Saying superheroes are awesome is like saying Paris Hilton is a mindless bimbo—no need to beat around the bush. But I find it hard to believe that living with a superpower is always great. How does anybody understand Bruce Wayne when he’s ordering food at a restaurant? You mean to tell me Peter Parker didn’t once shoot webbing out when he was at a rock concert or trying on a suit? It’s not easy to live with premature web shooting, let me tell you. Superheroes need to be easier to relate to, like the ones in Kick-Ass. Starring: Nicolas Cage as a knife-wielding Batman impersonator, McLovin as a red-haired punk with a proclivity to use handguns and a superhero named Kick-Ass. Even the movie’s director/producer Matthew Vaughn is a hero—when studios refused to finance the movie because of its violence, he robbed a bank or something and financed it himself. Bust out the bed sheets and empty wrapping paper tubes (my mom told me that was normal) on April 16, 2010.
It isn’t easy rooting for the Mets. The team is frequently shooting itself in the foot, David Wright wears a bigger helmet than an astronaut and that epic collapse in 2007 is still a sensitive subject. If that wasn’t enough, those pinstripe-wearing showoffs just won their 800th championship (from a very avid Mets fan: Thank you for beating those douchebag sluggers from Philly. THANK YOU). But there’s one guy who can make any ass-kicking the Mets receive much easier to take—Mr. Met. Hands down, the best mascot in professional sports. What the hell is he? A guy with a baseball for a head? That’s anatomically incorrect! And anatomically awesome. The guy in this video, who looks like Mr. Met’s preppy, worldly cousin, doesn’t have the appeal of a guy with a baseball for a head, but dances like nobody’s business. I never understood why the Yankees don’t have a mascot—Kate Hudson already comes to all of your games. Just give her a T-shirt gun and let her go to town.
Taylor Swift hosted/performed/swept the floors/wrote the cue cards for Saturday Night Live last weekend. She did better than I expected, but I expected Miley Cyrus-meets-torture videos from Abu Ghraib. None of the actual sketches were memorable, and how SNL’s writers didn’t write a skit involving Kanye West (“OK, so Taylor will go to buy movie tickets, and Kanye will interrupt her! Then Taylor will go umbrella shopping, and Kanye will interrupt her!”) is mind-boggling. The only solid part was the Digital Short, which spoofed Twilight by subbing Frankenstein and a mummy for vampires and werewolves. Good performances from everyone, especially Bill “When I kiss people, I tend to accidentally choke them to death” Hader and Jason “I do believe I’m gonna strangle someone… by accident” Sudeikis. Swift does a decent job imitating Kristen Stewart, but in the realm of performer hosts, she’s no Justin Timberlake. Whatever, I can’t wait for January Jones to host this weekend. She’s so gorgeous…crap, there’s that premature web shooting again.
When I was a wee lad, I spent Sunday mornings being chauffeured to various fields and chasing a soccer ball around. One year, my team made it to the championship. I played right forward and through halftime, we were down 1-0. Near the end of the second half, I tripped outran the defender on my side of the field and had a clean break at the goal. My heart was pounding as I dribbled inside the 30-yard-box, eyes on the top left corner of the goal. I wound up and took a shot. The tying goal, the shot that would save our team’s chances…sailed over the crossbar by at least eight miles. We went on to lose, and our dreams of youth league immortality and toasting champagne (our coach was Russian) vanished. So for the majority of these photos—I’ve got nothin’. But one time at a bowling alley, I correctly guessed the age of a midget working and won a free game!
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How did they decide 140 was the magical number of characters allowed per Tweet? It seems like an arbitrary choice. It’s not even a prime number! Watch twitter.com/BradPareso, where I’ll try to make history and write 141 in a single Tweet!