Overheard at the East Hills Park Courts

Today I'm standing along the fence of the outdoor basketball courts at the beloved East Hills Park.

I'm awaiting the completion of the current game, as I've got next...and mad skillz yo.

However, the humiliation I received today was dealt off the court as oppose to the standard on court shot-blocks, air-balls, and temper tantrums that come along with an Evan Krumholz basketball endeavor.

Me and an older gentleman are waiting to play.

Dude: You play here often?

Me: When I can...my Dad actually plays here more than I do, in the Sunday morning games.

Dude: Who's your father?

Me: David Krumholz? Glasses...kinda looks like Larry David?

Dude: Hmm.. Ohhh Dave! What a shooter man! He's freakin' automatic from the outside.

Me: Yea, haha, he's pretty good.

Dude:.....no offense, but he's like 6 foot....what the fuck happened to you?

END

hyes

Big Baby Does the Dougie!

I've been a proponent of hittin' the dougie since it was introduced to me by Louis Giorgi on the dance floors of various Miami Beach nightclubs...which in turn, lead to doing it on campus between classes, and ultimately, during doggy style sex.

Word to Cam'ron:



The Dougie has evolved into somewhat of a dance craze, spreading far beyond it's humble roots as the signature gesture of Human Beat Box and current nobody, Doug E. Fresh.

Without further adieu, here is Boston Celtic and notorious kid-pusher, Glen "Big Baby" Davis, doin' the dougie. God, this is disturbing. Harlem, Stand up!

Things I actually enjoy #1: Gangland

People say this blog is too negative and that I'm overly pessimistic.

I respond to Mom and Dad by saying its not as negative as an inoperable brain tumor with a 97% mortality rate.

Alas there are some things that I enjoy...yes, besides the misfortune of others.

One of them is watching Gangland on The History Channel.



Every week Gangland profiles a notorious street gang, documenting their rise and...well they don't really fall, just a few members get sent to the bing every now and then. Oh, and a few die unnatural deaths. Like being impaled through the mouth and out the anus with a red-hot steel pipe.

From the Aryan Brotherhood to the Zoe Pound (see what I did there), each episode of Gangland is sure to include the following:

1. An ominous introduction from the narrator in which he highlights the uniquely deep and secretive operations of the hooligans being profiled that week.

They get a tad redundant: "This gang deals in drugs and death, specializing in violent tactics, and even profits off narcotics". Always an eye and bowel-opener.

2. An interview from a mysterious current or ex-member of the organization.

The street solider is often adorned with a bandanna around his face, or his mug is straight-up blurred like some cable porn. He always is known by a colorful nickname, something like Spooky, Lil' Sleepy, or Johnny Big Balls. His voice may or not be masked with a deep synthesizer to protect his identity. He will often indulge the audience with the teachings he learned whilst rising in the ranks of his mob. The gems often sound like this; "If you don't sell all that yayo, we gotta fuck you up". The screen will then flash to a translation of some of the cryptic hood jargon just spoke, to clarify for the white people at home: YAYO-COCAINE, FUCK YOU UP- INFLICT HARM ON AN INDIVIDUAL.



8:15 and 4:00 for examples.



Personally I love the show. Thanks to Gangland, I have learned many an intricate handshake and most importantly, which gangs won't appreciate a good Yiddish joke when I eventually get sent to prison.

One Movie to Another

after much controversy, this post has been removed. for now. have faith.

THE FRANKS INVADE LOCAL HIGH SCHOOL

So this is why my cousin David joined the IDF...

Ridiculous comments overheard in The Hamptons #1

Can you think of a better place to hear them?
Okay maybe Tiger Woods' BlackBerry inbox, but besides that?

I think not.

So let this tale serve as a snippet of my July 4th.

Nothing declares patriotism like stumbling around a multimillion dollar beachfront estate amidst 300+ narcissistic social climbers in a Champagne and Zoloft-induced haze.

Fuck me, right?

Well during my mystical journey, I overheard the kind of classic one-upsmanship that fuels my desire to pound these keys in disgust and share my tales; in order to educate and instigate, of course.

We're all familiar with the notorious bullshit artist:

"My family friend owns the patent to CO2"

"This party sucks compared to the rager at Joey Chestnut's last night"

Things of that nature. But the conversation I heard was particularly delicious in it's audacity . I went outside to fight panic attack onset when I was privy to this:

Douche 1: Yo, you know the band AC/DC?

Douche 2: Yea, totally, I heard a sick remix of them at TenJune

Douche 1: You know how it's two guys right, AC and DC?

Douche 2: Yeah...

Douche 1: Well last night I was at my boy's loft party, and he's very good family friends with them and they were there, and I SMOKED A BLUNT WITH AC, YO!!

Douche 2: THAT'S FUCKING AWESOME!!

Douche 1: Yahh...you got any blow?

Suddenly my blurred vision and heavy breathing dissipated, and I felt bad about the vicious lies being spread about Brian, Malcolm, Phil, Cliff and Angus; the five members of AC/DC

some wisdom from the ICP

"To the maggots in the cheese, the cheese is the universe. To the worms in the corpse, the corpse is the cosmos.

How then can we be so sure of our own existence?

Just because of our telescopes, microscopes, and the splitting of the atom?

Certainly not.

Science is but an organized system of ignorance.

There are more things in Heaven and Earth then are written about by philosophers.

What do we know about the beyond?

Do we know what's behind the beyond? I’m afraid some of us hardly know whats beyond the behind!"

The Tucker Max Story (of sorts)

I get a decent amount of feedback from this here bee-log.

Unfortunately, the lion's share of the comments emailed after I post are negative reverberations.

A sampling from the most recent comment, entonces:

"U HAVE YOUR FINGERS ON THE PULSE OF THE HIGH SCHOOL COMMUNITY? AREN'T U LIKE 21??? MAYBE U LOVE UR CHILDHOOD CUZ U CHEATED UR WAY INTO COLLEGE, SPEND UR PARENTS MONEY N LIVE UR CURRENT DAYS IN A COCAINE AND ALCOHOL ENDUCED HAZEE!"

To this diligent defender of the 1st e-amendment, I respond with these three statements.

1. I did do pretty well in high school, but I think my straight C+'s in Math and my embarrassing B- in Video Production (Hey, the teacher tried to fuck with my vision!) are evident that I didn't scam my ENTIRE way through Jericho High.

2. Regrettably, I do spend my parents' money. Hopefully I can pay them back with the royalties I make from ">KRUMLIFE: THE MOVIE
...I think Spencer Pratt would do a fine job in the starring role. Larry David as Dad, of course.

3. I've actually never done cocaine. Admittedly, I've had a few chardonnays, but what of it?

What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, criticism. I was in a fancy night club (I've got the haters riled up good now!) and some fan approached me. He offered me some advice...something along the lines of:

"Your posts are too narrow, you should write more about something everyone would enjoy, y'know, like Tucker Max does with sex"


Despite the kid's obvious blackout state (he slurred "I'm just tryna help man" at least six times), I think he was on to something. So here goes my Tucker Max story:


One evening last summer, I met up with my friend Becca and a girl from her school. Let's call her, hmm...Mandi, I like that. My friend introduced me to her schoolmate. However, Mandi required no introduction. She was a source of suburban legend since entering college. Triple-teams in Acapulco, aural sex (that's in the ear, General Studies Kids), what have you. Regardless of her penchant for unprotected sexual activities with multiple partners, she seemed pretty level headed.

In other words, she liked this website. POW.


Mandi: I really like your blog...it reminds me of Tucker Max. He's coming to my school to sign books next semester, I'm gonna try and fuck him!

Me: Hmm...thanks? I'd be careful though, judging from his work, he's had numerous exploits with some less-than-savory ladies. If you decide to hit that, I'd double-wrap if I were you.

Mandi: Ha, He should be the one double- wrapping...KIDDING!!!

My eyes widened in disgusted amazement. When she reached out to touch my shoulder, as if to punctuate her claim of not being a whoring cesspool, I was half way out the door. I announced my exit with a shudder, and went home. Haven't heard from Mandi since. Oh well. TUCKER!!!!

I promise I'll write something meaningful soon

You say you a pranksta...

This one goes out to my Alma mater (and my Alma's mater's mater...)

Being that I always have my pulse on the high school community,(for vehicular fellatio purposes, mostly) I was promptly emailed a picture of the 2010 Senior Prank from an upcoming Jericho Senior High School grad.

Our principal's surname is Prisinzano, so there has always been attempts to satirize his laborious last name...likening the school to a "Prisin", and so forth... but none of them have come close to this, I give you the "Jizz on Prizz"





They can sanitize the wall, but the jizz will always be emblazoned on Prizz's forehead.

I heard the scrappy youngsters also released crickets throughout the locker room. Awesome.

Unfortunately, my senior year was noticeably prank-less. I guess there was an overwhelming fear of losing precious admissions to Towson.

Of course, there was the kid who OD'ed on Oxycontin, but everyone thought that was a lame senior prank.

"Tell em bout it, hoe"

You knew this was coming