Let's Make Me Not Afraid Anymore

I had this friend who was so scared of ladybugs for some reason. To cure him of this debilitating psycological problem, he found some doctors who put him in a room full of ladybugs to show him that ladybugs were actually friendly and not that bad. Science, guys. I thought I'd like to try this treatment for myself but I couldn't find any licensed physician who would put me in a room with possums or lightning or Michael Douglas. But one thing I can subject myself to is talk show interviews. Man, nothing gets me more uncomfortable than watching interviews with people I admire. I just want them to do well! You know, no awkwardness, no tv fakeness, no anything that would make me uncomfortable watching. So let's take a look at some some interviews with athletes to make me feel better. I need to know that these things can go okay. Let's fix me!



Well, you know, not great, but I'm doing okay. Maybe somebody get me a paper bag to breathe into or something, no biggie.



Oh that is not how either of them wanted that to go! I shouldn't be able to see my heart beating, right? Oh man, this collar is so tight. Really hot in here! Why aren't you guys sweating? I'm doing okay. I'm doing okay. I'm doing okay. Another...



So dizzy...

What Does My Ice Cream Say About Me? (So Much.)

A man once told me, "Image is everything, Ben." That man was Austyn St. Halfpipe, marketing director for (among other wonderful companies) Monster Energy, Kawasaki and Amp'd Mobile. As a result of that conversation, whenever I blog, I am contractually obligated to wear this jacket.

But even outside of my life as an internet celeb, my image is important. I can't be caught wearing the wrong jeans, holding hands with the wrong women, giving money to the wrong bums and hobos. Lately, this inner-dilemma has extended to my ice cream. I love Ben & Jerry's. First I only bought their ice cream because it was seemingly named after me and my best friend but then I actually opened one of the containers and wow, so good! The problem, however, is that they are coming out with these flavors named after the worst people: Phish Food, Dave Matthews Band Magic Brownies, Almond Joy Behar. Enough!

I don't want to go into why these bands are the worst, just trust me that they are. And if you disagree, go play with your hackeysack and dance in the grass until the bottoms of your feet are black GOOD DAY. The question is: how poorly does it reflect on me if I am seen at Wawa buying ice cream sponsored by this man? It's not as if I'm wearing his shirt when I go to the checkout line - I'm probably wearing pajamas when I buy this ice cream. I'm not giving them money from a Phish brand signature hemp wallet - I'm giving them quarters and crumpled up dollar bills and lint from my pj pockets. And it's not like I'm coming into that Wawa smelling like DMB endorsed shampoo - I probably haven't showered in days.

You know, now that I'm thinking about it, maybe I have some personal issues more pressing than the names on my ice cream. I'm going to go for a ride on my Kawasaki and do some thinking about the choices I've made in my life. But while I'm popping wheelies and counting my regrets, hit me up on my Amp'd Mobile hotline with a message letting me know (a) if I should continue buying these flavors and (b) if you think you can find a drink that gets you more stoked than Monster Energy. Unlikely! Monster: UNLEASH THE BEAST.

No, YOU'RE Overreacting!

There aren't many things I hate (as if!) but one thing I definitely hate is acoustic covers of rap songs.

Listen, I know there are times when you and your girlfriends are just having a chill night in, watching a movie, no big deal, but then the movie ends and you're talking about boys and you're a little tipsy but "whatever, I'm just going to call Johnathan and tell him how I feel" and he doesn't recognize your number or your voice and you hear some other girl trying to lure him away from the phone with her skanky hips and you hang up and you're bummed and you need something to sing along to - something that's a little sad and a little funny and a little ironic so you put on Nina Gordon doing "Straight Outta Compton" and you sing along and you laugh because you've got great friends and you're LOVING LIFE.

But understand that there will come a day when you realize your error in song choice and you will look up and shout, "Save us Ben! Save us from our terrible taste in music!" and I'll whisper "no."

Just kidding, who cares what you listen to! But I do have a problem with acoustic rap covers. When you take a song like a "Whatever You Like" and perform it like this, you are not saying, "This is a great song and I want to put my own spin on it." You're saying, "See how much better this song is when it's whispered with an acoustic guitar? See how I turned this song you are scared of into something you can handle? I'm so clever! Also, I just said the n word hahaha."

It's just so obnoxious and arrogant to think you're making a song better by removing all the attitude and identity of the song and making those things the punchline ("It's funny because I'm a white girl and I'm talking about popping bottles!") or replacing those things with "meaning." Make something that's meaningful on its own merit, guys!

So here is my plea: if you're going to do a cover of a rap song, don't try to be cute and make it sad. Have some fun! Scream, "I HAVE A STAND-UP BASS AND I WANT TO PARTY" and bust a move forever and ever.

The Secret Life Of Rashard Lewis

When I started this blog in the mid-50s, steroids weren't even an issue. Athletes drank whiskey instead of Gatorade and smoked cigars at the plate and WE LIKED IT THAT WAY. But then as the Cansecos and Estalellas of the world started popping up, I said, "I'm not touching this." Lots of talk about bacne - didn't want anything to do with it. But then Rashard Lewis tests positive and the world gets confused and doesn't know what to say and I need to be the one at the party, when no one's talking, to clear my throat and demolish all awkwardness by saying, "Let's get this party started."

I mean, maybe nobody's talking about this because everyone realizes this is a fluke. Steroids in basketball aren't "a thing." But even if this isn't the beginning of some huge series of revelations about steroids in basketball, it is another weird thing about Rashard Lewis. So many notches on his "weird stuff about me" bedpost. Recap: named after Ahmad Rashad, was in the draft green room and didn't get picked until the second round, that chin thing he had going on last year, and now this. But the weirdest thing is probably his game. What are we supposed to make of a 6'10 power forward with no inside game who hangs around the 3-point line? The answer's pretty clear: he's from the future.

Obviously, he was a below average player in 2035, got his hands on a time machine and travelled back to the 90s to play high school ball and enjoy some of the hottest jams ever. In the future they just implant knowledge chips into your head, so he arrived before the one-year-of-college rule was put in place because college would be so boring to a man who knows everything. And in the future, everyone on the court can play every position. They're athletic, they can go outside and drive, they consider Manu Ginobli their Jordan. This is starting to make more sense. Plus, if Bill James is right, everyone in the future is going to be totally down with steroids.

Until he admits it, there's no way of knowing this for sure, but when he lives until he's 150 and everyone in 2035 is rocking some Pharaoh-looking chin-hair, I'll be nodding my head slowly with a smug grin and you all can bring me gifts and maybe I'll forgive you for doubting me.

Never Stop Jockin On Them Haters, Man

Listen, I read long books, I eat lots of seafood, and I wear soft sweaters in the wintertime, but that doesn't mean I'm better than you. Just SO much fancier. It's why when I hosted a dinner party last week where my guests and I ate gold-plated chucken cutlets and explained to one another why certain New Yorker cartoons were funny, my friend Thurston was surprised about my soundtrack choice for the evening. Thursty Thurst was like, "Ben, whatever are we listening to?"

And I said, "SOULJA BOY TELL EM!"

Totally understandable why he's not completely respected. Not the best singer, not the best rapper, a little bit annoying, has a name that's like two words too long - there's a lot to hate on - but whatever! Did you listen to that song up there? The dude makes really fun singles. He kind of realizes he can coast by on hot beats, but he actually gets really hot beats and then coasts like a pro. Does he say anything in that entire song that means anything? I don't know, I was too busy breaking it down.

iSouljaboytellem is more or less a bunch of filler + "Turn My Swag On" + "Kiss Me Thru The Phone." But those two singles are so incredible. I mean, "Kiss Me Thru The Phone" is about a step and a half away from something *NSYNC would have done a decade ago (speaking of which, a decade? WHAAAT? Where has Chris Kirkpatrick been all this time?). Super slick production, corny lyrics, slow delivery so 14 year-old girls can sing along at Jingle Ball. The fact that he raps it makes it edgy by Top 40 standards, but really, we're dealing with bubblegum pop here. And he kills it just like *NSYNC would have, because *NSYNC was bomb.

At this point I find it even hard to judge "Crank Dat." I hated it, but then I was beaten over the head by it and taken capture by its steel drums and lyrics about YOOUUUUU and soon enough I started feeling a loyalty to my captor, regardless of the danger or risk in which it had placed me. Now I don't mind listening to it.

But back to the *NSYNC thing: it really is important ("important," I understand we're only talking about Soulja Boy here, but still) to realize that looking at this as anything other than pop music is a huge mistake. This is not socially conscious rap or gangsta rap or any kind of rap made to show off lyrical skill or wordplay or some kind of precision on the mic. He's not going to be featured on the next Talib Kweli single. That's just not who he is. I feel like who he is is really this outrageous 19 year old kid who likes to party and sing poorly but sometimes that is the exact right combination for a perfect pop song.

I'm just drawn towards music that makes me feel something (because I just want to feel something, ANYTHING, you guys). I like this because it makes me feel sad and I like this because it makes me feel happy and I like Soulja Boy because he makes me feel like opening a club on top of a mountain where all we do is play synth-driven bangers and sing along while we grind. And that's a really good thing!

Seriously, If We Can Clone Things, I Think We Can Make Me Some Cherry Soft Serve

Sure, there are times when I sit on my couch, alone, and eat a pint of ice cream while watching the 2 am Cheers rerun on the Hallmark channel (fine, it's every night, but finding dates is hard AM I RIGHT LADIES?). And when I eat that pint, I want chunks of stuff in it. I want candy in it. I want marshmallows in it. I want nuts in it. If you give me some pretzels in it, I might start slapping the sides of my head because IT'S TOO DELICIOUS.

But when I'm eating ice cream out in the world (which is too rare, but I'll take it when I can get it AM I RIGHT
LADIES?), I want some soft serve. I can get regular ice cream at the store whenever, but if I can get soft serve, I'm going to get some soft serve. Try and stop me. I am never let down by vanilla soft serve, or chocolate, or a twist or...oh wait, THOSE ARE THE ONLY FLAVORS.

This doesn't make any sense, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get. I want some strawberry soft serve! I want some raspberry soft serve! Granted, there's not a ton of flavors we're missing - most are of the berry variety - but we need options. And I know they're out there. They're just sitting there on the Wikipedia page. How have I never seen it in real life? Readers, tell me where I can get some. I would Google it but the internet is hard AM. I. RIGHT. LADIES?

“My game’s like the Pythagorean Theorem. It ain’t got no answer.” - Shaq

Shaquille O'Neal going to Cleveland was either kind of okay or really dumb, basketball-wise. Whatever. People seem to be ignoring the fact that this man is now teammates with this man. Shaq + Delonte West should be a goofy force to be reckoned with. It's like Batman was chilling at the Justice League of Goofy headquarters brooding off in the corner because he has no equal on the team ("get on my level, Martian Manhunter," he thought) and then all of a sudden Superman joins the squad and the two unique brands of goofball work together and learn from one another to better themselves and the world. Though they both deliver laffs, the two are very different. Shaq’s polished - he's been around a minute, he's made a tv show, he's fine-tuned his image. Delonte is wild, less self-aware and, like Batman, might actually be a crazy person.

We've all seen his new KFC parking lot freestyle video, right? Oh wait, no, the video has 7000 views and I have 14 million readers, so I guess not all of you have. Anyway, the video is classic Delonte: rambling, hilarious, borderline nonsensical. That's not to say it couldn't be improved. Take a look at the best NBA freestyle ever, as performed by Shaq. I think if you mix the good parts from both (Delonte's friend, Shaq having the Cheers theme song on his phone for some reason, Delonte's love of original recipe KFC, the fact that Shaq's video only goes for 45 seconds) you'd have the best thing of all time on your hands. I just hope that the two realize the great heights they can reach together (and not just because Shaq's so tall yuk yuk yuk).