Hey, at least that Clippers center is still alive, eh?

So where I work a new high class little "food court" opened up next door. They've got everything from a smoothie bar to stir fry and burritos. But here's the thing – everyone who works there is eastern European.

Have you ever seen a Russian make a burrito? It's a tragedy. It's criminal. I don't understand it. I watched this girl put waaaaaaaay too much into the wrap, then mess it up, then try to grill it. I basically told her that I couldn't eat it because it would fall apart. She made me a new one, but nonetheless, it's still an awful burrito.

I don't get it – they hired an Asian guy to run the stir fry – how hard is it to have a Mexican guy run the burrito area?

Aah.

Let's put it this way – if a Jamaican made me some charoses, I'm sure it wouldn't come out right. And I'm sure that there are some great French burrito chefs – and some great Australian stir fry masters – but this is absurd. I just want my burrito to be made right. I could do better than these chumps.

Julian Tavarez, Part 1.

An ongoing series of why Julian Tavarez is an awesome dude.

Julian Tavarez was showing a few of us his right middle finger, which has a popped blister near the tip. He said that he's had it for his last couple of starts but has successfully treated it in his own unique manner: 1). Pop it, 2). Repeatedly swab it with rubbing alcohol, 3). Crush aspirins, mix it with Red Bull energy drink and rub it on the popped blister.

Tavarez said that he has successfully used that approach for years on his blisters. [source]

Where do I even start? This man is insane. I love him.

WTF.

roryhornblower: later
roryhornblower: criss angel

Wait. Rory watches Criss Angel's Mindfreak? Really?

My friend met Criss Angel last summer in Vegas and Angel had to do his trick something like eight times to get it right. He also had my friend know exactly what was going to happen first.

Consider me unimpressed with Rory these days.

Holy Jesus.

AAAAAAH

I swear to God, there is no place on this planet where people mow their lawns more than my neighborhood. This morning, before 9 AM, I heard four different lawnmowers going off. This happens a few times a week. One guy mows his lawn probably three times a week.

I don't get it.

Seriously, again?

FUCK

This is unreal. The Trailblazers and their 6.3% can go rot in hell. And the Supersonics deserve the #2 it as much as my ballsack does.

I haven't actually fallen to the ground in disbelief since October 16, 2003. It happened again tonight.

Blast from the past.

I'm a big mash-up and remix fan. Always have been. I recently dug through a bunch of old mash-ups and remixes I have sitting on my computer (many from the 2001-2002, aka the Eminem era). One of the best ones was by the then-not-as-popular-as-he-is-now Jacknife Lee. This track is so rare that it's not even listed as an official release on his discogs.com page. So there.

It's a remix of Eminem's "Cleaning Out My Closet", and wow. It's intense. He reworks the slow and, frankly, weak track into a fury of guitars, drums, and electronics. It's the tits.

» Eminem – Cleaning Out My Closet (Jacknife Lee Remix)

People are weird.

Today I was walking on the moving sidewalk on my way into work. Most days, couples are standing on it, and I like to keep moving because I'm so full of energy. I don't like to wait behind people because I'm pretty much doing my best to get through the casino as fast as humanly possible. (But that's another issue altogether.) So, I'm making my way down the moving sidewalk and there's a fifty-something couple standing blocking my way. As per usual, I give my "Excuse me" to get past and the woman takes a second, turns her head to me and says in, quite possibly, the most condescending voice I can imagine, "Well, what would you like me to do?"

This, of course, throws me for a loop. I'm not accustomed to people being complete dinguses to me when I ask. Mostly, they just apologize and move to the side. I respond with a "Um, you can move to the side." She looks at me as though I just took a shit on her favorite bedspread and steps to the side. Her husband, of course, has been silent through this whole affair. I start walking past her and I turn around and say, "Was that really so fucking difficult?" and keep walking.

This, once again, confirms my complete and utter hatred of most of humanity.

Oh, Sweet Irony!

Watching Keyshawn Johnson talk about the value of "high-character players" during the Draft was funny in a few different ways. He's shockingly good on the microphone, but I couldn't help but laugh. It's like watching Jason Giambi talk about the importance of healthy living.

Also: Not quite.