Friday, January 7, 2011

The Ballad of Ronnie Ortiz

AAAAAAAND WE'RE BACK.

Oh I'm feeling it today. Sit back and relax, I got this.

Jersey Shore: Season 3. I think I'll call this season the time capsule. Due to constant media exposure of the cast and the time it takes to edit seasons for television, we're finally viewing Jersey Shore as it was meant to be seen. It's like the light of a dying star that's already collapsed on itself, but it's taken some time to reach earth. It's kind of weird to watch the Situation intereact with his housemates when he is so clearly trying to move beyond his JS roots. And I know Snooki made it through the summer unscathed (though likely not without contracting herpes) because I saw her dropped inside a ball on New Year's Eve. A

By the way, is that not the most insulting publicity stunt of all time? "Well Snooki, we think that you're round enough that people will just think it's natural when we insert you into a ball and drop you when the clock strikes midnight?" And another quick thought, props to Pauly D for being the only cast member who is still driving the same car that they had at the beginning of season one.

But I'm not here to talk about that. No my friends, today is all about Ronnie Ortiz-Magro. I write for him and for all men who have ever had that look of misery in their eye when they realize that they've invested a year with a miserable bitch and now there's no easy way to extricate themselves. Ronnie's look could essentially be described as gorilla captured in the wild and brought to live in one of those nice cages at the zoo that seems a lot like the jungle they were taken from, who is now slowly realizing this is not in fact the wild but a very nice looking trap in which they will likely die. I give him about three weeks before he begins to saw off his own arm in order to escape ala James Franco in 127 hours.

Basically, we (and by we I mean those who still give a shit about the Jersey Shore) got to watch an hour of that moment where Wile E. Coyote runs off a cliff, then looks down and sees that he's fucked. I first noticed him shitting himself when he goes to pick up Sammi at the beginning of the show and her mom is pointing at him with arms that are bigger than his and mumbling some veiled threat about taking care of her daughter. The real threat however, is that Sammi is going to devolve into that beast over the next 5 years. It already kinda looks like she's been doing bicep curls.

The next telling moment was when Ronnie walks into the house and immediately picks the room with three beds so that he won't have to be alone with Sammi... he's trying to bring the wilderness to him. Poor Situation. Not even he deserves that mess.
And finally, Ronnie explodes on the new girl (who needs to go in my opinion) instead of where he wants to on his bitch of a girlfriend. The best part though, is when Snooki makes up the insane lie that Ronnie's mom talks to her on the phone and says that she hates Sammi, and Ronnie doesn't even question the validity of the statement.... He's just like, "Yup. That's 100% plausible."

So the previews have Ronnie and Sammi separating... we'll see if MTV if just toying with us, like when the put fights in the preview only to preview them once again during the last 2 minutes of the show for the next show. I'm on to you fuckers. I hope for Ronnie's sake that Sammi disappears, and honestly I hope it for my sake too. Worst TV couple of all time. They're ruining what will probably be the last quality season of JS before they all get terrible spin offs and we just stop giving a shit. (Assuming you haven't already... ehhhh...)

I'm excited. Bring on Seaside.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Reader Submissions

Hello fans and detractors... A man smarter than myself told me to write more, so I'm going to. Problem is, there are too many dumb things in the world that don't deserve to be blogged about to choose from. So I'm enlisting you. Leave a topic in the comments, give it a couple days and I'll spout my completely inconsequential opinion, complete with jokes and expletive filled rants, for you to enjoy. And for those of you who love the Jersey Shore stuff, check back every Friday, cause I won't miss another episode.

Submit Below....

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Midseason Awards...

Apologies for my absence. I was in the midst of things that prevented me from speaking my mind on the stories of 8 guidos who stop being nice, and start being real (but continue being orange). And this made me very, very sad. But I'm back with three episodes to get into; so go out to a big dinner, then hit a bar with a bathroom that is unsanitary for human consumption, drink PBR and Jim Beam all night, pass out, get up and have a 24 ounce iced coffee and then bring the laptop with you to bathroom for the fifteen minutes or so that you're gonna need in there and... ENJOY.

(And for those of you who think I stole this concept from Bill Simmons... I blatantly did, but this is a free blog, so don't read it if you're offended.)

Without further ado, The Jersey Shore Season 2 Midseason Awards...

The Vincent Chase Entourage Season 7 Memorial Don't Let Fame Change You Award...

goes appropriately to none other than Vinny. It's amazing to me how little the cast has changed from season one to season two. For the most part, the cast is the same group of mooks and fame hasn't changed that one bit (except for Snooki's $400 crystal sunglasses that lack the critical feature of most glasses, namely the ability to see through them when worn). The Situation is still an ass, Pauly D still has hair that no hair net can hold, and so on and so forth. Vinny, on the other hand, has completely shifted gears from last season to this one. He has become a smooth talking, wannabe Situation. True, he always macked on girls with the rest of the boys... but last year he seemed genuinely surprised when the girls reciprocated. It was endearing to see a normal person surviving in a world of undeserved egos and spray tanner.

Unsurprisingly, I have a theory on this phenomenon. I believe that as the only self-aware member of the cast, Vinny was the most susceptible to being affected by fame and money. Sitch always believed that he was famous, Snooki always made loud noises and neither of them ever took their head out of their waxed assholes long enough for a complete reality check. Vinny on the other hand, knew what was going on, and is fully aware of the new powers that his fame affords him. I can't hate too much... we all want pussy, but it's sad to see the only real life human cross over to the dark side.

The Lebron James' Decision Annual It was cute for about 5 minutes award...

Goes to The Situation and his stupid three letter mantras. GTL was organic and simply amazing. GFA was clearly contrived, but was funny enough that it doesn't matter. IFF, MVP, and the rest? Shut the fuck up. You're making five million dollars this year, do you really need to sell more t-shirts to 15 year old boys whose lives your ruining with your very existence? I know a lot of people fell for MVP... but let's be honest, those fucking idiots would have thought of that last season if they were going to think of it at all.

Which brings me to my next point... can we all just admit that the show is becoming scripted? Rewind to 2001 and pretend we all asked ourselves if it was possible that a guy who used to weigh 170 pounds and hit 20 home runs a year and now weighs 250 pounds and hit 73 home runs did it without the aid of steroids? It would have saved us congressional hearings, hours of media coverage, and me many hours of my life. Some things are just too good to be true. And I'll take a scripted Jersey Shore... let's just pay the writers a few more bucks to come up with things that are funny even when not abbreviated into three letter catch phrases.

The John Cusack in Identity, "Whores don't get a second chance" award...

goes to Sammi Sweetheart. Fuck you bitch. I hope Ronnie swims in a bathtub full of chlamydia, swallows too much, and then vomits it into your soul. You act like a two faced harpie for long enough, you get exactly what you deserve. Ronnie was right to bounce on you when he saw the shit you talked about him to the Situation (Best New Year's ever by the way). Maybe two wrongs don't make a right, but I for one am enjoying the worst person in all of reality TV (minus Danielle from real housewives of NJ, she's a sociopath) get screwed over.

And how fucking stupid do you need to be to not get the point when everyone around you is playing a game and gets quiet when Ronnie gets asked if he's cheating? I don't fully understand. Is Sammie deaf? Or blind? OR JUST FUCKING RETARDED? Someone just said, "don't snitch," and you can't put two and two together? Ronnie may be extremely proud that he didn't go to college... but I think she might feel the same way about grade school. Sidebar... she's still the hottest girl on the show, but with the level of competition that's like winning Ms. Hiroshima right after we dropped the bomb. (Too soon?)

The Matt Damon is married to a bartender from Florida, you should be doing better award...

goes to Pauly D (and really the Situation too, but he already got an award and them's the rules.) You're fucking famous. Miami is full of smoking hot fame whores and gold diggers and you're going home with girls that some anonymous blogger wouldn't fuck. What the fuck is up with that? Oh wait, I write this motherfucker, so I'll tell you. Here's the predicament the boys are in. Any self respecting female wouldn't be caught dead on camera with the JS crew. Therefore, they have to rely on the girls without any self respect. But this is Miami... all the hot girls with self respect are there to play the game. They want to fuck guys who can support them, or give them seed money for a handbag business that will inevitably fail, or launch their acting/modeling career. The JS guys only can offer love. All they have to give is orange smudged skin with open painful sores that you don't notice until the morning. Therefore, their level of ass is far less than it should be.

The Ronnie and Sammie season one insanely immature relationship award

goes to Snooki and Emilio. I literally have no idea what they're fighting about half the time. At one point I'm pretty sure that Emilio said that he fucked someone else and then when Snooki finally lost her shit, said that he made it up, but that action is literally too stupid for me to believe me own eyes. I don't think they've had one televised conversation in which they didn't break up, but after the next commercial break, they're talking again. Also, there's this scene where Snooki is describing that gay guys like asshole and make out with men, which causes Meatball to become filled with a blind rage. Which is stupid. But not as stupid as when Snooki says that she wishes that she knew of these issues before she fell in love with said meatball. This confused me. I feel like for all their issues, Snooki has a lot more to worry about than some guido's homophobia. I hope they're completely over soon so I can watch Snooki do cartwheels with no underwear on (did I just say that?).

The OJ Simpson/Tiger Woods Public outcast develops increasingly bizarre behavior award...

goes to Angelina. What the fuck is up with this bitch? She slaps someone and then seconds later claims that it didn't happen? Is she the retarded guidette version of the guy from Memento? And after she makes peace with everyone, why did she choose to not just do the dishes before dinner? It makes absolutely no sense. Despite doing "great things" as a bartender, she has to recognize that Jersey Shore fame is the best possible thing that could happen in her life. She's barely literate, thinks she's waaaaay prettier than she actually is, and I just kind of get the feeling that she doesn't smell very good. Being friendly with these people enough to stay in the house is the one chance she has at not dying of skin cancer alone and penniless. I mean, she's still going to die of skin cancer, and she'll still probably smell like a cross between stripper lotion and spoiled cream, but at least she can do it with a little money in her pocket and a mimbo at her side. Get it together grow a longer fuse. Or grow that weird Tiger Woods bad guy goatee. I would enjoy that as well.

The Brad Pitt in Seven, wife's head in a box, two wrongs don't make a right award....

goes to Ronnie. Become Vengeance Ronnie. Become wrath. But try not to make yourself look too unsympathetic in the process. Everyone hates Sammi and she deserves this shit so you're getting a pass. But not for too much longer. Get your shit together before no girl will ever fuck your midget ass again. A thought... a plus to being as short as Ronnie... whatever cock you have beyond like 4 inches will feel like a surprise. Ironically juicing so much probably lessens the effect.

And finally, drumroll please

The Confucius she who lives in a glass house shouldn't throw stones award...

goes to JWOWW. For someone who once said after she fucks a guy she kills them like a praying mantis, she becomes extremely outraged that Ronnie is holding hands and dancing with people. Her faux anger at Ronnie's actions is as transparent as her denials of writing the letter to Sammie. JWOWW's motivations are clearly not pure. She looks at Sammi and you can watch the gears in her head spinning, wondering how she can get in the middle of this. At least Snooki wanted to tell Sammi directly. JWOWW, the supposed badass of the group goes the chickenshit route and writes a letter. Not to mention she was cheating on her boyfriend with Pauly in season one. I hope Sammi whips her ass and then gives her Ronnie's herpes next week.

PEACE.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Living in a Grenade Free America

Hello readers... I tried, I really did. But the problem is that when I watch the Housewives or America's Next Top Date Rapist it's always at least 15% ironically. I think you need true love to create true inspiration. And say what you want about those eight orange mooks, but I love them. It's an easy love. It's not romantic love, I don't need them to love me back, but I know that no matter what they do, they'll always have a place in my heart. I refrained from writing about the first episode due to a combination of intense blackout and the feeling that any asshole editor could piece together a great opening episode... the real question is whether the second episode was gold. I learned a lesson. Always put faith in those without sleeves. You will be rewarded. Like Lebron James... let's take our talents to South Beach.

Unfortunately, even a Grenade Free America is not an egalitarian society. There are tiers of guidos. Starting 4: Sitch, DJ Pauly Delvecchio, Snickers, and (marginally) JWOWW. Genius idea by the producers to only have these four road trip down to Miami. This way, they didn't have to give equal screen time to the B squad. It's easy to see how you play your way onto the bench. The easiest is to leave the show... hello again miss Angelina. More on her later. You can bore everyone to death... ladies and gentlemen, Vinny (I still love Vinny... but bro, how do you not do a cycle over the winter. It's like Kobe developing a low post game over the offseason. Bigger, faster, stronger.) Or, you can get into one of the worst TV relationships of all time. At some point Ronnie and Sammie crossed the line from slow moving trainwreck (something everyone wants to watch) to slow moving beheading (something only sick people, such as myself wants to partake in). I think it might of been when he cried those 1 or 2 or 57,345 times, or when she had a nervous breakdown over her toe, or when she choked him out with her hair extensions and he shit himself a little. (The last one will appear in the outtakes DVD, I swear.)

Back to Angelina though... honestly, how the fuck did she think this was gonna go? Take 3 immature girls, give them a common enemy... and this is exactly what you get. My favorite part about the entire dispute is that they were so fucked up in the cab when JWOWW was threatening to take it outside that I was convinced that they were on the way back from the club instead of on the way there. But this did create an interesting dynamic involving Angelina hanging out with two guys that she slept with before... until she told Pauly she loved him and subsequently slapped him in the face two seconds later. I've heard talks that she left the house again... I've purposely left it a surprise for myself but I would put the over/under at episode three. Lunatic.

And to The Situation, I know you're all about the tag lines since GTL took off so nicely, but I think you're stretching. GFA... amazing. It's a place I want to live. I picture people in East Berlin chanting GFA as the wall came down. But land mine? Seriously? Not one of the five people I watched the opener with understood what the fuck that meant. It took a girl who was a former Israeli soldier drawing a diagram of a land mine and then turning it sideways to make it clear that from some angles, it was, in fact, a skinny grenade.

Ronnie and Sammi... what can I say? I appreciated Ronnie burning some calories trying to get in with the boys again. But it wasn't even the end of the second episode and they're "working on things." Fuck. How stupid can you be. You attract so much pussy with your weird little midget dance and once again, you're throwing it away on a girl who went through your phone book WHEN YOU'VE BEEN BROKEN UP SINCE NEW YEAR'S. At this point though Ron Ron, fuck you. You deserve everything you get. Ohhhh... she sat with you for three hours while you got the world's blackest tattoo ever to be placed on a white man? And because of this, you think she's there for you? Again, FUCK YOU you stupid mook. Anyone past the age of eight can sit somewhere for three hours. It's not an acquired skill even for the dumbest fucking guido bitch on the planet. She's not any less batshit crazy, SHE'S JUST SITTING STILL.

Ugh... I'm spent for now. Check in next week and we'll really get into it. And if you're in the NYC area come see me at Caroline's on August 9th at 7:30. I'd put the address there, but if you're not smart enough to use Google Maps, I really don't want you at the show. Next week, we'll pick a topic and really tear into it. This was just pure, overflowing wop dago joy. Peace.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Lamar Odom: Public Relations Genius?

Hello loyal readers. I apologize for my absence in the last week or so. I feel foolish for having things like career and friends get in the way of quality time with the dumb things I truly adore. Lucky for me and anyone else who cares enough to read this blog, inspiration came quickly in the form of a PowerBar commercial starring none other than long time LA Lakers' headcase and newly minted reality star, Lamar Odom.

This got me thinking, 2 years ago, would the Los Angeles' third best player been on a national advertising campaign for an established brand? Would I have seen this commercial while watching network TV in New York City? The answer to both of these questions is invariably no.

So, what changed in the last 2 years? The first and most obvious thing; The Lakers won the championship. And Kobe certainly benefited, as the alpha dog on all championship teams is known to do. But one championship run in basketball doesn't create marketable players overnight. If that were so, I would want to buy some eurotrash suits and Spanish lessons from Pau Gasol, like immediately. The second thing, also obvious, is that Mr. Odom has recently taken a Mrs. Odom, none other than the fat Kardashian sister. (Seriously, I saw her ad for PETA and it reminded me of those wooden cutouts of cartoon ripped bodies that you would pose behind and then have some formerly homeless, currently toothless guy on the boardwalk charge you five dollars for a picture. You're not fooling anybody broadie).

So if it wasn't thing one that launched Mr. Odom's new found fame and marketability, it was most definitely thing two. And just going off the fact that the commercial I just saw exists, I would say this marriage has accomplished its goal.

What Odom has actually accomplished is absolutely brilliant. Before he married the ugly stepsister, he was unappreciated, even in NBA circles. When he won a title and his life remained the same, I'm guessing he realized that he had gone as far as his talent would take him and decided to do something drastic. So, like an actress who's got the looks but not the talent, it was time to shed his dignity (Note to Greg Oden: Notice I didn't say shed clothing. And while we're at it, can we add letters to NSFW designations so I would know whether I not I want to click? NSFWLT (lesbian threesome): Yes. NSFWSEP (semi-erect penis): Not so much.) And so, in exchange for his self respect and any semblance of the sanctity of marriage, Lamar Odom is now the most likable person on an extremely popular reality show. On his basketball team, he'll always be behind at least Kobe in terms of attention and respect. On Keeping Up with the Kardashians, his only competition are 3 completely shallow sisters and their mother, a seemingly demented former Olympic champion who now begs his wife for money to buy model airplane parts, and a transparent womanizer who managed to impregnate one of the more attractive sisters. Is it possible to screw this gig up?

But, what sticks with me the most, is how we've reacted to such an obvious sham marriage. When Michael Jackson (RIP thriller) married and publicly sucked face with Lisa Marie Presley everyone mocked him mercilessly. Now, we're presented with two people getting married on a reality television show and told in advance that the wedding isn't legally binding and we don't blink an eye. Granted, nowadays we have more important things to which we need to pay attention (Naked pictures of Snooki, I'm looking in your direction. And now I'm not looking at anything. Because I've permanently seared my retinas.), but we've really learned to look the other way on the fake marriage stuff. And Lamar played our apathy perfectly. He figured that when the root of a show's popularity was a sex tape, people wouldn't mind too much if he staged a fake marriage for our entertainment. Seriously, Tiger should hire Lamar to produce his apology press conference tomorrow. There's a man who knows how to get exactly what he wants from America. (Even if that thing is an endorsement deal for a product that is suspiciously reminiscent of two nuts in a sack: http://www.insideoutsports.com/productimages/Powerbar%20Gel%20Blasts.jpg).

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Slade: My New Role Model

Adieu, Jersey Shore. Or should I say, arrivederci. Fuck it, you wouldn't understand what I was talking about either way. You may have left and broken my heart, but I've moved on, at least for now. The object of my attention is new and shiny to me, even though it may be old news to a lot of you out there. To those who didn't pick up on the Slade reference in the title, I'm talking about The Real Housewives of Orange County.

Now, before the guys out there start questioning my sexuality, please, watch the show. The adventures of big-breasted fish face, botox bandit, other blond chick, wrinkly one that always talks about her job, and the hot chick (Gretchen, she gets a name) are high entertainment. I clearly still am having problems figuring out which one is which, but that doesn't make the show any less enjoyable.

First, at any given time, three of the five housewives are clearly whacked out on a combination of painkillers, white wine, and stripper perfume. (It's weird, but I can look and these women and literally smell the strawberry champagne lotion wafting from the inner thigh of an overripe dancer who got grandfathered into working the B squad at Scores.) Second, they fight literally all the time. And there's nothing like women who are past their physical prime and have substituted expensive clothes that their husbands gave to them for any semblance of wisdom get self-righteous. It's like self-esteem that comes out of a remote.

But at the end of the day, if you're a straight male, the reason to watch is undoubtedly Slade. Yes, Gretchen is hot. But there are hot women in far more enticing states of undress available at pornhub. Which is where I suggest you venture when you're done here. You might as well follow up some solid mental masturbation with the real thing. For those who don't know, Slade is the guy who is currently having sex with Gretchen, who looks exactly like a Barbie doll brought to life and given bigger implants. Before this (and before my time testing the limits of plausible heterosexuality with Real Housewives) he was with Jo, another housewife who was the hottest on the show during her tenure. In between these two, he starred with the former on a show called Date My Ex, where his ex-girlfriend got him even more top notch ass.

If you haven't given up reading this yet, you might be asking, who is this Slade character? I'd give you an answer, but thus is the beauty of this elusive man-beast. Even though I wanted to do research and write an article about him and even though he's been on TV for over 4 years there's next to nothing about him online. Compare him with the cast of Real Housewives of Atlanta (another winner of a show... and in this case I can actually taste the stripper lotion); their Wikipedia page is like a freecreditreport.com page, I can tell who's being evicted and who's just in foreclosure. Slade is a smiling, bearded question mark who gets to stick his dick in the hottest thing in a 50 yard radius.

Proof? Slade ostensibly sells title insurance, but when questioned in tonight's episode, Gretchen couldn't confirm that he even received a paycheck of any kind. In fact, she hired him to "manage" the money that she got when she married a dying guy in an earlier season (all class, all the time). In comparison to every other guy on the show who essentially bought their "trophy," Slade just shows up and gets it in.

There's a lot to learn here. First, the illusion of money is just as good as money. He may be a good looking dude (uh-oh the show is taking hold), but he never could have gotten in the door with these women without a cool sounding job, like vice president at a title insurance company even though it apparently doesn't come with a paycheck. Second, smile a lot and never get angry. Every other dude on the show tries to control their wife and every one of them gets less sex from an uglier broad than Slade.

Slade, if I could kill you and wear your face as a mask, I would. But, since that sounds messy and I'd probably get caught, please just keep showing up to work every day. Teach us to be more than clamsmen. Teach us to be mimbos.

Monday, January 25, 2010

The Tao of Pauly D

Oh Jersey Shore, way to leave me with nothing more than the image of Snooki's interestingly shaped assets burned in my retinas to last me for a long, cold winter. I was happy to see Ronnie take my advice and get the fuck away from Sammi. (I have guido ESP in case you were wondering. That's why there's a delivery boy carrying a pound of mortadella currently being drawn unconsciously to my door.) But the real winner in all of this is clearly Pauly D. He probably got more ass than The Situation and no one in the house wants to backhand him (not that he could penetrate his hair anyway). He may be orange, he may have a car company's name tattooed on his armpit, he may be pushing the wrong side of 30, and he may be getting stalked by someone who was likely trained in krav maga, but there's just no fucking with Pauly D's chi.

When the housemates first descended upon the shore, it was pretty easy to peg Pauly D as the village idiot. In his first interview, he mentioned tanning and gel alongside friends and family as his defining qualities as a guido. And he seemed to respond to every situation (HA. Still hysterical.) with a smile that screamed, "I don't understand why it's not a good idea to fill a gas grill with charcoal and light a match." After JWOWW scared herself away by seeing her reflection in his stainless steel dong jewelery, it appeared as if he would spend his summer jumping on grenades and breaking the noses of defenseless drunks.

BUT, if you were paying attention (read: have no life and rewatched every episode 50 times), you might have noticed some signs of life from the spiky haired Yoda even early on. It was none other Pauly came up with Snickers as a nickname for Snooki. In all seriousness, it's an astounding feat that may never be topped. He managed to name a girl with obvious body image issues after a candy bar and didn't offend anyone. And that's the key to Pauly D. He's not offensive. He smartly stayed out of Ronnie and Situ's pissing contest to see who could fit more needles in an one ass cheek and thus win Sammi's affection. Instead, for an in house hook-up he went with a deceptively low maintenance JWOWW. Her boyfriend may have called him a spiky haired douche bag (strong card, Mr. blue roses) but Pauly's drama stayed out of the house. And about the punch he threw; at the end of the day, it was the least talked about fight in all of the Jersey Shore and produced the quintessential gem of Pauly D wisdom and possibly the best quote of the series, "It only takes 9 pounds of pressure to break a nose." Amen bro, Amen. In my opinion, he should replace his "DJ Pauly Delvecchio" sound effect with that quote and loop it into a fighting themed techno. Tell me you wouldn't pound your fist to that.

Pauly, simply put, is playing chess while the other guidos are trying to figure out why the checker board isn't red and green instead of red and black. He lets Ronnie get the girl and Mike be the lightning rod. He manages expectations and befriends everyone who matters. Sure he has beef with an occasional cuckolded boyfriend, but he never shits where he eats (paying attention Ronnie?), and he still manages to have the drawers dropping nightly.

Pauly D might be the only man with hair that sticks up further than his pierced penis who can be described as a minimalist. Pauly is The Edge to The Situation's Bono. Situ may be more famous, but he's also more hated. Pauly doesn't need to say nearly as much to make an impact. And ironically, it's his over the top peacock feathers that allow him to thrive in a guido ecosystem while offending as few people as possible. He covers his melanoma-destined skin in tattoos, spikes his hair, puts on the headphones he bedazzled himself, and lets the magic come to him. He doesn't need corny pick up lines and he doesn't have to commit robberies or make any enemies.Even his trademark hairstyle speaks to his pragmatism. For 25 minutes of effort a day, he gets hair that may or may not be bulletproof. In contrast, as much as I admire the Sitch's dedication to his abdominals, it's a much harder trademark to maintain. There's also the factor of how much of a douche bag he looks like every time he pulls up his shirt to show off.

My headband is off to you Pauly, you're a man of admirable wisdom. I hope I'm as smart as you when I turn 30.