Bourdain recently had a special which included interviews with prominent food bloggers. Common theme with all of them: they're fat, really enjoy eating, and have this thing for taking pictures of food. Surprised? Okay, probably not. But Bourdain, with his ability to perfectly assume the role of confidante/drinking/eating buddy was somehow able to convince most of them to come clean on national television about how they have no game and are substituting food for sex. It got me to thinking that we need to set Bourdain up with some of the guys over at espn. I'll name names. Joe Lunardi, Eric Berry, Mel Kiper, jr, Mel Kiper's younger best friend-who-covers-the-draft-but-whose-name-escapes-me, etc. These are all guys in need of some late night drinking and yakitori therapy. Your mothers have been calling. They wish you could be out getting pussy instead of wasting your time talking bracketology or keeper league drafts. "Want to come take a look at the changes i've made to my big board?" Not really a line that makes the panties drop, huh, Mel? Not unless your audience is a bunch of roofied co-eds.
Half Baked was on tv again the other day. I've only seen highlights of the Marbury reality show from a year or two back, but i'd swear he lifted all his material from sir smoke-a-lot. Go watch that scene again where Thurgood sells weed to smoke-a-lot. He does everything short of eating vaseline. Say it ain't so, Starbury. I trusted you. Now, I know it was all a lie.
In honor of another shitty tournament, here are my brackets for your viewing pleasure. I still owe money for one of my pools.
Marion Cotillard vs Miranda Kerr vs Emmanuelle Chriqui. I'll take all three. But rather than being indecisive, and because somebody circled a choice for me and wrote in "winner," Marion it is. Vive la France.
What I do find rather disturbing is that with the right makeup, under the right lighting, viewed at the correct angle, and after you've got enough alcohol on board, Jwoww from Jersey Shore can be briefly mistaken for Emmanuelle Chriqui.
No music video this time, just a random video of James Brown demonstrating some dances. A little spastic, but Goddamn, motherfucker can move.
And a photo of James Brown and Al Sharpton, aka the original pussy posse, just 'cause i dig the style.
Hope you had a good Easters and avoided the diarrheas.
