Ben Johnson is the man.

Happy Birthday Keira!

Let's make this a good one. After all, it is the year of Michael Jordan.

Stuff White People Like.

I really enjoy reading the blog "Stuff White People Like" (that I have graciously linked for you). Some of the entries are really hilarious but for the most part I think the writer ignores some of the more subtle reasons to make fun of white people. My favorite entries on the "Stuff White People Like" blog are "Apologies", "Knowing What's Best For Poor People", "Difficult Breakups", and "Co-Ed Sports".

I came up with a few of my own.
1) High 5's at social gatherings or maybe just any occasion. Why is it necessary to give everyone around you at a baseball game a High-5 when your team hits a home run? They love to turn to you (a complete stranger) and celebrate something they really had no part in. Not only do they love to invite the community to the High-5 event they're hosting, they love to awkwardly stare into your eyes while they're doing it. Maybe while looking into your eyes they completely forget that they aren't even good at the High-5. They love doing it even though they suck at it, kind of like cooking Mexican food. Oh yeah, they are also the only ones to grab your hand during some High-5's. They grab your hand on contact and then shake it a bit. It's fucking creepy and not cool.

The guy in black is definitely going for the grab and shake.

2) Threatening Police Officers by asking for their badge numbers and telling them they are going to report them. White people love to complain about how "unfair" police officers are being when they get a ticket for running a red light in their Toyota Highlanders on their way to their kid's piano class. "I do not have to take this abuse!" I think someone needs to let these white people in on what the brown population considers "abuse". They also love mentioning what college they attended to make sure they let the police officer know they are "educated". "I have a Master's from The Ohio State University, you won't get away with this". Fuck you.

I guess white people like to make ridiculous expressions too (look at Officer Friendly).

Uh Oh. Mi hombre tiene muchas problemas! Translation: Good luck with that one, Mexican.

3) Talking on their cellphone and waving to the camera when they are in the background of a sporting event. Turn on any sports game (especially baseball, especially the Chicago Cubs) and look in the background. Look at the asshole(s) on their cellphone. Watch them. There. They waved. And they're still waving. And guess what, they're on the phone saying, "Hey can you see me? I'm the one waving". We get the point dude.

Bill White Guy here is just looking for a camera to get in on. (Sorry I surprisingly couldn't find any pictures of Cubs fans yackin it up.)

4) Rehab. Drug addictions are popular among rich white people (and definitely a prerequisite for being a hipster, which is a post for another day). They love to show "deep regret" of their behavior. First they must have some difficult times but the family will be there with "all the support they need". Then, they'll check in and come back saying they found the big J-dogg (Jesus, but really they should be looking for Waldo) or they'll say they want to turn their lives around. Like most drug addicts. They don't. They just like wasting everyone's time and money.

I have so many more.

LuLu.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

These kids have some life choices to make.

Instead of leaving the young ones alone while they reenact their favorite action thrillers, relatives often think it's their JC-given right to continuously ask children what they want to be when they grow up. Has anyone (besides children) ever thought how selfish and ludicrous (unfortunately not the Grammy Award winning lyricist) this fake question is? Technology may have changed the way kids view the world but it hasn't changed the fact that kids don't give a fuck about the world? And why should they? Answers like "a professional baseball player", or "the President of The United States of America", or "Michael Jordan" are common not because these kids actually want to be these things, but because they know an answer like that will get the questioner off their n.u.t.s. (figuratively speaking of course). Becoming Michael Jordan on your 18th birthday would suck especially if you were a 10 year-old kid right now. Do you think these kids want, on their 18th birthdays, to magically transform into a 53 year-old ex-bad-motherfuckin-ass basketball player? Well, maybe that's a bad example. But really c'mon we're not giving these kids enough credit. They give your fake question a fake ass answer. The fact is, we have become so accustomed to asking or being asked this bullshit question that we're convinced that little Katie actually thinks she has a chance at becoming president of the raddest country on the planet. Get real.

The thing is, I try not to kid myself, I know that people aren't going to stop asking this question. So I feel that I should not only give you a reason to ask this ridiculous question but also sniff out the little bullshitters that could use some direction in their lives.

The biggest compliment kids get when they go through puberty is "Oh my, look at how tall and thin you got". Let's ignore the "tall" part of this because I know first-hand that Jesus doesn't love some people as much as others. I mean 5'6" is a piss poor attempt at a "height". But anyways, relatives and strangers alike, love complimenting people on their weight. Not only that, people love being complimented on their weight, if it's not sarcastic of course. When they're young nobody really cares how fat a kid is. "Oh, don't worry, they'll grow out of it", is a lie most parents tell themselves. But that's not the point. As these kids get older they have a choice to become thinner, to start lifting weights, exercising, and eating healthy foods. They have that choice, unlike the choice of growing taller of course. (You can flaunt fake boobs in less than a week after the surgery and they still can't figure out how to make me 5'10", what happened to priorities?) So there is nothing more pleasant than being a fat kid and growing up to be a thin(ner) adult. The compliments will make all those extra Happy Meals and cookies worth it. This all has to do with the fact that they didn't set a high level of expectation others would have of them. They set the bar low and they reap the benefits.

Now conversely, and probably more importantly, think about all the times you ran into someone that knew you but you had no clue who they were (I pray it wasn't the opposite). If it was a childhood friend, the fact that you didn't recognize them most often occurs when the friend decided to spend the last 10 years glazing their arteries with Krispy Kremes. Or maybe it looks like they ate the beanbag chair you could desperately use now because the sight of their disgustingness has got you weak in the knees (and not in the Boyz II Men sense). Seeing someone that has put on lots of lb's since their childhood has placed them at the lower rung of society. If the person had always been fat, it would have just been another day. They set the bar high and failed to live up to it.

The way society ranks people is as follows:
1st) Fat as a kid, ripped-thunder as an adult. Compliments: "Oh my god, you look so great" (and they genuinely mean it).
Tied for 2nd) Stays the same (fat as a kid, fat adult or thin as a kid, thin adult). No surprise with these people, you expected it.
3rd) Thin as a kid, fat as an adult. No genuine compliments: "Wow you look so different! I didn't even recognize you!" Fatass.

If this kid can turn it around he's going to live a genuinely happy life.

This fucktard is setting the bar way too high. His parents better invest in a good psychologist.

So when you ask "What do you want to be when you grow up?", take a good look at the kid. If they're fat, make sure you get an answer that directly says they are (or will become) tired of being fat. If they are skinny, remind them to stay that way or else they will be pushed to the edges of society and never get a genuine response out of anyone again. So you see, we can still guide the youth of America in the right direction. As for me, I was tubby as a kid, I got thinner, got some genuine compliments, then got tubby again and got some "wow you look so different!" 's. But I still want to be Michael Jordan when I grow up.

Governor Gets All Up In That Ass.

(Former Gov. Spitzer hand gestures to 50 Cent's Just a Lil Bit, listen to it.)

We all know that Mr. Spitzer's fellow governors are only "deeply disappointed" and "disgusted" in him because he ruined their upcoming weekends. It is obvious that they are only "deeply disappointed" in the fact that Mr. Spitzert ruined their ho-train. These fellas must think that if they pay enough for intercourse no one will ever find out. So this Emperor's Club V.I.P. is where they turned. According to The New York Times, some of these whore-ski-heimers cost thousands of dollars an hour. None of it really makes sense to me. I would like to think that a governor of a major state (California not included) could easily find a good looking young college girl to "pass amendments" on (sorry). I guess I wouldn't "like" to think, but it seems to make sense to me. If Michael Jackson can find a human woman to love, anything is possible. After looking at pictures of Mr. Spitzer, it becomes clearer why he had to pay top dollar. I personally don't think his bad judgement in hiring prostitutes was his downfall. It is much more simple than that.

After trying to see if there was a 'Clearance' section on the Emperor's Club V.I.P.website (the site is closed down and I have my fingers crossed that they might have an "Everything Must Go!" sale, my birthday is in a few weeks, hint hint) I started to think like a governor to figure out why he chose the girl he chose. It was obvious that he didn't want to go for the $4000/hour women, he didn't want to make it too obvious. Instead he settled for Ashley Alexandra Dupré, a 22 year-old hardbody who only charges $1000/hour and who has lived a tough life. Maybe.
She is definitely a very pretty girl. I will admit that. That is not where Mr. Spitzer made a wrong turn. I'm sure this girl has good intentions to live and maintain a life that is free of money worries. I can't blame her for that. Who am I to say she is wrong? In no way do I think she is a bad person for any of those decisions. Seriously. However, I do believe there is one thing that should have been flashing red lights to Mr. Spitzer. MySpace. This is the lapse in judgement. If Mr. Spitzer was with it he would have checked out MySpace just to be safe. I mean this girl could have been blogging about every little detail, position, and whatever else that could have ruined his career. Most importantly, what kind of "high class" prostitute is on MySpace? I believe this is a good comment on what e-networking has done to American culture. Even our "high class" hoz hillbilly it up on MySpace. Back in the day these girls were treated like nobility (which is also kind of sad/weird). It is sad enough people rarely meet other humans in a social (real-life) setting. Now even our governors can't find a way to cheat on their wives without ordering a girl online, a girl who is part of an e-community that is solely designed to fund the television show "To Catch a Predator". Maybe the FBI should have exposed the story that way. Brought Mr. Spitzer into the hotel room where Chris Hansen would have totally embarrassed the shit out of the dude and read the "special suggestions" part of the order form out loud, exposing Spitzer to the entire world. So Mr. Spitzer, please make better decisions in the future. If you choose to take advantage of 20-somethings, find them in the real world. Life is about choices, so choose them bitches wisely.

P.S. Ashley Alexandra Dupré, what's up girl? You, Me, & Dupré! (sorry, again)

Spring Break 2k8!

(It's weird but it's google. Sorry Ma.)

It's pretty hilarious to think that my parents and a good part of my mom's side of the family are in Cancun, Mexico right now. I came up with a wish list:

1) I hope Al understands what 'hola' means this time around.
2) I hope Barb and Al have yelled at frat brothers and sorority sisters for being inappropriate.
3) I hope Al has to resort to the truth when telling people his ethnicity, to avoid any confusion with choice of language.
4) I hope Mexicans don't believe Al's claims to not be Mexican.
5) That's all I hope.

Just call me Mr. C

After College, Before a Job

After Unemployment, Before a Career

After a few grueling months of movie-watching and life-decision-making I am finally employed as a substitute teacher. To a certain extent, it goes to show how overlooked American education systems are. Topic for another day. I tried to not have many expectations because deep down inside I knew all of the teachers weren't going to be 23-year-old, 5'5" and under, single women, seeking an understanding and (somewhat) open-minded tri-racial funny-man. So I walked in knowing that there were going to be some challenges, but I didn't let them stand in the way. I reassured myself by repeating "If Ivica can do this, I can do this". Actually, I'm starting to think that statement is more of a mantra at this point. For the most part, the teachers have been nothing but pleasant and helpful. When I try to get the kids in the back of the room to stop break-dancing on their desks, the neighboring teachers are quick to come to aid and lay the experienced smack-down on them. For the most part, it has been an interesting experience. So far a kid managed to permanently ruin one side of the classroom for an entire day by dropping bombs. Pretty disgusting. "You our teacher today? You little!", has been said to me at least a half-dozen times. I've been told that I would be met outside after school by a group of 7th graders. I was excited for the invite, thinking we would play basketball and maybe even go to the mall to get an Auntie Anne's pretzel or maybe even a Great American Cookie, but I soon realized the invite was strictly for a game that I am not familiar with and/or interested in...fisticuffs. I wisely declined.

The students have very colorful imaginations and I think the most rewarding part of the job is listening to their explanations of certain things. If the young adults from Urbana Middle School were to explain me to a stranger, this is what they would come up with. I would be anywhere from the age range of 17-48. I would be unanimously Chinese. I would love to wear "skin-tight Dickies". I would have "bright teeth". I would be "little as hell". I would have 0-15 girlfriends. I would like rap music. I would have that "China hair". I am just looking forward to whatever else they can come up with. As for now, these kids are dead-on.

P.S. Can you tell that I had to teach a lesson on when and how to use hyphens? Can you also tell I still have no fucking clue on when and how to use one?

Shake ya tail feather.

I was going to write about how The USA desperately needs a president who has some sort of rhythm in their dance step. Obama girl was way ahead of me on this one. I guess I'm not as original as I thought I was.

The bright side of Unofficial.

Unofficial is a lot of things. A lot of terrible things. However, I was taught to always look at both sides of a story and try to at least recognize some of the positives of such events. A day where it's completely alright to act like a total fucking fool doesn't really seem to have many upsides. There's the 'Officially Fucked Up' neon green shirts, the public display of "irish"-ness which by now everyone is completely tired of, the drunk people in class, etc. But let's take a step back and look at Unofficial through a darker set of eyes. Like most moronic things hosted here on campus, Unofficial is sponsored by, with no surprise, white people. White people love to make up a day where they can celebrate being white (kind of like Thanksgiving and every single day here at University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign). There are some prerequisites for such days. 1)You must pre-order shirts that have a play on words and are an obnoxious color. 2)You must act like your parents never taught you any type of manners whatsoever. 3)You have to brag how much you can do something, usually how much beer you can 'slam'. There are many more but these are probably the most important. White people love this shit. But to be fair, there are a good amount of Latinos (almost called them Hispanics, oh no!), Asians, and African-Americans that partake in the silliness. Actually, scratch that on the black people, I'm not going to accept that they actually wear green shirts for that shit. I can't say that these brown people should be ashamed of themselves because they are trying to fit in and have a good time just like everyone else. But the Jose's and Juan's on campus should get over the fact that the tannest person in Ireland is just 2 shades up from neon-white.

With all that being said Unofficial is officially Brown People Day. On campus, which is mostly white, you can't go anywhere without seeing orange skin, 'blonde' hair, backwards hats, NorthFace, and all kinds of other awesome shit. But on Unofficial we have the reverse effect. While all of these people wait in lines to get into CO's or KAM's, there is a significant absence of fake things in campus facilities. For example, I went to the gym yesterday to get my ripped-thunder on and there were ellipticals that weren't being used! It was surreal. Then I started to look around and began to wonder why I felt so god damn comfortable. There were no babes to check out but there was this feeling that for once (besides in China) I was in the majority. It was an unbelievable feeling. Everywhere I looked there was brown people. Brown people doing pushups, brown people running on the treadmills, brown people running around the track, brown people playing basketball...well I guess there's really nothing new about that. I can't stress how weird/exciting it was. Here a brown person, there a brown person, everywhere a brown person!
So next year maybe I'll make some shirts for our Official holiday. I'm already starting to think of some ideas for the shirts. So far I've got. 'White People Suck. Official Brown People Day". "Now you don't have to hear every detail of the frat brother's sex life in the Undergrad". "Brown people elliptical too!". I guess they're not nearly as clever as the Unofficial shirts but we have a year to come up with some.
But seriously, as I was riding my bike home last night I was beginning to think about how great the majority feeling was. I then came up with the idea that the feeling was so great that we should make a holiday out of it. A day we can go to the bars and show off our unity in the brown people community. Then I realized, the white people already beat us to it! How unfair! I mean, our day would have more police dogs and mass arrests and general harassment but I guess celebrating something like this would be the same sort of ignorance that is praised on this campus. So as I rode home trying to put the day into perspective I heard from a third floor balcony, "Hey check out that ASIAN dude totally riding that red bike! ROCK ON ASIAN DUDE!" Putting it into perspective was never so easy.

Dan Johnson in pictures.

Mini Me.

I was Martin: You're Welcome, Hallmark.

It would be preposterous for me to claim that Hallmark has any interest in what I have to say but I feel as if it is my duty to bring to their attention a very grand idea. We (as Americans) have always felt the need to go the extra step to say, "Hey, I really appreciate what you did for me." Awkwardness scares many people from saying these kind words directly to someone. We like to be nice but we don't want to sound weak or be exposed. Hiding behind our pride, we've come up with several ways to show gratification that places us a few steps back, making it more comfortable to be appreciative. 'Tipping' someone is almost exclusively American in that we give people extra money for doing their job, all the while making it seem like a reward. I happen to believe it's just a power thing, people rarely give big tips as a reward but more often as an example of status. But anyways, it still is a form of saying 'Thank You'.
The idea of a 'Thank You' card seems even more ridiculous to me. After numerous events, people feel the need to send a card that gives thanks. Often times a 'Thank You' is given (in person) to the guest from the person who has received a gift of some sort. The gift can be anything from a digital camera or just the act of kindness for showing up. Shouldn't it stop there? I can almost see a 'Thank You' card being necessary if grandma and grandpa living in Idaho sent you a nice pair of socks for Christmas since you couldn't 'share' the holiday with them. Call them up on the phone, give them thanks that way, I'm sure they'll be much more satisfied hearing it from you and maybe even having a conversation. If you don't have a phone, don't just send a 'Thank You' card, write them a letter and express how thankful you are and give them an update on the things you occupy your day with. If you don't know how to write, you are probably too young to be thankful and you get a free pass anyways because you're so darn cute, or you're uneducated and well, you shouldn't have to go out of your way being thankful because somehow you have been overlooked (or you chose not to learn how and in that case you are way too bad of a muthafucka to be writing 'Thank You' cards in the first place). (Fuck the police).

When people usually say 'Thank You' to me in The Real World, I, like some people, respond 'You're Welcome'. I actually find it kind of odd when someone doesn't acknowledge a 'Thank You' with either a 'mmhmm' or a 'No problem' or any of the appropriate responses. Silence after a 'Thank You' is an informal version of 'You owed it to me (sonofabitch)'. So since it doesn't look like Hallmark is going to stop selling 'Thank You' cards and people aren't going to stop sending them, shouldn't there be that necessary response that insecure people like me need when shelling out a 'Thank You' to a person who I should consider a friend but I don't because I'm too much of an idiot to accept commitment? Where the hell is my 'You're Welcome' card? Why must I feel bad when I can't have the quick and cheap way of being cordial that the 'Thank You' card-senders have ready-access to?

Now I guess I should note that I don't really receive 'Thank You' cards from people because a)I don't give gifts, b)I try not to do nice things for people, and c)most of my friends are pricks. It's 'd' all of the above. Even though it would be like a homework assignment to have to send a 'You're Welcome' card to someone, I think that in many occasions it would work. Hallmark should at least give people the opportunity to send a 'You're Welcome' card with a silly picture of a cute little dog on it. Or even if you want to write in 'Now you owe me a favor!' inside the card, thats fine by me too.
So anyways, I leave you with a true story. I am named after a character on a Hallmark commercial. My mom told me a few weeks ago and I've been looking up ways to legally change my name (and my parents) since. Well, not really. Maybe being named after something like this is the exact reason why I desperately try to avoid the heartlessness and soullessness of the 'Martin' label. I'm running from 'Martin' but sadly, I know I will never reach the sunset. So I must acknowledge the fact that "everything I'm not made me everything I am" (-Kanye). To rid myself of a pride that has only hindered my existence, I would like to 'e-Thank You' Hallmark. Now there's nothing left for me to do except wait for a 'You're Welcome' card. That would make me happy.

-Marty

Belated Valentines.

Oh yeah and Eddie and Laura, minus a little bit of Eddie.

Alex Melamid straight thuggin it.

Barack O-bomb-diggity.

The reason I support Barack O. is obvious. Mr. Obama may be a fantastic speaker and a great looking guy but those are hardly the reasons I find him intriguing. Let's face it, we can find a number of politicians that possess these qualities. However, the one thing that sets him apart from the rest is that he's bout that change. I mean he's bout it to the extent that he went and made it the background of all of his campaign sites.

As you all know I'm bout that money. I'm so bout that money that you can probably just hear how much I'm bout that money right now. (You're welcome). How can any of us sit here and deny the fact that change is unbelievably important? Change seems to be used less and is often overlooked, but at this time America can't go on without it. Without change how would you park anywhere, or do your laundry, or get out of talking to a hobo with one leg and a beautiful smile? Explain that to me. I think Obama is on to something that is larger than any of us can comprehend. Mr. Obama is such a #1 stunna that he playfully calls the $32 million he raised in January alone...change. I'm sorry but your overall mackdaddy-ness and/or pimpitude must be off the charts if you can just regard $32 million as change. Mr. Obama's understanding of the power of change is so unbelievable that any amount of money is beneath him and his ideals. From this point I'm not sure where we're headed. I do know that change will help us enjoy our privileges, keep our clothes clean, and lead us away from the tragedies of war. So although change may seem to weigh you down, please don't deny the fact that more of it will help each and every one of us. Change we can all believe in.

-Marty

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/default.cfm?bandID=663387 - Bout that Money

Celebrity Edition

I've been fairly fascinated (if that's possible) in the overwhelming popularity of "Celebrity Edition" spin-offs of our favorite American things. Why do people automatically demand the "Celebrity Edition" of most things and why do these "Celebrity Editions" directly follow a few seasons of lackluster ratings? Is it really that much more fun to watch celebrities play golf or basketball or fight for money from Donald Trump (who is a B-list celebrity) or live in the same house that is labeled 'Surreal'? The answer must be 'yes'. So recently I've been compiling a list of things I'd like to see the "Celebrity Edition" to.

UFC: Celebrity Edition (example: Michael Clarke Duncan vs. Ben Affleck)

vs.

Track and Field Celebrity Edition (just the odd sports like pole vaulting and the triple jump or 100 meter backstroke)

Presidential Campaign 2008: Celebrity Edition. Nevermind, it already happened and Ronald Reagan won. (Although I must say I would be a fan if Rambo ran for Illinois governor, California wouldn't have shit on us. Oh yeah, Rambo, not Sly Stallone.)
Cheaters and/or Maury: Celebrity Edition. Hopefully it wouldn't end up just like another Access Hollywood.

I could see Russell Crowe doing some shit like that.

The possibilities are endless.

P.S. This is the first picture to come up on Google Images when I typed in "Celebrity Edition".
(Pinoy Big Brother Celebrity Edition, such a ridiculous coincidence...should it be a goal of mine?)

I was Martin: "Yan can cook and so can you!"

I'm not sure if anyone else thought Martin Yan was as cool as I did. The way he chopped just about anything brought a smile to my face. He even knew it, staring into the camera as if he were saying, "I can cook and so can you! (P.S. I love you)". Actually come to think of it, he did say it. You could only feel the love if you were as much of a fan of cooking as he was. His jovial behavior and his relentless smile were enough to bring happiness to my childhood. I mean really, you didn't actually think I came up with this unbelievable smile on my own, did you?

No matter how successful Martin Yan is, he still hasn't shared a secret with you that I feel is necessary to even begin to understand his beautiful personality. Of course he didn't whisper it into my ear as the way I always dreamed he would, but after reminiscing on youtube by watching videos of him I began to take away even more meaning from Mr. Yan. Not only do his eyes tell me that he will always be there for me but he also told me that he shares my pain. The pain that is embodied in the everyday struggle of Martin vs. Marty. I don't expect you to understand. It is something that he and I (and every other Martin (first names only please)) share. Although he always goes by 'Martin', at the end of the day when he can finally put his scarily sharp knife down and throw his apron in the hamper he can also put away the inaccuracies and the expectations that 'Martin' has brought him. For those quiet hours he can be himself and look at the world through a more honest set of eyes. Marty's eyes.

"Hi, Rob Johnson Channel 2 News, pleasure to meet you!"

9 years of caddying really took it's toll on me physically, but mostly mentally. I 3-peat'd like Michael Jordan did (only he did it twice and at something totally badass) as Honor Caddy of The Year. I can say that the politics (who got the well-paying loops) pissed me off to a degree that has not been matched since. I'm talking about thoughts of murder in the 1st degree. But I knew the money was well worth it and it really wasn't work. The worst that could happen in a round of golf is that some old guy would yell at you for losing a ball. Since my mind wandered into thinking about things like "I wonder what kind of excuse I'd give if I had diarrhea right now", I knew that I couldn't complain too much about the job. Then again, I think I wonder about that excuse in almost every social situation I'm put in. I can talk for hours about the stupid shit that happened at good ol' Ridgemoor Country Club (I still have to Google it to make sure I spell it right) but I want to spend more time on a specific individual.

Rob Johnson was a guest of a guy that I caddied for regularly for the Invitational which is easily the biggest event of the golf season. Everyone gets to invite their buddies and lie about their handicaps and talk shit about who's sandbagging. It's pretty entertaining but like most things in life, I didn't take it seriously. I was more concentrated on making fun of Mr. Rob Johnson and that's pretty much it. After the first hole, during the first time I caddied for him, he turned to me and asked "Hey man, are you going to practice your standup comedy routine the entire weekend?". My reply was quick, "Do you think you could get me on the Channel 7 News or do I have to go through 4 boxes of Crest White Strips first?". (He was on Channel 7 at the time and later that day I learned that he had quit the day before and was going to be on Channel 2.) "Marty, you wish you looked this good". I was pretty relentless the entire weekend. Rob Johnson apparently thought the idea was to tell everyone he was far better than he actually was and we quickly found ourselves in last place. Rob liked to brag about how well-dressed he was. White and red striped shirt, black shorts, black socks, white Adidas golf shoes with red and black lining. You're right Mr. Rob Johnson, I do wish I looked that good.

The thing about Rob Johnson is that I had never seen him on TV. I rarely watch the news and I had only known he was a big time anchor because everyone else told me. Treating him like just another dude was not a problem. After working my way through his physical defects (which he thought were positive attributes) I started to comment on how mindless one can be to be a news anchor. Fake smile, read some lines like you actually care, and crack a corny joke right before the half hour is over. Not hard. I was pretty successful at ripping him apart until I asked "Hey Bobby J., do you and Mr. Food go out after work and pound some brewskis?" I was just expecting an answer like "Yea, all the time" but instead I got a full fledge description of how much of a creepshow Mr. Food really is. (I'm actually not even sure his name is Mr. Food, it's the fat white guy with the beard that shares recipes sometimes). That story was alright but then Rob Johnson started getting into some X-rated stuff. Some about him, some about the other idiots he works with. After feeling like a 12 year-old that just saw a boob for the first time, I decided to let up on Mr. Johnson. The last thing anyone should want to know is how their beloved news anchor gets their swerve on.

Rob (to fellow golfer) - "Hi, Rob Johnson Channel 2 News, pleasure to meet you!"
Marty - "Dude are you fucking serious? That's how you introduce yourself? You've got to be kidding."
Rob - "OK, if I get you a cranberry vodka will you make fun of someone else for the next few holes?"
Marty - "No, because I'm going to get one either way."
Rob - "Just wash my ball, and do me a favor, stop smiling like that when you do it. I'm married."

Dopplegangster: Marty

Wait until I find your dopplegangster on the hipster party pics!