Underrated Hottie of the Week

Nina Dobrev

 

Introducing Canada’s up-and-coming sweetassheart, Nina Dobrev. Canada? Sounds fishy with a name like that. Well, apparently she was born in Bulgaria and then moved to Toronto at age two. Classic example of the ol’ switcheroo. Guess I can’t complain, if she was still in Bulgaria she might be breastfeeding cockney street children in the slums instead of dominating the entertainment biz here in America, who knows. So thanks for that Canada. Sure, you could make an argument that she’s more un-known than un-derrated (Stratman) but let’s roll with it, ok?

How is she famous you ask? Well she got her start on Degrassi: The Next Generation, with our boi, Aubrey aka Wheelchair Jimmy. Then she did a bunch of other random teeny-bopper shows and movies and now stars in The CW’s The Vampire Diaries. If I’m being honest, I’ve seen none of those. The first time I heard about Nina was during her interview on Conan a little while back. If you haven’t seen it, you should watch it immediately:

How Conan didn’t explode instantly is beyond me but that clip is just straight sexual heat. I would’ve reacted the exact same way as Conan aside from at the end I would’ve  sprinted off stage to change pants.

As you can see, not only is Ms. Dobrev unbelievably sexy but she’s also flexible as hell and apparently willing to do foot stuff. Not into that m’self, but I wouldn’t rule it out if she was involved. Definitely has the Sloan from Entourage vibe going too, only hotter and younger and less of a biotch. Anyways, I think I speak for all of mankind when I say we can’t wait to see more of Nina in the near future.

 

 

– JD

 

Note – I’m heading out of the country on a top secret mission starting tomorrow til July 8th. I’ll largely be spending my time in military bunkers so I’ll have no internet access of any kind. I’m relying on the loyal Mime squadron to hold down the fort until then aka you probably don’t need to check The Mime much since aside from the ketchup man, they’re all a bunch of unreliable degenerates. Happy early 4th of July to all, set off some big ass fireworks for me.

Disney & Pixar Release Brave, Confirm Princesses Are Contrived

Admittedly, I’ve never seen Cars or last year’s lackluster sequel *pauses for gasps* but it seems tradition demands that we equate a pretty good Pixar film with HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS MOVIE IS HITLER. Let’s be honest here. No hot streak is without an inevitable end. Then again, this is its thirteenth feature release… *pauses for Lamashtu to devour souls*

Centuries ago, in an age when “women’s rights” were as advanced as domesticated cat labor reform, King Fergus (Billy Connolly) and Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson) offer up their only daughter, Merida (Kelly Macdonald), for an arranged marriage with a suitor from one of three neighboring clans. Unfortunately, the obstinate princess pwns all three n00bs in an archery contest, claiming some mumbo jumbo about having a say in who she marries. I think. To be honest, I had a hard time hearing over my own laughter. Queen Elinor, in all her overbearingness, will hear none of this hogwash about independence and free thought, and so Merida runs away where she encounters a witch (Julie Walters) who agrees to grant her a single spell. Naturally, Merida wishes that her mother would change, a decision that obviously comes back to royally bite her in the arse. And now, an overwrought montage with song.

It’s tough to get into any real discussion of this without revealing exactly how Merida’s mother changes, so yeah, spoilers n’ junk now: Queen Elinor turns into a bear. Like an actual bear, which is possibly a physical manifestation of her internal temperament, but also possibly a sign I’m over analyzing this thing. As weird a twist as it is, I appreciated Brenda Chapman’s story here because it reveals what was deceptively marketed as a sprawling adventure story to be a very intimate one: girl wants to be a boy, mom wants girl to stay a girl. At its core, Brave focuses on this mother-daughter relationship, a definite win for the ladies but a bummer for any boyfriends who just wanted to see The Avengers one more time.

Brave certainly hits all the expected beats, but that’s the problem: it feels obligated to be something it isn’t. Fault my love-hate relationship with Disney, but I’m tempted to blame the Mouse House for this color-by-numbers arc, even if Chapman and co-directors Mark Andrews and Steve Purcell used a Deluxe 120 Crayon pack to do so. It’s tough to hate the visuals in this as they definitely set a benchmark for Pixar animation standards. Especially the hair. Oh God, the hair! The choice of three directors over the riskier option of maybe just one resulted in contributions getting shuffled throughout production. So feel free to make a clever analogy about too many chefs in the pantry or however that expression goes.

I haven’t mentioned the importance of Brave‘s presumed antagonist, the ursine mammoth Mor’du, precisely because he just isn’t all that important to the story. He is, however, instrumental in showing where the film goes wrong. Mor’du — probably Gaelic for “gimmick” — interrupts a birthday celebration before the main title card even hits, taking King Fergus’ right leg as well as the audience by surprise. Then, he just kind of disappears for an hour. So when he rears his big ugly head again in the third act, it’s hard to tell if Mor’du is a vital piece of the story or a furred proxy for “Chekhov’s gun.” The quality of thought in each element is scatter-shot, and more often than not, the story trips over itself by explaining more than it needs to. Rather than showing, Brave tells, quite literally in the case of its denouement, which amounts to the dialogue equivalent of ‘I’ve developed as a character because I’ve developed as a character.’ The emphasis on spelling things out so blatantly feels ironic for the same studio that did such wonders with the dialogue lite Wall-E, but now I’m just making cheap shots here.

Since it’s worth looking back at Pixar Studios’ tome of past accomplishments (and since all Pixar reviews require romanticizing), Brave is more A Bug’s Life than The Incredibles, but there’s nothing wrong with that, unless you’re one of those ant racists or something. It’s disappointing that so much effort was put into amazing visuals at the cost of a story that amounts to a Brother Bear/Mulan cross-promotion, but a few hiccups were bound to happen eventually.

Along with the slack-jawed croonings of Randy Newman, one of the original Toy Story’s strengths was its fully-fleshed out world, both within and outside of Andy’s room. Was Mr. Spell an integral peg in strengthening Woody and Buzz’s cherished friendship? No, but you can bet your behind he was important in that plastic corrosion awareness meeting. Mr. Spell felt appropriate while simultaneously fitting into the larger ‘toy world’ Lasseter & Co. had crafted. Merida’s three ginger brothers, as cute and gingery as they are, remain nothing more than that. They’re a series of prat falls, visual gags on pale toddler ass.

I guess all I’m saying is thank you, Mr. Spell.

TBS: C’mon, they’re trying really hard and stuff…

Let me preface this post by saying that for the longest time I’ve thoroughly enjoyed TBS as a network. Mr. TBS, if you’re reading this, I’ll always be a supporter of your wide viewing selection of sitcom re-runs and classic movies and even the occasional sporting event. Sure, you may not be FX or Comedy Central, but we all know you’re trying super hard and as my T-Ball coach used to say, “If you try your hardest thats all that matters.” His name was Marv and he actually said that.

My coastal beef begins and ends with TBS’ original programming lineup. Aside from Conan, who remains the funniest late night talk show host out there, everything else blows magnum dong. Just a modern day crap-toberfest. I swear every time I see a commercial for Men At Work I want to punch a deaf child. And I’m not even a moderately violent guy. I’m super chill holmes. Super chill.

Here’s the original programming TBS is currently showing, or will debut this summer:

Tyler Perry’s House of Payne

Did you laugh at all? Yeah, me neither. I Gotta admit that chubby dude is kind of funny looking, but that’s about all the praise I can give this show. Don’t drop the racist card either! Some of my best friends are the Wayans Bros.

Tyler Perry’s For Better or Worse

A modern day comedy about the ups and downs of marriage or something. Because wealthy marriages are just a ball of laughs. Looks kind of like All My Children banged Tyler Perry and this is what came out. Tune in on Thursdays in July if you want to watch a sucky show.

Are We There Yet

First, I’ll admit I saw Are We There Yet the movie in theaters on opening night. Shit was hilarious. Ice Cube fights a deer for christsake! Now THAT’S comedy. So, when I learned there was going to be a spin off show and Cheeseburger Eddie is involved I almost creamed. Twice. Surely it will be a fantastic show! Think again, JD. Honestly, the show might be the worse than anything Tyler Perry has done. I think The Cube should stick to Coors Light commercials.

Men At Work

So this show literally just signed on for a second season. I’ll give that a minute to sink in. As far as I see it, it’s essentially a wannabe, tame version of Workaholics with a grown up, wise crackin Hyde from That 70s Show, a dude that looks like Paul Rudd mixed with Tom Brady and a token black guy. I’ll say I did try and muscle through an episode a few weeks ago. Then I punched my TV and cried myself a river. Tries way too hard. For example, that oompa loompa joke was funny about a millennium ago.

 

Sullivan and Son

I guess its like an Asian-Irish bar full of one-liners or some shit. How Vince Vaughn is producer is beyond me. Hasn’t actually premiered yet so I won’t jud….yeah it’s going to be horrible.

 

The Wedding Band

Couldn’t even find a trailer for this one. Apparently it’s about four friends who are in, you guessed it, a wedding band. I’ll give this one the benefit of the doubt since I’ve seen nothing in the way of a trailer. But TBS, given your track record, it’s safe to assume it’s a cancellation waiting to happen.

 

There you have it, folks. As I said, aside from Conan, TBS’ original programming is basically a fuckin nightmare. Maybe one of these days they’ll drop something worth watching, until then flip through the channels with caution. Nobody wants to get accidentally sucked into watching a shitty sitcom and wind up drop kicking a cable box into your dad’s groin.

 

– JD

The Brow Jones is up 300 points

Sweet Baby Ray’s BBQ sauce! Your face! Its like an ancient Chinese emperor mated with a wicker basket.

 

I know, I know that title is a stretch and a half. It’s like a stock market reference and so, given he’s about to be drafted number one overall his stock is risin….ahh fuck it. Get off my meat helmet, it’s Tuesday and my creativity is at an all time low. Essentially, I figured The Mime has yet to sound off on America’s favorite uni-brow, Mr. Anthony Davis. Which direction am I going to take it, you ask? Well I could say that dude makes Beetlejuice look like Tyrese Gibson. I could also go out on a limb and say if Anthony passed out at a party with his shoes on, whoever grabbed the nearest sharpie for some face drawings would probably instead use it to stab their eyes out for fear of staring directly into that mug. I mean there’s no way you could make it any worse. A hastily written ‘sex hole’ on his cheek with an arrow pointing left would for sure be an upgrade. I could even trash his teeth by saying, oh I don’t know, I’m pretty sure one is growing out of his goddamn tongue! Jesus and Ezekiel must’ve been late for a 8:14 tee time at Whistling Heavens Irish Course when crafting up Anthony’s face, because it’s just a train-wreck up there.

Yet, for some reason (could be that he’s unreal sick nasty at the game of basketball) A-Dave don’t care one bit that he looks like the cyclops from Homer’s Odyssey. In fact, he straight up embraces it like a mother flippin fiend. Dude even went as far as trademarking his signature look and catch phrases for fear of others copying them. He’s quoted as saying, “I don’t want anyone to try to grow a unibrow because of me and then try to make money off of it.”

First and foremost, Anthony, buddy I think your signature look is safe. A) Aside from the weird cashier at Jimmy John’s down the street, you’re about the only cat anyone knows that rocks a uni-b and B) You’re 12 foot eleven. If we gave Bear Grylls a billion yen and told him to spend the rest of his life searching the world over for someone or something that looks like you, he wouldn’t even come close.

Secondly, I have to say I can totally get down with Mr. Davis’ business savvy here. He knows what his strengths are and he plays on them like a tiny mouse plays a miniature fiddle. By that I of course mean he uses them well. The unibrow probably started as an ‘I’m too young to control my above-eye hairs yet and I’ve already hit puberty’ thing. Then since he was, from what I imagine, slaying vicious box as a stud on the AAU bball circuit at a young age, he didn’t ever shave it. If it ain’t broke, why fix it?  Next, he combined his signature look with the vast entrepreneurship knowledge he gained during one LONG year of schooling at the University of Kentucky and boom, registered trademarks o plenty.

So, as y’all can gather, the New Orleans Hornet’s aka The New Orleans David Sterns are going to be hemorrhaging gift shop profits right back into Anthony’s pockets. I’m talking stacks on stacks. That, or they’ll have to come up with new unibrow slogans like “How Now Uni-Brow?” or “Brow SMASH” or “Brow-er Power!” or “What Can Brow Do For You?”. Maybe not that last one, UPS might get a little pissed. Lastly, any professional athletes with unibrows better find the nearest Gillette Fusion Pro Glide and turn shaving into gliding and skeptics into believers. Oh and also clean up your wanna-be unibrow.

All in all, brilliant move by the NBA’s new pretty boy. Now any time anybody says or writes “Fear the Brow” or “Raise the Brow” you have to pay 12 bucks to Mr. Anthony Davis LLC….fuuuuuuck.

 

– JD

The Gym: A Variety Pack of Weirdos

About a year ago I decided to finally nut up and join the local YMCA. Figured it was time to shed my praying mantis body type and turn over a fresh, muscular leaf. Maybe bust out a few squat thrusts every other Monday, get on a strict wind-sprint regimen, join a zumba class, who knows. Turns out I mainly just hit the weights a few times a week, low weight – high rep, high weight – low rep, just like my main man Smitties drew it up. As most people know, the gym is filled to the brim with oddballs. Especially the YMCA. Some of y’all might disagree but that’s only because you’re a member of some exclusive athletic club where you play lawn bowling and spot each other squating golf bags. The rest of us sweat it out daily at the neighborhood gym and THAT’S where all the action’s at as far as I’m concerned. Each day you never know who’s going to be reppin out lat pulldowns next to you. Could be Pump from MTV’s Made, could be a hairless midget.

Sure, sure there’s always been more than enough vids/articles/blogs covering various stereotypical guys at the gym. Matter of fact, a little while ago a pretty hilarious vid called ‘Don’t be That Guy at the Gym’ went all viral on the interwebs. Sadly though, just didn’t do quite a decent enough job nailing guy AND girl gym stereotypes. Ok, maybe they did but then I wouldn’t have anything to post about, ya stupid dick.

So here’s a down and dirty version of the various types of people I’ve found exist at most gyms across the nation. Chances are if you work out at a YMCA, you fall into one of these categories. Enjoy.

 

Post-college dude trying to keep from getting fat

 

Post-college chick trying to not be fat any more

 

Old dude doing weird exercises with really light dumbbells

 

Old gal doing strangely impressive calisthenics in the ab room

 

Inseparable couple doing entire workout together (major man law violations)

 

Dude jacked out of his mind

 

Jacked out of his mind dude’s older friend who’s less jacked than him, but still way bigger than you

 

Fat – buff guy

 

Smokin hot babe who clearly doesn’t need to be there at all

 

Dude who grunts out each rep like a goddamn goat

 

Decent looking chick who makes herself hotter by doing extremely sexually suggestive stretches

 

Obese guy or gal huffing a quarter mile out on the treadmill with a personal trainer

 

Dude who wanders aimlessly talking with people for an hour (Frank)

 

Sweaty ass motherfucker

 

Scary muscular chick doing one-handed pull ups probably wearing a bandana

 

Over aggressive amateur barking out tips when your form is slightly wrong

 

Skinny guy who should cut his losses and hit up a Culver’s instead 

 

Naturally, I fall in that last category. What’s that old saying though? Gotta put in the man hours to become a beast. Yep. There she be. It’s an extremely slow work in progress, but one day I’ll be flexing nuts with the best of em. Plus, I’ve been told by numerous legit sources that biking .9 miles on the recumbent bike twice a week lowers my chances of a heart attack.

 

Enjoy the weekend erryone.

 

– JD

Underrated Hottie of the Week

Jenn Brown

Buh-Bam!

The other day I’m casually watching the CWS on ESPN and I see Jenn Brown interviewing some Kent State baseball player. Hair all disheveled from the winds sweeping over the Nebraska fields, eloquent interviewing skills, slightly bronzed skin, premium rack. Total package if you ask me. Sure, sometimes her face looks oddly like Heidi Montag mixed with that bitch Angela from The Office. But I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt, I mean everyone has an off day. Plus, being a Florida alum and of ESPN fame, she’s had to live in the shadows of Erin Andrews for quite a while now. That’s gotta be tough. Doing your reporter thing day in and day out knowing there’s a bombshell babe doing the exact same thing better than you. I figure it’s how kinda like how John C. Reilly feels when he was working with Will Ferrell. Johnny C. is a legend don’t get me wrong, but he’s gotta feel like Will consistently out games him in the funny department and the weird dude with curly hair looks department.

Well eff that noize. I love Erin Andrews more than most people love eating bagels but today is about my main girl Jenn Brown. Keep doing your sexy thing on the catwalk television. You’ll always be number one at The Mime. That has to count for something…what’s that? I’m being told it counts for absolutely nothing. Oh well. Few more pics below.

 

 

– JD

Overreaction Wednesday: Madonna Whips Nip Out; My Weiner Hesitates, Then Moves Slightly. (NSFW)

Fucking Madonna, dude.  She’s relentless. You know what, when you’ve been a pioneer in the game since Day 1 I guess you just develop a sixth sense for knowing when you need to pull out all the stops and start yankin’ yer tit out to get some chatter going again about your career. This was a brilliantly calculated move by Madonna and what I imagine would be her Titty Agent, or PR Rep, or whatever. Just when you thought she was throwing in the towel and slipping quietly into retirement she comes out guns blazing and just starts getting nude on stage. In reality, though, this story should bring absolutely zero surprise or shock whatsoever. Madonna showers in these types of power plays and I respect the hell out of her for it. As a matter of fact, I fully intend to take a page out of her book when my inevitably short-lived career starts to derail. I’ll be on the chopping block 15 minutes from getting canned, and I’ll unbutton my shirt, scoop a nipple out in front of my boss and graciously accept a generous promotion. Thanks Mad-Dog, for the foolproof strategy. Gotta keep the general public on their toes anxiously awaiting their next glimpse of a breast. What make-a-da-world go ‘round.

 

That nip is 100% muscle.

God knows my interest in the music industry would skyrocket if more performers had the set of cojones that Madonna has. And part of me thinks that’s not a metaphor. Madonna may have a set of nuts. But you get Beyonce or Carrie Underwood to pull a stunt like this and I’d be buying up $80 concert tickets like they were front row seats to a Jenny McCarthy gyno checkup. There’s a business idea in there somewhere…

And Madonna doesn’t stop there. A week later she’s doing another show in Germany or something and she bends over and pulls her buttcheeks out. T&A like it ain’t no thang. Treating the crowd to an eyeful of pasty ass crack that makes one wonder how many foot-pounds of force that b-hole would put on a turd. Or Alex Rodriquez’ dong. Or Brittney Spears’ fingers. Or my face.

 

All kidding aside, God bless you Madonna. I’ll level with you, babe, your tits are disgusting, but somehow I can’t look away. I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for your next move.  At this rate, a couple more shows and you’ll be belting out ‘Like A Virgin’ with your snatch out while simultaneously playing keyboard with a strap-on and asphyxiating your backup dancers with g-strings while they squat on sybian machines that are mounted on giant wiener sculptures. That’s just how this shit progresses.

 

-SR

The All Nickname Lineup

What up what up? Its been a quick minute since I’ve laid a track on the mime. To be honest, I got a new job so I’ve been busy. To be even more honest, I just got lazy. But I’m back and ready to get my blogging swag back.

Today’s nicknames are pretty lame. You didn’t need me to tell you that, but I did, so there. There are still a few good ones left, like The Big Ticket or The Big AARP. But overall, nicknames like T-Mac or D-Rose just don’t cut it. Its straight boring, like lets get a little more creative guys. Not saying I could do better, but I totally could. I mean, Green Eggs n Pink Ham speaks for itself. But the larger point is that I’m going to make a starting 5 of baller nicknames of dudes who are not only the coolest ballers but could also school everyone. Leggo!

Point Guard – Jerry West aka “The Logo” 

There were a lot of good choices here. The Answer, White Chocolate or Mugsy would have done just fine here. But The Logo is such a sick nickname, and he is one of the better point guards of all time. I mean, The Logo? Just the (blank) face of the league. Now that is serious swag.

Shooting Guard – George Gervin aka “Ice Man”

This one is just a no brainer. Don’t really need to explain the nickname or even his game. Just click this link. Anyways, this space gives me time to brag about the Gervin Spurs jersey that I own. So fresh.

Small Forward – Anfernee Hardaway aka “Penny”

Another tough call. Penny Hardaway might not have lived up to his great expectation, but goddamn is Penny a cool nickname or what? Plus I feel like I can count on my boy Penny to show up with so much talent around him. Sidebar: I also have a Penny jersey.

Power Forward – Dennis Rodman aka “The Worm”

I honestly don’t even know what this nickname means. It’s weird and this dude is the weirdest of all time. Kids think Metta World Douchebag is weird? Think Mike Tyson is weird? No way, not when you bring The Worm into the mix. Plus, rebounding is just not an issue for this team. The Worm will rebound your dick off.

Center – Darryl Dawkins aka Chocolate Thunder 

Another no brainer. I mean, Chocolate Thunder named his dunks. Just a bad ass mofucker with a sick nickname. Oh, and dude could jam. Breaking backboards like its his job. Which it kind of is.

This team is sick. Can’t beat us, can’t even out cool us. Just gonna all around destroy everyone in our paths.

Honorable mentions: The Truth, Downtown Freddie Brown, The White Mamba, The Round Mound of Rebound

– Green Eggs and Pink Ham

Subdued Enthusiasm for Moonrise Kingdom

I bet Zooey Deschanel is a big Wes Anderson fan, what with the quirky fashion sense, constrained emotions, and ocassional requisite wink. Nearly as common in Anderson’s filmography is the absence of a clear antagonist in favor of characters who simply suck slightly more than others, so feel free to somehow connect all this to that New Girl show.

It’s the summer of 1965 in New Penzance as headstrong orphan Sam Shakusky (Jared Gilman) abandons his Khaki Scout troop for an awkward teenage rendezvous with Suzy Bishop (Kara Hayward), an outcast in her own right, who sneaks away from her dysfunctional parental units (Frances McDormand and Bill Murray) and their adorable dollhouse of a home. The pair abscond into the wilderness using Sam’s camping finesse and Suzy’s skills with a left-handed scissors to fashion a life free from the cruelty and judgment of the outside world. With the help of Captain Sharp (Bruce Willis), New Penzance’s lone police officer, and Khaki Scout Master Ward (Edward Norton), Mr. and Mrs. Bishop naturally pursue the intrepid, love-stricken twelve-year olds because honestly, they’re only twelve years old. Of course in keeping with being as Wes Andersony as a Wes Anderson film can be, this lovable band of eccentrics must learn to set aside its differences and evade a much larger threat, the gigantic coastal storm approaching the island.

If Moonrise Kingdom were its director’s first or second effort, I’d prescribe this as a classic case of style over substance. Alas, Anderson has always been more invested in how his films look and sound rather than in what they say. Anchoring the film’s story in between its impeccable staging are snippets of the fictional New Penzance’s geography, a helpful resource since the island only really exists in the hearts of wee babes. As per usual, Anderson’s soundtrack is fantastic even if one begins to wonder from which dank hipster pit he’s clearly mining these retro gems. The use of Benjamin Britten’s gothic, playful “Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra” is a particular highlight however I’d be remiss if I failed to mention my prior affinity for the piece and that its exposure here undoubtedly softens its coolness. You can still listen to my 8-track recording, though.

Unfortunately, Bill Murray is utterly wasted and may in fact be popping up in these films now simply because we’ve come to expect it. Norton, McDormand, and Willis on the other hand show they are plenty capable of playing in the director’s wry sandbox if only to prove that this is a story that doesn’t necessitate the presence of Owen Wilson’s weird nose. By far though, Moonrise Kingdom’s biggest accomplishment lies in emphasizing its two lead unknowns. Gilman and Hayward’s performances are a very, very rare victory for child actors everywhere, a triumph only heightened by their uncanny ability to flatly utter Anderson and Roman Coppola’s arrested dialogue with all the reservation of a cult regular like Jason Schwartzman.

As his filmography is wont to show, Anderson obsesses over diagnosing a community’s peccadilloes. But what often borders on self-parody actually shines in Moonrise Kingdom in no small part because of its focus on youthful naivete. At the same time there’s a recognition that the quaint sailboat of life relegates our desires to some place below its poop deck, the poop deck of responsibility. We have obligations to fulfill, regardless of how weird we seem or how many yellow lens filters one can cram into a single sequence. Come into Moonrise Kingdom with tempered expectations lest ye awaken the equally tempered wrath of Wes Anderson at his audience’s failure to contain its excitement. Instead, we must calmly exit the theatre and cast knowing winks to our significant others before driving home in beige Daewoos with the warm reassurance that our vintage button collections and Edith Piaf’s “La Foule” will be waiting when we get there.

Hanging Out Hungover

It’s no mystery most Sundays in the life of a TODM CEO are usually pretty slow paced. When you party like a rock, party like a rockstar night in and night out, a day of recovery is always in order. Isn’t that why Moses invented the sabbath? On the seventh day ye shall lay on thy couch and muscle down 2 for $2.22 Powerades, I think is how it went.  Some may call it a waste of a perfectly good day off, others call it standard protocol. This Sunday was no different. 4:30pm rolls around and I’ve yet to put on pants OR eat lunch. Luckily though, golf is on. US Open golf to be specific. And this years course looks hard as hell. Phil Mickelson shot a +16 for christsake. Call me old fashioned but I always say the higher the course difficulty, the more exciting the television. I said that once, but once was enough. Move over Jimmy Nance there’s a new Shareef Abdur Raheem in town. What? I’ve lost myself. Soooo anyways I’m thinking, watching these golf pros getting boned by the lengthy schlong of the Olympic Club course is just about the perfect way to rid oneself of a vicious hangover. Per usual, it got the wheels in my ever-expanding mind a’churning and wouldn’t you know it, I figured why not drop a list of the best programming to watch while your titties are hanging low? Pop on any one of these and you’re guarenteed to feel not quite as rough as when you first woke up.

10. Porn

Probably could make a case for the number one spot but let’s pretend I’m not that terrible of a person.

9. Any 90s Disney Movie

Can’t go wrong with these. I watched a good two hours of Aladdin about a month ago and I gotta say it remains a quality flick.

8. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

Get those DVDs on deck and let the good times roll. Uncle Phil needs a bodyguard? I’m already feeling better.

7. Cheers

Usually packed with enough witty zingers and pre-obesity shots of Kirstie Alley to make any lazy Sunday a little better. That is unless its that episode with the ‘We Will Rock You’ opener. Screw that episode.

6. Slamball

Chances of actually having to pay attention? Slim. Chances of witnessing a compound fracture? Moderately likely. Chances of seeing neat dunks o plenty? Guaranteed.

5. 13 Going On 30

Surprisingly one hell of a movie. Mark Ruffalo CRUSHES it.

4. Intervention

Does a great job of putting my substance abuse in perspective. What’s 14 shots of Rumplemintz compared to a frying pan filled with black tar heroin? Nick Swardson said it best.

3. Dear John

Nothing like a violent cry.

2. Into The Blue

I could watch Paul Walker’s Jessica Alba’s sweet bod swim around looking for sunken treasure all day erryday.

1. Golf

Soothing whispers from Jim Nance or Dan Hicks or that British dude make everything seem alright.

 

– JD