as many of you know, i love math!! haha jk i hate math. but i love stats, because stats are things that other people do that i can then use to make my points. it’s great. it’s like paying a nerd to do your homework and then using their pithy phrasing to make your speech when you win at prom court.
however, stats are sneaky bastards. sometimes you think they’re telling you one thing, but they’re really telling you something else. goddamnit, stats, just talk to me. tell me what you’re thinking.
well, one of the ways that we figure out what stats are actually thinking is through player usage charts. player usage charts look like this:
AND THEY MAKE NO GODDAMN SENSE.
shhh. don’t worry. that is why i am here.
OF COURSE I LOVE THE 1994 CLASSIC CINEMA GEM “THE SWAN PRINCESS.”
EXHIBIT A: ROGERS!!
rogers you beautiful bastard
EXHIBIT B: THESE FOOLS
how fuckin strong is this bird???????
EXHIBIT C: “OH NOOOOOO I H8888888888 DEREK SOOO MUCH.”
odette’s a biter, pass it on.
you just KNOW they’re gonna fall in love. they’re gonna fall in love SO HARD. hahahaha you’re gonna love his stupid face the MOST, you’re gonna be so embarrassed by how much you love it. i’m already embarrassed for you. THE WHOLE KINGDOM IS EMBARRASSED BY YOU IDIOTS.
ugh, derek, you’re the worst.
EXHIBIT D: BEST VILLAIN DUO OF ALL TIME?
NO MORE MR. NICE GUY, NOT FOR ME!!!
rothbart you killed a guy, like you killed several guys???
I’M NOT GONNA PLAY BY ~SOCIETY’S RULES~ ANY MORE!!!
no but you literally—
I’M AN OUTLAW NOW
also, pop quiz, derek: WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK ODETTE GOT THIS SWANKY NEW DRESS?
WHERE DID SHE GET THE FABRIC? THE NEEDLE? HOW DID SHE MEASURE HERSELF??? WHERE DID THAT PRETTY BROOCH COME FROM?? HOW DID SHE MAKE IT??? WITH HER SWAN HANDS??????
think it through, buddy
think it through
anyway in conclusion this movie makes me
at first, but then in the end i’m like
BROMLEY, YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WITH ENOUGH C
When Crosby gets to the television remote first, he clicks madly from channel to channel. It drives road roommate Colby Armstrong mad.
How can you tell what’s on when you click like that, Armstrong asks?
You can’t. Which is why he prohibits Crosby from taking control of the clicker.
Then, there’s Crosby’s show selection.
Armstrong is an A&E guy, biographies, cold case shows.
“He doesn’t know anything about TV shows, not like I do,” Armstrong confides. “He likes ‘Friends.’ I know. It hurts.”
Crosby’s rebuttal: “He’s into those reality shows and that celebrity stuff, and I’m not too big on them.
“We’ll get in late, and it always seems like they have those National Geographic shows on at 2 a.m. in the morning in the hotel, so we get stuck watching stuff like that … For the most part, he likes things like ‘American Justice’ and ‘Cold Case’ and things like that.”
Crosby then says his roommate has a television secret of his own … “Ellen.”
“I’m going to throw him under the bus on that one. He loves Ellen DeGeneres,” Crosby says.
Right before a pregame nap?
“No, it’s right after. It’s hilarious. To a T, we wake up from our nap and that show’s coming on and she’s dancing.”
When Armstrong finds out Crosby has spilled the beans, Armstrong drags a reporter over to Crosby and announces loudly that he wants to do the interview over, that he’s going to reveal Sid’s affection for Chandler on “Friends.”
Crosby interrupts, revealing that not only does Armstrong love “Ellen” but he also likes to dance along to her show opening.
The two players are in stitches."
You know what sucks most about long distance relationships? The long distance. (Duh, right?) Actually, the frustration of missing someone so much it hurts is what’s really awful.
That’s where Rabb.it can help.
It’s more than just video chatting. You can watch Netflix or Hulu together on it. (Kind of like a virtual movie date.) You can also make it a group thing and have a conversation with all your friends. It’s good to have communication options, so check it out.
And for those times when there’s no distance between you: Bedsider.org
Image via Rabb.it
As most of you probably know, someone somewhere dumped a deluge of purported nude photographs of a number of female celebrities online yesterday. The victims include the likes of Kate Upton, Victoria Justice, Ariana Grande, Kirsten Dunst, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Krysten Ritter, Yvonne Strahovski, and Teresa Palmer. But the focal point for this story has been Hunger Games/American Hustle actress Jennifer Lawrence, since the Oscar winning actress is perhaps the most famous actress on the planet right now. Without going into sordid details ( Justice and Grande have claimed their respective photos are fake, others have confirmed they are real), I’d like to make two very specific points. Ms. Lawrence and the other victims have absolutely nothing to apologize for in terms of the contents of the photos or the nature in which they were leaked. The story itself should not be addressed as if it were a scandal, but rather what it is: A sex crime involving theft of personal property and the exploitation of the female body.
Outlets as mainstream as People and CNN are referring to the photo leak as a “scandal.” All due respect, it’s not a scandal. The actresses and musicians involved did nothing immoral or legally wrong by choosing to take nude pictures of themselves and put them on their personal cell phones. You may argue, without any intended malice, that it may be unwise in this day-and-age to put nude pictures of yourself on a cell phone which can be act and/or stolen. But without discounting that statement, the issue is that these women have the absolute right and privilege to put whatever they want on their cell phones with the expectation that said contents will remain private or exclusive to whomever is permitted to see them just like their male peers. The burden of moral guilt is on the people who stole said property and on those who chose to consume said stolen property for titillation and/or sexual gratification."
hey, just thought of something totally unrelated to this picture!
do you ever get that feeling where like you see a picture of, say, for example, a celebrity, who is doing JUST FINE rolling in their piles of money while winking saucily at their armoire full of accolades, and on the outside you’re like, “oh, yeah, haha, nice picture there you loser,” but on the inside you’re bones are playing a samba that goes:
I WILL DRIVE TO YOUR HOME
AND STAND SENTRY AT THE DOORWAY
WITH A LIGHTSABER AND ALL THE POWER OF MY ANCESTORS
AND NEVER LET ANYTHING BAD HAPPEN TO YOU EVER AGAIN
NOT EVER, NOT EVER EVER EVER
no? no one? that’s just me?