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hipster diary archive 7 |
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Archive Archive 12 |
Diaries: the six flags guy celeb sighting 3: len berman celeb sighting 2: christena pyle max payne 2 celeb sighting 1: amber valletta How much do I hate this guy? How much do I hate the stupid, self-serving articles that have been written in "legitimate" magazines and newspapers questioning whether or not this rubber-faced asshole is really an old man, or just a young guy in a mask? Oh, and the fuckin' Vengaboys should be shot for wasting valuable sound waves with that horrendous, techno/dance crap that makes me just want to stick corn forks in my eardrums. It's bad enough that this runningman-dancin' fool invades my living room while I'm trying to enjoy a baseball game, but then I get this crap in my mail.
Let's just put this to bed. The
dude is some creepy backup dancer that they pulled off the set of
a Cash
Money Crew video, or, more likely, the local dance school for
eventual Broadway disappointments. I even heard some jerkoff ask
on a show if the guy was in fact Uncle
Junior from the Sopranos. Yeah, dude, all of a sudden Dominic
Chianese is the prissy, white MC Hammer. I'm not sure what audience
Six
Flags is going after with this campaign, but it certainly makes
me want to avoid Great
Adventure for fear some guy in that getup will be there to torture
me with that bizarro bat face of his. Maybe their next campaign
will involve some "X-Treme" sports like sky surfing or
that street sledding thing that was popular for like two minutes
in 1996. The whole advertising industry should be scrapped and rebuilt
from scratch. Or maybe we just need to reprogram the human race
to reject lame crap like this. So, after a quick weekend trip to Los Angeles to visit the folks, I arrive back in New York with absolutely nothing to write about for my celeb sightings thing. I think I saw some character actress at Mort's Delicatessen in the Pacific Palisades, but after wracking my brain for an hour over my turkey sandwich, I couldn't place the face. She's most likely the sneezer from some Kleenex commercial, or the woman who's amazed to find that bottle of Tide she just bought yesterday sitting in her cabinet. Apparently I also ate dinner next to Michael Jackson's lawyer from his first molestation case, but I don't count him because he had to be pointed out to me by my dad, and I still have no idea who the schmuck is (except the fact that he's a rich schmuck). And then, back in NYC, I'm walking across town from work and spot a big, gangly dude with a wicked limp. Man, that looks like that fruitbat, Len Berman, only taller.  That can't be him--but it is. Of course, to those of you outside the New York area, this will mean absolutely nothing, but he's a semi-regular on The Today Show and is responsible for one of the worst sports gimmicks in all of the history of sports broadcasting, "Spanning the World." Yes, Berman (or somebody on his staff), finds those "hysterical" clips of sports bloopers from around the world. They usually involve some Japanese guy getting hit in the nuts, or a matador getting gored in the groin. Funny stuff. The worst part of the feature isn't the clips--most of which are at least ten years old by now--but the graphics for the intro that some intern probably created on an Amiga back in 1991 and has yet to change. The crap is unprofessional and very unworthy of a graduate of the wonderful Syracuse University communications school, from which yours truly is also a graduate. I don't mean to disparage the guy--I'm sure he's a fine broadcaster and has made a decent career for himself--but am I really going to spend twenty thousand clams to hear some guy speak who only spent five dollars on a piece of media that identifies his show? I'm available for speaking engagements for like twenty dollars and a Subway sandwich--and I actually spent a couple grand on a computer to put this P.O.S. site together.
 I spotted her walking on Eighth Avenue at about forty-eighth street absent-mindedly walking directly in front of an oncoming car as if the world should stop in her presence. Who said these MTV brats were spoiled and vapid? She looked to be going to a bodega to buy some flowers--and she looked to be lookin' good! Statuesque and athletically built, she looked more like a well-fed model than some chick who needed to be eating pig guts and slumming it with a bunch of whiny freaks for a Saturn Ion Quad Coupe. To call this the "real" world is a complete farce, as I haven't seen a house (or an RV for that matter) filled with so many good looking, fucked up people since the Delta Gamma house at Syracuse. We can only assume that these sightings are going to get better. I'm heading out to L.A. for a couple days, so maybe I'll actually spot somebody real (hahahahahaha). The makers of this third person shooter, Rockstar
Games, usually has us killing hookers and running over babymammas
in our Cadillacs. But this, the follow up to the hugely successful
original Max
Payne, has a heart and what they call a "film noir love
story." Very similar to the original in both gameplay and storyline,
Max
Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne is so f'ing creepy and depressing
that you may have trouble getting it out of your head.  Mona Sax There are also times in this thing where you are running around for no apparent reason. They're supposed to be dream sequences, but it just comes off as filler. And this game needs it, as it is, like the first one, very short. Maybe they think the bullet-time feature--which causes action around you to slow down like in the Matrix--somehow adds time to the game. I'm no really sure. I do know that the third-person perspective that they use is somewhat awkward and difficult at times to manage. It's kind of an over-the-shoulder look that causes problems when crouched, as your own shoulder blocks your view. It's very odd and somewhat of a hindrance when trying to hide behind a crate to avoid gunfire or look at stuff close to you. I certainly prefer the first-person thing, but this at least gives you something different and allows for some cool spinning and rolling special effects. I know as an adult I shouldn't be sitting around playing Xbox games, but boys need their entertainment. I suppose it's a lot cheaper than a trip to Scores or tickets for two to a Yankee game--and infinitely less enjoyable.  "Stop, or my mom will shoot... herself because her grown son plays kids' games!"
I'm not sure if it was a matter of growing up in the star-obsessed
city of Los Angeles, or just the fact I tend to look around a lot
when I'm strolling the streets of Manhattan, but I have an uncanny
ability to spot random celebrities. Others walk right by the adopted
kid from Growing Pains or the guy that played the Iowa
Senator's page on West Wing. Not me. Now some will argue
that these people don't warrant celebrity status, but as long as
I've seen them in some third-rate tv show/movie/fashion show/ad
campaign/concert/music video or any other kind of media in which
their visage was somehow seared into my memory, they belong here.
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