American Idol: Season WMATA

Whoa.

Okay. We won't count this as a Weekend Awesomeness. Instead, we'll count this as a public service announcement. Next time you ride the Metro, keep your eyes peeled for the next BIG THING. A huge thank you to whomever shot this.

Weekend Awesomeness: Politically Correct Edition

It's Friday, so you know what that means.

No, not endless web searching and obscene levels of procrastination...

Well actually, yes. That is usually what happens on Fridays at the Styched offices. But sometimes we have something to show for our lack of productivity. We typically like to call it "Weekend Awesomeness" (i.e. lazily inserting a YouTube clip that makes at least 1/2 of the Styched partnership giggle incessantly at his desk for the rest of the day).

This week saw the passage of one of college sports' greatest (?) traditions: the retirement of University of Illinois "mascot" Chief Illiniwek. Christ. If a drunk, middle-class white guy can't throw on some animal hides, paint his face, and hop around in front of a crowd of equally drunk, equally middle-class, and equally white sports fans, well then, my friends, the terrorists have already won.

So, in honor of Chief Illiniwek and all Illini fans out there, we dedicate this edition of Weekend Awesomeness to you. Let me take you back to a time of innocence, long before 9/11, a time before the commie pinko PC police took over America, a time before we'd surrendered our consumer-centric lives to al-Qaeda, a time where a terrifically mustachioed Dane could watch a few spaghetti westerns, discern hundreds of years of an entire indigenous culture's lifestyle, and then set that routine to a wonderfully danceable disco beat.



Who knew Tommy Seebach was such an avid amateur anthropologist? And who knew I was so good at alliteration?

Nobody. That's who.

Lindsey Buckingham Does Not Qualify

My Wolf Blitzer sighting in the Mens' bathroom at the Verizon Center last night prompted Rocky to point out that the CNN newsman's parents must have been rather concerned with the masculinity of their son, opting to choose for him what is perhaps one of the more manly names in recent history.

Naturally, this lead us to that age-old debate: what would/should one name their cat in an effort to offset the somewhat wimpy implications of owning a less-than-masculine pet. My vote was for "Buzz Swordkill," while Rocky submitted "Butch Thorhammer" as his manliest of names. In high school, I owned a goldfish named "Uncle Jesse" but karma was watching, and the fish died about a week later. He may or may not have shared the tank with another fish named "Dr. Sex" which could have had something to do with his untimely demise. I'm not pointing fingers. Regardless, I don't want to tempt fate, so it's off the ballot. It should surprise nobody at this point to learn that my dentist, who (or is it whom?) I'm visiting first thing in the morning, was selected by me last year solely because of his name: Dr. Bruce Steele. I have to drive all the way across town to get to his office, but I think it's absolutely worth the trek to have the alter-ego of a super hero working on my teeth.

The writers at Reno 911 have already put forward one of my all-time favorites in "Steed Lankershim," boyfriend/one-time fiancé of Deputy Clemmie Johnson, as have the geniuses at The Simpsons, renaming Homer "Max Power" for one episode.

Presently, I'm struggling to decide which is the manlier name in the category of pop music: Rolf Magnus Joakim Larsson or Joey Tempest. Oddly enough, Rolf and Joey are the same person (lead singer for Europe). In the world of television, Larry David's "Sometimes Credited As" pseudonym, Buck Dancer, is pretty ridiculous itself, but ridiculous usually doesn't equal manly.

So readers, all three of you, if left to your own devises, what would you name your manly house cat?

(or dog?)

(or goldfish?)

Born into Valley Girl

If you haven't seen THE CAGE's first major picture (not Fast Times), you should rent it immediately so that you can see the full circle of THE CAGE's acting career: from Valley Girl to this to this, and wow am I excited about that last one.



Sick Mullet CAGE. Sick

Ghost Rider does Japan

THE CAGE STRIKES AGAIN!!!!!!!

Weekend Awesomeness: Presidents' Day Edition

In honor of America and all of its leaders, past, present and future, this week's edition of Weekend Awesomeness is a very special one. When Terrence Gene Bollea was growing up in Augusta, Georgia, spandex, odd facial hair, and a patriotic Stratocaster were the only tools to success. Let's just be thankful the Hulkster had the foresight to put these together.

Nicolas Cage DOMINATES

If you weren't excited to see Ghost Rider on its opening weekend, then check out these select scenes from The Wicker Man. Viacom, get out of YouTube's way, because this is pure advertising: we here at Styched had to rent the full film immediately after viewing this, and let me assure you, we were not disappointed. Nick Cage was clearly overlooked this Oscar season because he completely redefined the crime comedy genre by knocking out everything Peter Sellers had ever done for it.



Does anyone know where to get a good bear suit?

Weekend Awesomeness: EMERGENCY INTERVENTION!!! Edition

I know, I know. I've already posted that clip from "Extras" as this week's Weekend Awesomeness, but we have to be flexible here. This is more in tune with what Weekend Awesomeness should be anyway. I'm not sure what this is, but the tag at the beginning reads:

"Losing You"
Losing You
Jan Terri
JT Records (c)1993

It's got a good beat. It's got a dynamic lead singer. It's got the Chicago skyline. It's got a tremendous mullet on a gentleman who thumbs his nose at traffic laws! And it's, well, it's indescribable. See for yourself...

Weekend Awesomeness: "Are you 'avin' a laugh?" Edition

This week's installment of Weekend Awesomeness is from last Sunday's episode of "Extras," depicting a chance encounter with the one and only David Bowie that doesn't exactly boost Andy's confidence. It's incredibly lame of me to simply post a scene from a television show that isn't even 5 days old, but I haven't been able to get "Pathetic Little Fat Man" out of my head all week, and I've probably watched this six times today alone.


I suppose even the greats need their muses.

Updates: Coming Out of The Dark

1) Yes, Anonymous, it's true. A little more than one month after my initial posting (back when the Wizards had a losing record), my fair Buffy, as if through ESP (or self-Googling?) heard my cries of pain and reached out to me via email. Her message reads as follows:

A friend of mine showed me your webpage. It is a hilarious story but none of those things are true. Sometimes better opportunities arise, that's all.

So, what better opportunities might she be speaking of? Perhaps Dean Witter finally called. Perhaps her small business loan was approved and she's opened a small stationary store in Silver Spring.

Or perhaps... no. I shouldn't say any more. I should just keep my mouth shut. A gentleman doesn't tell.

(sigh)

Fine. But you didn't hear it from me.

Let's just say that, one week from today, a certain dynamically talented, former Washington Wizards Dance Team member and a certain mustachioed Eastern European gentleman of questionable nobility, dressed in nothing but a Speedo and his faithful smoking jacket, will be lounging by the pool on a private estate in Mustique eating frozen grapes, sipping on Thug Passions. By night, the two will dine by candlelight on lobsters and truffles, and dance to an oft-played Gloria Estefan mix CD. It will be a magical week, and neither will want it to end. But both will know deep down in their hearts that it must end. For the dynamic former dancer will have to return to her struggling stationary store, and this random European noble will have to put his pants back on and start smoking his pipe once again. And the owners of the private estate will arrive for their weekend stay, only to discover two sunburned strangers passed out by their pool with "Y-Tu-Conga" playing on repeat, blasting out of a CVS-purchased boom-box.

A better opportunity indeed.

2) I am pleased to report that, despite earlier reports, Kevin Federline did not eat Rocky in order to gain strength in his quest to defeat John Cena. I may have overreacted on that one. Turns out Rocky was just pulling his yearly mini-Rip Van Winkle/Costanza, sleeping underneath his desk, where I never thought to look.

3) Wizards v. Suns. Tonight. I'll be wearing all seven of my Tough Juice t-shirts as I scream like a 13 year-old girl, trying to get Gilbert's attention in the nosebleeds, though I don't think he can throw his jersey that high. This game is Derek Foreal - it's gonna be awesome. Not only are the WizKids on a tear at home this season, having only lost three, they've already beaten Phoenix once at Phoenix (ending a 15-game win streak). The Suns currently have a 13-game win streak that will have to end at some point, and this is the first game in a five game East Coast road trip. They're ripe for the pickin'! Needless to say, I'm styched.


Update: Ugh. That wasn't very much fun. At least I got upgraded this afternoon to awesome seats, giving me the opportunity witness the glory of Clinton Portis (who was at the game with a lady friend) from up close.

The Return

I must admit. I underestimated the potential of blogging. Other than Sir Frankencow getting an occasional shout out here and there, I thought that Styched would not yield much for either of us.

I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

When the Duke first showed me his e-mail from the “lost” Buffy, I was awash with excitement and perplexity.

Perhaps she only contacted him to dispel the (now widespread) rumor that she was pregnant, but Frank T.J. Mackey once told me, “In this life, it's not what you hope for, it's not what you deserve - it's what you take!” Naturally respecting the opinion of any character portrayed by the High Witch Tom Cruise, I have to suspect that Buffy took action here out of her esteemed respect for Styched, Inc.

The fact that your friend and mine Sir Frankencow can pull people out of the woodwork quicker than Robert Stack has changed me.

The Rock is BACK!!!!

WeekDAY Awesomeness: Can't Hardly Wait Edition (aka Blowing My Load)

Dammit. I've been trying to hold this one in to make it a true installment of Weekend Awesomeness, but like a 15 year-old losing his V-card, I don't think I can hold this one back. So, we're bursting at the seams, bringing it to you prematurely today.

Remember Aleksey Vayner? The Yale Senior who listed all sorts of improbably accomplishments in his resume, only to have it capped by a link to a video "interviewing" him about how he was a superior specimen of the human race? Well Michael Cera, the 17 year-old Canadian actor who played George Michael on Arrested Development, has produced his own homage to Mr. Vayner.

Where Wizards Dare

... Eddie looked into Gilbert's deep brown eyes, searching for even the slightest hint of forgiveness. But instead of finding what he most yearned for, Eddie's heart broke as he was met with a cold, emotionless stare. There would be no more intimate dinners, lit by the soft light of a single candle. Nor would there be any more horseback rides through Rock Creek Park. Those beautiful afternoons and evenings the two spent together that summer were gone, never to return again, and Eddie would forever yearn for even one more hour, where the two of them might spend the morning sprawled out on one of Gilbert's many Afghan blankets in Logan Circle.

"Please, Gil." Eddie implored, tears welling up in his eyes, knowing deep down that his pleas would go unanswered. "Don't go making the biggest mistake of your life. You know this feels right."

"Wrong Eddie," Gilbert replied with detachment. "It felt right."

Eddie reached out for Gilbert's hand, but could only grasp at air as his fingertips touched Gilbert's flowing, golden jersey. The man they call Agent Zero turned his back on Jordan for one last time, and taking a deep breath, stepped back onto the court. Caron, Antawn and Brendan were waiting for him.

-An excerpt from the forthcoming novel from Danielle Steel, The Secret Lives of Wizards

The Lerners' New Houseguests

I'm breathlessly awaiting Bowden's next press conference announcing the Nationals' acquisition of star catcher Vern Troyer and an untested, but highly coveted outfield prospect in Vigo the Carpathian from the Cincinnati Reds in exchange for Cristian Guzman, a third round draft pick, and a case of BluBlocker shades.

MAKE IT HAPPEN, JIMBO!

Cue 1,200 Blog Posts Containing The Word "Crapitals"

Lord knows I've referred to my beloved local NHL team by a few nicknames in my lifetime, my favorite being the Washington "Crapitals" (or the "Craps" for short), but it was always in a good natured sort of sense during the team's rebuilding years. But, in a stunning and hilarious turn of events, the term has taken on a whole new (and quite literal) meaning. Over the weekend, a rogue stomach virus tore its way through the locker room, afflicting eight players on the team, hurting an already injury-depleted Capitals squad. The victims: Matt Pettinger, Steve Eminger and Brian Sutherby all of whom sat out Friday's game, as well as Mike Green, Brian Pothier, team captain Chris Clark and backup goaltender Brent Johnson. Note that that's three defensemen on a team with an already weak blue line. Symptoms included nausea and diarrhea. Ugh. I'm sure all of them appreciate the fact that we all have images of them running to the toilet. As someone who played hockey for ten years of my life, I know a thing or two about smelly locker rooms, but this must have taken things to a whole new level.

It's unconfirmed right now, but sources tell me that Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin were spotted Wednesday evening in a dark corner of Rosa Mexicana, giggling wickedly and high-fiving each other. This is no coincidence, but rather a stomach churning conspiracy: their confidence has clearly been boosted by their successful campaign to shut Alex Ovechkin out of the All-Star game, and now they're taking on an even more diabolical plot in their attempts to dominate the Eastern Conference.

Let's just hope that this was only a 24-hour type of thing. The team's in the middle of a horrible losing streak, dropping below .500 for the first time in several weeks after yesterday afternoon's loss to the Phoenix Coyotes, and with four players on IR, including Richard Zednick, the fewer players that need to be called up from Hershey, the better.