I don’t even know what to say about California anymore. If all 50 states were classmates in high school, California would be the alternative indie douchebag who always talked about bands you’d never heard of and wore clothes made of hemp and used adjectives like “gnarly.” Sure they have sports teams, but nobody from California watches them, and that’s ridiculous when you consider that the state has three football teams, three basketball teams, three hockey teams (IN CALIFORNIA) and five baseball teams. They bought David Beckham to play for L.A.’s soccer team and like a month later, he was all “Oy, whut the fook ’um I dewin’ eya?” and left to play for Milan. So how hip, trendy and unconventional does a sport have to be for Californians to care about it? Apparently it has to have dogs on surfboards. And when they talk about it, they can say things like, “Bro! Check that dog rippin’ up the waves! K-9? More like K-10 ’cuz that ride was perfect! And gnarly!” Why do they get In-N-Out?
During the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college, my dad’s Porsche Boxster broke down. The details of who was driving (me) or what time it was (1:30 a.m.) or what happened (the engine blew out) aren’t important, so whatever. The important thing is that after it happened, Porsche treated my dad like a three-week-old piece of wiener schnitzel. He had the local dealer look at the car; they wanted a ridiculous sum of money for repairs. He wrote the head of Porsche’s U.S. division; they had a case representative write back, declaring his incident “beyond review and closed.” He wrote Porsche’s CEO over in Germany; they sent 5,000 troops and invaded our home. So I take zero remorse when I watch this video of a mass transit bus crashing into a Porsche, wrecking it and the entire bus stop. In fact, I enjoy this video. Really enjoy it. I like to replay it and rip up photos of David Hasselhoff and kick German shepherd puppies. Go bus!
Let’s suppose for a second you don’t already live in a 4,000-square-foot mansion situated on a canal (because if you don’t I honestly have no idea what you think you’re doing reading a high-society piece like “Nothing But Net”—it’s the Robb Report of Internet columns). A guy in Massapequa is selling $50 portraits of his house, and each one comes with a raffle ticket to win the house and a 2007 Mercedes-Benz S550 (which you can turn around and push into the canal—TAKE THAT GERMANS!). “Only” 30,000 portraits will be sold, which pegs the chances of winning at .003 percent. But here’s why you shouldn’t even bother entering—the house is huge. What are you gonna do with a five-bedroom, five-bathroom, three-Jacuzzi house? Do you have a marble statue to put in the entrance way? An ornate, baby angel-laden water fountain for the yard? A boat? You’ll move in and the house will be so big, you’ll feel alone and sad. So just don’t enter, OK? (Full disclosure—I bought 700 tickets and have an inflatable kiddie pool with a sail.)
Hundreds of years from now, when all of the “NBN” faithful are dead and my brain has been surgically implanted in a robot, historians will look back and wonder: When did our society start raising such slutty women? What caused things to really get bad? Bratz dolls? The “Thong Song?” The birth of my ex-girlfriend? It’s a big question with a long list of potential answers, but this collection of children’s toys could be Exhibit A in what will be a landmark case someday: Society v. The Female Grade School Demographic. The toys on display here—A Shave The Baby doll, Toy Tattoo Gun and stuffed animals in the shape of different STDs—are bad, absolutely. But I don’t get why toy makers stopped there. Where’s Fellatio Barbie and a Fisher-Price Sorority Pledge Kit and push-up bras in 1T and 2T sizes? Girls Gone Wild with Barney, anyone?
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The other day, my friend Tweeted tha…YO BRAD, IM REALLY HAPPY FOR YOU AND IMMA LET YOU FINISH, BUT TWITTER.COM/BRADPARESO IS ONE OF THE BEST TWITTERS OF ALL TIME! OF ALL TIME!…and it was funny because my friend isn’t even into hip-hop!