Difference between [insert race of your choice] and a bucket of shit

For those of you who don’t know what a bucket list is, a bucket list is a list of things you want to do before you die, or “kick the bucket.” For some, it’s an incredibly sobering, midnight oil experience. For others, it can be tragically short – a list of things to do given a couple of weeks to live. For an asshole minority (such as myself), it’s only half-serious and mostly for entertainment value. Creating a bucket list allows you to set the bar impossibly high so that when you don’t accomplish any of it, you still feel okay about it, thus ending your life on a high note. (I’d much rather do that than take Vince Vaughn’s advice and set zero expectations so that you feel good all the time.)

My Bucket List thus far:

[] Attend a sold-out Liverpool or Celtic F.C. game and sing "You'll Never Walk Alone" at the top of my lungs

[] Visit Anfield

[] Probably learn something about soccer it’s called football, you Yankee shit before doing either of those things

[] March in the Rose Bowl Parade with the Cal Band

[] Get into medical school

[] Write the greatest American novel of all time

[] Meet Kiefer Sutherland Jack Bauer, shake his hand, and tell him how honored I am to meet a true American hero

[] Check out the new CITRIS building

[] Work in Stanley Hall because it’s badass

[] Work in the not-yet-finished Li Ka Shing Center for Biomedical and Health Sciences because it will probably be badass

[] Mathematically figure out how the fuck UC Berkeley has all this money to build all these new buildings but not enough money to give Cal Band its due

[] Attend Gabe’s Hit The Slopes in Dwinelle

[] Find out how safe brothels in Thailand are

[] Visit Thailand for three days with $900 USD in my pockets

[] Visit Planned Parenthood for…um…precaution

[] Cry

Well...damn.

Campus Physical Plant took down my sign for Phlynn already. That lasted, what, about 24 hours? Not a bad run.

Because I am procrastinating

When I procrastinate, I reminisce. And there's nothing more I love to reminisce about than my years in band, because I am a loser and have nothing better to think about. (It was that or porn. And I've fulfilled my 60-minute quota of porn for today.)

When Phlynn, the Student Director from the 2005 season and my first StuD, got married this past week, I decided that, since I have all the free time in the world (I figure that at this point, studying for the MCAT is moot because there's no way I'll break 30 no matter how hard I try), I would do something to honor the occasion. Nothing grand or widespread. Kind of like how we honor former athletes for the institution, even though we really have no idea who they are or what they accomplished. I don't know Phlynn super well, but I felt that he was one of the best Student Directors this band has seen in recent years.

Remember this poster? The one that's still hanging on the far left on the east wall in the overhang between Strawberry Creek and Lower Sproul? Yeah you do.

Anyways, here it is. A little bit of tape, a Sharpie, and a piece of scratch paper.



Go Bears, beat aging.

You can take your MBA and shove it up your A-S-S

If there's one thing I'll admit about Stanford, it's that they seem to have a knack for producing a great pool of entrepreneurs and innovators: Bill Hewlett and Dave Packard of HP, Larry Page and Sergey Brin of Google, Jerry Yang of Yahoo!, Peter Thiel of PayPal, Phil Knight of Nike (aka Resident Rich Uncle Pennybags of UC Eugene; also, international advocate of a your-face-looks-like-a-million-bucks-it's-green-and-wrinkly level of ridiculously ugly uniforms) - and these are just some of the bigger names. Stanford's Graduate School of Business just seems to have some sort of nurturing environment conducive to giving their students the freedom to toss around these new ideas and actually act on them, to give them the greatest possible chance to plant their seeds and hopefully see significant fruit.

The Haas School of Business at UC Berkeley isn't too shabby either - any school that produces great beings such as Scott Adams, creator of Dilbert, and Norman Mineta, former Secretary of Transportation (whom some refer to as "Underperformin' Norman"), has got to have SOME clout behind it.

On Thursday, February 19th, however, I had a glimpse of the next great wave of innovators who may claim gold and glory to our dear alma mater. And they're not even enrolled in Haas. (By the way: Dear Haas School of Business, I WILL PLAY MUSIC ON MAXWELL FIELD WHENEVER THE FUCK I WANT TO. STICKS OUT OF ASSES, POR FAVOR. Thank you for your time, Go Bears, praise be to Tedford.)

Two buddies of mine, CarpeDM and FederagoogSlayer, wallowing in sheer boredom, greed, and their recent clinical diagnoses of Stage Three Senioritis, decided to make and sell black-bottom cupcakes on Sproul Plaza just for kicks. When I first saw the notification on my Facebook inbox, I seriously thought it was a joke. Were they serious about this? For goodness' sake, they named their new upstart the Happy Summertime Funcake Factory. How they managed to come up with such an awesome name like the Happy Summertime Funcake Factory without the assistance of some combination of greater-than-or-equal-to four recreational drugs is simply beyond me.

(Wait a second. Maybe they DID have extracurricular "help"...who else would make cupcakes at 2am? OH MY GOD SKY FALLING WAAAAAH)

For kicks, I decided to go check out their very amateur, very illegal shining beacon of a new wave of young entrepreneurship. I didn't take a picture, but a fellow friend, P. Titty, happened to take a picture of the event and was kind enough to let me use the image.


The future of business models. God help us.

Let's break down this photo:
1) The weather was GORGEOUS. This day was a completely random sunny day stuck straight in the asscrack of two weeks of gray skies and rain.
2) They seriously named their place the Happy Summertime Funcake Factory. Seriously.
3) You can't see it very well in the photo, but on the small print next to the little ClipArt on the sign, it says "KISSES $1.00" with the "$1.00" crossed out and "50 cents" written underneath it.
4) To the stage right of the fine gentleman in maroon on the left of the photo (our friend RyRo) is the blue Cal Band sandwichboard, normally only brought out for Cal Day for potential recruits to take interest forms and our older-than-Goldie-Hawn brochures.

Now let's analyze.
1) Clearly this is a sign from the great Oski in the sky that this is the beginning of an amazing journey.
2) SERIOUSLY?! (It eventually grew on me. Seriously.)
3) CarpeDM had originally priced cupcakes at 50 cents and Hershey's Kisses at a DOLLAR EACH. I'm glad we NORMAL PEOPLE with COMMON BUSINESS SENSE were able to talk him to marking it down.
4) When they first brought out the table, there was a UCPD copper just chillin' next to The Structure Formerly Known As Sather Gate, shooting hate rays from his eyes in our general directionn. He might have been looking at the Asian Business Association table across from us, I don't know, it's entirely possible, damn Asians and their businesses. Since the operation was illegal, we thought this might have been a problem. Good thing he biked away shortly after the table was set up and we were all THAT'S RIGHT, RIDE AWAY BITCH, YOU CAN'T STOP ME MUTHAFUCKA CUZ I'M ON A BOAT. (Basically, the Cal Band sandwichboard was brought out to cover our asses.)

I purchased one of the cupcakes, and they were DELICIOUS. I never thought that half-day-old cream cheese in the middle of a cupcake would be good, but man, it was delicious. Black-bottom cupcakes. BUY THEM. PLEASE.

That night, I asked CarpeDM how their first day went (I had to leave early), and it turns out they sold them all and made about $50. Subtract about $25 for materials, and we find that they turned a nice $25 profit (URGHRHGR MATH BRAIN HURT MOMMA WAAH). A beautiful start to a beautiful new era of future business models. Who needs an MBA when you have a little plastic Cal Band membership card?

I believe in Harvey Dent. I also believe in happiness, summertime, fun, cakes, and factories.

BUY THEIR CUPCAKES. It's a STEAL at 50 cents a pop. You will not regret it.

Peer pressure wooooo

The first time I saw the "25 random facts about myself" meme on Facebook, I knew it was going to take off like wildfire, but I was really hoping that I wouldn't get caught up in it. (Meaning I was hoping none of you bitches would tag me. And by bitches, I mean friends. I <3 you guys.) As far as I'm concerned, chain mail is chain mail, and heavens, I hate chain mail. I do feel, however, that the concept itself - this idea of bottom-up, democratic, self-perpetuating education - is extremely useful and quite clever. It is the motor that drives what we now call "Web 2.0" websites, and it's exactly why I absolutely love sites like Digg, Reddit, del.icio.us, and Wikipedia. The natural extension of that concept into internet pornography...actually, let's not go there. (I could write entire theses on the advent and growth of porn, but the only people reading it would be seedy assholes with whom I do not wish to associate.)

Therein lies my dilemma. I love Web 2.0 sites because I feel the principle behind it is a very important tool to contemporary communications, yet I hate contributing to it because I feel I have neither the time nor anything interesting/original to contribute. Therefore, I am almost a 100% mooch when it comes to Web 2.0 sites and similar concept games. I'm an asshole, I know, shut up already, SHUT UP, I know you are but what am I, your face, YOUR MOM, HA.

That's why I'm writing my 25 things list, but not on tagging other people on Facebook. I have a feeling the wave is already starting to die anyways; no need to keep it alive further.
----
1. I enjoy the creative writing process because I'm a terrible performer. It's exactly why a lot of people tell me I'm much funnier on paper than in person. I wholeheartedly agree; at the same time, I wish I were a better performer, but simply do not have the time nor drive to improve.

2. My least favorite word is "tabernacle." It has nothing to do with the definition of the word; it's just incredibly awkward to say and doesn't sound pretty at all.

3. I love the word "moist." Again, nothing to do with its definition or connotations (ok maybe a little bit to do with the connotations), but to me it's a very satisfying word to say.

4. I hate arrogance and douchebaggery and elitists. But question: does hating those groups of people inherently define the hater as an elitist? PARADOX OH NOOOOOOOOOOES

5. Foreign accents do not excite or entice me in any way. Especially FOB accents that sound like my mom. (Side note: when my mom went down to San Diego with her friends a couple weeks ago without telling me, was it some kind of weird cougar sex romp roadtrip that I wasn't supposed to know about? Addition: my mom's not a cougar. STOP THINKING STOP THINKING STOP THINKING)

6. I'm a bit of a snob when it comes to movies. It kinda pisses off some of my friends.

7. I entirely ruptured my left Achilles' tendon in Junior year of high school. I consequently spent about two days on crutches and a month in a wheelchair after falling down the stairs of my house while trying to get from the top floor to the first floor on my crutches, leading to the ankle on my good leg swollen and unable to support my weight. FML

8. One of my worst flaws is passing prejudiced judgment on somebody based on where they went to college.

9. I go out of my way to look for humorous items, books, and toys as gifts.

10. I do not know my dad's birthday, and I'm not afraid to admit it. I am, however, afraid to ask my mother when it is.

11. My sister and I aren't particularly close, but I constantly worry about her future (in terms of family life).

12. I love yelling dirty, terrible insults at sporting events. I respect student sections that come up with creative, effective, but not over-the-line group taunts. (Individual taunts are free-for-all, as far as I'm concerned. Fuck it.)

13. I could watch Shaq shoot free throws all day. Honestly.

14. I hold a constant inferiority complex because most of my extended family is extremely academically accomplished.

15. I have a thing for older girls/women.

16. Sometimes, I feel like I'm not Asian at all. (Then my mom calls me and reminds me in awful, awful ways how extremely Asian my family is.)

17. The absolute very first, a priori thing I want to know about a school is its campus layout. This means that the very first thing I search for when I go to a school's website is its campus map. I have never broken out of this habit.

18. My greatest fear is not death or public speaking or the real world. My greatest fear is the knowledge that President Obama faces the very real possibility of being assassinated.

19. As of today, I have still never had a steady girlfriend. (I like relaxing music, long walks on the beach at night, carnivals...)

20. I hate the term "lover."

21. I would like cats a lot more if they were more like dogs.

22. When I was young and my mother asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, among the answers I gave her were butcher, truck driver, and street artist. I think she still cries herself to sleep every night.

23. My list of places to visit, in this order: NYC, Boston, Chicago, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Beijing, Tokyo, Seoul. My list of places to RE-visit, in this order: Florence, Venice, Prague, London, Paris, Nashville, Washington, D.C.

24. I still keep in touch with a couple of my high school teachers and I still try to visit my high school every time I go home.

25. I wanted, more than anything in the world, to go to Stanford and join the Stanford Band. I ended up not getting into a single private school that I applied to. As of today, I have no regrets. Go Bears.

THIS ENTIRE POST IS DEATH BY IRONY (if you think about it)

A phone conversation with my mother: an excerpt. (You can purchase the entire set for 4 - 4! - easy payments of $19.99, cash or check only.)

Keep in mind that this (and ANY written conversation with my mother) is in Mandarin. I'm just poorly translating it back.

M: "So your sister told me that you're friends with her and with your cousin on Faceplace."
G: "Facebook."
M: "Okay. Facebook."
G: "Yeah? What else did she say?"
M: "She says she's been reading your diary."
G: "...I don't have a diary. And if she can read it just like that, then it's not a very good diary, is it?"
M: "YES YOU DO. She says you write funny things in it once a week or so."
G: "Ooooh...my blog."
M: "What's a blog-uh?"

Conversation moves on to something else, probably something banal and pointless - I don't even remember what she said. Then somehow it all came back to my blog:

M: "Your sister says that you write a lot of bad things about USC."
G: "Yeah."
M: "Why don't you like them?"
G: "They're cocky, arrogant, rich, self-righteous, silver-spoons-in-asses bitches."
M: "But their ranking in that U.S. News thing is so high."
G: "It's inflated with all those gold coins they so seem to enjoy for breakfast."
M: "They have a good music program."
G: "True."
M: "They have a really good business school."
G: "Also true."
M: "They have a great film school. Look at the kinds of students they have - Steven Spielberg and his fat friend that you kids like so much."
G: "Steven Spielberg is a genius of the cinema. George Lucas is an embarrassment to the film directing community."
M: "But don't you love those Star Wars movies?"
G: "Only the ones he didn't direct."
M: "Fine, I don't like that stuff anyway."
G: "Is this going somewhere?"
M: "And USC has a really great med school."
G: "Probably true, though I question the usage of 'really great.' Let's go with 'somewhat above average' medical school."
M: "THEY HAVE A REALLY GOOD MEDICAL SCHOOL."
G: "Fine."
M: "You're not getting my point. THEY HAVE A MEDICAL SCHOOL. IN CALIFORNIA."
G: "You're right, I'm really not getting your point. What IS your point?"
M: "So stop writing bad things about USC! What if you have to go to school there someday?"

At this point, the thought of possibly HAVING TO attend USC hurt my brain so much that I had to temporarily put the phone down, count to 10, and do my breathing exercises so that I wouldn't poke a hundred little holes in my wrists with the tip of my mechanical pencil. Meanwhile, my mother once again proved her incompetence with modern technology: "HERRO? HEEERRRRO? Wo xiang ta yo gua duan le, wang ba dan...HERRO? ARE YOU THERE? Maybe the phone is broken." A series of thumping noises then came across the speaker; I can only imagine that she was banging the phone against the desk so that the little men inside the phone who operate it would wake up and get back to work.

I recuperated and picked up the phone again, just so that she wouldn't break the phone.

G: "It's not going to be a problem. Don't worry about it. Trust me; I'm smart about these kinds of things."
M: "I still don't understand why you think all these terrible things about USC's students. Your sister said that she's seen you write some pretty disgusting things."
G: "Have you MET them? Because I have."
M: "I know you're really good friends with [name redacted], and SHE goes to USC, and she's the exact OPPOSITE of how you describe their students."
G: "Okay, two points. One: I have ONE friend there. Two: She's different. She hasn't bought into their culture."
M: "Whatever you say. Oh, and your sister also told me that you write about ME in your diary thing a lot."
G: "Oh...um...yeah. Do you not want me to? I can stop if you want."
M: "I would prefer it, but I guess it's okay if you don't write anything terrible about me. I haven't read any of it."
G: "Oh. In that case, your request is denied."
M: "WHAT?"
G: "THE ANSWER IS NO."
M: "I'd better not be seeing this phone conversation on your damn diary."

Sucks for you, buddy (I'm not your buddy, friend!)

On a more serious note (something I haven't approached in a long time):

I don't think it's a huge secret that I love PostSecret. (I also love badminton, long walks on the beach, easy-going music...SOMEBODY LOVE ME DAMMIT) I subscribe to it, and every week, when the site is updated on Sundays, my Google Reader gets just a little bit brighter (or more depressing, depending on how many suicide/divorce/hate/fuckoff postcards happen to be in there that week).

This week's update made me particularly despondent, because one of the secrets this week was this sad note:



To whomever wrote this secret, I have no hatred and bear no ill wills. I have nothing but sorrow and pity for you. You clearly did not put in the effort to get the most out of one of the greatest opportunities available on this planet. This is a school that brilliant people halfway around the world scrimp and sacrifice to attend. This is a school that cares so much about the pure integrity of education, instead of its politics, that it streams classes on the internet for free so that anyone can learn for the sake of learning. This is a school that still has Nobel laureates teaching undergraduates, when in most top-tier schools in places like England, NO professors teach undergrads. This is a school that makes good, smart, hardworking people and sends them all over the world to do important, life-changing work for others.

But you already knew all that (I hope.)

I don't suspect that UC Berkeley is the perpetrator here. If "UC Berkeley" had been replaced with any other major, top-tier American university, your message would probably have stayed the same.

You, sir/madam, are at fault. You are at fault for having wasted four years of your life NOT experiencing an incredibly vibrant city, full of interesting (if crazy) people that you will NOT find anywhere else. You are at fault for NOT taking the initiative to go out and explore the amazing selection of restaurants in the immediate vicinity. You are at fault for NOT choosing a subject you truly, honestly loved to study, and "it wasn't available" is NOT an excuse, not at a school like Berkeley, because you can design your own majors here. (I admit that I, too, am guilty of choosing a concentration I do not entirely enjoy, but that's more the fault of the department's poor organization than of the subject itself. I DO like microbiology and immunology, but probably less so than social psychology.) You are at fault for NOT putting in the effort to strive for the best and milk every last drop of knowledge out of what your teachers wish to pass on to you, despite the occasional questionable teaching that almost all of us here - or at any other school - encounter. You are at fault for NOT wanting it enough. You are at fault for expecting everything to fall into your lap on a silver platter. You are at fault for NOT fighting through the initial cold, impersonal collective shadow cast by the 35,000 other students here. You are at fault for NOT thinking outside the box and believing that education is just books, pens and classrooms.

Berkeley has its flaws, yes. But what school doesn't? We like to blame the school from time to time, and sometimes, it really IS the school's fault. But it is NEVER ALWAYS the school's fault.

~"If you are bored with Berkeley, you are bored with life." - Clark Kerr, first Chancellor of UC Berkeley~

I'll bet you never heard that one.

It really did take me four years to realize how incredibly, eerily true that statement rings. My path to discovering the power behind that simple, almost comedic sentence was not the easiest, mostly because I did not give myself the chance at first. It felt stupid, and to some extent, it still feels stupid.

Here's the bottom line:

It's 2009, I'm 21 years old, and I'm graduating in about thirteen weeks with a degree in Immunology.

I've never been more glad to have made that stupid journey. Swear to Oski.

Gordo Gets Lucky

Foreword: I'm going to stop importing my entries into Facebook until the imported formatting is fixed. Until then, everything will still be here, same hugsless time, same hugsless network.

---

I love board games. Call me a geek, but there's something about the social aspect of having multiple bodies physically sitting around the same board and playing the same game that satisfies me to a level far greater than any MMORPG or online game could achieve. (It's also why I love the Wii, but not online.)

Now, I've never been a particular master at the real thinking man's games, even though I enjoy them all the same. I've never been big on Chess, but I certainly do appreciate its educational and entertainment value...unless, of course, we're playing with the Kama Sutra Chess Set. Then you've got my attention, at least for a short while, before I run off to the bathroom ten minutes into the game and mysteriously stay there for fifteen. (Note: how do you even tell the pieces apart?)

(Source nerve)

Clue, Battleship, Mancala, Monopoly, Wits & Wagers, and BANG! - the more childish, less intelligent games - definitely top my list, because if I want to think, I'll go to school, dammit.

However, today I happened to get the chance to play a riveting game of Scrabble, and the words that I happened to make were so good (and my letter draws were so lucky) that I had to photodocument them and present them. I am not making any of this up - these plays actually happened today.

O Fortune Moment #1:

I got to spell "GANJA" pretty early in the game - my second or third turn, I think. I just happened to draw G, A, N, and J.

Then, a few turns later, I drew W, O, and L to spell WOLF off FIG. The very next turn, I drew two Es and a D.

I think Fate is trying to tell me something with these two words I was able to spell. I'm not quite sure what the prophecy is though - the voices speaking to me are a little fuzzy. But the people on the interwebs tell me that there's some sort of mystical plant out there that can help elucidate the voices you hear in your head. If only I could remember what it was called. Help me, Obi-Wan.

About halfway into the game, this was my rack of letters:

The board at this point (maybe 2/3 into the game) was such that I was SURE I couldn't make any really good moves; I figured the greatest number of points I could get on this turn was six, which would have put me in a dangerously close margin to my opponent's score. Just as I was about to put down "TIE," I took one last glance at the board, and suddenly a halo of golden rays, more beautiful than the Holy Grail, more brilliant than the Campanile in the dusk, more pure than a single tear rolling down Oski's cheek as we lose in LA, hit the periphery of my right.

A few turns earlier, out of desperation, I had wasted a turn getting only nine points spelling "TIT." (Retrospect: not a wasted turn at all; the entertainment value granted my halftard twelve-year-old brain was quite rewarding.)

The ONLY sensible play that could net me a good number of points was this:

O, how we giggled and snorted and el-oh-elled. The strangers around us thought we had gone batshit. (Relevant tangent: who wants to play Battleshits? Give me a gallon of milk and bring it on.) I did it sort of as a joke, but my opponent was so entertained by the notion and so gracious that I was granted the play. AND IT GOT ME...1...2...3...carry the...IT GOT ME HELLA POINTS.

But now you may be staring at this picture and asking, "Hey Professor Gordo, you're a dumbass. Even if 'TITTIEBAG' is accepted as a word, which is only marginally true, what the hell is 'MATEE?' Epic fail, bro."

My opponent and I definitely picked up on that and had a quick discussion regarding the legitimacy of the play on contention of the word "MATEE."

Me: "HURHURHUREEEEHEHEHHEH TITTIEBAG"

Buddy: "Okay. Calm down."

Me: "EEEEHEHHEHEHEHEEEE okay are you going to accept 'MATEE?'"

Buddy: "Well, certainly. I mean, if there's a matEE, then there has to be a matER, right?"

Me: "So...one of them is just lying on the bed while the other one is doing all the work?"

Both: HURHURHURHURHUR

It was thusly agreed that "MATEE" was not only an acceptable play; it was a brilliant play. ESPECIALLY because it was attached to "TITTIEBAG."

Oh, and dear ol' Cal Bandsmen:

Edit [2.8.09 2359]: A trusted friend - henceforth referred to as PeePee - was kind enough to give me his opinion on the legitimacy of the word "tittiebags." Claims: "tittiebags" is a legitimate word only when used as 1) an insult or 2) medical equipment terminology. I asked for sample usages, and this was what was given:

1) Jon Brockman sucks hard at freethrows; look at his giant tittiebags. (Shaquille O'Neal would have also been acceptable.)

2) Johnson, I need two tittiebags, stat!

Why won't my mother love me?

I spent a good portion of my adolescent life in front of the idiot box (that's "television" for you folks out there who don't have to wear a helmet and foam padding all over at all times). As a result, much of what I learned came from the TV. It was my de facto legal guardian when my de jure parents weren't around. I have learned much from the Great American Box for Idiots. She has been an absolute blessing. Yes, HER. What, a chair can be feminine but my mother/secret lover/box can't?

Sesame Street taught me my numbers and helped developed my first adult social intuitions. Bert and Ernie introduced me to the world of potential homosexuality, and Big Bird taught me that my imaginary friend Snonkolees should go away. R-r-r-rewind: Everyone thought Big Bird was hanging out with Oscar the Grouch a bit too much. You just know that Oscar the Grouch dealt some shady stuff living in a freaking DUMPSTER. It's all his fault that poor Big Bird ended up hitting too much of that marijuana and imagining Snuffleupagus all the time. [Seriously, if you're up early enough or if you're not busy around after school hours, watch a little bit of the show. There's some funny stuff targeted at adults in there.]

The Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers taught me what my teachers in school were never allowed to teach us:

1) Scientific and political advisors be damned, teenagers with social drama led by a mysterious gigantic talking head and a robot of questionable sexual orientation are the solution to all our interplanetary terrorism concerns

2) White & nerdy teenagers who wear glasses are AWESOME at beating the shit out of animatronic and/or costumed creatures made of clay

3) All black people are cool and hip and with it. Also, great dancers

4) I think the Green Ranger was Irish

5) If true, Irish guys are sneaky tricksters/badass

6) Kimberly was FINE

7) Wait was Kimberly yellow or pink

8) Just Google Image'd it, yeah she was Pink Ranger

9) HELLA FINE

Of course, who could forget cuddly, lovable, master of the literary arts, Shakespeare to my Fido,Wishbone? Who the fuck needs college English courses when you have the cutest dog in the world teaching you the story in short digest form, replete with adorable costumes and real-world life lessons all wrapped up into a 22-minute package?

Inspector Gadget may also have some responsibility in piqueing my interest in the hard sciences. The sheer amount of amusing and plain awesome gadgetry that Inspector Gadget could fit into his body and expel from random orifices was, for some reason, fascinating to me. Only now do I realize that he was probably some sort of early Japanese sex robot prototype gone haywire. You can't honestly ask me to believe that a geeky guy who can cram a helicopter, a flamethrower, a chainsaw, a magnifying glass, and all sorts of other crap into his head didn't also happen to think about cramming a fifteen-inch, instantly extendable, flame-spewing fandangled mandangler down the front of his pants. It's just that, when the American television producers decided to green-light a show about a detective robot, they had to censor a couple of things, such as change the name from "SUPER NIPPON EXCITE METAL MAN: CLAW BOSS ANGER!!!!!" to something more polite and acceptable to the average American audience. The producers also probably removed Gadget's deep-veined purple-hearted Spartan of love. (It was either that or "Dora the anal explorer." Take your pick.) 

Her loving glow at three in the morning, her warm caress when the harsh bullwhip of winter strikes, her smooth static tingle when you gently touch the glass screen - there is no greater feeling than knowing soy amado. I love you, Mother Brain.

The Super Bowl XLIII Liveblog, brought to you by Tyson Dino Nuggets

For the first time ever, I'm recording, moment by moment, one of my two annual religious holidays (the other being Big Game).

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Some indeterminate time: GUnit knocks on my door. "JOURNEY IS PLAYING!" I scrambled out of bed, barely conscious, to catch Arnel Pineda rock out to the greatest song in the history of the universe, "Don't Stop Believing." (And yes, the official title of the song has a 'g' at the end.)

1328: Matt Lauer and President Obama sure are good ol' chums.

1329: OH SHIT THE FEED WENT OUT WE CAN'T HEAR OUR PRESIDENT TALK Must be the terrorists PAAAANIC

1400: Tint and KNak show up. Immediately a game of BANG! begins during the pregame show.

1425: They're talking about Larry Fitzgerald's mom passing? All respect to him and his family, but why are they showing something so depressing?

1452: Faith Hill sings "America the Beautiful"...um...beautifully. But it took me by surprise for a little bit when she sang the words "for spacious skies."

Gordo: "It's 'spacious?' I always thought the word was 'gracious.'"

GU: "GET BACK ON THE BOAT"

KNak: "If Jack Bauer had heard you he would've raped you in the ass with that lamp."

1523: Oh shit, an awesome trailer for some new movie just came on. What is this? There's soldiers and ninjas flying around and stuff. Looks like it could either be really awesome or really lame.

1523.15: From the director of "The Mummy?" Aw fuck, it's gonna be terrible.

1524: OOOH SHIT IT'S G.I. JOE THE MOVIE UUUUMG

1526:

Gordo: "Damn, Jennifer Hudson is hella good."

SRS: "That's why she's singing in the Super Bowl and not one of those crappy games before the Super Bowl where they get no-name singers to butcher the national anthem."

1530: Honorary captains. Hella old

"From Super Bowl XXXIII, from the Denver Broncos, John Elw-"

KNak: "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

1531: Hines Ward's face appears on TV for about ten seconds, looking emotional, proud, and patriotic.

1533: Why would you not just throw to Hines Ward all day? It would be 24-0 by the half.

1534: Nevermind, throw Willie Parker in there two. Just make it a 6-play offensive playbook. The options are Parker middle, Parker left, Parker right, Ward left, Ward middle, Ward right. You don't need anything else.

1537: Oh shit, the Steelers are at the half-yard line already?

1538: TD, Ben Roethtslisalshtslithsberger. What a monster.

1539: GREAT Bud Light commercial. Pop factor of dumb bitch flying out windows always wins.

1540: Trailer for Angels and Demons.

My Kevin Bacon number is 2, because I saw Tom Hanks filming for Angels and Demons at UCLA this summer, and Tom Hanks was in Apollo 13 with Kevin Bacon. I win.

1542: Dino Nuggets are done! Also, TD retracted. Just QB sneak with Roesthishtsthistihsberger and it's a TD.

1543: WHY ARE YOU KICKING THE FIELD GOAL?! JUST GET THE SIX! THE ZONA D CAN'T STOP BIG BEN!

1544: Kick is good, Steelers up 3-0 with 9:45 left in the 1st.\

1545: Crystal ball Doritos commercial taught me something today: carry a snow globe around at all times so that I can break into any vending machine, except those machines at ghetto-ass high schools with all the steel bars over the glass.

1547: Arizona offense introduction. AW WHERE'S J.J.? Oh wait, he's not starting.

1549: Almost fumbled. Good job, Edge.

SRS: "It's because he doesn't have long enough hair. The hair is the source of all their powers."

Gordo: "Like Polamalu and Fitzgerald?"

SRS: "Yep. That's why they're so good."

Gordo: "So what about Hines Ward?"

SRS: "It's because he's Korean. DUH, fucktard."

1550: "By the way, 'swaggit' is not an institution of higher learning." So white.

1555: Touchdown. Touchdown. Touchdown. TouchdoooooOOOONOOOOO FUCK DOMINIQUE!

1557: Sack. Sack. Sack. SackooooooOOOOOSHIT BIG BEN IS INSANE! Complete to Miller!

1558: KNak: "This [Arizona] defense is so epic fail right now."

1600: Man. I gotta drop the kids off at the pool. But this game is so good...screw it. BRB.

1606: Back, just in time to catch another ad.

Oh man, I gotta eat Doritos all the time now! Making hot women naked, making it rain cash, turning white cops into monkeys...OH NO THA BUS

1607: GoDaddy.com AGAIN? Oh shit, this commercial looks hot. Let's go to GoDaddy.com to watch the rest of the ad.

1608: That ad was FUCKING RETARDED. Also, Steelers TD again. Steelers up 10-0 only a minute into the 2nd.

1609: Pepsi Max. Made for a woman, strong enough for a man.

1610: Budweiser's not American anymore. That's why the commercial is so bad.

1611: J.J.! Aw, crap return.

1612: This Bud commercial is racist. What, a white horse can't love a brown horse? Why does the white man always have to wreck true love?

1613: UUUGH JIIIIIIIIIZZZZ STAR TREK TRAILER JIIIIIZZZZZZ

(Tint missed it entirely. He's still playing with that damn Rubik's Cube.)

1615: FUCK Matt Leinart. Get his mug off the TV screen.

1616:

GU: "That Super Bowl XLIII logo flashes yellow at the end of every play, and I just keep thinking, 'Oh shit, flag AGAIN?' But no, just teasing."

Gordo: "Yeah, damn NBC."

1618: Whoa, Troy just straight up MISSED. How does that happen?

1620: 45 yard pass to Boldin with a side of bitch-flipping.

1621: Yes, Warner tripped whooaAA WHAT?! TD?! 10-7 Steelers, 8:34 2nd.

1626:

Gordo: "Damn, I weigh more than he does and what am I doing with my life?"

GU: "You should be playing football. What the fuck are you doing here?"
Gordo: "I can't, I'm 5'9" and Asian!"

SRS: "Dude, Hines Ward is Asian and he's the best player on the field!"

Gordo: "Are you kdding me? Did you forget he's also half black?"

1631: Breaston trying to pull a DeSean. Not gonna work - the Steelers D is just too fast.

1632: KNak: "I loved when Marshawn Lynch wore the dark visor. It looked like Darth Vader running around on the field, destroying."

1635:

Tint: "Did Hyundai really win the NA Car of the Year?"

Gordo: "Yep."

Tint: "UGGGHGUHGGH (while clenching chest)"

SRS: "YEEEEEEAAAA (Tiger fist pumps)"

All: "HYUNDAI?! HYUUUUNDAI?!?!?!"

1636: Dick LeBeau is 71?!?!

1637: The Edge FAIL. Dropping a perfect pass like that with nobody within 5 yards of you? Can't do that in the big game, man.

1643: Nevermind, the basketball pick totally made up for it.

1650: ...Why on earth did Polamalu jump up like that? He's just crazy. Polamalu's kinda sucking today.

1651: PICK AT THE LINE! Hooooly god, plus a 100-yd INT return, JUST as the clock expires. That's definitely going on SportsCenter later on. Bee tee dubs, KURT WARNER CHOKE = 17-7 Steelers, end of 1st half.

1700: What the fuck is up with all of these ads being in 3-D? And why didn't we pick up our 3-D glasses at Safeway yesterday when there was a whole box just chilling there?!

1701: Halftime show...or BANG!? I guess we're going with BANG!

1731: Damn, Bruce Springsteen has stage presence. I knew I listen to his music for a reason. Also, LA BAMBA AND MAX WEINBERG!

1735: They're ruling the almost-KW-sack a FUMBLE when it's clearly a forward pass. In the SUPER BOWL. Unacceptable.

1738: Yet another KNak Legends moment:

"OOOOOARHGAHG FREE GRAND SLAM TUESDAY 6-7AM WUWOHHOOOOOH" while jumping up and down like a half-tard manchild.

1742: Oh shit, new movie with The "Dwayne Johnson" Rock (we all know that's his real name;" Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson" is bullcrap). Plus Sormtroopers!

...

It's called "Witch Mountain?" Damn it, Disney, really?

1744: YEA HINES WARD. What a catch! GG.

1749:

KNak: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Tint: "Uh oh, Naki's getting passionate."

1751: Willie Parker hits a huge hole for a good 15-yard run. Next play is GG.

1752: Damn it, Parker for no gain. Hurry up and GG so I stop watching and play BANG!

Big Ben almost sacked, threw it away. I think we jinxed it.

1753: Roughing the holder in the field goal attempt. ADRIAN WILSON FAIL

1755: I LOVE these basketball deflections. That could've been a ridiculous pick-6 for Rolle. I also love that we've been saying "GG" on every play for the past 7 plays.

1758: Darn, I just saw Shia LeButtfuck on the screen. So...another Transformers movie? Yep, another Transformers movie. MEGAN FOX!

1759:

 

Damn, CareerBuilder.com made a good ad. Who knew.

1800: J.J. kickoff return FAIL.

1801: Trippy Coca-Cola ad just played.

SRS: "I need to have some Coke now."

All: "Dude, they just cog'd you."

1806: "And now I'm in the Super Bowl" = USAMA YOUNG FAIL.

1807: The Comcast ad is possibly the best ad of this year's Super Bowl.

1808: OH MY GOD, JACK! NO! www.HangInThereJack.com isn't working. WHY?!?!

BTW: Wow, we just got totally ad-cog'd.

1813: The Celebrity Apprentice commercial.

SRS: "Dennis Rodman? What charity would Dennis Rodman possibly play for?"

Gordo: "Probably Area 51, so that his family who was captured by the government after they crash-landed from Mars doesn't starve to death."

GU: "That's where he lay his spores."

1816: "[Dockett] has burst for a big guy, and he burst right into Ben Roethlisberger that time." Ummm...gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

1817: Why can't we have this kind of excellent special teams play? Oh wait, they're a pro team. Nevermind.

1818: Troy Polamalu is hilarious/a monster. Also, I miss Mean Joe Greene. Also, Coke Zero's "taste infringement" advertisement campaign was always stupid. But this is definitely the best ad they've released.

1820: GO BEARS. J.J. Arrington for 22 yards. This game is getting really interesting now. Good thing we didn't stop watching.

1825: LARRY FITZGERALD WIN. 20-14 Steelers, 7:33 left to go in the game. Again, it's all that hair that gives him his power.

1827: Oh crap, a Hulu ad! Now the rest of the world will know about Hulu! But I do have to admit that "An evil plot to destroy the world" for a TV-streaming site is a pretty catchy tagline.

1834: PepSuber!

1837: Man. Polamalu is not having a great game. Neither is Kurt Warner.

1840: GREAT punt coverage, on top of the fact that the Steelers are having some serious fouling issues right now = Arizona might actually pull this out. JAMES HARRISON FAIL

1843: The whole ball has to break the plane, but is that really a safety?

Nope, not a safety.

1844: Great pass to Holmes.

OH SHIT, HOLDING FOUL. Safety? SAFETY! Man, this is definitely one of the better Super Bowl games I've seen. 20-16 Steelers, 2:53 left in the game.

1848: UUUMG LARRY FITZGERALD UBER WIN 50 yard pass. 23-20 Arizona, 3:57 left. Crunchtime for the Steelers.

Tint: "OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD HE'S TOO FAST POLAMALU DOING JACK SHIT"

KNak: "ARUHGAURAOIHGAUUH PATRIOTS ALL OVER AGAIN!"

1850: Prediction: that Fitzgerald touchdown is the game-winning touchdown. Also, in about 6 months, Larry Fitzgerald will get arrested from a nightclub after shooting himself in the face with a concealed weapon.

1852:

KNak: "KURT WARNER HALL OF FAME HALL OF FAME HALL OF FAME"

All: "Shut up!"

1855: Here we go Steelers, two-minute drill. Santonio Holmes is a beast.

1900: Santonio Holmes MVP FOR SURE. That kind of tip-toe TD reception is 

Also, new prediction: in about 6 months, Santonio Holmes will get arrested from a nightclub after shooting himself in the face with a concealed weapon.

1904: Larry Fitzgerald slow motion "Nnnnoooo nnnooooo nnnnnnooooo" was amusing. Let's see if Kurt Warner can pull this off.

1910: Nope.