I am sure all of you have read about Manti Te’o from Notre Dame and his imaginary girlfriend. There has been much debate about what is the actual truth behind this story. Did Manti lie? Did he do it to stay in the news and did Notre Dame run with the story because it brought them great press unlike the other press they have been getting? Or is Manti just a dumb football player who got manipulated on Twitter?
These questions are endless. Me, I believe that he is the victim of a cruel hoax. And the reason that I believe this is because it also happened to me.
A few years ago, I met Jerrica Benton in a web chat room talking about 80’s glam bands. This was before I met Meg and, at the time, I had way too much time on my hands on the internet. I was trolling people left and right and she was the only one who seemed to get my jokes. It was going so well that I gave her my IM so our conversation could continue privately.
I was on my computer all night talking to this fascinating person. She told me she owned Starlight Music in Pasadena. She and her little sister where very close and had even started a band together. It sounded New Agey as she talked about how they did shows like the band the Guerillaz, setting up projectors that played holograms alter egos for the live audience. It sounded like something that didn’t work (this was before hologram 2Pac) but still I was very intrigued. I become her Facebook friend and started following her on twitter. Everything looked good although her Facebook page didn’t have any pics on it, just a drawing of her band the Holograms.
I asked for a real pic and she sent me this:
The photo showed her wild side and got me really excited to continue our relationship. I was in the middle of a bad string of luck when it came to my love-life and it felt great to really have someone who I could connect with.
The days became months. I would tell her when I would have a shitty day, she would talk to me about the record store and how she was in some sort of battle of the bands with these other girl groups called The Stingers and The Misfits. Her life was always really hectic.
Jerrica said that she could not compete with these bands unless she got new earrings that would allow her to do the holograph show without the use of the projector.
Guys, I hope you understand that this is where it always goes. Eventually they will request money and the scam will take hold. If only I knew then what I know now.
I didn’t hesitate. I told Jerrica that I would give her the money, but only if I could see her in person. I brought the $17,488 in cash to Toast on 3rd Street.
Where my heartache began…
I waited and waited. Finally, I got an email from Jerrica saying that an evil guy named Eric Raymond was trying to take over Starlight Music and that she could not meet me. She asked if I could just wire the money directly to her. I sent the wire.
I talked (thought mostly IM but occasionally on the phone) with Jerrica every night. I asked for more pictures, when her band was playing and when we could finally meet up. She said soon and told me she loved me and how her body ached for my touch. I longed to run my fingers through her pink hair and leave my fingerprints in her eye make-up.
I borrowed money from my parents and paid for battles of the bands for Jerrica. Once, I paid the Hologram’s synth drum player Shana’s rent. $68,000 I ended up giving to Jerrica for her band and, while I felt very close to her, I still had never physically seen her.
It had been six months.
That is when tragedy struck. I got a call from Jerrica’s guitarist Aja saying that Jerrica was doing Synergy with the earrings I bought her and something went wrong. Her brain had been erased by a pink light flash during the process. She was gone. I dropped the phone on the ground overwhelmed with the fact that I would never meet my beloved. I stared at the band photo below for hours:
Hours I spent, wondering how I could lose someone so important and how I would ever find someone to replace Jem! She had taught me so much about Synergy and earrings and battling female bands.
After three weeks of hiding in my apartment, I took my heavy heart out into the world. I vowed to never love again and think of her until the day I died. The other band mates did not return my numerous emails.
Months later, the cruel hoax ended when my friend came over and saw the picture of Jem and the Holograms as my screensaver.
He said to me “What the fuck are you becoming a My Little Brony or something? Why are you obsessed with that shitty girl cartoon from the 80’s?”
My face went pale white. I Googled Jem and the Holograms and my whole world crashed around me. The whole thing was a fraud. My need for love had blinded me from the fact that every song had a cartoon video that played with it, that earrings cannot really create Synergy holograms and that no one still plays a synth drum.
I had fooled myself and allowed my $68,000 to go straight into the pockets of this guy:
Bill Dastardly aka the Internet Scam Master aka not Jem from Jem and the Holograms
As you can see from my story, this can happen to you. Anyone can want to love so much that they totally ignore all the lies being told to them and end up accepting the plots of an extremely incoherent 80’s cartoon are happening in real life.
The people who have said Manti will have trouble trusting people from now on have no idea how true that is. Love on the internet, just like love in the real world, is always a gamble. Sometimes you win and sometimes you are lied to. However, as with all things involving love, the end result is always outrageous. Truly, truly, truly outrageous.
Let’s talk about feet. I generally do not like them. They creep me out. I will give you a foot massage if you are my fiancee and you keep your socks on. Otherwise, no.
However, I do love to do things I have never done before so I had this conversation last week with Meg.
“I am taking you to get a pedicure on Saturday”.
I looked at Meg and thought about my response. My immediate response was to be self-conscious.
“Are my feet not pretty enough for you?”
Meg, realizing that her future husband is worried about whether his feet are attractive, takes a breath and delicately responds “No, it’s not that, I just want you to try it. I think you would enjoy it.”
“I don’t know”.
“Look, they will soak your feet in warm water, massage them with lotion, get all the dead skin off and make them pretty.”
That sounded nice. I am a man who enjoys being pampered and, if someone really is willing to touch my feet even if money is required, I should probably just let them do it.
I agreed to go.
Meg made an appointment at some place on Melrose for 10:15 AM. When we pulled up, I figured it would be nearly empty with people just starting to come in.
The place was almost completely packed with women in sweatpants either sitting in massage seats with Korean women working diligently on their feet or with one hand in goo while a Korean women diligently filed their fingernails. I was the only guy in the place except for one hipster in the waiting area talking to some chick whose fingernails were drying.
We had an appointment so I was immediately whisked away to my chair while Meg sat down to get her manicure. The person doing my nails told me to put my feet into the warm water as I lumbered into the chair.
Now, she did not speak English so she did not let me know that the water was basically scalding. Meg saw me looking like a pussy as my feet adjusted to the temperature.
The women went after my foot with reckless abandon. There was pain from the cutting of my toenails. There was sandpaper on my sole. Filing and then lotion.
As they did my feet, I got to look around. “Ice Loves Coco” played quietly in the corner as friends chatted and people futzed with their phones. The nail salon was a world of girls in hoodies with no make-up.
In Los Angeles, it was like going into a portal to a world where women actually looked like who they are. It was like a secret club.
When the woman was done with my feet, they were soft and pretty. She shook her head and then I paid. The whole thing took 25 minutes.
Meg’s manicure took another hour and five minutes.
My Sweater Suit
No really, it’s cold in Los Angeles. This morning it was 44 degrees which in California terms is somewhere near zero and planet Hoth.
Cold in LA is different then cold in your city. It’s not just the desert climate, it’s the fact no apartment really has heat and is lacking in sweaters. Everyone complains and then heats their pools.
This is why I plan to wear my sweater suit all weekend. The suit allows me to scare numerous children and gives me a nasty rash.
I hope it warms up soon.
Lincoln tips his hat to the dead Oscar hopes of “The Master” on his way to the podium.
Lincoln is going to win best picture. It will also win best director and best actor. It may sweep all of it’s categories. It is a really good movie.
Stop falling asleep, this is exciting cutting edge cinema. This is the most important film of the year!
Don’t pretend like seeing Spielberg make another historical drama that turned out be a little more interesting and entertaining then you expected doesn’t excite you. At least it wasn’t about a horse who went to war. I, like most of you, didn’t see that movie because it was a remake of “Hot to Trot” with Jeremy Irvine in the Bob Cat Goldthwait role.
Spielberg really needs help finding better source material. He should hire someone.
Then there is Daniel Day Lewis. In “Lincoln”, he acts with his kind raspy voice. This is not to be confused with his angry raspy voice acting that was stealing milk shakes in “There Will be Blood”. Both performances are amazing. What he does is not acting, it is allowing the character to inhabit his body. In my research I have found that after every film, Daniel Day Lewis goes to a priest and has the character he played exorcised from his body. He then returns to his normal self and goes back to being a shoemaker’s apprentice in Italy.
“Lincoln” looks amazing, has endless of talking of about the importance of government and stars every great current white actor who has odd enough features to look like the could have lived in the 1800’s. If you are a gray haired academy voter, it might be your favorite movie of the decade!
It is also 40 minutes too long and has the most drawn out ending since “Lord of the Rings”. While I watch period piece movies, my mind always wanders to thoughts of how stinky these rooms must have been in real life. Seriously, a bunch of old white people in 1800’s business attire and full jackets with no deodorant and irregular bathing arguing for hours about whether people are property. I feel like all the great debates of our country took place under a heavy cloud of funk. Our forefathers probably smelled much like moth balls and nursing homes on their best days.
So that’s it. If you are in the 18-35 range I would recommend getting lots of booze for the Oscar party this year. You are going to need it.
Baseball is stupid.
Besides having too many teams and too many games that are far too long, as an organization MLB holds steadfast in it’s idea of tradition while clearly isolating itself from the current and next generation of sports fans. It is a sport that has been played by cheaters, liars, racists, drug addicts and women beaters.
This means baseball is just like every other sport ever played by anyone ever.
Athletes, in general, will do anything that gives them an edge. It happens in every sport all the time. You think Kobe wouldn’t juice if it made him better and he could get away with it? Why do you think that when you left a paused Street Fighter match with your friend for one moment, you came back to a guy with less energy?
It’s because winning at all costs causes people to act like cheating assholes.
Instead of accepting this as a flaw of human nature and accepting the monster stats from the steroid era, MLB baseball writers balk. “THEY DID STEROIDS, WE CAN’T INDUCT THEM THEY AREN’T LIKE JOE DIMAGGIO”.
Everyone who was a fan in the 90’s saw what most would consider the most exciting decade in baseball history. Lots of home runs, big rivalries and the Indians were consistently awesome.
It is called the hall of fame, not the hall of people who were good and did not take advantage of lax drug laws. You want an asterisk, fine. You want to put up a big plaque up and explain what happened in the hall, makes sense.
You want to vote no one into the hall fame for the class of 2013?
You make your sport look stupid.
All the guys on the 2nd list should be first ballot. They are the story of baseball, even if the writers feel like the chapter sucks. It was an era where everyone was juicing and they were the best so they earned their spot in the Hall.
If everyone is cheating, it isn’t cheating anymore, it’s just competing.
When steroids went away, it sent the fans away in droves. I don’t think they left because they truly felt cheated. Baseball got more and more boring.
It doesn’t help that the Yankees buy it every year. Stupid Yankees.
This post fills my quota of baseball talk and may we never ever have to bring it up here again.
I know what I am going to be listening to through “Les Miserable” and it ain’t the sweet voice of Russell Crowe.
There is nothing worse then being in a movie theater for a serious movie and sitting next to someone who just can’t shut up. There is a time and place for talking in movie theaters. This time is genre dependent (horror, action or comedy) and also time dependent (no one should be silent at a midnight screening). Also, kids movie before 5 PM or any screening at Severance theaters (What Up Cleveland Heights!!)
All of these screenings should be considered talk friendly. There is your list.
Otherwise, shut up.
It’s not just that you are being rude to all those other people that are around you who paid to watch this movie. It’s that people paid to watch the movie with you (the audience) and that means you need to have your full attention on the film.
As an example, once I went to see “Animal House” and the guy in front of me turned to his companion to let her know every time something funny was about to happen telling her “Oh this is going to be so funny”. Every person in the theater knew something funny was about to happen. Every person there had seen this movie a billion times. I hope that guy dies a very sad and lonely death and nothing funny ever happens to him.
Also, don’t bring your baby to a movie. I saw a guy bring his baby into a showing of “Cloud Atlas” at the Grove for at 10 PM show and the audience nearly booed him out to the lobby as he tried to get to his seat.
The only reason I bring this up is because I went to go see very serious movie “Zero Dark Thirty” at very serious movie theater Arclight Cinemas last night. The crowd is generally a good crowd.
As I wandered to my seat the guy sitting next to me moved his jacket as I said “Excuse me” and said “No problem man”. He had tattoos, a cougerish companion and was wearing a lot of cologne.
Yes Stephen Baldwin. Brother of Alec. Famous from “Encino Man” to “Usual Suspects”. He seemed perfectly nice. Meg went into OMG mode as we realized who we were seating next to as the lights went down.
Stephen spent the entire movie on his phone reading texts, questioning the plausibility of the movie to his date and eating something gummy. At one point I wanted to say to him “Stephen Baldwin let me enjoy this waterboarding scene in peace!” but then he would settle down.
I made it through the movie. He wasn’t the worst and I didn’t have to go full Librarian and shush him in a bitchy way.
All I am saying is please be cool when in movie theaters. Even if you don’t care what people think, that doesn’t mean you should be a jerk off. Or someone may recognize you and complain about you in their blog.
Oh and also, don’t be mad at people that laugh inappropriately at movies that aren’t really funny. You should probably just look for the humor in the film that they are seeing even if it is not evident.
I swear that humor is there. Promise.
People hate going to the movies with me sometimes.
No I could not find a dumber image for this post. Thank you for asking.
It is amazing to me that I have added any followers with my minimal amounts of writing over the last few months. But still, What up new people!
Being that it is the New Year, I have decided to try and push myself to actually follow through on the resolution to write.
After my engagement, I in many ways fell off the wagon for writing. Was it the sudden appearance of more things to plan and take care of that has hindered my creative abilities? Was I busy dreaming of proper venues and a fiancée who understood that if you ask me what I want my wedding look like, you will be rewarded with a vacant stare of sadness? Was it general laziness and the return of football season? Possibly my decision to finally watch “Homeland”?
I guess we will never really know the answer to this question.
All I know is that I want to be back now and make all the people who have read my blog want to continue to read my blog.
Let’s start my return by talking about something very important:
I grew a beard!
Not me but similar. As in, that is also a beard.
Now the thing about growing a beard is that it is a commitment. You are committing to have hair that you can’t clean more often than a few times a day under your nose (Seriously, do you wash your face in public places? Are you that guy?) This means that your collective day ends up in your beard. Food, sweat, smoke, liquor, fruit, dog spit from when he was excited and licked you, all lives and stinks on your face!
The beard has gray hairs that always remind you how much older you are then everyone else on Tumblr.
The beard is a thing of pride and shame. Saying to people, “Hey look what I can grow!” while also saying “Yes, I could be background in “Lincoln””.
The beard requires patience and understanding from those around you. Most importantly, you must have a significant other who thinks this mess on your is cute or else you should probably take your stank face to the sink and become respectable again.
Anyway, that is my first post back. My beard.
WELCOME TO 2013!
Man do I hate the Browns
If you get Directv almost strictly so you can have the NFL ticket, your team should not be 0-5. Apparently, I got the NFL ticket to watch an endless barrage of failed comebacks and sad blow outs.
Seriously, our offense doesn’t look that bad. Our defense doesn’t look that bad. Then we give up the big plays and it is all over.
The buzzword for the 2013 season - rebuilding. Again. Only 12 more weeks left of the regular season!
If only there where some weird article about poorly designed toys that make you play with all your favorite super heroes penis’s. That really would cheer me up right now.
Someone is going to be elected president in November. How fucking exciting is that? I am sure once the American people decide who will be best to run the country then all the complaining will stop and we can all just agree on everything. We will all march on to our socialist utopia or capitalistic future of goodness with no complaints! I mean really it’s pretty much the same thing!
That being said, at least Romney never causes traffic jams in Los Angeles. This is mainly because he knows he can’t win here but still.
My New Favorite Song
I took a red eye this weekend to Omaha and I managed to sleep for the first hour of the flight. Then I was awoken by a screaming Asian baby. Why does it matter that the baby was Asian? Only because the baby was yelled at by her family in what I think was Vietnamese for the next two hours. It is a beautiful language when spoken loudly on a quiet dark plane.
Anyway, I put this song on repeat and tried to fall back asleep. Go Frank Ocean!
Halloween is Coming:
I love me some horror movies. Currently I have v/h/s on my DVR and I can’t wait for it to rape my eyes with fear. Seriously, watch this trailer. It makes me want to crawl under my desk.
I love pleasant movies.
I know I have been around much but I thought I would post something just get the ball rolling again. Hope anyone who reads this is having a fabulous Monday.
Just like Batman.
I give to you a list of Right Wing African Americans. This is the only list ever to have MLK, Harriet Tubman, 50 Cent and The Rock on it.
Also, one of the people on the list is a convicted murder. Good thing he wasn’t convicted in Florida or his right wing sensibilities wouldn’t matter!
On another note I don’t think Sojouner Truth or Harriet Tubman have ID so they really shouldn’t be able to vote right?
I really don’t think MLK would vote for Romney. I really think that the Tea Party would HATE a modern day MLK.
Still, way to keep it classy Huffington Post. You really proved the point that you only have to go back to the Civil War to find 10 Right Wing African Americans.
I wrote something really long which Tumblr decided to erase instead of publish. Tumblr, why do you hate me?
I was thinking of getting mad and smashing my screen. Then, I remembered that some dogs are fucking amazing and can do parkour. It made life worth living again.