Weekend Awesomeness: New Year's Edition

A new year requires a new, dynamic talent. 2006 was all about coke-rap, and clearly 2007 will be all about white, suburban, middle-class rap.

I'm Losing Everything, Including My Mind

In my frantic attempt to locate my one true love, I've managed to lose track of my co-worker and this blog's co-founder. Where are you, Rocky? It's been over a month since your last post, and we're getting worried.

Here are the facts as we know them. My last contact with the 'Coon was right before he left the Styched offices to attend the epic WWE RAW! event at the Phonebooth on the evening of December 18th. I was following along throughout the night via the USA network's live coverage of the event and through a furious text messaging session with our roving reporter. Our final correspondence came into my cell phone at 10:37 PM:

K fed just walked in

That was it. Those were Rocky's final words to me.

I've put in calls to the DCPD, WWE, and Kevin Federline's publicist. Apparently, a band of rogue double-parkers had trapped the police in their squad cars, and the WWE provided only a recorded message from Vince McMahon, thanking me for my support, which was appreciated, but not quite what I was looking for. As for Kevin Federline, it seems that things have gotten even more desperate than anyone could have ever imagined. His publicist initially denied any knowledge of KFed or his whereabouts, but when prodded further, she grew quiet, and in a frightened tone, warned me, "do whatever you have to do. Lock your doors and your windows, and just know that he's grown immune to conventional weapons and methods of self-defense. Guns don't work anymore. Bullets don't work. I even tried stabbing him in his sleep." Then, in a panic, she hurriedly signed off: "good luck, and Godspeed."

I think it's clear what's happened: without money to purchase Cool Ranch Doritos, Federline has turned to human flesh to satisfy his hunger, which has in turn given him the supernatural strength he will need to take the Champion's belt from John Cena. Rocky was clearly one of his first victims. By the time the authorities take action, it will be too late: KFed will roam the streets wearing his WWE RAW! United States Championship Belt, and we'll all be doomed.

Eavesdropping

BREAKING NEWS!

Minutes ago at the Barnes and Noble near Metro Center:

Girl: "This is a huge one."

Dude (under his breath): "That's what she said."

Wow.

You sneak out of work for a few minutes to take care of some Christmas shopping, and fortune rewards you in the most unexpected of ways.

Weekend Awesomeness: Benny Hinn Edition

In college, I used to find myself occasionally tuning into the Trinity Broadcasting Network just to catch a glimpse of the Rev. Benny Hinn and his breathtaking comb-over, along with Jan Crouch and her purple wigs. Maybe I shouldn't have been so cynical...

Where Art Thou, Fairest Buffy?

There's something missing from my life
Cuts me open like a knife
It leaves me vulnerable
I have this disease
I shake like an incurable
God help me, please

There's a hole
in my life
There's a hole
in my life

One of the great joys of attending the WizShow the last two seasons was without a doubt having the opportunity to witness the glory that is Buffy. Sonnets have been written, wars have been waged, and bar brawls have broken out over women who, for lack of a better word, are heffers by comparison. The young lady you see above is probably the most gorgeous member of any NBA Dance Team to grace the hardcourt. I was always so enamored of her that I would spend about half the game watching Agent Zero sew the seeds that would blossom into "The Takeover," and the other half gazing upon the pint-sized voluptuous and talented Buffy shaking her, ehm, pom-poms. I'll admit, I have a well documented obsession with cheerleaders, but this is different. Long before CMT even considered sending a camera crew to Texas Stadium, Buffy held my heart in her hand. Besides, she wasn't technically a cheerleader anyway. So you can only imagine my excitement when I saw that Buffy was to be the Dance Team captain for the 2006-2007 season. This could only mean 33% more Buffy, right?

Wrong. Without any warning or explanation, Buffy was yanked from the Wizards' Dance Team page, and in turn, yanked from my heart. Those who say that it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all clearly have never felt what I'm going through right now. Instead of my heartbreak weakening a little each day, it merely grows stronger. Each morning, I rise from bed, grasping my chest, tearing my shirt and screaming to the heavens, "WHY, GOD! WHY, DID YOU HAVE TO TAKE HER FROM THE WASHINGTON WIZARDS DANCE TEAM!? SHE WOULD HAVE LOOKED GREAT IN BLACK AND GOLD!" Let me reiterate: every morning. My roommates can attest to this.

"... and this is only 60% of my sass potential."

Rumors have been flying. One states that Susan O'Malley, jealous of her beauty, disguised herself as a Chipotle cashier and fed her a poisoned burrito. Another one had her cutting up potatoes at the Gallery Place 5 Guys by day, dancing at Camelot by night, but I investigated this one thoroughly, only to find that it was sadly false. Perhaps the most common, and least plausible one said that she was "knocked up" by her boyfriend (husband? - is it still "getting knocked up" if you're married to the knocker?), but I find that really hard to believe. A delicate flower like Buffy would be saving herself for the Duke and all of the glorious velvet-smoking-jacket-cloaked riches that accompany him. Besides, "knocked up" is such a vulgar term, and it should never be used around my belle.

So where art thou, Buffy? We miss you. I miss you. And the Wizards have a losing record without you. Coincidence?

I may have to employ the bacon-fueled powers of the Wizznutzz and maybe even the journalistic prowess of future Pulitzer winner Agent Steinz to help in this quest.