Coaching the Miami Heat: Easiest Job in the World

I  don’t know that much about basketball and I probably will lose an argument with anything to do with sports, but I am very familiar with 5th grade coaching strategies. Coaching the Miami heat is the easiest job in the NBA and Spoelstra couldn’t coach himself out of a cardboard box.

Watch the Heat play and see if you notice the following things:

1) When they start a play, Lebron and whoever’s at the top of the key will awkwardly pass the ball back and forth five or six times before commencing any real action.

2) Once they are done playing hot potato, one of the non-superstars (Chalmers or Battier) will try to set up a pick only to find out that they don’t know how to. Sally from my 5th grade P.E class knew how to set up a pick.

3) When hot potato and epic fail pick time is over, one of the three super stars (Wade, Lebron, or Bosh) will try one of two things. They either try to single-handlely run straight at the basket against four players and try to score or get fouled. Or they will try to take a half court 3-point fade-away jumper and fall backwards 20 yards.

4) If none of the above happens, Wade will get the ball, dribble, dive backwards 20 feet and shoot the ball straight up in the air, all while flying. Whether he makes the basket or not, it looks like a scene from a bad Kung-foo movie every time.

5) While this is all happening WATCH CLOSELY. NO ONE ON THE TEAM IS MOVING OR HELPING THE BALL. EVER. If you look for it, you’ll see it. I would get mad at announcers for not saying anything about it, but since it is their job to talk about what is happening on the court, they are succeeding. Nothing is happening.

In conclusion here is the Maimi Heat Coaching Strategy lain out for everyone to understand:

GIVE THE BALL TO LEBRON OR WAYDE AND THEN CLOSE YOUR EYES, STAND STILL, AND PRAY.

I am for Lebron and I hope he wins the Championship because I believe his talent deserves to be recognized as one of the greats, but I hate his coach. He wouldn’t bug me so much if he didn’t pretend like he is why they are winning. If I were Speolstra, I would put on my shades, grab a strawberry-bananana margarita, and lounge on the bench. At least then the world could see what is actually happening behind the scenes.

(I also hate Derrick Fisher. Ya he might have experience etc., but what does he really do on the court?)

How to use sarcasm and not get punched in the face

Why should you listen to my guide on sarcasm? Well. I’ve never been punched in the face. Except for that one night a few months ago, but that’s because I, under the influence of seven and a half Jager bombs, challenged a man the size of a rhinoceros. He broke my friend’s jaw then proceeded to casually walk over and strike me square in the face. As far as I’m concerned I was on my front porch and I can make fun of anyone I want.

Here are my relative guidelines to avoiding being struck, while also effectively using sarcasm to fit in and make people like you (<— there’s your first taste):

1) Always feel out the person first. Sarcasm can be taken wrong if someone doesn’t know your personality.  Especially if it’s a woman. There are women out there that do not take any shit. You have to be able to notice that quality or it will be bad. If you mess up sarcasm with that feminine beast,  she will publicly pick out and chew on all your insecurities, like an eagle picks at a bird carcass, and then throw the remains to all your nearest  friends to prey upon.

2) Never use racial jokes unless you know the person very well and there is a clear understanding that it is appropriate. Biggots are not well-recieved in society.

3) Smile you stone-faced killer. Sarcasm and smiles go together. Or you’re just an asshole.

4) You can’t make sarcastic jokes about an issue that is blatantly a problem for someone. For example, if you are hanging out with someone with a hump back (which is perfectly cool with me), do not call them Quasimodo. A lot of people mess this one up. They think making fun of real problems is funny, but it has to be something that no one cares about. Or you’re  just an asshole.

Good sarcasm: If one of your GOOD friends is wearing bright pink shorts, you can definitely say, “Did you use a tampon string to fish out those shorts from your closet?”

Bad sarcasm: If a woman (that you don’t know) enters the room with a giant mole on the tip of her nose, and you say, ” Who let the wicked witch of the west in to our place?”

Don’t  be an asshole.

Moonlighting with Obama

I went to CNN.com to complete my normal news rotation that I glance at every morning and this sweepstakes was at the top right of the web page:

http://www.barackobama.com/rules/dinner-with-barack

Other than the fact that maybe Obama should be probably focusing on something more important, this is awesome! Imagine walking up to a restaurant (one that costs more than your house) and casually having this conversation with the hostess:

You: “Should be a table for 4, meeting my bud Barack.”

Hostess: “Oh wow really?”

You: “Yeah, we’re here to discuss some boilerplate stuff, like providing economic opportunity for an entire nation. You know, typical Tuesday.”

You’d totally have to set it up so dinner was on a Tuesday.

Then, after looking like a complete badass entering the restaurant, you get to eat a golden lobster with a side of  grilled celery, bedazzled with your choice of diamonds.

At this moment, sitting across from the President of the United States of America, you would get the one opportunity to say whatever you wanted.

What would you say?

Tipping…or Bribing?

After golfing a full round with my dad, he asked me if I had any change in my wallet. I instantly knew it was for the guy who was going to clean our clubs and store them away, so I reached into my pocket and tipped him myself. It looked like this:

Am I tipping someone or am I trafficking drugs?

Rap Battle

I was at work yesterday and I had a sudden urge to challenge a small koala bear to a rap battle. I picked up the nearest iPhone (it was mine) and I started spittin’. Because of my extensive time spent visiting Africa and loitering around popular grocery stores, I was familiar with putting together beats. My dermatologist also recently informed me that my beard has a condition that forces it to curl, commonly found in African Americans. This information convinced me that I was born to spit. Although I have the best beats in the greater southwest region, the koala bear that I challenged was a worthy competitor. It was very comfortable with the English language and the sensitive issue of homosexuality.

Here is the battle:

Me:
Your rhymes are like grass,
They get chewed up and spit back out,
Are you wearing make up or do I see a snout
Oink oink says you
How many twinkies have you had today? Only two?
I can make you cry but I’ll stop right there
Next time you’re at subway, prolly wanna go rhye

Koala:
You tryna come up w sh**
But you just don’t got it

You’re rhymes are gay
Just like you, you only lay
Dudes becAuse
You like it in the butt

Yeah I said it
I don’t even regret it
I’ll say it again
You take it the pooper
But that’s ok.. So does
Your boyfriend cooper

Me:
Your scared to rap against me
I’m a lyrical wizard
You big fat chicken I can see your gizzard
Your dead, time to back off
Towards the light you go
you f**** moth
Your brains way too slow
I got something that can help
It’s called blow
Im bored Cuz You ain’t got no skills
Peace dog Netflix got season 1 of bear grylls

Koala:
It took you an hour
To come up w that beat

You got nothing on me
Now go n wipe that skeet
Off your face bc you lost
This lyrical race

I’m in class
Learning how to make money fast
So f*** off, and leave me alone
No matter how much you beg,
We will never bone

Me:
You’re right your lips are doing alotta flappin, but they aren’t on your mouth
You say you ain’t a slut
But that ain’t no truth
If you take it in the butt
Your an anal whore
HIV is easily preventable
A quick trip to the store
Guess that ship has sailed
All you wanted was some tail
Now you got aids and I don’t even care
I’d bang you… Nvmd your legs have way too much hair

It is unclear whether it is more sad that we rap battled via SMS for a solid 16 minutes, or that I may have lost to a koala bear.

Taco Bell Should Have Luxury Bathrooms

This is seriously one of the best ideas that I’ve ever come across. It’s of those thoughts that got discovered through a progressive “What if” conversation. It happened when my friends and I were playing a game of flip cup and we were following standard friday night procedure. I was on the team “The Magical Sea Horsies” with my brother and we were competing against the technically-sound duo, “That 70’s Girl”. One of the girls on the team was dressed like a typical vagabond gypsy from the 70’s and so obviously we made fun of her. My brother and I were winning super easily because girls aren’t natural born athletes, and it also helped that these two girls didn’t have the necessary dexterity to match our consistent flips.

It all comes down to discipline. Five flips a day is all you need to make the collegiate flipping circuit. Unfortunately for these girls, they weren’t determined enough to keep a good practice regiment to stand a chance against us. They lost four in a row when the one dressed like a T.V icon from 30 years ago had to go to the bathroom. It is in that hygienic lair where she came across my iPad casually perched on my toilet.

“Why is your iPad by your sink?” she asked me. “I feel like that’s a dangerous spot for it.”

I responded sarcastically, “I usually like to run it under hot water, but I got sidetracked today.”

I further explained to her that reading should only take place in bed or on the toilet. That is when we put two and two together.

What place has a toilet that you are biologically forced to use after going there?

Taco Bell. And definitely Baja fresh but no one goes there anymore after Chipotle mouth-raped our taste buds. The point is, what if Taco bell had luxury bathrooms with leather cushions on the toilets and iPads chained to the toilet paper dispenser?

To help you visualize our vision of one day enjoying a Taco Bell experience, I have outlined here what would happen if they implemented luxury bathrooms and free iPad usage:

1) You go inside and order food.

2) You eat the greasy nectar that you just ordered.

87 seconds later…

3) You start leaking poop.

4) You go to the bathroom and read comfortably on leather cushions until your body purges the mad cow disease you just ingested.

What the 4th step is without luxury bathrooms and free iPad usage:

4) You get skid marks on your underwear on the car ride home and  you start doing that awkward wobbly walk to your own toilet like when you reallllly have to go to the bathroom.

It’s weird that a restaurant that forces us to have diarrhea and skid marks would not take care of our restroom needs ahead of time. It would save us the trouble of having to clean our own messes after it looks like we microwaved a giant, chocolate marshmellow and exploded it all over our bathroom walls.

The Logistics of a Sneak Attack Scare Tactic

A couple of days ago I decided to sleep at my parent’s house again, mostly because I was in the mood for free things. It is there where I ran into a serious conundrum. My mother was preparing a delicious (free) meal and it was almost ready. I really didn’t feel like setting the table, so I immediately did a quick flop and dove behind my kitchen counter to dodge my mother’s laser eyes. But it was too late. Seconds later I heard her say, “Steven stand up and go get your brother from upstairs.” Not table duty, but it still required overall movement unfortunately.

People have claimed that they are lazy, but I don’t think they understand the extremity of my situation. I’ve once let my foot bleed out after a serious flesh wound I got during a wrestling fight I had with a middle-aged panda. There was a House marathon on T.V and he was in jail. Western medicine mixed in with the violence and questionable sexual orientation of prison hierarchy was too good to miss.

I’ve also let a two thousand dollar couch get stolen from my apartment’s hallway because I really didn’t want to figure out a way to shape shift it through my tricky hallway.

Anyways.

I proceded to go get my brother and on the way I had the best idea. The coffee I drank earlier instilled in me a feeling to cause a little mischief. My plan was to pull off a sneak attack. Because of my experience hunting muskrats in the Mojavian wetlands, I knew I had the necessary skill sets to accomplish Operation Sneaky.

My plan was simple: For my brother to get to the dining room from upstairs, he had to pass the pantry. I was going to call him down using a traditional war cry used in the old Ottoman empire to signify that the javelinas were ready to eat.

I walked over to the bottom of the stairs that lead up to his room and let out my war cry. Shortly after I heard my brother start to come down, so I scurried away and slid into the pantry to await my victim. The pantry was dark, with only the light from the hallway barely shining in. I could hear my brother’s footsteps as his shadow floated towards the pantry entry way. Although my preparedness was not an issue (I had an entire seven minutes of careful strategizing), my mental stability was in a dark place. I began having worried thoughts.

What kind of fucking noise do you make to scare someone?

There are so many choices! One could use the popular Pterodactyl Swooper  and use a high-pitched screech, or one could use the classic Dying Bear growl. One could even try the Toucan Sam and caw caw wildly. As I sat in the pantry contemplating my scream tactics, my brother turned the corner and looked at me with a blank stare. “What are you doing?” he asked.

I didn’t respond and quietly walked away with my shoulders down in disappointment.

Should have done the Frog Leaper.

The World’s First Kiss

I was laying in bed and thinking about how easy it is to trick a girl, (each and everyone of you have a glowing personality), when I thought about what the first kiss between humans was like. In today’s society it is almost a mechanical thought to kiss the member of the opposite (or same I guess) sex at the end of a date.

Almost every girl wishes for a dreamy-eyed man to come close, gently clasp the side of her neck, and finally move in for a succulent lip locking session right at her apartment’s doorstep. If the girl is a romantic, control freak, then clenched in her left hand will be the remote for the pre-planned firework display planted in the third bush on the left of her front door. Since fireworks are obviously super common in residential areas, the guy won’t suspect a thing.

Men also dream of specific scenarios of how they wish dates to go. Every man fantasizes of the day that he can at least get a hand jibber and spend under 50 bucks.

Anyways, I always wonder how the first kiss on Earth was like. For simplicity’s sake let’s  say it was  Adam and Eve. So they ate two tasty apples and were instantly infused with all the knowledge of the world. They proceeded to sit on a nice, soft patch of grass and talk about their new discovery. That talking session must have been awkward considering their language was probably Charades. I imagine it was really frustrating and involved a lot of pointing and grunting.

After a long day of realizing all the new stuff that the apple taught them, the night started to creep in and they were getting sleepy. I presume they eventually got too tired to continue their frequent hand motions that they were using all day long, I mean there has to be a point where their muscles didn’t want to do it anymore.  What did they do then? Did they sit and stare at each awkwardly all night?

The kiss must have happened that evening. I bet they were sitting in the grass and staring at each other when Adam realized that he liked what he saw. Have you seen our old textbooks? Eve was a good-looking broad. Not only that, but her breast’s side boobs were hanging out of her leaf garments (If she had smaller breasts would they have stayed on so snug?) There’s no doubt in my mind that Adam wanted to do a little something something at that moment. While staring at Eve, he probably mustered up the courage to crawl over and grab her. We know that she didn’t say no, so Adam saw that as a great sign. I imagine they continued touching for a bit, (it may or may not have been mutual) and fell to the ground embracing each other in a way that got their lips closer.  Adam must have nibbled her neck a little bit when their mouths crossed paths. No one knew what to do at that point so they  pushed their mouths together in hopes of discovering something. That is when the first kiss occurred. Not knowing what to do, Adam stuck his tongue out and Eve caught it. With her mouth.

I wonder if he was able to avoid the apple chunks.

Criminal Hierarchy

I thought of this post this morning while I was laying desheveled in my bed made up of half sleeping bag and half floor in my Vegas hotel room. I had just woken up and my brain was still processing what had happened last night. My friend Adam and Mikey were talking about something that clearly wasn’t keeping my attention when I blurted out, “What if we were rapists or murderers, like would our jokes and conversations be the same or would they be all weird and sick?” Before you women, (I believe each and every one of you are more than capable of climbing the corporate hierarchy), point a finger at me and tell me I’m being insensitive hear me out. Let’s take a step back and objectively dissect what I said.  I have always wondered what it would be like to delve into the thoughts of the criminal community. When a bunch of felons go out to dinner, what do they talk about? I think there is a deep-rooted web of inside jokes based upon the newest crimes of the week. There also must be more revered, skilled felons than others, thus affecting their popularity among the deliquent society. I could imagine a scrawny, inexperienced thief being envious of a bigger, professional one. After years of practicing crime and losing all the woman thieves he likes to the stronger, better criminal, he would one day pull off a big job and finally get noticed. Or he’d get caught and  go to jail. And lose his anal virginity.

This would be a cool documentary to watch.

Potato Chips are Cruel

It’s midnight and being the fat body that I am, potato chips came to mind. For an initial second I craved them. I really wanted them inside me, but then I remembered something. A terrible memory struck my thoughts and my body became instantly filled with hatred. I could never forgive Lays for what she did to me exactly 10 years ago when I first met her. I was 11, filled with vibrant youth and newly acquired testosterone. Oh she looked so promising, her foily exterior was so succulent and she would undoubtedly provide me with more than enough oral pleasure for at least the next couple of days, I thought. She would even be able to take care of my brother. I paid for her and quickly took her back to my place. When we arrived,  my body was filled with adolescence and I could no longer fight my strong urges. I placed her on my kitchen counter and began to slowly tear her bright yellow dress to only find out the cold hard truth. It was all a sham. She wouldn’t be able to satisfy me for even ten minutes. How could I be so stupid? Her package was craftily protruding far out when I first saw her. She was alluring, but I returned home to discover she was faking it all along. She was only a third full. I will never trust again, I thought. After a few minutes of accepting the harsh reality of our relationship, I finally proceeded to eat her out of the bag anyways.