his left hand to his face and makes a face of disgust, I know from all of my past experiences with him, he will follow his hand motions with a high pitched, "Bobby Bayouk-son!" (bye-YOOK-son). He will then repeat it around six times, each getting louder and higher pitched. Now I can't tell you who exactly Mr. Robert Bayouk-son is, but he's been a topic of conversation for years in my household. As legendary as Santa Claus is to a four-year-old (or a fourteen-year-old if you live two doors down) the rest of us in this house talk of Mr. Bayouk-son with great amusement and fascination. We've come to figure that he must not have been a sincerely profound character in Al's life because he is only mentioned when LuLu decides that pooping outside is overrated or when Al decides to smell the lint that has been wedged under his toenail for the past seven weeks.

After procrastinating for nearly twenty years I finally built up the strength (and the courage, who wants this looney toon to be correct after all these years?) to see if Al's childhood imagination is relentless or if he does indeed belong in a padded Filipino prison. I found that in Tagalog (the mother country's native tongue) "aso" means dog. I'm not sure if "aso" in the plural tense is "asos" but Al has been right all along. Pointing at LuLu and exclaiming, "That, my friend, is a little ASO!" She sure is. I am happy to have some sort of sign that I will not become completely insane by the age of forty, however I am still stuck in a world of confusion. Who is this Bobby Bayouk-son, and why does he remind Al of terrible smells?

Some "Asos":

Daisy.

Peekaboo.

Chase. Behind bars where he belongs.

LuLu.

Phi Mu.

I could have ran with that one.

When all else fails...

...blame it on the Mexicans.

Summer Reading.

When I won the Accelerated Reading program in grade school when I was only in 2nd grade, I knew that I was a genius. Actually, it just proved my theory that public school was filled with minions and minorities who had neither the attention span nor intelligence to fully grasp Ramona and Her Father. While sobbing, I raised my trophy in front of the entire school and rested my head on it as if it were the teat of let's say Megan Fox. I knew the future promised excitement and success (but, unfortunately, no Megan Fox). It was my Michael Jordan moment.

My heart tells me he was saying, "This is my Marty C. moment."

Nobody writes anything more interesting and entertaining about China than Peter Hessler.

Maybe even smarter and wittier than David Sedaris. Why are all hilarious writers gay?

About a hilarious team of advertisers in Chicago. Really awesome.

I only read it because I saw Sloane Crosley's picture. Pathetic I know. She has a very cool way of putting some things but I've heard better stories on a Thursday night from TyTy. I think women would appreciate it more. "It" being Ms. Crosley's stories and also TyTy.

Depressing and not depressing but very much badass. Even Oprah thinks so.

He's gay and thinks he's hilarious. Only he sucks. Maybe the worst book I've ever read.

What would it take?

Hey Bauer, your time is up...motherfucker.

I have had to listen to the 24 cock-jockeys for far too long. Constantly riding Jack Bauer's scroters like he ever did something besides kill imaginary terrorists. Well your brown-people-killing ways are done Jack! Ever since A.P. Calculus class (which I was allowed to play MasterMind in, since I was so lost, as long I kept quiet) I've been shushed like a little kid while Jack prances around smashing his All-American elbow into jihadists' faces. Don't you dare shush me, I'm a grown ass unemployed man.

I've never really seen 24 but I don't think I really need to. Let me guess: white guy with a bad haircut has a day to kill a shit load of people trying to ruin America? Watch Die Hard and save yourself the 22 and a half hours. For some reason people can't find a great reason to explain why the show is so good. "Jack Bauer is so clever and awesome and the writing is so genius!" Bitch please, raise up off those n-u-t's, because you gets none of deez (thoze), at ease. How is that for writing?

The real "Jack" is the one from Law & Order. Murder mysteries of any kind are no big deal to Jack McCoy. The fool will be locked up and bleeding in the showers before you can Object. At a recent sighting at the Playboy mansion where Jack was the guest of honor he was quoted saying, "Mr. Bauer, I object to that whack ass show, that whack ass plot, that whack ass pistol, and that whack ass haircut! Peace mu-fuckaz, McCoy out..." When McCoy leaves the courtroom NBC, TNT, and USA networks all refuse to play the music that is actually accompanying the exit. "I'm a seventh letter of the alphabet!" See below!

There might be a supreme being.

To be honest, I firmly believed a dog as nice as Daphne would never have been returned just because she is so gosh darn adorable. And because Humboldt Park can be unforgiving. I guess there are still good people out there.

Lost Dog.

English Bulldog
If anyone sees a dog that looks like this give me a call. It's my cousin's and we want her back.

Them damn Boleyn girls.

I try to keep my love affair with Scarlett Johansson updated and relevant by ogling over her in any movie she is in. That was my intention when telling my parents to hang on to "The Other Boleyn Girl" an extra day before retuning it to BlockBuster. Usually the routine is simple. I insert the DVD and laugh at the absolute ridiculousness of the fact that Ms. Johansson (soon to be Mrs. Van Wilder) is terrible at her craft. To be honest, she was actually alright in this one but I will never get over how much she over acted, and how many mouth airplanes she gave to Woody Allen to be, in "Match Point." That's neither here nor there. At first I wasn't at all interested in this other movie. Some of the phrases in the dialogue were rather not believable. At the very least, I figured there may be a hilarious cleavage shot or some ridiculous baby making scene but I was not at all expecting to be thoroughly entertained. It should be noted that I wasn't entertained in the traditional sense. I'm sure most audiences thought the complexities of the story and the themes of jealousy, betrayal, the lust for power, and what kind of trouble a boner sandwich can get you into, were the most thought provoking aspects of the film. Meanwhile I was sitting on the edge of my seat trying not to erupt with a "Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!"-chant. Al was sleeping after all and to wake him would be a sin.

What the movie taught me is that behind a country that prides itself on its traditions and values, there lies the root of every evil in the world: Hillbillies who can't keep their peters in their pantalones.

Mickey packin' heat.

Why would anyone need to bring a gun onto Disney property?

Just in case this mu-fuckin rodent wants to step up.

Why I hate Advertising.

I hope everyone is aware that Google and other search engines and websites have come up with a way to make sure there are advertisements that fill various details of your online profile. After gathering your information online, they start to shape particular advertisements to better suit your needs. At first I thought it was a cool idea, because I did fit the "Limited Edition Jordan's" and "single wild college blonde girls" target market. But after seeing a few disturbing ones (I guess I shouldn't have been visiting those websites those particular ads were attached to) I began to notice just how degrading and insensitive the fuckers who programmed these things really are.

Shit.

Say my name, Say my name.

Here are a few things me and the other Marty have in common other than our name:

We're both cool little dudes.

You know our steez.

We both have badass hi-top sneakers. Nike please.
We both have our own informational websites. His is here. Mine is here.

We both try to impress the brothers.

We're both protagonists. Him in Back To The Future Trilogy. Me in Life (maybe Trilogy if you follow Buddhism or Hinduism).

We both get our wisdom from badass dudes.

His:
Mine:

We both can't stop shaking. It's unfortunate he has Parkinson's but rather fortunate that I have rhythm and a love for shaking my tail feather.

We both don't identify with being yellow. It comes to fisticuffs whenever someone calls him "yellow." I press charges for hate crimes.

It better be.

My girl Donatella

Although Dan's rap name (Donatello aka Don Uh Tell Ya) is similar to Ms. Versace's real name, he could only wish he was as successful as her. I usually don't care for her cuts because they often seem to be designed for the feminine looking white male but since her inspiration for this line was Barack Obama, I think she pulls off something that I rather like. But I'm too tubby to don many of these looks.

On the right is a good example of how I would want to dress for work. Keep the kids at home.

Although I'm not sure of its purpose, I love the penis scarf.

Sonotheque.

Last weekend I got a bunch of invites to go to Sonotheque and see some dudes from Stones Throw spin records. The last time I went to one of these things I ended up having a good time but the place was a perfect post office, nothing but male. Here's what I missed:

Erin Murphy done got herself a man. Finally. (And got kind of cute.)

Joe McCahill busted out his badass necklace and thought he was the life of the party.

Hey look! Annie, Jenny, and Tess decided to come out and have a good time!

TyTy finally lucked out. Big time. Jesus.

Dan/Todd Johnson ate his weight in bullshit.

Jason decided to lower his standards to a level I didn't think was possible. And Julian showed Buffalo Bill from The Silence of The Lambs how to Lean Like a Cholo.

No but seriously. I was there. Ask Jason, we even had a conversation.

Shaq's back.

shaq freestyle (Kobe Dis)
by skaybn

Watch this and realize.

Jonrón

I'm not the biggest baseball fan but this season I've been watching most of the Cubs games. I don't have anything against the White Sox, I just happen to find the Cubs more fun to watch mainly because of Carlos Zambrano. He never fails to make me laugh every day he pitches and even most days he doesn't. He makes no attempt to cover up his behavior which can be described as "childish" and I think it's hilarious. My fondest memory of him is when the Cubs got into a bench-clearing brawl and he was the last one out on the field but completely ready to fuck somebody up. The announcers said that he was trying to put his belt on but anyone that knows how Mexican-esque dudes fight knows he was taking that belt off getting ready to drop some bitches. The only other person I've seen do that is my Mexican grandfather.

I read this in the paper the other day and it reminded me how awesome Zambrano is. When talking about the White Sox he said, " I like to play the White Sox. It's good when every time I go to US Cellular or Comiskey or whatever the name of that ballpark is, people start screaming, calling you all kind of things. That's good. Sometimes I'm in the outfield and they say, 'Hey you!' and bad words. 'You're a homosexual!' I say, 'Well, I'm going to show them if I'm a homosexual on the mound.' That's kind of like the good feelings between the Cubs and Sox."

How exactly he is going to show them he is not a "homosexual" on the mound is beyond me. Unfortunately I'll have to wait another year to see him make it happen. I'm still excited.

Go heart your own city.

Nothing represents the block I live on more than Mario Joe Panvino. Nicknamed "Big Joe" by my brother and probably a lot of other people, he is a Class-A hit in Portage Park. I remember not being able to walk to 7-Eleven or to the park without at least two or three cars blasting horns and yelling "MARIOOOO!!!!!" in acknowledgment of Big Joe's presence. The positive effect that Mario has had on our neighborhood is a product of what a pleasant city like Chicago can influence. And nothing has had more of an effect on him than Chicago sports teams. He is the biggest Bears/Cubs/Bulls/anything-that-has-to-do-with-Chicago-minus-the-White Sox-fan both physically and mentally. Every conversation brings out at least 10 minutes of Chicago sports related talk and at least a few mentions of Michael Jordan. Mario's back room is a bouillon cube of Chicago sports. Every inch of the wall is covered with Chicago paraphernalia (and wrestling hoz) and to experience it is truly a delight. If you aren't a Chicago fan in any way you will still be amazed at how much shit someone can put on a few small walls (I just thought of a new rap name for Paul Wall's little brother). This is just a snapshot of his room. One day I'll take a picture of the Dennis Rodman autographed framed jersey he has (and that I plan on stealing). But until then, I'm just happy that we can sit around and talk about what we're going to do when the Bulls Repeat the 3-Peat. And I'm also happy that we actually believe it's going to happen.

This just in!

I always thought he liked me because he thought I was a good person. It's because I'm Asian?

Let me holla at a few of you and TyTy can holla at the other one.

See you C-U

As I look at this profoundly idiotic picture, the answers that I've been looking for reveal themselves quite remarkably. The last 4-5 years in Champaign-Urbana had its moments and I will never hold anything against those great experiences. However, the shithead overload that I experienced throughout college is something that I wouldn't wish upon anyone. Chicago would seem to offer my escape but the emotions that go along with the realization that many of the people I was unwillingly associated with at school now have expensive apartments in "cool" neighborhoods in the city I call home is another thing I wouldn't wish upon anyone. Well I would wish it upon those very shitheads. As I become more comfortable with living at home in Portage Park (a fresh slice of 1992) I begin to realize that what's done is done and it's now time to move forward. I'm unemployed but looking tirelessly for a job and one day it will happen.

From left to right:

Kyle B. Gorman: I know Kyle is/was studying for his PhD at UPenn. I also know that he loves to say very straightforward negative comments about homosexuals and loves commenting on style. His knowledge of music is almost unbelievable but is slightly skewed because of the contempt he holds for non-Justin Timberlake lovers. Part of me hopes that Kyle is putting some "indie" kid in his place about what bands suck and why but more than part of me knows that he is probably off somewhere being just as confused as he was in this picture. Just tell him how you feel about him Kyle, no one will lose respect for you.

Curt Frericks: I know Curt works in Chicago at an Architecture Firm of some sort. There isn't too much I can say about him. My brother thought it was hilarious that Curt had no shame lifting up a girl's skirt on an MTD campus bus. I once saw him throw a haymaker at KAM's, miss, and then get tackled. If he would have landed it would have made my night. But I know he still hasn't landed and I wish him the best. There you go Curt! (That is directed at the waitress at Duke of Perth.)

Fred Follmer: I know Fred is an artist...at being awkward. I won't say too many negative things about Fred because who am I to judge? In late night talks, Fred was awarded the "Most Likely to Have Sex With a Horse." It could be a complement if you were providing pleasure. Probably not though. Will the tag "artist" get anyone anywhere? The answer is undeniably NO!

Amanda Winterroth: Look at those white girl moves.

Erin Murphy: I know Erin likes to forget important details about the roles she's assigned during conversation time. She happily plays the mature 40 year-old "I've been through it all" role and loves giving me the "I NEED HELP!" role. Erin, I'm fine. I don't understand your fascination with getting married before the age of 25 (you failed). Seriously, stop fantasizing about the bad boy (EJ) and go to medical school (Ivy League).

Zoe Schwartz: I know Zoe will one day look back at me and say "What an asshole." And I'm thankful for that. Not that I necessarily agree but because I know the reasoning behind it will be justified (like JT). Do your thang girl but most importantly stop judging Eddie. He's been nothing but nice to you and takes care of Laura (and business). Easily my favorite McCahill. But seriously, just because Eddie isn't an "artist" doesn't mean he isn't a cool dude.

Julian Crozier: Play on playa. Or just stop playing altogether.

Marty C.: I know that you have your eyes set on big things but I think your lack of hard work will never give it a chance to materialize. But seriously, take that fucking hat off and do something with that big head. Who are you to judge?

I will be back.

I applied to work for Oprah today. I love Oprah.

Indoor Sunglass Wearing: An Introduction

Believe you me, sunglasses are noted to be one of the most useful products invented A.D. They are practical and serve well in a variety of situations. Although I’m not sure who invented them, I’ve deduced a few intelligent insights that will help us create a mental image of this hero. The person was most likely a male, because females weren’t allowed to invent things other than female hygiene accessories until JFK was president, and we know sunglasses predate that (The Suffrage Movement: Part Deux). This person was also probably Caucasian because it seems that every brown culture has physically evolved into beings that are not overwhelmingly frustrated with sunlight. (Bad business idea: Asian sunglasses company that only sells in Asia. Great business idea: Abuse of Asia’s lax labor laws and sunglasses are exported to Western countries). I came to this conclusion because I can easily think of many specific Caucasian faces wearing sunglasses but not a single Arab (rich Saudis don’t count). Brown people generally tend to wear them as a stylistic accessory. So we can think of sunglasses as white people’s evolving attempt at brown skin. Sunglass wearers:


From Left to Right: Ex-Cubs pitcher Kyle Farnsworth, Dale Earnhardt, The Artist Nan Goldin, Ryan Reynolds, and Mr. Food. (Please Click image)

So you see baseball players, racecar drivers, domestic abuse victims, fashionistas, and perverts wear sunglasses (from left to right). Fun Fact: A good way to tell a pervert from a baseball player is to see if the person’s sunglasses remain on when they enter a building. On=pervert, Off=baseball player.

I believe it is perfectly acceptable to wear sunglasses when it is sunny out. Watching white people without sunglasses in extreme sunlight can be somewhat degrading as an “Asian”-American. I get overwhelmingly frustrated before I realize that they aren’t mocking me (or maybe they’re using the sunlight as an excuse to mock me). However, before this past weekend I agreed with Larry David in that there are only two types of people who wear sunglasses indoors, blind people and assholes. Times have changed.

1) Blind People: The reasons blind people wear sunglasses should be fairly obvious if you read at a 2nd grade level. And if you don’t read at least at that level, it’s not because blind people don’t want to see people laughing at their disability (or is it handicap?). It’s because seeing people don’t want to give blind people the chance of leading them on. A true example of how people don’t give those less fortunate enough respect. Example:


2) Assholes: Sometimes synonymous with “hipsters”, however, there is a vast variety of people that fall into this category. It could be your grandmother who is too lazy or too “I’m old I can do whatever the hell I want.” It could be someone who forgot their regular glasses in the car, which makes them even more of an asshole because they are too lazy to go and get them. But also, it could be those who have never let go of that one time they felt important. The person who wrote the song you hear when you call the cable company to pay your bill. The person who caught Ringo’s drumstick at that one concert. The person who was awarded the title “Most Likely To Succeed” in high school (and now is severely depressed and a college drop out). And lastly, those less fortunate like the person who invented Crocs. And the people that wear them. The person who says, “Believe you me…” or “What’s the dealio?” Etc.


3) Those who are attempting to avoid Unbelievable Assholes: Over the weekend while hanging out with a friend we decided to get a meal at a local restaurant. Well I guess it should be noted that it could be accurately described as a burger joint. I was enjoying my meal when I spotted an asshole fraternity brother across the street walking around with shorts and sandals. Anything missing from that list of clothing? It’s acceptable to take your shirt off at the beach but walking down a busy street is really not the ideal location. Especially when it is barely over 70 degrees (Fahrenheit). As he passed by I let out a sigh and a laugh and diverted my attention to something else. Two minutes of enjoyable conversation passed when the door opened abruptly and was immediately followed by an “Oh no!” This caught my attention quickly and I turned to my left to face the very person who two minutes prior represented everything that is wrong with the world. My cheese fries curdled and my hamburger quickly tasted like charcoal. In an attempt to see everything a little less clear I put on my sunglasses. Unfortunately it only gave me a reason to stare at the sonofabitch who was now enjoying a hotdog/hamburger combo with a medium fry and a large Mountain Dew, alongside his better than average looking girlfriend. It gave me an excuse to look at him because I knew he wouldn’t be able to see me eye-fucking-him-up.

Sure the owner of the eatery made a quick comment, “No shirts today?” but he wasn’t serious, how could he be? His fake tan lead me to believe that he was dying to take his shirt off too and his comment was filled with tones of jealousy. The only thing keeping it on was probably the two previous citations and the loss of business he received from the previous two times he thought it would be acceptable to serve up an Italian beef, shirtless. As my appetite quickly faded my thirst for blood quickly elevated. After thinking it was probably a bad idea to take my own shirt off and scream, “How the fuck do you like it?” I tried to come up with reasons to justify why bro-mosapien thought it would be completely fine to walk into a food establishment completely shirtless. I couldn’t do it. I was mad at this point but not nearly as mad as I was when I realized this guy didn’t even consider a shirt. He woke up that morning, put on a pair of floral board shorts, slipped on his flip-flops, grabbed his keys, and made his way out of his cave. The thought, “Am I missing an important article of clothing?” never crossed his mind. As soon as he stepped outside shirtless, with no intent of going to the beach, he fulfilled his role as “Asshole.” When he stepped into an eatery he was awarded his promotion to “Unbelievable Asshole.” As I stared through the window I couldn’t help but considering paying the extremely fat Mexican guy wearing a button up shirt and work pants, trimming the plants across the street who somehow managed to keep his shirt on in the blistering heat, a few dollars to walk into the restaurant with his shirt off and sit next to the guy’s girlfriend. Instead I threw out the rest of my food, put my head down and walked straight out of the building. It’s a good thing sunglasses can hide tears too.

Marty

David Byrne plays buildings.

Awesome.