Posts Tagged ‘Blake Lively’


Memorial Day NYC Weekend Recap

June 1, 2011

I may or may not still be sweating, but less than 19 hours after arriving home from a Memorial Day long weekend trip in New York City, I obviously have awesome things to discuss. My weekend actually started on Thursday night as I drove up to Boston for a job interview Friday morning. I considered writing a blog about how easy job interviews are once you can actually get them. For your sake, I decided there is no point harping on a poor economy and the fact that unless you know somebody you probably won’t even get the interview. If you do, try to speak as eloquently as myself, give a firm hand shake, tie a full windsor knot (or wear a pencil skirt if you’re a girl?) and constantly give yourself backhanded self-deprecating compliments to confuse your interviewer into thinking you’re humble, while subconsciously commending your own exploits. If you’re wondering this is basically how my job interview went…

From my interview in Boston, I drove back down to Providence, inhaled a lunch, and got to the bus station for the trip to NYC. Obviously, the bus was 30 minutes behind schedule, but once I got there the fit hit the shan almost immediately. The following are just some of the wonderful observations I made during my time in the Big Apple over this Memorial Day weekend.


if Vanessa Hudgens is doing it, shouldn't you be? Well, unless it comes to sexting pictures. Actually, do that, too.

If I were a weatherman, aside from constantly using adjectives such as “crisp” “tingly” “moist” “airy” and “heavy” my favorite day of the year would be that Memorial Day Weekend forecast projecting sun and 80-plus degrees. Not because I finally get to drape my body in white linen head to toe, but because I get to start off the telecast with the opening line: “IT’S CORK WEDGE SEASON, BITCHES!” Honestly, not since the invention of the Stiletto back in the Roosvelt administration (took a guess, not looking that up) has a shoe changed the intercourse game more. Chicks are just strolling around three to five inches taller than normal with their leg muscles flexed up into the most tantalizing manner ever screaming for guys to take notice. Well, notice I did. Obviously, walking around the streets of New York you better be looking at the pavement, because lord knows with each step, you risk running into the gauntlet of gum, dog crap, mustard packet, vomit, sleeping homeless person, blood, open manhole cover, or crackhead’s face. Along the way though, the glory of a toned girl wearing cork wedges, a sundress and a straw fedora catches the eye in this picturesque weather and erases all of that vileness. So here’s to you, cork wedges, and all of your holy healing powers.


High irony that the slogan on the back of my Metro Card on the NYC subway read: “OPTIMISM.” Oh, you didn’t know there is a slogan on the back of NYC T pass, er, Metro Cards? Pft, amateur. Anyway, you better stay optimistic down there, because aside from the fact that half the street-side stops were closed for what I can only assume were terror reasons, that is only the first obstacle down in the underworld of America’s largest city. I would challenge anyone to walk down there and not immediately have some type of shit particle fly up into their eyes from the constant wind blowing around in these tunnels. Once you’ve contracted a Stye infection, you have to cram onto a train where you are trapped prey for panhandlers. The odds on favorite to panhandle aboard this moving trap is an Eastern European woman with dirty child in tow who breathes into your face hoping you drop change into her found Subway cup (the sandwich shop: the actual subway doesn’t give out the cups for panhandlers apparently). Basically, what you can gather by now is that if you can walk it, or cab it for a reasonable fare: do it. I’ve got a good friend who will almost never bend on this matter, and I can’t say I disagree. At least the freaks on the Boston T think they are rappers/DJs or just mumble quietly in a corner to themselves. I don’t know about you but I think it’s time for a visually appealing Memorial Day inspired break.

WWE Diva- Kelly Kelly. Yup, they just named her Kelly twice. America?


If you aren’t waking up, rolling out of bed, shotgunning a Gatorade and playing some Fifa before you go get drunk at a brunch special in the city, you just aren’t in New York City. Got to give major credit here, this is a huge thing in NYC as places all over have great drink specials. I obviously went to a restaurant called Lasagna for my drink special. Making the easiest choice since voting for Carrie Underwood on American Idol, I added $9.95 to my brunch of a smoked salmon and spinach scrambler (classic alliteration) for unlimited bloody mary’s, mimosas, bellinis and screwdrivers. Got to give even more credit to the super awkward foreign guys serving the drinks. They kind of hovered around like the sneaky butler from Mr. Deeds until you ordered another drink. They rarely understood your order on the first try. But, these determined motheruffers just kept on dutifully refilling mimosas and loading up screwdrivers like one of Pavlovs dogs responding to classical conditioning. After inventing a drinking challenge (because, what’s drinking if it’s not a challenge) of having one of each drink offered in succession and then in reverse order, it’s pretty much time to go home for a nap. Or, in our case, it’s time to go get 10 pound mugs of beer from a German place called Bierhaus and happily quote Beerfest lines for the rest of the afternoon.


For whatever reason, something about rooftop drinking just makes drinking more fun. The only person who knows the true answer is the same person who can explain why puck sluts are attracted to hockey players. Okay bad analogy: we’ll never understand the puck slut thing. Perhaps it’s that potential to fall to your death if you drink too much, but it’s probably just the extra-sensory feeling you get when you are 100 feet up having a cocktail. Naturally, where we stayed for the weekend had roof access and allowed for some of the best pre-gaming in the city. Any time grown men are forced to ask the girls who have cameras to take pictures of them in front of the Empire State Building, for the sole purpose of a Facebook default…  ah screw it, grown men ask for default pics all the time, but still these are really cool defaults.

Of course I'm not showing you my facebook default. So here's Taylor Cole, she was in "The Event" and since no one watched that, you can see her now.


Blolz. I know, right!?! Shouldn’t this place be in Provincetown or San Francisco? Well, in NYC, the trendy clubs are all here, and for the first time in my life I get to openly admit to loving me some meat packing. Somehow, in the magical way that hasn’t been seen since Lord Voldemort’s backfiring curse on Harry, 14 of us were able to maneuver into the same club. Even more amazing is that for the most part, everyone got out together and alive. Naturally, with such a large pack of people in a crowded drunken state, there were some casualties: a removal from the club, and a stray wanderer included. Overall, though, everybody fist pumped for so long carpel tunnel became a concern, then grouped up, used their inner munchy GPS and located cheap pizza by 4am.


It was Memorial Day weekend and you better have had a BBQ to attend or prepared one yourself. In our case, after the girls we were with opted out of having fun and grilling meat so they could attend an Alexander McQueen “art” exhibit at the Met that I’m pretty positive was completely mythical, the men journeyed on to Jersey City. After walking aimlessly around New York and New Jersey trying to find sausages to put on the grill, we gave up and decided we’d just bring the sausages already in the group that wouldn’t be going on a grill. After sipping some Sam Summers at a gentle pace whilst mowing multitudes of beef patties, the drinking games quickly ensued. All that needs to be discussed to show our love for America is the way we settled a game of full-beer-full-flip Flip Cup. After deciding both sides cheated in some way, the tie was broken, not by replaying the game or with lame penalty kicks like they’d do in Europe, but with a shotgunned beer relay race. America!

Because Blake Lively has been getting a lot of pub lately, and we all know Leighton steals the show, literally, figuratively, whateverly.


By a chance train shutdown and transfer, we were forced to get off at the World Trade Center subway stop. Going up a six wide escalator that was about three stories high, I commented how impressive the station alone was. Overhearing me in an escalator next to us was a local New Yorker who commented, “You shoulda seen it before the attacks.” Which quickly put into perspective the weekend as a whole. As we got outside and stared at not only the impressive construction of the new Freedom Tower, but also the breathtaking plans for the foundation fountain and reflecting pool, we were all taken aback. I immediately thought how many people were back in the area, riding the subways, and living their lives freely. All the above shenanigans I discussed are only possible because of the Armed Forces kicking ass and upholding peace everywhere else in the world. Happy Belated Memorial Day! Don’t forget what the day and time with your family and friends is really for.

Yup, America, motorcycles, and cork wedges!


Smorgasblog: NHL > NBA? M-Bone Dead, Thor Yoked, and the Red Sox Alive

May 18, 2011

Sorry about the six day break in bloggage. We all know my weekends are a mission in market research for new topics. Combine that with May weather that would make a Twilight tween brace for Edward or Jacob to show up at their door, and you get no blogs. Seriously, it’s not even raining, but everything is just damp. Like a literal wet towel draped upon my life, which is already stuck somewhere between neutral in a ditch and stagnant in a dive bar. Thankfully, I’ve been ripping off naps like it’s my job and watching sports on the reg, which means you get some deep thoughts, and hot chicks in today’s smorgasblog. Le’go.

Rosie Huntington-Whiteley earned a feature on the Revolver a few months back, then Maxim named her #1 on its Hot 100 a couple weeks back. Coincidence? I think not.


I have to start off with this question because Tuesday’s action in both sports made me question the entertainment value of each game. I officially invested in the Bruins playoff run this year because they broke enough of my heart during last year’s collapse to make me care. I also still watch every NBA playoff game with my own Celtics eliminated because I genuinely enjoy the sport. Last night, for the first time, I concluded the hockey game won out, at least on this night. Yes, on a night where Dirk Nowitzki shot as efficiently as a hybrid running on vegetable oil, scoring 48 points on 15 shot attempts, the Bruins-Lightning game legitimately had 20 different “are you shitting me?!” moments. Kind of like when you see the timeline of women Leonardo DiCaprio has plowed through over the years.

Call me crazy, but to give this up...

For whatever reason, David Stern decided this would be the year of the free throw in the NBA playoffs. If you are a star player in the league, and you go to the basket, the referees will bail you out. No matter how badly you travel (Lebron), flail wildly (Westbrook), spin and shoot over your head (Rose), legitimately draw zero contact (Wade) or take a small pat on the ass (Dirk, Durant), you will get to the line. The Mavs-Thunder game had 79 free throw attempts last night. Including technicals, the whistle blew over 40 times to stop the game and let a guy take a free shot at the basket. That’s about as entertaining as watching drying paint on growing grass in a sandbox.

Meanwhile, Bruins and Lightning players

... you've gotta do better than this. Not crazy? Yeah, I didn't think so either.

were flying all over the ice, to the point that small enough mistakes kept happening to open up amazing scoring chances, en route to a 6-5 Bruins win. Along the way, a Bruins rookie named Tyler Seguin scored on a breakaway dangle and a snipe over the glove-side, while assisting on two other goals… all in the same period. The Bruins trailed 2-1, then led 6-3, before the Lightning trailed 6-5 and made desperate attempts on net for four solid minutes while Tim Thomas hardly stood on his head, but beat back all shots from any angle with every inch of his equipment. When the final horn blew, the Bruins held on and tied the series at 1 game a piece. Which is good news, because we might just get to watch five more games like this one.


A friend of mine and I share a very serious sentiment that outsiders may misconstrue as a joke. The worst day of his year, thus far, is the time we didn’t get to go ice skating at the Frog Pond in Boston on New Year’s Day.  Because the whole group bailed, and two hetero guys can’t just go galivanting around like it’s the GOTDAMN ice-capades out there, the moment passed us by. Since then, I can not remember one time I have been legitimately upset, or sad. Just high on life as a motheruffer. Going on party buses, watching sports, hitting up sorority formals and Dougie’ing my ass off along the way. Then, like Thor’s hammer, news hit of M-Bone’s untimely death and all that awesomeness came to a halt.

Your first thought when you saw the headline was probably, “Wait, who is M-Bone?!” Then you read the first line of the news story and got that same sinking feeling: Rapper M-Bone, whose group, Cali Swag District, scored a hit this year with “Teach Me How to Dougie” is dead after gunshot wounds to the head during a drive-by shooting. Suddenly, you came to remember that old saying: “life is like an hour glass placed on a table, each with its own unique sands.” Alright, maybe I made up that quote because I remember one like it using the hour glass analogy, but still. M-Bone cannot be thanked enough for providing us the one great jewel he had in him. While many of us will pass through this life impacting nobody, pushing paper at a 9-5, reading my blog and hoping to be as amazing as either myself, or the people I write about, M-Bone was out there living it. Homie was just parked on a Monday night outside a liquor sto’ trying to get his sip on when he got two-pieced to the dome. Next time you’re out and hear the Dougie, pour one out for M-Bone. Remember, your year wouldn’t have been the same if M-Bone never taught you how to dougie.

Inspiration for us all.

Thor’s All Yoked Up and Norse-Godly

If I read one more article about a movie star who never lifted a weight before they started training for their role as (INSERT SUPERHERO) I am just going to snap. That shit just doesn’t work for the common man, unless you’re like me and you’ve been on a strict two-a-day Perfect Pushup plan for years now. This cocky Aussie, Chris Hemsworth (first appeared in Star Trek as Kirk’s dad who got blown up), decided to roll up to the set of Thor so jacked up he didn’t even fit in the costume, then says he never lifted in his life. Really, bro? You never lifted a weight in your life, then you were magically able to look like a cross between Hulk Hogan, Mark McGwire and Fabio? After seeing the movie, my friend who lifts regularly and holds a record in the Boston University workout room said, “After Thor, I’m not lifting another weight until I get some steroids.” Way to ruin it for the rest of us short, white, unathletic dudes, Hemsworth. You’re lucky I get a Natalie Portman pictorial segway out of your vanity.

Absolutely destroying it in the nerdy-scientist-who-wears-plaid-but-gets-a-god-to-love-her role.


I had to google this whole mess of a series, because I know I drank a lot during it, but did the Yankees honestly start Bartolo Colon and Freddy Garcia?! Like, your payroll is almost a quarter billion dollars, and after CC Sabathia, you trot Colon, Garcia, AJ Burnett and Ivan Nova out there?! This shit ain’t Little League. You don’t get to mow down scrappy lefty slap hitters like myself. This series was just what the doctor ordered to turn the season around, let the Red Sox rip off like a 14-2 run and cruise to the division title like I predicted. Meanwhile, the Sox are only getting better now that Lackey and Dice K have been forced to fake elbow inflammation for the good of the team. Once Pedroia starts his annual laser show and Crawford realizes Boston is not a racist town, the only real question is how many games we win after starting the year 2-11.

Kelly Brook from Piranha 3D... since you didn't see the movie, I'll show her here.

Stay tuned…