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I love bouncy castles. The first thing I’m going to do when I win the lottery is buy one (and of course two chicks at the same time). This weekend, two girls were playing on a bouncy castle when a gust of wind picked it up and dumped one of the girls ON TOP OF A HOUSE! At first, I was a bit skeptical. This sounded a bit like Balloon Boy to me, but if it’s true, it’s one of the coolest things, I’ve ever heard.
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I got a call from Sarah Palin earlier and she was pretty upset at the lack of representation in the Suite from outside the big city. The last thing I want is for the geniuses at Fox News to put me on the black list so I searched high and low for somebody new. I went to the backwoods of West Virginia and ate rat stew with a brother and sister that were also husband and wife. I scoured Alaska for a writer and maybe a governor’s daughter. Just when I was about to give up hope, finally I found him, Dat Roro Kid.
Dat Roro Kid was born in Cuba and emigrated to Miami in the 80’s. After becoming a member of the Lopez drug cartel and surviving a harrowing chainsaw attack, he rose through the ranks of the family ultimately taking control of it himself. Roro married Michelle Pfeiffer and was believed to be assassinated after feuding with a rival drug dealer. Unbeknown to all, he was hiding away in Little Havana, eating mucho bistec, and soaking in the luxurious Miami sports scene.
As a Miami sports fan, Roro loves arriving to games in the second quarter and pumped-in crowd noise. Also, boobs. Big ones. While he supports all of the Miami teams, his main passion is for Florida Panthers hockey. Roro is also a writer for the Heat blog Miami Heat Nation and Dolphins blog Fins Nation. He drinks scotch like a champ and will gladly accept any free drinks.
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ESPN.com has a new feature called the Carmelo Anthony Slot Machine. It may be the worst idea since Katy Perry married Russell Brand and I have no idea how it works. I just spun the wheel and got 4 Knicks Carmelos, 3 Nuggets Carmelos, and 1 Lakers Carmelo. What does that mean? Are we cloning Carmelo Anthony and having the greatest trade in NBA history when he gets traded for himself? Here’s the link. If anyone figures it out, let me know.
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Looks like Frankie Muniz had a sweet little Valentine’s Day weekend. According to a police report, Frankie punched his girlfriend, Elycia Turnbow, and held a gun up to his head. He was taken to the hospital and released, then returned to his house to continue fighting with his girl. Wow. Seems like only yesterday little Malcom was getting into trouble for playing hooky and now he’s hitting girls.
I know child actors are fucked up, but this may be the worst case. You know why? Frankie Muniz is a Clippers fan. If I had tens of millions of dollars by the time I turned 18, I certainly wouldn’t be doing masochistic things like going to Clippers games and having a girlfriend. I’d probably drink margaritas and watch videos on YouTube all day. Actually, that’s what I do now.
Here’s the real moral of the story: don’t date a girl with a crazy name. Elycia? Really? A girl named Ashleigh subletted my room for a couple of weeks and lost my keys. If she had stayed longer, my entire apartment would be up in flames. Crazy name, crazy girl. That’s a lesson for all you guys out there. Stay away from girls like Rebekkah, Sindee, and Dani.
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It’s not all fun and games in The Suite. Sometimes, you just need to cover the serious stuff. This is one of those times. Sheyla Hershey, formerly of the world’s biggest tits, is in a coma after intentionally overdosing on pills yesterday. She originally had MMM-size boobies but had them removed after contacting an infection. Hershey was scheduled to have KKK cups (racist!) re-implanted today. On reclaiming her crown, Hershey said, “Once I reclaim my identity as the World’s Biggest Boobs I can be a better role model for my daughter.” I can honestly say I wish there were more moms like her out there. Here’s wishing her a speedy recovery with more pictures:
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Lady Gaga arrived to the Grammys last night in an egg. My friends and I had no idea what was going on when they showed it. At first, I thought she was helping to carry the egg but then we realized she was in the egg. I don’t know how she came up with the idea or why she thanked Whitney Houston during her acceptance speech but that’s another story. I’m a little concerned about Gaga, though, and I want to look out for a fellow NYUer. I love the antics, the songs, the outfits, the videos. I watched the Telephone video like 12 times in a row. But she’s moving from crazy to weird and that’s a dangerous step.
I believe last night was Lady Gaga’s Stefan Urquelle moment. The similarities are eerie. When she emerged from her egg, like Stefan from his transformation chamber, it was just weird. She’s taken everything to a whole different level. Lady Gaga is falling off the face of the Earth, and coincidentally the last episode of Family Matters saw Steve Urkel in space. Hopefully, Gaga slows down before she’s too far gone. Let’s not forget that Steve Urkel was a pretty good dancer too back in his day.
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I’d like to take some time now and congratulate Ray Allen for breaking the NBA’s all-time record for points scored. Wait, what’s that? He broke the record for 3-pointers made? Then why did they stop the game for him last night? I was getting into a bar and I noticed that this humongous Celtics-Lakers game was stopped and Ray Allen was hugging everyone in sight. AND IT WAS FOR BREAKING THE 3-POINT RECORD! IN THE MIDDLE OF A FINALS REMATCH! The 3-point shot has only been around for about 30 years. It’s not really that big of an accomplishment. This isn’t Hank Aaron breaking Babe Ruth’s HR record. Wave to the crowd during a timeout and hug your crazy mom and that twerp Reggie Miller after the game. When somebody breaks Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s points record, then by all means stop the game and let him have his moment. For the 3-point, blocks, minutes, turnovers, and literally everything else records, wait till after the game.
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Now this is the job for me. Playing a corpse on Law & Order! I already sit on my ass for hours on end everyday. What’s the difference whether I’m watching reruns of Entourage or covered in fake blood and hanging out with Ice-T and Mariska Hargitay? It might be hard to keep from breathing, but I figure I can watch some old Colts game and take some notes on how Jim Caldwell does it.
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There is a fountain in the magical land of Epcot where children run free amongst the wonders of tomorrow and the majesty of all the countries in the world. But there are rules to obey.
You read it correctly. “Do not use fountain if you are ill with diarrhea.” Nobody wants a poopy fountain. That’s not what Walt Disney had in mind.
Rainman Suite 