What’s Gaby Cooking and Lost Angeles Bachelor Meal.

It’s not every day that you get the opportunity to pair with a renowned food blogger, celebrity chef and cookbook author to plan a meal.  Well, for you maybe, but for someone as handsome and good at life as I am, I can do this every day.  That’s because my wife is friends with Gaby Dalkin of What’s Gaby Cooking.  You can check out her amazing food blog or pre-order her amazing cookbook, or you can get to know her through this.

Her husband is a sports fanatic and bourbon loving ad man like I am, but today I am partnering up with his better half on a little idea we had.

We wanted to make a dinner for you to cook that would be inspired by America’s worst shit show:  The Bachelor.  For Gaby, this was probably easy.  I will link you to her carb-heavy, slut and glut comfort food recipe at the end of this post.  Going in, I knew her plan was to go carb heavy, possibly sausage heavy (we’re not being subtle) and basically create a culinary guilty pleasure to liken to The Bachelor.  I’ll let her wax poetic about the symbolism, just know we had fun discussing it.  She’s worth reading every time she posts.  She’s one of us.

I decided to bring my better-than-you’d expect mixology to the table and create a drink to pair with her meal.  Not totally sure how well the actual pairing will go, but individually I know these stand up.  I crafted a new beverage called The Rose Ceremony and it is a riff on the St. Germain Cocktail which I have enjoyed at many a poolside in Los Angeles on a hot summer day.  Sure, it’s raining here in Portland, but it’s sunny on the Bachelor so that’s what counts.

To craft the Rose Ceremony and keep it true to its namesake event, I had a few guidelines:

  • Have it taste good
  • Make it sour enough to remind us of the ugly criers that get sent home roseless
  • Use roses in the drink
  • Use Chardonnay in the drink (not that easy)
  • Use at least three kinds of alcohol so that you know what the girls feel like at 4am when they are eliminated
  • Impress you that I can craft cocktails like a demon and make you even more attracted to me


To start, here’s what you will need:

  • A glass that makes you feel like an asshole when you hold it
  • The juice of 1 lemon (around 2 oz please)
  • 1 oz of Tito’s Vodka (it’s from Texas like Sean)
  • 2 oz of unoaked chardonnay (Sauvignon Blanc or Champagne would work better but that isn’t the deal.  Please don’t use the oaky shit I make fun of)
  • 1.5 oz St. Germain elderflower liqueur
  • 1 tbsp Rose Water
  • Club Soda to taste
  • A big ass ice cube if possible (to represent the Neil Lane ring the winner gets to keep for 3 weeks until they call it off)

In a glass, combine the lemon juice, vodka, chardonnay, St. Germain and rose water.  Stir.  Add the ice cube and pour club soda to fill your glass.  Add a little lemon peel if you feel fancy.  I did.


Now, drink.  You’ve just made The Rose Ceremony, the first cocktail from Lost Angeles and the only you will find with Chardonnay in it because, well, it sucks.

Next, CLICK HERE to see Gaby’s recipe.  Take pictures of you enjoying our offerings and they will get posted for the BachCaps.  We think Monday night is a great time to try it.  Will you accept that rose?

If you do, use the hashtag #GZbachmeal on instagram to show us what you got!





Filed under Rants and Musings

Bachelor Recap: Week Three

Before we get into it, I have a couple big announcements that as the most handsome blogger in North America who understands how to make every pre and post prohibition cocktail known to man, I demand you pay some attention before I start making some reality game show contestants want to drink Drain-O to make it all end quickly.

The first, is that I am finally doing a little co-partnership with my good friend Gaby Dalkin of What’s Gaby Cooking, a killer chef, food blogger and soon to be published cookbook author.  Besides having been a personal chef to Jessica Simpson, amongst others, she has also put up with me for many years and introduced me to her husband, with whom I have covered up many crimes, especially in Las Vegas.

What Gaby and I have planned is to release two recipes this Thursday.  Gaby, will take the dinner course and I will be showing you how to make a cocktail.  Together, you will cook her recipe and build my cocktail and sit and enjoy week four of the Bachelor.  It’s going to taste great and my drink will at least ensure you are drunk before the show starts.  It’s like a valium before surgery.

So, look out for that if for no other reason than to try some of Gaby’s food.

The second bit is a request.  Full disclosure, I work for an advertising agency and we’ve worked on a project where people can basically Kickstarter a vehicle.  Well, a fraternity at USC is going to crowdfund a Dodge Dart to donate to Meals on Wheels.  I want you all to do me a favor and donate them a couple bucks.  I am proud of the project, but I’d be most proud if it was used for good, hopefully to offset the damage my promotion of the Bachelor does to this and future generations.  Please CLICK THIS LINK and give a dollar, ten dollars, hell, a C-note if you appreciate me.

And now, let’s BachCap.

Holy shit!  Strawberry Lemonade was working out this week to intro the show.  If this was Foursquare, he’d get a fucking badge and some copy like “Three weeks in a row looking homoerotic on a treadmill?  Your self dignity says no, but your biceps say yes!”

Then I ignored everything he said, because, well, he’s Strawberry Lemonade and the only thing I pay attention to with him is the fact that every time his kisses a girl he puts his hand on her leg like she’s a manual transmission car.  Sean doesn’t make out with girls, he drives stick.

First one on one date was Pretty Little Liar who has all the game of an 8th grader in a hot tub.  They get in a limo and head to the place that every producer on a Hollywood show takes reality show contestants:  Hollywood Boulevard.  Let’s list my memories of Hollywood Blvd.  I puked on it once back when my band had a rehearsal space off Vine in a tenement house (but Adam Brody’s band rehearsed there too, get turned on again women!).  My high school reunion was at the W so I let a valet take my car there.  I ate at Mel’s there a few times when the Sunset location felt too far away.  I won’t even go to a strip club there.


Every other Hollywood Blvd experience?  Trying not to get raped by homeless street performers dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow and Chewbacca.  Literally, you can be sober on a Tuesday at 2pm and it’s like 4am at Burning Man with a head full of acid and someone trying to cut your arm off with a tree branch while asking you for money.

But hey, let’s go to the Guinness World Records place that I have driven by 1000 times and never gone in because I am not an asshole tourist from Osaka with a shitty travel agent.  In fact, this date was awesome because I got to see inside a building I have never been in and after 18 years in LA, there aren’t many of those.  Side note, when you are up in Portland, sometimes the Bachelor can make you homesick.  Cured.  You showed me Hollywood Blvd and Guinness.  Bring on the rain, Pac Northwest.

While walking around the museum and listening to Pretty Little Liar in her too short dress try and talk about what’s interesting about these “exhibits”, we find out Strawberry Lemonade’s dad (and family) are the kind of people who set GBOR records.  97 straight hours in a car?  Don’t marry into this family.  This isn’t like, let’s go do the hot wings challenge at the local sports bar.  This is like “let’s talk about God and ammo for 48 straights never stopping”.  Fuck.  That.  Noise.

They go outside and there’s a stage, a man in a ridiculous dinner jacket (I know you know Downton watchers) who has the depressing job of taking something like a GBOR record seriously and a crowd of homeless people, tourists and drug peddlers.  The drug peddlers explain why Chris Harrison decided to pop out at just that moment, in a Michael Scott “pretend I am the ring leader at a circus” vest.  Harrison wears a suit better than anyone on earth.  I hate when he goes casual or worse, circus casual.

Pretty Little Liar and Strawberry Lemonade have to make out for 3 minutes and 16 seconds and set a record for longest on screen kiss, which to fulfill, meant we had to watch all 3:16 seconds of it.  The situation did not stop Sean for grabbing her ass a few times.  Hard to stop a trained behavior, wait til he starts beating her without knowing why.

I thought the point of this was to force Strawberry Blonde to get some muscle memory on how to kiss.  Normally, he sticks his tongue out like he’s trying to eat Gogurt.  As later kisses this episode show, he learned nothing.  I have to close my eyes when he makes out with girls because it’s worse than watching surgery on television.  Frankly, it’s more invasive.

Later they go upstairs and Pretty Little Liar talks about how Sean is perfect, which she will regret in about a month.  Publicly.  On television.  With tears.

Then she does that awkward game that kills sperm count where you talk about kissing and shit before you kiss.  It’s like watching two 8th graders fall in love.  Then Strawberry Blonde said he was making her blush, which was the purple-faced lemonade head calling the kettle… purple?

Magic, lazers, fairy dust, thank god, a commercial.

Group date, bitches.  We’re going to Zuma beach ten minutes from the mansion where my entire high school used to go to see each other in less clothes each summer and where every fucking commercial about rollerskating at the beach is filmed.

My wife knew a physical challenge was coming because she pointed out that suddenly, all these girls were wearing sports bikinis designed to make sure Guybrow’s boobs didn’t carry her out to see.  I wasn’t worried.  If her eyebrow raises don’t carry her to space, she’s fine.

Much like during Ben’s season, the girls were going to play a sport and the winning team gets MORE TIME WITH STRAWBERRY LEMONADE.  Unlike Ben’s season, instead of playing baseball in a creepy Puerto Rican Estadio, this was low budget let’s play volleyball on a public beast.  Way to spoil us, ABC.  Guinness and now this?  You’re too good to us.  Fuck you.

These girls were so bad at volleyball they couldn’t even pretend to cut together a montage that showed any back and forth.  Why was the score tied the whole time?  No one ever got it over the fucking net.  This looked like the fucking Puppy Bowl before the Super Bowl where it’s just a bunch of puppies chasing chew toys around a kennel and they call it football.

Someone, blue team “wins”.  Anyone Can Model takes this way too fucking hard and I kept hoping a seagull took a shit in her hair, but no such luck.

The night date was back at Strawberry’s house.  Again, way to spend ABC.  Did you pick up Baja Fresh for them on the way home too?  Sean probably was like “I’ll take my Burrito Mexicano enchilado style” and the producers were like “fuck that, what do you think this is, Dancing With The Stars?  You get some chips.  Now work out on camera or you don’t get the salsa”.

Harrison must have spent the budget on some really, really good shit.  This episode started off CHEAP.


The only thing of note besides the fact that Neon Knight can show all her fucking teeth at once (even works, she’s one of like five girls still on the show that do this) is that Beyan supposedly went nuts and tried to say that Neon Knight and Joey Potter were in a fight and somehow this made her in the middle of it.

We all know Beyan is just there to focus test her.  Will she be the next Bachelorette?  So, they need to get her off the show.  I just wanted them to try harder than to have a girl who we’ve seen be normal just make duck faces and make up some weird ass story about being in the middle of an argument that didn’t exist.  The thing about bad writing is that it stands out even on a bad show.  There’s a reason you all gave up on Gossip Girl for a few minutes there.  There’s a reason you gave up on 90210 (the new shit).  There’s a reason Sex and the City 2 made most of us want to eat dynamite and matches.  Even good things can be poorly written.

But yeah, Kacie B. “career Bachelor contestant” isn’t auditioning for the Bachelorette…

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Whatever, the wedding dress girl who talks like Shoshana from Girls (in one long sentence) gets the rose and some disgusting tongue first kissing.  Good on you, GIRLS.

The date card shows up and Guybrow pretends it’s a two-on-one and everyone is like “WHAT A BITCH” and for the first time ever, I was on Guybrow’s side.  Take a joke.  And that was the last joke of the show.

The second one on one date was going to be AshLee, who due to a sad story about having ten foster homes has two capitals in her first name, presumably because she was named by a handful of different people and just took bits and pieces of that melange of names.  You bet I used the word melange.  Don’t be so turned on.  I got it off a jar of peppercorns.  I can cook.  Be turned on again.

Besides another bit of bad writing where Guybrow falls down the stairs conveniently when Sean is over and he waits 20 minutes and says “she may have a concussion”, we were almost ready for one of the show’s finer moments.  But first, we were made to believe paramedics were going to let a woman they put in a neck brace walk away then sit slacker style on a couch.  Just stop.  Either go Hunger Games, or don’t.  She didn’t fall down the stairs.  I just hope no one actually died because there was a team of EMTs pretending to secure the head of a moron.  Worse, could we have skipped the TEN teasers pretending like this scene was interesting.  Cheers to Guybrow for wearing see-thru clothes tho.

Little Orphan Hottie, who is nails, gets the charity date.  They go to Six Flags, it’s empty and two nice young girls with serious diseases come and ride in the park.  I don’t have much to say, this was a great thing for them and Little Orphan Hottie looked hot the whole time and clearly is a nice person.

She told her story to Sean and he cried and that was maybe the first genuine moment I’ve seen on this show.  What a perfect Texas wife she’d make.  She’s hot, she’s glad to have a home and when you go play golf, she actually enjoys putting all your shit away in perfect working order.  Sign us all up.  I mean, literally, compared to being abused and shuffled through the fucking foster home system, Sean working on basal cell carcinoma on the golf course and being home organizing his workout board shorts seems like a walk in the part.

She’s a contender and if she isn’t, I got some friends that are interested.

Rose ceremony, blah…  Anyone Can Model was kicked off.  I forgot the other.  Oh yeah, Beyan.  Who wasn’t ever really there and was wearing a wetsuit, presumably because she was filming an underwater breach scene for a Bond film.

NOW DONATE AND LEMME KNOW YOU DID:  http://dodgedartregistry.com/campaign/detail/102





Filed under Rants and Musings

Bachelor Recap: Week Two

Sorry for the brief delay.  Contrary to popular belief, I write this blog only to be famous amongst attractive people.  During the day, I am an evil computer wizard playing mind games.  This took me to Detroit for the Auto Show where I sat inside lots of different cars Chris Harrison probably knows how to dismantle and stash drugs in.

Speaking of Chris Harrison, my phone and later Instagram blew up with attractive USC girls taking candid pics with Chris, who spoke at a class there and took everyone out afterwards for Chick-Fil-A.  Because sober people take a horde of hot sorority girls to eat a physical ton of fried chicken.  Your honor, the prosecution rests.  And the prosecution loves Chris Harrison.

Okay, let’s BachCap.

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Strawberry Lemonade is from Dallas.  Someone tell me why his backdrop is in Middle Earth.  I know they drill the line that it’s a “journey” to find love into our brains, but was it “An Unexpected Journey”?  Can we expect the hometown dates to include dwarfs?  Are they going to have sex in a hot tub in Rivendell.  Explain yourself.

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I am so tired of watching Strawberry Lemonade lift weights and make porn faces and it’s only week two.  I would have taken a better screencap, but I was trying not to look and the idea of scrubbing the video back and watching it again to get a clip without the video controls seemed worse than an optional catheter.

Side note, do you guys feel like there are more catheter infomercials on late at night or is that just Portland?  Is there some shit going on I am not aware of?  Should I be rocking a catheter for fun?  I had a kidney stone once and when I woke up from surgery I apparently had one in and when they took it out I literally made the face Keanu made when they unplug him from the Matrix in that pod of pink goo.

What the fuck was I saying?  You can feel sorry for my wife.  That detour I just took happens at dinner.  With waiters.

Harrison let’s the women know Strawberry Lemonade is the most sincere bachelor of all time, which I know meant a lot to a group of girls who voluntarily are competing for a dude that has agreed to pick a wife on a game show.  Sincere as hell, people.

Soon enough, the date card arrives and the most untouchable contestant ever gets the date.  You guessed it, the attractive girl with one arm who also works at an agency I have friends at.  She is incredibly hard to nickname.  I am just hoping she says something I can work with soon.  In the meantime, I have to take a reader suggestion and go with Soul Surfer.  I feel dishonored.  I should have had that.

The good news is, Soul Surfer helped me create a nickname for the political whatever-the-fuck from DC who made an awful face the moment the date went to Soul Surfer.

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That’s the face of “charity date’ and in that moment I realized ABC was using her as a screen test for an upcoming guest role on an ABC Family show.  She totally looks like the bad guy in a young teen high school drama.  She seems down to earth, but you go sleep at her house and she’s not a virgin and you are prude for thinking pot is a big deal.  I give you Pretty Little Liar.

Strawberry Lemonade may be a meat stick, but he’s running with Lost Angeles super friend Ben Flajnik for “Bachelor Who Gets It”.  The ladies here a noise outside and guess what?


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Give me a rose, Sean.  For real, bro.  You get it.  You will let them do whatever to you.  Have Arie on?  Sure.  Homoerotic work out montages to open every show?  Fuck yeah.  Title screen based on Lord of the Rings?  Why not.  Strawberry Lemonade, there’s hope for you yet.  Not with kissing though.  You’re fucked with that.

Soul Surfer said something about how having one arm doesn’t mean she has less love to give.  No shit.  That’s why when people are in love they say shit like “my heart belongs to you”.  They don’t say “my left arm skips a beat when I see you”.  I’m torn, I totally can see how it’s courageous for her to compete in this hellish arena, but let’s keep it real.  She’s hot.  She works at an office of hot people.  I think it’s fair to say you’d get with her, America.  When the Elephant Man is on Bachelorette, we’ll talk.  She’s a contender.

Strawberry Lemonade proved he reads this blog by going big with his first date.  It will never be lost on me that he took a woman with one arm and asked her to jump off a fucking building.  I know there was probably some ABC tomfoolery because of Soul Surfer recanting the tale of her not being allowed to zipline and this being a way of making it right, but when it’s a show designed to ruin your life, what is the point.  We’re organizing deck chairs on the Titanic again, Chris Harrison.  And I love you for it.

About the ziplining thing.  Her father told her when she was a young girl “that’s why she needs to find a man to take care of her”?  He should have made the zipline attendant apologize and admit what his salary was and show a photo of his crunchy, granola girlfriend who didn’t grow up half as hot as Soul Surfer.  Thanks Dad.

Also, hey harness guy.  When you woke up, you knew you’d be on TV, right?  Maybe next time don’t wear a Jurassic Park shirt and force some poor bastard at ABC to spend his weekend rotoscoping your t-shirt you got as a PA in 1991.  I get that they give people t-shirts when they work on movies.  What I don’t get is why people wear them.  You heard me guy at Dodger game wearing a 500 dollar leather “According to Jim” jacket.  You are an asshole.

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The freefall went well, the after date went well, Soul Surfer nabbed the first tongue-forward kiss of the season and I was ready for a the group date.

Whackflip reads the date card, it’s the usual BS from everyone.

They go to a manor, which is a great word, to do a photo shoot for the cover of a romance novel series.  It’s an excuse for everyone to dress slutty and for Strawberry Lemonade to take her shirt off.  Clearly there was no Bowflex handy.  The “model” was super stoked.

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Is there anything more annoying than someone repeatedly reminding you they are a “model” or “actor”.  I am guessing Morgan Freeman doesn’t have to remind people at dinner he is an actor.  Guessing Kate Moss doesn’t giggle when a camera comes out and say “this is so my thing!”  Here’s my point.  Remember in Ratatouille when Gusteau says “anyone can cook”.  Here’s proof “anyone can model”.   I give you Anyone Can Model.

Credit to Anyone Can Model, she at least kept her eyes on the prize.  Tierra Nevada (not her nickname) was talking shit to Whackflip about her extensions and then Whackflip called her a tacky ass ho or something.  Girls are awesome.  They talk shit sometimes in the way cell phones work.  They don’t connect directly.  They bounce their shit off a satellite.

The women are onto Tierra.  They get that she’s the B in Apartment 23 when not with Sean, but she then becomes Flirt McGirt when he’s around.  In fact, her right eyebrow explodes north up her face the moment Sean enters the room.  It’s a man-activated eyebrow. I give you Guybrow.

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You will never not notice this the rest of her time on this show.  Guys, you will probably be looking at her boobs.

There were vampires, hooker cowgirls and weird period pieces.  Pretty Little Liar was working it pretty hard and proving my nickname, but Anyone Can Model stepped in and basically gave him a lapdance and in doing so, won the day.  I felt bad for Whackflip because I feel like the race card was at play here.  Maybe I don’t spend enough time in airport bookstores, but I haven’t seen too many interracial trashy romance novel covers.  Not surprised after this date she said something to Sean about if he likes all kinds of girls.  Not to jump ahead, but as smooth as his answer was, I felt like when he was rattling off the different races he dated he worked hard not to say “I’ve dated sushi, hummus, uh, do Italians count?”

Whatever, I kinda dig Whackflip.  I have a feeling she’s going to make women insecure when the swimsuit competition starts.  For realz.

Later, Pretty Little Liar choked on trying to get a kiss, but then came back and took one by force.  Anna Nicole Schlitz didn’t like it.

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beyan got the rose which probably lead to Pretty Little Liar plotting with the rest of her cheer squad how they could embarrass her before the big dance.

I can’t remember when, but one girl made a comment about being vegan and still liking beef, meaning Strawberry Lemonade’s muscles.  I am pretty sure Harrison was stoned and bet a producer an eighth he could get her to say that line.  Game, set, match Harrison.

Final date went to Joey Potter, the bridal store woman who gave up on Dawson and is bringing her weird Katie Holmes mouth movements and just Alba-enough looks into the dark horse role.  SL is way into her.  So much so, that he let a still blazed Chris Harrison talk him into playing a prank on her.

A 1.5 million dollar sculpture falls over when she’s alone in a room and the worst actor in the world accuses her while Harrison and Sean eat Hot Cheetoes and Skittles with Big Gulps in the next room.  Seemed like Joey Potter knew this was a prank, but she’d have been sure if she knew what Chernobyl was, the place the glass from the sculpture was reclaimed from.  For those of you at home, it’s radioactive.  It was absurd.  It was over her head.

She brought her rocking body to the hot tub party and got some gross ass Strawberry Lemonade kisses.  She’s in good shape.

The cocktail party was dominated by three key events.  There was Bad Hair Year kicking herself off the show and doing everything but saying “namaste” on her way out.

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Guybrow was the first person I ever saw eat on this show, which gives me hope she could have some awesome weight gain a la Chantal (my old fav) if she stays around long enough and doesn’t die in whatever the paramedic scene from next week ends up being.

Lastly, that crazy girl who smiles with all her teeth came out in a neon yellow dress with, like, should armor in the shape of roses.  I thought she was going to jump on a horse and do battle with Jim Carrey at Medieval Times.  Neon Knight was born and like Guybrow, turned it on just enough on camera with Strawberry Lemonade.

In the end, Isla Shitter (we barely knew you) and that girl who never got to talk peaced out.  Maybe someone else.  It’s still too early.  And right now, it’s too late.

We’ll get back at this next week.  XOXO, Gossip Zack.





Filed under Rants and Musings

Bachelor Recap: Week Juan

See what I did with that title?  It’s Latin and sexy.  I bet you are in the mood now.  The mood for a piece of plantain-wrapped salmon thrown in a pit of spider monkeys.  Or like, the Bachelor.

For those not keeping up with my jetsetting lifestyle, I have been preparing for this season in my new home in Portland, Oregon.  You have no idea the spread of locally-sourced charcuterie and Willamette Valley pinot that I drank as we watched Strawberry Lemonade’s journey for love begin.


I mean, I literally made a bourbon/earl grey/chanterelle mushroom ragout with ingredients found within eight blocks of my house on a guided “herb tour”, which are super hot in PDX right now.  If you haven’t been here, don’t.  You wouldn’t understand.  Here’s something you might understand. I look fucking amazing in flannel and rain gear.  You’d give me the rose.  You are reading this.  That’s giving me a rose.

Think about it.  I moved to the Rose City because you guys give me so many roses.  Still not convinced?  Every morning I go to Multnomah Falls and bath myself in front of German tourists.  Check their Yelp reviews.  They like what they see.


Football has ended and shamelessly, the Bearfighter begins his hibernation ritual.  It’s that awkwardest of awkward periods:  between football and baseball where my only competitive sport is giving desperate women and men nicknames and casting stones upon them from my happy marriage and legion of super attractive readers of all sexes, races and religions.

So, without further adieu, let’s ruin Strawberry Lemonade’s life, just like he ruins womens’ lives by kissing them with more tongue than a deli meat counter.


QUICK TIME OUT.  I was shocked to find out One Direction and Lady Veneers didn’t make it.  Then I went outside and was shocked it was raining in Portland.  Then some magicians entertained me in my living room with a wild light and sound show only for me to find out it was just “the television”.

I mean, no wonder Neil Lane is down to give out rings.  He just gets them back in 6-12 weeks.  I digress…

First off, HOLY SHIT OPENING MONTAGE.  Not since Brad Wifebeater were we treated (or mistreated by) such a gratuitous amount of man knockers.  Credit to Strawberry Lemonade for what must be a hellish routine of playing golf and lifting bibles, because homeboy is jacked up.  That said, Chris Harrison had to be on so many mushrooms when he planned out Strawberry Lemonade’s work out routine.  It was:

  • Light 10 yard jog across awkwardly small backyard
  • Turn purple under the sun and set a solid foundation for skin cancer (10 reps)
  • Check out your arms while you use a Precor all-in-one weight lifting machine like the one in your parents garage (you heard me Mom).

Then the producers acknowledged my years of unlikely service to this shit show of a shitty show by having Strawberry Lemonade cut strawberries.  And he cut them like a dude who sucks in bed.  Who cuts them in the air like that?  If you can’t figure out to put it on a cutting board, you probably can’t figure a lot of other shit out too.


Case and point, when Arie showed up dressed like a highlighter and taught him how to kiss.  They drank light beer together and discussed how to make out with girls, which was tough.  On the one hand Strawberry Lemonade needs help.  I physically wanted to puke every time he made out with Emily last season.  At the same time, Speed Racer was the second grossest kisser on earth.  It was like going to rehab at Chris Harrison’s house.


Fair warning, I don’t give out nicknames all in the beginning.  Nicknames are subject to change as these ass clowns screw up.  That said, let’s talk about the hot girl who had six foster homes.  We’ll call her Little Orphan Hottie and I suspect we’ll be seeing her around.  If she starts putting out too much, she could end up Personal Whoreganizer, but I doubt it.  Nothing like the Bachelor to make you deal with a woman who had a tough life and has supplemented that by becoming a personal organizer.  Like, she couldn’t control who her parents were, but she can control the order of her blouses in her closet.  I thought that was going to be the story intended to make us sad.

Chris Harrison wouldn’t leave it at that.  Not after drinking a bottle of Robotussin.

Then we met a really nice graphic designer who only has one arm.  I am just cringing at where this is going to go.  I also cringed at her client call where she was like “this campaign is all about getting noticed… in culture” and on her monitor was like a poorly photoshopped glass of something clear.  I’m glad Lemonade handled it well, she’s cute enough and far more normal than the vast majority of these failed strippers.  Plus she works at a good agency in LA.

Strawberry Lemonade got dressed and made a critical “how to suit” mistake.  When you are built like the Incredible Hulk about midway through your transition to a giant green muscle, DON’T WEAR A SKINNY TIE.  Regular ties looks like skinny ties on big dudes.  Ladies, you watch Mad Men.  Do you really want a guy who can’t figure out how to look like he gets business done?


Somewhere in here, they cut to the limo arrival scene where I saw that they put a pound of silly puddy colored makeup on Strawberry Lemonade to he looks less, well, like a glass of strawberry lemonade.  In no particular order because I hate the first couple weeks:

  • Whackflip, who seems cool but earned the first “Bachelor Creepy Theme” by failing her second backflip in a full gown as she headed for Sean.  Despite her Wide Hair Part, she was cute enough.
  • The was Booze Ship Entertainer, the, uh, cruise ship singer who made the cardinal sin of singing on the Bachelor.  She also made the cardinal sin of dressing like a character from a XXX rated Ice Capades.  You know, Disney on ice except instead of the princess getting saved, the princess just gets down.
  • There was the 50 Shades of Gray girl who, had she not drank her way off the show, I would have called her 50 Pills of E.  You all miss out.  Except some dude in Michigan who is going to get a whole lot of crazy.  Maybe in a good way?  Not sure.
  • There was the one girl who looked like the mom of Modern Family (or the love interest from Happy Gilmore if you are old school) who just cried in a corner and let her boobs hang out.  I’ll call her Double Dunphy.  For now.
  • There was Isla Hooter, but I don’t remember much about her except she looked like a not-as-cute Isla Fisher with, well.  You get it.

There are some girls on the show that I have high hopes for.  I think there is real nickname potential.  The political consultant (keep it real, she makes copies for a living and if she didn’t, she will now that she was on the Bachelor, which sort of kills any career in politics).  Seriously, you are better off doing cocaine on an airforce base than being on this show.  Ask George W.

Then there was the return of Beyan, one of my personal favorites.  That said, she has had the uppercase B in her nickname demoted to a lowercase one until she starts eating again.  I feel like her and I are friends on Facebook.  beyan, I really like you.  You are cute, you have the good southern accent (not like Princess Jasmine who I had no idea what the fuck she was saying even when she was kicked off) and you deserve to find love.  But you also deserve to find a sandwich.

You need to be healthy for when predictably you find a reason to leave the show and sign on as the Bachelorette.  The only thing about that I really love is that it must mean you killed your parents, got them to chill the eff out or destroyed their television.  In fairness, she’d make a great Bachelorette.  She’s pretty funny.  Like when she told The Wasted Veil she needed some water.  That was the drunk woman in the fucking wedding dress.

Poor Strawberry Lemonade.  We’ve all been there, fellas.  Dancing with a hammered girl and doing anything to not line your face up with her because you fear she may vomit in your mouth.  In my experience, only your wife, a stage five clinger and a girl so drunk she may projectile vomit Chardonnay into your mouth try that hard to kiss you and make you dance.  Harrison paid Lemonade in heroin balloons to keep her on the show.

Divorce is a good look for Chris, who again owned in his gray suit.  He even updated the show to fix the first episode.  Giving out roses the whole time was huge because you didn’t suffer through that first rose ceremony where you are like “who the fuck are these people”.   When he came in all classy clinking a fork he was using to cut up cocaine against his champagne flute, I was jacked up and ready for week two.

The montage showed me this season might be pretty good.  Lemonade is so derped out that he won’t get in the way of the tenants of this show.  I saw beach sluttiness.  I saw shit tons of helicopters.  There were mountain helicopters.  Fucking ocean ones.  There was rock climbing and people jumping off shit.  That one girl pretends to break her neck.  Wedding Planner (not sold on it) has her ex/current boyfriend show up and he fronts like he is going to hit Strawberry Lemonade.  I don’t think Sean knows his way around a naked woman, but I am confident he could knock out a dude weighing in at 165.

I have high hopes for new nicknames, adventures and a lot of hungover Tuesdays at work rationalizing how on earth I keep doing this.  Oh yeah, it’s for all of my attractive readers who have come out of hiding for the New Year.

As always, send me your pictures of how you celebrate the show and the blog and I will post them.  Creativity counts.  Just ask Whackflip.  Don’t ask Booze Ship Entertainer.

Happy Bachelor.  We’re just getting started.

Lastly, got a late submission from some fans in Salt Lake City.  Linnea and Co, thanks for reading!

bachelor night





Filed under Rants and Musings

Perspective on Dodgers for Giants Fans

To begin with a paragraph that I am sure Giants fans will forget reading by the end of this post (this isn’t my first rodeo), I want to publicly state my admiration for the Giants two World Series wins in the last three years.  After a long dry spell, they won with pitching, team dynamic and a slough of “Rudy type shit”  that made it impossible, even for a season-ticket holding die hard Dodger fan not to root for them.  Hard to not like a Matt Cain or a Buster Posey.  Hard not to love the fact that guys like Angel fucking Pagan and Marco fucking Scutaro decided to over index for the sake of just winning the damn thing.

For me, there was zero to dislike about how the Giants won except, well, it was the Giants who won.

Onto the thesis…  Giants fans on Twitter are going out of there way to point out that the 2008 super expensive Yankees didn’t win the World Series.  They point out that money does not equal championships.  They are totally right on both accounts.

What they are missing is that as a Dodger fan, coming off some of the cheapest, most depressing years of all time under Voldemort McCourt, we are printing money and our ownership is actually spending it on BASEBALL PLAYERS which is insanity.

I don’t care if Greinke is any good.  I don’t care if Ryu plays baseball worse than I played his namesake in Street Fighter back in the arcade days (note that I note Ryu was Japanese, this Ryu is Korean).

I am just happy that our ownership group is going out there and fucking things up for the universe.  The Yankees are in financial decline because their stadium isn’t paying itself off fast enough.  The Dodgers went out and took a bunch of expensive players so they could get Adrian Gonzalez.

I remember being in SF for a bachelor party (and it lived up to its name) when the Dodgers came up there and swept the Giants on the heels of the Ramirez and Scutaro acquisitions.  I remember the papers being furious that the new Dodger ownership would constantly be getting Ramirez-types and the Giants would be bargain shopping for Scutaros.  We all know Scutaro turned out amazing and we also know SF papers are drama queens when it comes to baseball.  For the record, I don’t read the LA Times at all, so I’m casting rocks in a glass house.

I guess the point is, the fact that the Dodgers could have signed Scutaro to put pine tar on the team bats for fun caused his price to jump to, well, un-Scutaro levels.  Angel Pagan for that price?  I mean, I get that we spent a lot on Greinke, but he’s won a Cy Young.  Recently.  He’s filthy in the National League and well, we can afford it.  Committing 80MM to Marco fucking Scutaro and Angel fucking Pagan?  Rocks in a glass house.  More like Molotovs in a grass hut.

I hear the formula of keeping a winner together, but if that was the case, where is Cody Ross?  If keeping a team together meant repeat wins, well, there’d be more 3-peats in baseball.

The part I fail to understand in this “money can’t buy championships” logic is that money buys every championship.  Some players cost less than others.  Some championships are expensive.  Some aren’t.   Of course the example of the 2008 Yankees is true, that monster payroll didn’t lead to a World Series win.  At the same time, the Phillies had a payroll of over 106 million, a franchise record.  They spent more than they ever had and it equalled a title.

While I agree spending just to spend doesn’t guarantee titles, it does improve rosters and it buys better players.  The better team on paper doesn’t always win.  But they win a lot of the time.

The thing is, Giants fans haven’t quite grasped the amount of money the Dodgers have, because very few understand it.  Everyone said 2.15 billion for the Dodgers was ludicrous, except the Guggenheim line was basically “it was the right price because you can’t buy the Dodgers every day”.  2.15 is what it cost and when you have so much money you are considering buying AEG also, you don’t care what it costs, you just buy it because that’s what you want and that’s what it takes.

It’s not a weird concept for anyone who ever bought a house.  If you have the money, if you can afford to outbid your competition, you just do it.

Then there is the media deal.  LA is the #2 DMA and has no real competition for summer live TV.  Look at what the Angels got paid and the 6+ BILLION the Dodgers are sure to net.  The Angels are not from LA, no one in LA cares about them and the proof was KCAL dropping them the year the won the World Series to get the Dodgers, who finish second to last that year (I believe).  The Dodger logo is “LA”.  It’s on tattoos and t-shirts and bumper stickers.  It’s the city brand along with the Lakers and suddenly, they have the money to fashionable again.

So think about what 6 billion dollars (which is lower than what the final sale will be) breaks out to over 25 years.  That comes out to 240 million dollars a year.  There’s your payroll covered for a quarter century before you sell an overpriced t-shirt, an 8 dollar Dodger Dog or even a single solitary ticket.  That’s before you get advertising dollars.  That’s before anything.  And they are going to sell the rights for more than 6 billion, I was being conservative.

6 billion is the new conservative for the Dodgers.  Like it or not, they changed the game.

Many think this is a bubble for baseball, fine.  Dodgers sold their house before the bubble burst.  That deal is a contract and if the bubble bursts, it won’t be the Dodgers missing out.  Their 240 million a year will just pay for more players.

The next argument has been that you can’t just buy talent and expect to win.  I actually agree, but the thing is, the Dodgers have so much fucking money right now they are going to stock the farm system too.  They signed a Cuban defector for 42 million.  They are going to draft the Zach Lee’s of the world who teams let slip only because they are expensive and not bat an eye at offering them 5+ million to give up getting crushed in pads in college football.  The Dodgers have the money to spend big in the pros and in the farm system.  They’ve poured more money in a year into scouting and player development than most teams do in five years.

They signed 8 pitchers and now can trade a Chris Capuano for prospects or bullpen help because they can eat his salary if they have to.  Money doesn’t just help you sign free agents.  It helps you sweeten deals.  It helps you sign better draft picks who otherwise you’d ignore.  It changes the game if you are committed to playing every facet of it.

They are going to grow their talent AND buy it.  They didn’t even give up a draft pick for Greinke.  It’s a juggernaut like that of the Real Madrids of the world.  It’s more than the Yankees did because they never stocked the farm system.

How did the MLB let such wealthy owners come into the league?  Simple.  They were the assholes who ruined the Dodgers by letting Frank McCourt buy them on a stolen credit card.  Dodger fans, the team, the city suffered embarrassment after embarrassment with McCourt.  They dealt with a lack of security leading to Bryan Stow being beaten in the parking lot and it was totally appalling and a tragedy none are proud of.  They owed us and they knew it.  They fucking took team control away and forced a sale and the richest people ever to want a team bought it, partnered with a guy who is famous for building farm systems and an LA sports icon who just tweets hilarious shit all the time.

ADIOS FRANK.   That’s over now.  It’s all over now.  Guggenheim Baseball is making a statement and it’s loud an clear.  If it can help, we’ll buy it.

Fucking Ned Colletti went from being a headache to a guy reciting poetry about seeing toothpicks and thinking redwood tree.  As a long time fan and season ticket holder, it’s an odd feeling.  It’s literally like you’ve had an awful, ugly, mean teacher who has been flunking you and trying to keep you out of college get replaced by a former Victoria’s Secret model who wants to let you ditch class, take you to prom and buy you a Bentley.  And she likes watching sports and bourbon too.

So pardon us, Giants fans, if we aren’t worried about what it costs or if it means we’ll win next year.  Pardon us if we don’t see the same pressure to win that we’re supposed to.  It’s been 23 years and suddenly we have a chance again.  We can sign Brian Wilson just to tell jokes for more than you are overpaying Angel Pagan.  That’s real.

You won two World Series in an amazing, gritty manor that made me appreciate you and root for you even though I hate you.  That’s amazing.  Like Tonga is at the Fairmont.  It’s good for baseball.

Guggenheim is good for Los Angeles.  You don’t have to understand, but we’d rather have a Lakers team with stars struggling than a scrappy team.  That’s the city.  Better or worse.  That’s us.

Sure, right now it just looks good on paper.  We all saw this team needs to gel.   Damn, though.  It looks good on paper and we’re not even done.

I wish you good luck this season.  After 50 years of futility, you have taken control of the rivalry.  We finally have the means to try to do something about it.  Can’t wait.






Filed under Rants and Musings

Arrogant Game Preview: Notre Dame

I want you to watch this clip.  Got it?  Did your eyeballs drink that in?  Good, because that’s the most you will ever root for Notre Dame.  You will root for Notre Dame when a Disney version of a true story (Rudy sells used cars now) stars the fat hobbit, the cast of Swingers (“he’s so little!”) and has a song track better than most fight songs.

Outside of that, the film only acts as a historical reference point for you to realize how much these Irish fans care about this football team.  You Dad could think you are a failure until you go to Notre Dame.  Your brother could hate you until you go to Notre Dame.  Your girl leaves you for  your other brother and playing for Notre Dame is all that matters.  You keep getting rejected from fucking going to Notre Dame and you still want to help paint the helmets.

All of this and these people are fighting to drive hours out of Chicago, where it’s awesome, to toil in South Bend, Indiana which except on game day is the most depressing place I have ever been.  Yes, the grotto is pretty.  Sure, there’s a sense of nature.  But if we are talking grottos, I’ll take the one at the Playboy Mansion in Holmby Hills ever single time.  If that’s sacrilegious  apologies, but let’s keep it real “football fan”, it’s probably a bigger crime not to choose that grotto with the half naked girls and millionaire in a smoking jacket who just wants you to party.

It’s gameday and I can say that it’s the strangest I’ve ever experienced.  ESPN is on campus, but our fans don’t seem to be.  ESPN is simply advertising that for the first time since you had a cassette player, Notre Dame is a win away from the title game.  They are a win away from waking up their echoes.

Now, I have been calling Notre Dame a paper tiger all season.  Time to find out.

I am not going to bullshit anyone today (unless I end up at a farmer’s market and need to haggle for a WWII pistol).  I don’t think our season is defined by this game.  I don’t think Max Wittek needs to look like Matt Barkley for him to end up the next great Trojan quarterback.  I don’t even think it matters if Notre Dame wins because as much as I think the SEC is a myth, this Notre Dame team isn’t going to be the one to prove it unless they teach Manti Teo to play all positions on both sides of the field.

This game matters because when you are in a rivalry, you either get fed or get fed on.  How often do you get to be “spoiler” Arrogant Nation?  It doesn’t really matter what bowl we go to, I just hope we have a team that is cool to play as a litmus test.  This game doesn’t matter to something larger, to some sequence of 1s and 0s that determine if we “look good” in the computers.  All we have to do is look good in our uniforms.

We can throw deep.  We can run trick plays.  We can be assholes all day and if we lose, okay, we went for it, we played like historical Trojans.  If we win, we fuck over one of the most myopic, self-aggrandizing, but insecure fan bases in the history of fans and bases.  The Notre Dame fan knows they’ve been irrelevant for so long and every time they get close, they Chicago Cub it.

Not historically, I respect ND’s traditions, successes and so on.  Shaking Coach Parseghian’s hand at the Bush Push game was a sporting highlight for me.   Notre Dame fans on game day (save that one who called her priest at halftime to ask God to fire Willingham before the 3rd quarter) are some of the most polite I’ve enjoyed playing.  Their fathers teach their sons the joys of our rivalry, not the kind where you ban a marching band, but the kind where bold traditions take in each other and want to prove theirs is best.

Ours has been best for a long time, a reversal from the previous trend, which was preceded by many reversals before it.  Notre Dame and USC is a magical rivalry and this year with the Bruins proved it.

UCLA beat us 13-9 and made t-shirts celebrating us not going to the national championship.  We then went to the Rose Bowl.

Winning today would be more than just playing spoiler.  This would be reminding Notre Dame that when we started the greatest inter-sectional rivalry in sport, they accepted that the road to an undefeated season would always go through Troy.  And we committed our road would always have to go a really long way through cow pastures into a part of Indiana Google Earth doesn’t even take satellite pictures of.

UCLA shutting us out of the title that year hurt, it hurt because they are our cross town rival and their culture is so at odds with ours.  It feels awful to lose to a school who doesn’t actually care about football at all and their traditions are stale, the kind that no one outside the Pac 12 knows.

Michigan knows Conquest as we know Hail to the Victors.  Traveler and the Dotting of the I can stand in the same hallowed hall.  Our song girls sweaters have sent heartbeats racing for decades just as there is not one college football fan who doesn’t know the tune of Wake Up the Echoes or the image of Touchdown Jesus looking down on the field.

When tradition faces tradition for high stakes, it is a chance to write your name in a real history book.  When we stop Notre Dame today, for this bearfighter at least, it will be with respect to their tradition and enjoyment that this defeat is dealt with our own tradition to burn into their memory.  They can sing our fight song as well as we reluctantly can sing theirs.

Max Wittek, who I have liked for a long time, gets to have the most imposing first start since Matt Leinart, another Mater Dei legacy, walking into #1 ranked Auburn’s Jordan-Hare Stadium and put them down 24-0.  He was a big guy like Wittek and I admit, I am excited to see a 6’4″ QB again (I know Matt Leinart was 6’5″).  I am excited to see a big arm air it out and to see that moxie that could make for a classic game.

It’s our tradition against theirs.  It’s good for the game.  It’s good for us.  It’s an opportunity to have new heroes be made and old ones to write final chapters.  There’s nothing I’d rather be doing than taking this one in and that includes riding a supermodel as a surfboard at Jaws with everyone on earth cheering for me and making me bourbon-based drinks.

I have no prediction.  I don’t want one this week.  I just want their band to play and our band to play.  I want our teams to hit the field and go to war.  And when the dust settles, I want to hear Conquest.  I want to flip on ESPN and watch Lou Holtz apologize.

This season has been marked by too many expectations and confusion of what the purpose is.  Today is a beautiful reminder that the point is simple.  The point is to destroy our opponent and hopefully in a manner that is worthy of our greatest rivalry.  We all know what they have to lose.  I am excited about what we have to gain.

spotting in Mammoth








Filed under Rants and Musings

AGR: UCLA, but Something More

Let’s get it out of the way.  It’s never fun to lose to UCLA.  It reminds me of the one other time that happened since I became a Trojan.  I remember losing a silly 13-9 game that at the time felt significant because a win would have put us into the national title and UCLA coach Karl Dorell finally had a signature win.  It took forever to get out of the golf course where UCLA parks our cars.  We took plenty of shit from Bruin fans who had trouble knowing how to gloat, it had been so long since they won.

In a way, it felt like the loss this weekend.  Again, USC spotted a massive early lead, coughed the ball up too much and played a well-prepared team.  I am, despite the nature of my blog, not a homer.

UCLA is much improved on the field, their bandwagon fans are still the same petty crowd.  I am hoping the actual alumni of the school enjoy the win and the promise that Coach Mora has them a far, far more complete team than we’ve seen since Pete Carroll’s first season.  Things definitely could trend well for us both, this could eventually become a rivalry again.  Like I said, the road to this meaning more to Trojans would ultimately start with a loss.  Good on you, Bruins.  You did it.

What I would critique are the Bruin fans, not the ones you know from your office who are employed, but their bandwaggoners celebrating still the idea that sanctioning our marching band was good or being proud of Barr ending the college career of Matt Barkley, who has stood for nothing but everything the college game is supposed to be about.

I don’t expect a basketball school where players are one and done always to understand what Barkley did, but I would expect not to be proud of injuring a player who gave up a lot to keep playing for his school.  This is a guy who goes on philanthropic trips to Africa and to Haiti, a guy who was a good friend when I had a serious illness and a guy who regardless of if you like USC or not, is a guy you want on your team.

UCLA won the game and being stoked on that makes you normal.  Being stoked Barkley got injured makes you a college football hater.  One of the great joys in my life as a sports fan was seeing Vince Young play in that Rose Bowl.  It was hard to see him so dominant, but the last thing I’d have wanted was for him to get hurt.  That’s not what this is about.

Literally promoting an animated gif about a college athlete getting hurt makes every point I offered last week for me.  That’s not something I’d ever want to see a Trojan do to a Bruin.  Kill your spirits, your team, your hopes.  Sure.  Have at it.  Celebrate an injury? Where’s Bill Plaschke now to tie his “respect” column to this latest show of sportsmanship…

The SC game was mostly over by the time the injury happened, so that’s not a factor here.  What is a factor is feeling joy for the pain of someone who may influence a star player on UCLA one day to stick around and show pride in their school.  We already know Hundley knows how to throw up our Victory V.  I am sure Bruins hope he takes another cue from USC quarterbacks, especially Barkley.

Also, for the record, banning the field stab still was a cheap move.  It had nothing to do with the outcome of the game and had the band done it, UCLA would have had even more to celebrate.  Just have to keep that clear, while I totally give it up to the players on the field and the coaches for earning a big win.

I’d rather focus the remainder of this post on our own fans and to take a moment to remember Matt Barkley’s career here as it would seem the Max Wittek era begins a bit early.  Fear not, Max, we’re behind you and the last Mater Dei quarterback to have his first start against a #1 team won 24-0.

Trojans, it sucks to have a season not play out the way we expected, but it doesn’t suck to go to USC.  As I always say, we’ll win again and way more than we’ll lose.  UCLA fans feeling excited know this too.  The thing is, those of you who blamed Barkley for interceptions or stick this all on the coaching need to take a moment off.

First, Barkley needs to be absolved.  If you ran around your office like the rest of us did when he said he’d come back, then you need to stand up and clap for him now that his time as a Trojan is over.

Come draft time, I am going to write a recap of Matt’s time at USC, Matty Trojan, the best we’ve had in my tenure.  Get on the right side of this argument or stop reading this blog.  I’m not your voice if you don’t appreciate Matt from game one to now.  I’m adamant about this.

It’s Thxgiving week, Portland is quiet.  90% of that has to do with the Ducks losing, which in a schaedenfraude sort of way made this weekend a little sunnier.  I was at self storage still getting my condo settled when I saw two Ducks fans fresh from the game.  It took all my humility not to be like “what happened, didn’t see the game”.

Having to eat a little Bruin humble pie had me decide to go with that pie theme, celebrate Thxgiving early and just put good vibes into the football universe.

After all, we get to play Notre Dame next week in what might as well be the National Title game for them.  Not used to playing spoiler when the Dodgers aren’t in season, so let’s relish it.

Right now, let’s hope Matt is doing well and getting good prognoses for his draft training, let’s hope Max Wittek is stoked to take the reins and let’s leave the Kiffin talk for another year.  We need his recruiting, his father is out as D coordinator and the truth is, until sanctions are officially over, I still think he’s the best man for the job.  We just need to get him some help so the details don’t get missed.

FTFO and stay dry out there.


Filed under Rants and Musings

Arrogant Game Preview: UCLA

I delayed this post a day and promised it would be my most arrogant in ages, maybe ever.  How’s this for a start:  It’s going to be the most arrogant of all time.  Why?  I’ve already baked the cake.  I’m just waiting to serve you a piece.

This year more than any other, I took it upon myself to leverage the incredible level of influence you, Arrogant Nation, have given me to completely expose to the universe everything we’ve always known UCLA to be.  I could sling adjectives and nouns to try and describe at length, but I’ll leave it at UCLA is that tattle-tale, snot-nosed tool on the playground who tried to tell the teacher on you, but got his ass jumped in the parking lot in front of a bunch of hot chicks and years later, regardless of whether he ended up a butcher or a businessman, knows that he probably deserved it for going out of his way to be such a perfect punching bag.

I am hell with a pen and you knew I was going to let missiles fly.  You knew I was going to pull out all the stops.  And I did.  And it worked.  It worked enough that SportsCenter made the story of UCLA “banning” our freaking marching band from stabbing a sword five inches into the 50 yard line a national punchline, not just a local embarrassment.

Let me clue you in.  When ESPN decides to air a story about you banning a marching band, the whole country sees you for that tattle-tale nerd on the playground.  The country wants you to get jumped behind the playground.  That’s because college football is about traditions or it would be the NFL.  It’s about you pissing off your rival and your rival pissing you off.  The best part?  Right after, you get to play football against them.  For a school that claims to be academically prestigious, you are really missing the point.  I understand though.  Basketball started and as bandwagon football fans, you are probably only half-paying attention.

When Notre Dame issues a statement that they’ve never banned USC’s 41 year tradition that is a hallmark of the mise en scene of college football tradition (that a Bruin would never understand), they are saying that you guys don’t get it.  When Notre Dame is giving you lessons on “getting it”, drown yourself in your dorm toilets.  Notre Dame is the school that grows their grass longer to slow USC down.  They don’t have an issue with our drum major stabbing their 50 yard line and they have lost as much as you have to us in the last decade or so.

Let’s get down to it.

Tomorrow is the day.  Kudos to our cuddly, football-deficient friends renting in Westwood in the shadows of our Bel-Air Trojan homes.  They have created the perfect confluence of factors to actually make us care this year.  And their mascot not only is a bear, but a total pussy who brings his girlfriend to football games.  I know a fan is going to come on here and tell me they are brother and sister or something.  Let me cut you off.  I don’t give a fuck.

It’s better than the bear statue on campus who looks like he’s midway through getting a catheter put in:

The thing is, no matter what they would have you believe, they aren’t proud of this.  Not the Bruins I know (of the non web troll kind).  They think their AD is stupid for this.  They didn’t want to get us fired up for the game.

UCLA as an athletic department just has no concept of PR, advertising or general self-respect.  Before you respond, consider that Bruin Nation, the “blog” that was petitioning for UCLA to ban the field stab in the first place spent most of last year trying to get AD Dan Guerrero fired for all the things they embody themselves.

From down the street in the “hood” as they’d call it, we can see it pretty clearly.  You’re whiners.  You are the guys that ditch practice as a tradition (true).  You are the guys who carried a coach you fired off the field (true).  You are the guys who petitioned the NCAA to play in a bowl with a 6-7 record despite knowing that would tie you with North Texas for worst team to be invited to a bowl (true).  You are the guys who then lost that bowl and own the solo distinction as “worst team ever to play in a bowl” at 6-8 (true).  That was last year (true).

You are the guys who print a newspaper ad that says “the football monopoly in Los Angeles is over” just because you hired a coach who ended up losing every game he coached against USC (true).  You are the guys who had a coach who issued the statement “the gap has closed” between our football team and your intramural team only to lose 50-0 (true).  You are the guys who replaced that coach with a coach who used the murder of two USC grad students as a recruiting ploy in an LA Times interview saying “murdered two blocks from campus” even though the only murder two blocks from campus was 50-0 (true).

You are the guys who literally let a coach “wave a white towel”, the international signal for “stop shooting at us”, as a pump up during games (true).

You are a PR nightmare with a football problem.

Look, none of us are proud of the kid who deflated balls to try and help USC win a game.  Frankly, it made me sick.  I am glad they fired him and in a way, I am glad we lost because I’d hate to win that way.  When we beat you tomorrow, we’ll play Oregon at Oregon for the title and we’ll make it right, win or lose.

None of us are proud of what Reggie Bush and his family did, even if none of your seasonal fair weather football fans understand what happened.  Let me help.

Still, we didn’t like taking down a Heisman.  I am making a point that when we do wrong, it’s bad and we can own it.  Who owned sanctions more than I did?  How many fucking shirts did we sell?  When life hands me lemons, I sell them and buy a yacht.  In space.

The thing is, we can still be proud of our school because we’re not the kind of wimps who ban marching bands from their traditions just because in a year where you don’t have to play Washington or Oregon, you find yourself 8-2 and decide this year you DEMAND respect damnit!  Never mind the country still remembers this rivalry more for 50-0 than anything else, so this whiny sanctioning of a band makes you look, what’s the medical term?  Butt hurt.

Take it from me, scoring a touchdown this year will go a lot farther in gaining respect (a point even SportsCenter made, yeesh) than sanctioning a fucking marching band like the narcs you are.  Why don’t you report the kid smoking weed in your dorm while your at it?  Tackle the kid stealing a piece of gum from 7-11.

So, in a year where it’d have been enough that you are 8-2 and we are 7-3, that you are ranked higher than us in the AP and that the winner of this game goes to the Pac 12 Championship, you decide to toss me a match in the dry hillsides of Southern California.  Our fan base has waited all year for a unifying moment, for what this season that started with national title hopes means now that we’re not playing in that game no matter what we do to you.

The Bearfighter reminded them by using that match to light a molotov cocktail and set the Southland ablaze with his super-strong arm because he tossed the bottle from the Pacific Northwest.

I decided to burn this motherfucker down and it started with a tweet:

Not that tweet, but a string of tweets just like it.




Then everyone caught on…

What continued was me just tweeting under the #UCLArequests hashtag made up examples of other things your school requested now that apparently marching bands can hurt your feelings.

To say it went viral would be like saying Outbreak was about the sniffles.  Former USC players, sports bloggers and all of Trojan Nation participated posting #UCLArequests at a clip of something like 3-5 tweets a minute.  And it hasn’t stopped.  Two days later.

It became a trending topic in Los Angeles.  It’s led to media coverage.  It’s got our whole fan base in an uproar and more than anything, we’ve gotten a lot of good laughs at your expense, which we usually have to wait to get when you do things like BAN FUCKING MARCHING BANDS YOU WHINERS.

Matt Leinart came out of retirement to retweet something from my homie Alex Holmes who got over 400 RTs on his post, which I’d argue is more RTs than UCLA has gotten about their football team across all tweets all year.

Can I back that stat up?  Fuck you.


The point is, the hashtag and meme went viral because no one has any trouble seeing what you missed:  you sanctioned a marching band and confused college football for politics.  Some sick part of me will be fine if you win because maybe you will learn to respect the sport. That, again, starts with scoring a touchdown this year.  And teaching your quarterback not to throw up TWO victory v’s when you have a big win.

So, now it’s about a football game.  You’ve lost 12 of 13.  You would need to win every game for two decades to even call this a rivalry (or at least take down the PCC champion banners you hang like they were national titles, I feel like if we listed all our PCC to Pac 10 titles we’d need more room than a stadium wrapped around 100 yards offers).

You’ll get your chance, Saturday Bruins.  You’ll get your chance to defend that sacred home field that you never cared about until the Pac 12 put us stabbing your logo in it’s Pac 12 Network promo reel because it fired people up.

You’ll get your chance to defend your stadium that is closer to our campus than yours.

You’ll get your chance to defend a stadium that has your name written in paint on the grass and our name written dozens of times in bronze plaques on the wall of champions outside.

You’ll get to defend your home stadium that the country associates more with us, but sure guys, show that pride…

I’m skipping my normal format.

Prediction:  We win.  Don’t care how.  You already disrespected the good part of the sport.  Instead of trying to ban steroids in baseball, you chose to ban “Take Me Out To The Ballgame”.

Congrats.  See you tomorrow.

As an offering to those of you who want some gear before the season ends, here’s a 5 dollar off code you can use.  We’re putting up some vintage gear.  It’s gonna run for a while and then we’ll find a ship date.  That code?  FIELDSTAB






Filed under Rants and Musings

UCLA Needs to Grow a Pair. Or Two.

I admit that I have been disappointed during the Mora era at UCLA to find a competent team that rarely created news fodder.  They have a better record than USC (for now), are ranked higher than USC is (for now) and Mora has eliminated the whiner mentality that fostered “traditions” like ditching your final practice of the season if you are a senior, even if you have a bowl game.

I admit, they felt like a vastly different team than the one that backed into the Pac 12 Title game, got embarrassed, then petitioned the NCAA to be tied for the worst team to ever play in a bowl game only to lose it and own the dubious distinction of “worst team every to play in a bowl game” outright.

Frankly, after the ugly Mora comments about “students getting shot” at USC, I’ll admit he ran a tight ship.

Until this week when the master thesis of the Bearfighter was proven true:  UCLA has whiner embedded in their DNA.

Bruins Nation, who I will not even link to because they have gotten enough traffic this week, has put out one of the whiniest requests to prevent our drum major from stabbing the 50 yard line before our game at the Rose Bowl because stabbing their logo makes them sad.

Possibly in response, UCLA has informed USC that if our drum major stabs the fifty yard line as he does everywhere, every game, including OUR OWN LOGO at home games, our band, the greatest in the world and frankly a treat for Bruin fans used to their 8-clap and fight song more fit for a carousel than a football game, will not be able to perform at halftime.

The choice is apparently ours.

Beyond the stupidity of the Bruin blog suggesting a Teague/Owens moment without realizing they are essentially asking a football player to tackle a student (that will fly well in court), the real stupidity is that if UCLA’s tradition was stabbing the fifty yard line, I’d welcome it and use it to fuel another 50-0 drubbing.

Where were you all these years, UCLA?  You start 8-2 and suddenly you want to start poking your older brother in the ribs?  You are the definition of what a whining, winless culture does to a fan base and the fact your school backed you up on this should make any college football fan sick.

Some of the coolest moments ever are when opposing bands do their thing. Stanford does everything short of have explosive diarrhea on our logo, who cares.  Settle it on the field (and we’ve lost to them for about five years now, you don’t see me whining).  Notre Dame’s fight song makes me want to rub a cheese grater on my junk every time I hear it (except when I am watching Rudy), but I LOVE that I get to see them do it.

You wore crappy white jerseys last year, you are messing with your colors again.  I get it. It’s trying to abandon a culture of losing that has rendered the football program a joke since they were parking in handicapped spaces.  All that makes sense…

Until you start whining about the other team stabbing your logo.  Loser mentality.  You can do an 8-clap and ring around the rosie by Tommy Trojan, I don’t care a little bit.  I’ll take it out on you on the field.

Let me ask you a question, UCLA “nation”.  Do you deserve the right to command a team that beat you 50-0 to do anything?  How about you can start making demands when you score.  I demand you guys start acting like people who watch football.

What you are doing is like if in Lord of the Rings when the orcs are about to storm the castle, some elf (that’s you, Bruin) calls out meekly “no head shots, kay?  no swords to the face?  we can agree on that right?”

You are owning the role of biggest whiner culture in the Pac 12.  You could turn me into an Oregon fan with this because somehow I know those guys wouldn’t even be thinking about this.  They definitely wouldn’t be doing anything to piss off a team that literally beat them 50-0 this year.

fight on, buddy

This goes beyond locker room material.  You’ve pissed off the band.  The fans.  The alumni and probably anyone else that actually loves college football things like “tradition” and “competition”.  People who understand these concepts want the opponent in all their glory, putting it all on the field from offensive traditions to classic uniforms and then they want to beat the shit out of that team on the field.

I’m sorry.  You don’t deserve to be our rival any more.  Oregon gets to be our Pac 12 rival.  Notre Dame, as myopic as they are, they are our only true rival who respects tradition and rivalries.

You are just a bunch of whining children who don’t understand the concept that we aren’t stabbing your logo, we stab the fifty yard line.  At Notre Dame, there’s no logo to stab.  At home, we stab the field as well.  Maybe question the fact you graffiti your field 200 gallons of baby blue paint.  Maybe leave us some green to stab.

We’re sorry the Pac 12 promo video hurt your feelings.  Probably not more than losing 50-0 did, which we will never ever do.  Ever.

I implore you UCLA, do the football thing.  Repeal your idiotic claim to have pride.  Pride is earned on the field, not in prohibiting tradition.  Do whatever you want to our field next year.  Anything.  All I’ll be counting is the game.  Don’t ruin our rivalry any more than losing 50-0 did.  Act like winners.  If this was basketball, you’d understand.

Be tougher.  Be cooler.  Respect the game.  Maybe instead of an old fart waving a white towel (seriously, waving a WHITE TOWEL), do something bad ass that we would see and think “oh man, let’s get these guys”.  Make no mistake, we’d let you do it.

And advice from the Bearfighter… Stab the fucking field anyway.  If that means no playing at halftime, pardon my French, but fuck you.  You don’t get to hear us play.  We’re stabbing the field and you can try and pay us back on the field.  If you do, congrats.  It will be the first honorable, non-child-hissy-fit action we’ve seen all week.

Stab the field, screw playing at halftime and let the football teams play.

The Bearfighter has spoken.  Spread the word.  Just because they want to be 11 year olds doesn’t mean we need to get sucked into their universe.  Regardless, I hope the team is as pumped up to punish them as I am.  Even the fact they asked is wrong.



Because I forgot, on the subject of asking us not to play TUSK because we sing UCLA sucks, we sing that when we aren’t playing you and if the band can’t play it, I suggest our fans in attendance just start playing it themselves.

If I were a reasonable Bruin fan, I’d burn my diploma because it’s now a tattoo that says “whining”.






Filed under Rants and Musings