Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Man Crush of the Month...Every Pittsburgh Penguin

So, you're walking down the street in downtown Pittsburgh, somewhere near Mellon Arena, just minding your own business when you see a flock of like six foxy ladies that rate at least a 13.5 on the 1-to-10 hottness scale (with probably a -2 on the smartness scale, because god is usually fair, but hey) walking in your direction.

My question for you is, if you could be any man in the world, who would you want to be?

In pretty much any other city in the world, you would want to be Brad Pitt, Johnny Depp, or any of the other men who have captured the prestigious Man Crush Semi-Monthly Award, but not in the Steel City. So if not these hunks of manly perfection, then who the fuck else would you want to be?

Donald Trump, or Richard Branson, because they've got a lot of money? That's a logical guess, especially in this sad world of materialism we live in, but no.

Ben Roethlisberger?

If that was your guess, please X out this window and never read this again. He's a no-talent ass clown, and I've proven my point numerous times, but that's for another day.

The answer of course, is Sidney Crosby, and if not him, any other Penguin.

I've lived outside of Pittsburgh my entire life. Twenty years I have suffered through the drastic climate changes of Penn's Woods, but it wasn't in vain; I've learned a lot, and I've seen even more, and something that I haven't seen in all my years in Pittsburgh is the amount of rabidity with which its citizens are cheering on the Pen's in the Stanley Cup Finals.

I was only four years old whenthe Guinos won the 1992 Stanley Cup, but I remember it like it was yesterday, and it wasn't that big of a deal. Mainly, because they'd been good for a number of years and people expected them to go to the playoffs and do well. In other words, fans acted a bit more humbly.

Now, when I come into my bedroom between periods to check my computer and creep around like the loser that I am, I see at least five girls' away messages that say something like, "Put It In My Five-Hole Sidney."

I'm extremely confident that until three weeks ago, 9/10ths of these women had no fucking clue what a five-hole was, and when their boyfriends tried to explain it to them, they didn't get it until it was compared to a vagina.

Some might get mad about this ridiculous bandwagon bumblefuck we've got going on in Pittsburgh, but I sure a hell won't, because to me, the more the merrier. I don't give a baker's fuck if you didn't like the Pens when Ed Olczyk was giving blowjobs to Craig Patrick while they were teaming up to make some of the worst roster deals in the history of sports (behind only the Phoenix Suns), or didn't even know they existed. Now, they're doing good, and they're getting a lot of love for it, which they deserve.

I mean, in pro sports, it's your job to do good and win, so the whole bandwagon thing makes a great deal more sense than many people give it credit for; regular fans like myself should feel like we've been getting hosed for all of these years by wasting countless hours watching the Pens lose to the fucking Islanders--they have an American goalie, and therefore should suck. We just didn't know that it was easy enough to watch reruns of Roseanne three nights a week until the team got some good press and started winning their shit.

Anyway, you definitely don't see the players complaining. Not only have the fans been ridiculously loud and supportive at their home games, but people have even showed up to Mellon Arena to watch the games inside on the JumboTron during road games. This obviously doesn't help the team at all when they're in Detroit getting spanked by a bunch of clones of that girl in Dodgeball that took the horse tranquelizers, but it does create some energy for when they finally get to play at home tomorrow.

Not only this, but these guys could pull some mad women. Whatever type, hair color, ethnicity, whatever the fuck they desired.

At the forefront of this is obviously Sidney Crosby, who I will openly admit is a good looking guy, in what I would call a humble way. But, make him the captain and franchise player of an up and coming hockey team, give him a Reebok contract to go with his multi-million dollary Pens papers, and set him up in a home with pseudo-Father Figure Mario Lemieux (the ladies must love sneaking around...Mario doesn't allow sleepovers, I hear), and he turns into Mel Gibson before he fucked everything up by getting drunk, making fun of Jews, and calling girls "Sugar Tits."

Sometimes I'll be sitting with some of my guy friends, talking about hockey, using words like "forecheck" and "facewash" or "fighting strap" and a girl will just look up from her back issue of Cosmo and say, "Oh. My. God. Sidney. Crosby. Is. So. Fucking. Hot. I will immediately concur, and try not to get angry at the fact that these women don't know shit about hockey, and only want to bone the star player. I rationalize for a minute and think, Shit. I would not mind if something like that happened to me. I'd love to be on the Penguins right now, and would probably not have one single ounce of regret if women were all over me because I knew how to swing my wood. By wood I mean hockey stick, or penis. Mostly penis, because that's subtle boner humor right there.

It's amazing how you can take an ordinary guy and put him in extraordinary circumstances (think Shia Leboeuff), and just watch the women flock like bees to honey or Angelina Jolie to third world children.

Try and wrap your head around this: my friend Evan was born on the exact same day as Sidney Crosby, which would be August 7th, 1987. Evan is currently attending college and not doing very much with his life. His biggest achievement to date has been cracking his skull open on a concrete floor when he failed to execute a standing backflip at a fraternity party during freshman year in Erie. I dont' even need to say what Crosby has done so far.

Then there's Evgeni Malkin, who speaks only Russian, could pick up a Vietnamese woman that played a cameo in Full Metal Jacket as soon as she stepped off of the boat by communicating with a fucking head nod. He doesn't need to learn any languages to get a bitch in between Gonchar's silky sheets, all he needed to learn was a wrist shot.

I've also heard women feigning for Marc Andre Fleury, which I don't really understand. I mean, yeah, he's cute, but how many women do you know that actually watch the post-game interviews and see him without sixty pounds of padding on? When he's out there on the ice, he looks like Marlon Brando except with a smaller head. They must like it because he can empathize with them, since random guys are always trying to put it in his five-hole, and sometimes he actually takes it there, but other times it goes into other places. They probably like that he feels something like they feel, or at least that's what they equate it to.

Then there's Gary Roberts. I can't say much about him except that he is basically the male version of a cougar. Who doesn't want that notch in their belt? Speaking of belts, if you're anorexic or bulimic, you can just go on a ski-trip in the locker room after game three. With all that weight you're probably losing, you can probably use a few extra notches in the belt to keep the Juicy Coutoure's up. If you need a press pass, leave a comment.

You can add any Penguin to this list: Maxim Talbot, Kris Letang (his face is like butter), Ryan Malone, whoever. I've heard it about them all. If you're a female in Pittsburgh looking to be elite, you've simply gotta bone a Pittsburgh Penguin.

These guys are straight rugged. They've got black eyes, broken noses, exploded fingers, and most importantly beards. If they wore flannel, they'd be easily confused with lumberjacks.

I love this for a few reasons. The first would be that I've loved the Penguins all of my life, and didn't think that they might ever make it to the finals again, much less win a championship (which is, admittedly, looking bleak presently). I also like it because there's a few guys my age playing a professional sport and excelling at it without getting in trouble for smoking or selling crack. This effectively throws the bird at the Baby Boomer population and says, "Fuck you, you guys aren't the best generation. Global Warming doesn't even fucking exist."

I also love the thoughts of Ben Roethlisberger going home without two bitches on his arm and crying himself to sleep because he will never be as good as Terry Bradshaw or even Neil O'Donnell.

May's Man Crush(es) of the Month: Sidney Crosby and every Pittsburgh Penguin.



****Author's Note: The scenario I laid out in the first paragraph where one would see five broads that were all extremely hot was simply a hypothetical situation. Any man worth their salt knows that there is no such thing as a five-girl clique that consists of five hot girls, unless they are Victoria's Secret models, and that doesn't count because the only reason they know one another is because of their extremely fortunate gene pools. If you don't believe me on this, even movies will prove you wrong. Think Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. (I didn't see it, I'm not that fucking stupid, but I did see a preview. It looks god-awful.) That chick from Ugly Betty is in it. Women always have to have at least one ugly girl in the group, so that they can feel better about themselves. This is also why Monica and Rachel hung out with Phoebe, and why Buffy kicked it with Willow. I could go on for days.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Those Chipmunks Preach Bad Values

When the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie came out just before Christmas last winter, I went to go see it, primarily for nostalgic reasons. And, it looked awesome.

I used to watch the cartoon when I was a child, and it'd always help me to get into the Christmas spirit, something that is still extremely important to me. The movie definitely served this purpose, and I was amazed by the special effects that people can now use in movies, as I have been many times throughout the last five years, but there was one thing that really disturbed me about the storyline that I'd never really noticed before:

The chipmunks series promotes everything that is wrong in adolescent and teenage society, though most kids would not recognize it until they've aged a few years and have had to actually take care of themselves for a while.

Firstly, Simon gets no love. Simon is the nerdy one, or, to put it more accurately, the smart one. He doesn't get treated unfairly by Alvin or Theodore, but it's easy to see that he is the chipmunk that gest shunned the most from the limelight. In the movie and in the old animated cartoons Simon has the fewest speaking lines, and when he does say something, it's something smart or precautionary to the other chipmunks or their human friend, Dave.

It's weird, because Theodore, though adorable, is an absolute idiot as far as talking chipmunks go, which I guess isn't saying much, but you know what I mean. He's funny for the occasional cute comment or yearning for parental love, but other than that he's a chubby little guy with an alto voice that completes their musical trio.

Alvin might be even worse. Though by far the most incredibly hip chipmunk, you can tell that he's going to be the character that ends up in a bar for the rest of his life drinking Schlitz and talking about the glory days on the high school soccer team. Well, instead of high school sports, he'll be talking about his childhood recording contract. Basically, he'll turn out to be the chipmunk version of Jesse McCartney.

The most readily apparent trait of the show that verifies it's absurdity towards values is simply the title Alvin and the Chipmunks. If you saw an episode of the television show without words or the lettered labels on the fronts of the chipmunk's sweaters, you would immediately think that Dave was the character named Alvin. It'd be a logical assumption, since Dave is the only one of the four characters that is not, in fact, a fucking chipmunk. Not only that, but he is the main caretaker of the little guys. Without him , they would be straight fucked. They'd have no food or shelter, since their tree in the wilderness was cut down and they were brought to a shopping mall unknowingly as part of a Christmas tree. Furthermore, they would not have become teenage pop stars.

They would've just ended up like Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan if they hadn't had their forceful mothers. (Maybe not a bad thing now, but look back on the days of "Hit Me Baby One More Time," and Mean Girls. My childhood would have been empty of boner jam material without those two sex demons.)

I fear that if children get too into Alvin and the Chipmunks, they'll begin to take the things that their parents give them and contribute to their lives for granted. This is a grave matter.

It could've all been avoided if Dave would've just opened his damn mouth and asked for some recognition.