Welcome back to The Bootleg. This past weekend, the wife and I went out on a date.
Now”¦this wasn’t the fun kind of date that you guys can still have: staying out until 6:00 AM, drinking straight up scotch with a statutory chaser. Ah, good times.
Actually, this was the kind of “date” that old married coots like your parents, your grandparents and me and Mrs. Bootleg go out on. Which, these days, is defined as any kid-free outing.
My wife’s birthday was this week and we she decided there was no better way to celebrate than to eat at Morton’s“¦a pretentiously priced, serve ’em up slaughterhouse in downtown San Diego.
See, our realtor had given us a $125 gift card for this place as something of a “thank you” for letting him get us into our first home. Of course, he most likely just used a small portion of his sizable commission to get us this generous “gift”, so since it was our money anyway”¦why not spend it on the wife?
We planned to drop Baby Bootleg off with one of the wife’s girlfriends, but not before Mrs. Bootleg discovered that she forgot his (and I can’t believe I’m typing this) “bouncy chair”. I’m already dreading the moment when I have to use “sippy cup” in a sentence. Anyways, we just left the kid in his car seat, took him to the porch, rang their doorbell and broke out.
About five minutes from the restaurant, I’m waiting at a stop sign when I casually glanced over to a pool hall I occasionally visit. Parked immediately in front, one of those scantily clad cocktail broads was getting out of her car and preparing for a long night of selling two dollar sticks of spearmint gum to drunk men swayed by a little show of leg.
Well, she must’ve dropped something on the floor of her car, because she promptly bent over like Beecher at a Chris Keller convention.
Since I’ve been married for almost two years, I don’t smile much anymore, so the wife instantly knew that something was up. She turned just in time to see what I see.
“(Gasp) She’s not wearing any underwear!”
OK”¦now, I personally think it’s rude to check out other women when there’s already one on your arm. (Just covering my ass, kids, in case the wife reads the column this week.) But, when something like this goes down, the rules are thrown out the door. Kind of like how it’s against the law to kill a man, unless he’s waving a gun all in your face, then it’s self-defense.
Well, it’s the same thing with fishnets and ass. And, when they’re all in your face (or across the street and behind you, so you have to crane your neck to see) you need to get a long, lasting image”¦uh, so you can pray for her Godless whore soul.
Eh, the wife didn’t buy that one, either.
As for dinner”¦we blew our gift card out of the water and I had to pony up an additional $75 to supplement our steak sustenance. It was all worth it though, as the meal kicked eight kinds of ass. In fact, I can honestly say that I haven’t had cow that good since my first girlfriend.
The Goodness knows that big girls need lovin’, too”¦
You Dunkin’ Your Sausages in that Syrup, Homeboy?
Method Man had confirmed what is probably the most obvious TV “secret” since we first laid eyes on a young bootlick named Wayland Smithers. Method & Red, the controversial Fox program that has been besieged with bickering between the writers and Mr. Meth, has been cancelled.
Officially, the show has been put on “hiatus”, but that’s just the TV equivalent for “we need some time apart” or “it’s not you, it’s me” or “I’m lesbian now” or a dozen other lines I’ve heard that make it seem like there’s a chance for reconciliation, when in actuality”¦ahem, I digress.
Of all the cast members, I guess the one I feel for the most is Anna-Maria Horsford. This was her third role as the mother of a rapper and it’s looking like her run as the new Negro matriarch of the movies is at its end.
This is really a tragedy when you think about it. Let’s face it”¦when Mrs. Buttersworth, Aunt Jemima and Martin Lawrence are the three most recognizable African-American women in pop culture, we’ve got problems.
And, hopefully, a tasty stack of pancakes.
I’m Sorry Momma, I Never Meant to Kazaa
Earlier this month, Eminem announced that his next album, Encore, would be released on November 16. In an effort to combat the rampant pre-release bootlegging(!) that beset 2002’s The Eminem Show, his record label is taking no chances.
Em will reportedly remain in the studio up until the end of October recording tracks. In addition, he plans to record several “dummy” tracks of outtakes in the hopes of confusing potential pirates as to what will and what won’t make the final album.
Now, I know I’m probably going to lose a few of you with this reference, but does anyone remember the episode of What’s Happening when Rerun tired to use a 1978-style tape recorder to make an illegal copy of a live Doobie Brothers concert?
I remember seeing the episode in the ’80s and being very confused. I mean, to this day, I still don’t know if the Black guy in the band was a Doobie by birth, adopted like Arnold and Willis Jackson, or a flamboyant freed slave living on the plantation like Meshach Taylor on Designing Women.
Hey, us Black comedians really can get away with more!
Penicillin Not Included
Everyone’s favorite rappin’ S.T.Diva was the victim of a brazen attack last weekend. Foxy Brown, who hasn’t been relevant in the rap game since Ving Rhames was still parlaying some big-screen sodomy into steady film work, was assaulted and jacked in the bathroom during a fashion show.
Now, here’s what I don’t understand: Foxy was robbed of a $250,000 earring and her Louis Vuitton bag”¦but the tray of stuffed mushrooms she was serving to the guests was left untouched. And I’ll be damned if Foxy Brown is walking around with a quarter of a million dollars in her earlobe.
The only unemployed women with that much (eventual) disposable income have to be raped by Kobe Bryant first.
Surprisingly, the police apprehended the alleged perpetrator (35-year-old Tanya Manderson) in a matter of hours. A subsequent search of Manderson’s apartment turned up the stolen goods, along with the remnants of Joey Lawrence and Skee-Lo. So, that’s where they’ve been.
Whatever Happened To Dream?
After setting back Black people more than 200 years, P. Diddy will attempt to similarly bring down the women’s rights movement with a new edition of Making the Band.
This time around, the focus will be on the formation of an all-female group, with auditions taking place in early October in Los Angeles, New York and whatever the hell is left of Miami.
Umm, doesn’t Puffy and Bad Boy Entertainment already have a girl group signed? Oh well, I’m guessing that MTV will want to have a more diverse band, anyways. And, what are the odds that the White girls won’t be able to get along with the Black girls?
Hilarity will surely ensue on the season premiere when Becky playfully pushes La Quita into the pool”¦and gets her hair wet. Sadly, this doesn’t sound like anything we haven’t seen a million times before.
Although, I will admit that I am curious as to how far Farnsworth Bentley will make it in the competition. I figure he’s a shoo-in for the semi-finals just on the basis of being a bitch.
Sadly, It’s Not Demolition Man 2 (Although Wesley n’ Sly are Available)
After months of speculation, the role of Daisy Duke in the upcoming Dukes of Hazard feature film has finally been cast. To the surprise of no one, Jessica Simpson got the nod over Britney Spears. The movie is expected to hit theaters sometime next year.
Now, as far as flavor-of-the-month casting calls go, this one’s got to rank pretty high up there. The only problem with trying to capitalize on the fleeting stardom of one of these here-today-gone-tomorrow beauties is that you run the risk of obscurity the second the film is off the radar.
Or have you already forgotten Cindy Crawford in Fair Game?
Perhaps you paid to see Pamela Anderson in Barb Wire?
Maybe you sat through Sandra Bullock in Anything After The Original Speed?
Man, did her perky little pepper pot act get old quick, or what? She could’ve coasted along for years on the “Julia Roberts Post-Pretty Woman” formula of lightweight fare, mixed in with the occasional star-driven drama.
Instead, Bullock thought that she could carry instantly obsolete leading men like Chris O’Donnell, Denis Leary and Matthew McConaughey to a hit film or two.
And speaking of which, isn’t there some of SAG rule that prohibits actors from starring in more than one ill-advised sequel? Just when America was finally washing away the stain of Speed 2 from our collective consciousness”¦along comes”¦this.
Sometimes The News Just Writes Itself
Do you want to know why New England gets so little respect outside of ESPN’s frequent fellatio? It’s because the only way they can get into this column is with stories like this:
Boston’s own “DJ Clinton Sparks” is promising a “mixtape exclusive” with the inclusion of the first-ever Britney Spears freestyle rap.
Sparks is promising 16 bars from Britney but might want to considering hiring a hype man, based on this quote from a recent interview:
“The curiosity factor will be so high, that everybody will at least want to hear it.”
At least. Now, I don’t want to concern anyone, but I’m pretty sure that white girls rapping is the heretofore unknown Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse.
It’s in Revelations, people!
From what I’ve found out, the freestyle reportedly emanated as an outtake from an upcoming Spears appearance on Da Ali G. Show, which might be the single least funniest thing to come out of the U.K. since this guy.
What happened to the days when the British knew their role on American television? Remember when Mr. Belvedere spent his Friday nights subserviently servicing a middle-class family? Now, I’m forced to wait for TBS to air National Lampoon’s European Vacation from time-to-time just to get my real U.K. comedy fix.
How can you not love a young Eric Idle getting run over by the Griswolds six or seven times per scene? Hell, I haven’t seen a Brit cheat death that like that, since Matilda survived her kidnapping at the hands of The Islanders in 1988.
15 years ago, I’m thinking someone would’ve won a few bar bets by putting money on the dog being the only member of the team who’d still be alive and walking today. Look, kids”¦Big Ben”¦Parliament.
Nick’a Please
conceptualized by Nick Salemi
Hip-hop’s dynamic duo is at it again.
Dr. Dre and”¦no, not Eminem, Burt Bacharach. Yes, Andre Young has decided to lay down some tracks for the 76-year-old performer’s upcoming album. You know the guy that’s so old and non-threatening that even your parents changed the station when he was on the radio.
Who ever thought the guy that said “F*ck the Police” and “Nuthin But a G Thang” would be in the same song as the guy who sang, “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head?”
Look, I know Dre is a talented producer and all, but this is pretty bizarre. The real question is what does this do to his ghetto pass? After a brief conference with Aaron Cameron we decided that it was, in fact, revoked in 1996 for “Dr. Dre Presents”¦The Aftermath” and 1997’s “The Firm” and subsequently reinstated after 1999’s “Chronic 2001”.
Also brought up were temporary suspensions for his roles in “The Wash” and “Training Day.”
As for Bacharach, well I think it would be more entertaining to hear him try and spit some bars over Dre’s thumping bass lines and piano loops”¦
I’m Back-arach from the dead / ain’t no more raindrops fallin on my head
‘Motherf*ckers act like they forgot about Burt I know that’s what y’all said
Ask Doctor Dre who runs shit / cause I’m telling ya he knows
Wrote my first 16 bars down on the Dead Sea Scrolls
I know it probably won’t happen but we can dream can’t we.
General Haberdashery
Our friends over at alexa.com have revealed that after five short weeks, Inside Pulse has established itself as the source for self-indulgent soliloquies and occasional musical meanderings. We couldn’t have done it without these guys:
Fernandez has links to naked women, mayonnaise on his French Fry and the deliciousness of British “flavour crisps”. Sounds like a meal fit for a Prince, but it’s actually the Princesses who Di for them. Oh, c’mon, it’s been seven years, now.
Double J is technically one of my bosses and his column this week is almost as long as my intro. He opens up with another love letter to Jimmy Eat World, which was actually the original name for Unicron. Till all are one.
Gloomchen answers the one question I’ve been meaning to ask her for weeks: “What are you wearing?” And did I mention she’s got a sister? Hmm, married Black man and two crazy white girls. I smell sitcom!
Mathan tries his hand at Latin, writes a few album reviews and betrays my trust for revealing the details of a private conversation that he and I had last week. Find out what I really think of”¦nah, you’ll have to read for yourselves.
Movie Joe Reid and I went head-to-head in Fantasy Football this week, with Reid’s “TeamDiscoveryChannel” slipping by my “Wrath of Cam” by the slimmest of margins, thereby matching his win total from all of last year. Amazingly, he won without drafting Byron Leftwich, who drove his mediocre Jags past the mediocrer Bills with a last second TD in Week One.
Junk Mail
The Hot Ugly Chicks column from two weeks ago brought in a lot of feedback surrounding a certain Sportscenter anchor. Now, the rest of the story can be told (uh, “allegedly””¦take that, lawyers!)
Hello, I was just reading your column on the 10 ugliest chicks that I’d still bang. One of the contestants was none other than Linda Cohn. In fact you remarked how well her relationship was with Stuart Scott. Well that statement has proven to be prophetic in a sense because from what I’ve heard Linda Cohn is “culturally diverse” when it comes to her bedroom antics. Here’s the deal, it’s kind of 6 degrees of separation, but bear with me:
A friend of mine I play softball with has a buddy who is a Big East Assistant Men’s Basketball Coach. Well this guy has contacts with various writers for prominent newspapers along the East Coast. One of the guys he’s tight with is the Miami Herald’s Dan Lebatard. Well from what he says Lebatard told him a story about Linda Cohn. I guess at the Espy awards a couple years ago, Linda was BOMBED at the after party and was casting out her reel to see what see can catch. Well none other than everyone’s favorite Bong Toker Ricky Williams took the bait!
I guess she was hanging all over him, so Ricky decided to take Linda back to his room to give her a little Jungle Love after the festivities were concluded. You see Ricky is Tight with Lebatard, he’s the one who actually broke the story about him quitting the NFL, so he’s pretty open with him about this stuff, pretty funny.
Bottom Line: Linda Cohn = Attainable
This officially ranks higher than the “Kevin Costner slept with Cal Ripken’s wife” as my favorite sports/bedroom urban legend. Coming in third are these guys.
Life With the Bootleg Family
Next week it goes down, as the child and I spend one week without any maternal support.
This week, it was the wife’s turn as she took the week off to care for Kid Cameron. Of course, her aunt came down from Sacramento on Monday to help out and stayed until yesterday afternoon.
Who does my black ass get for help with the boy, next week? No one”¦not even Mary Poppins or Sherry Bobbins. Hell, I’d settle for 15 minutes with the remains of Mr. French or half that time with Frenchy Martin.
Although, the more that I think about it, the more I think I can actually have some fun with this.
For example, I figure the wife is going to be calling me about once an hour for the first four and a half days of next week. I suppose I could not pick up the phone for one of those calls and see how fast she can drive 20 miles north to see if everything’s OK.
I could also call her and leave voice mails like:
“What’s better for burns: butter or ice? Oh, never mind”¦I found some corn oil.”
“Oh, honey, you should be here! The cat’s giving Jalen a big ol’ hug! I’ll get the camera!”
“I thought we bought the flushable diapers?”
“Did you come back and take the kid while I was on the can?”
Even without the eventual emergency room visits, it’s sure to be entertaining, if nothing else.
Entertaining enough for a day-by-day IP diary of my real life misadventures?
Please. We know how those turn out, don’t we?
When I’m not neglecting my parenting duties, I’ll be online all next week! Get at me on AOL or Yahoo IM: ajcameron13
