World Cup Fever
Anyone who knows me knows that my knowledge of sports is basically "blah blah blah touchdown yadda yadda yadda goal blah blah blah Go Team Go!" I pretty much stopped paying attention to sports after 3rd grade when Kick-Ball was no longer an option during P.E. So it's a surprise to my friends and especially to myself, that I've gotten so wrapped up in the World Cup Fever. I'm finding myself waking up early to watch games on South African time, keeping track of game scores at work, and most importantly checking up on player's bios. The reason I'm paying so close attention to the World Cup this time is that I had never before noticed how hot the players are and how lovely they look running up and down the field in those shorts. It all started because I wanted to watch hot piece of ass and new Armani model, Cristiano Ronaldo in action and noticed that he wasn't the only hottie on the playing field. I couldn't make a decision on which team to root for because I just couldn't keep track of which team had the highest amount of hot guys and thus Aldo's Hottness Scoring System (TM) was created.
The AHS System takes into account each player's "Fuckability Factor" and rates them on a scale of 0-3.
0 - No, thank you.
1 - I wouldn't kick him out of bed.
2 - Yes, please!
3 - I would throw my momma from a moving train to hit that.
Each team's score is then added up and a winner is chosen. Each player is mainly scored on face, thanks to the team lisintgs on the FIFA website. If a score cannot be immediately determined other factors such as height, age and in rare events, Google image searches, are brought in to make a decision. It's a purely subjective scoring system based on my own personal preferences but so far the AHS System is about 70% correct on a game by game basis.
The majority of the players are ranking in 0's and 1's, several 2's, especially in Spain and so far only 2 players have received the ultimate scores of 3's. Cristiano Ronaldo received a 3 because well, God damn have you seen him?
And most importantly Carlos Bocanegra, captain of the US team received a 3.
Carlos Bocanegra received a 3 so quickly that I actually debated opening up the score all the way up to a 5. He is my new boo. Somewhere out there Channing Tatum is sad and can't figure out why.
If a team has a player that scores a 3, then it can throw off the AHS rankings even though the opposing team came in with a higher overall number. Case in point, the England vs. USA game. England came in with an overall AHS score of 15 to USA's 12, however the fact that Carlos Bocanegra is my ideal man threw it off balance and I could not choose who to root for. The game resulted in a tie, thus proving that the AHS system works.
Never before have I been so fully invested in any sporting event. If I'd had a regular Mexican dad I'm sure he'd be beaming with pride right now because his son finally fulfilled his stereotype and was glued to the television watching futbol. My uncles and I would finally have something to talk about that didn't involve the weather or why I'm not married yet. Granted, I wouldn't tell them how exactly I chose who to root for but when it came down to game time, we'd be side by side, screaming and cheering at the TV, listening to the vuvuzuelas and drinking Miller Lite Tallboys with Carlos Bocanegra on the can. We'd all be smiling, myself for a completely different set of reasons.
Olé-olé-olé-oléééé indeed.
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And finally, if anyone finds these Miller Lite cans with my boo on them, I want 4. I'm not kidding.
Share on FacebookOne Gay’s Complaints on Sex & the City 2
By now all the interested parties who wanted to get dressed up to the nines, have a girls' night out drinking cosmos and watch the Sex & the City sequel have already done it so I'm not actually revealing any pivotal plot points in this rant. In order to do that there'd have to be a legitimate plot for me to reveal. Let me start off by saying that I enjoyed the series enough that I own every season on DVD. I can quote lines upon lines of dialogue from the show and before the first movie came out I did want to get dressed up and catch the midnight screening of the movie. But the sequel was just a piece of crap that made no sense at all. I left the theater slightly confused. I wasn't ready to demand a refund but I wasn't sure if I liked it either. After taking a few days to let it marinate I realized what bothered me so much about the movie.
My main issue started off right at the beginning with the big, gay wedding of Stanford Blatch and Anthony Marantino. Really Sex & the City writers? Really?! Ever since they met, Stanford and Anthony hated each other but you had to go and have the two homos in the series end up together in the end. There were no other homosexual men in all of New York City available for them to end up with. None at all? Both Stanford and Anthony went through all of the gays in Manhattan and decided that they were better off together? They scoured every bar, club and coffeehouse in all of Chelsea and came up with nothing else? Come on now, that's just lazy writing.
Granted some of the hottest sex I've ever had has been with people I can't stand but that doesn't mean I want to spend the rest of my life with them. I don't even want to spend the rest night with them. My complaint is that this just further encourages my straight friends to try and hook me up with the first homosexual they meet. "You two would be perfect for each other!" Why? Because we're both gay? How about you give me one thing we have in common besides the fact that we both love penis and then I'll decide if I let you set me up. Now if you're new gay friend is Channing Tatum look-alike then please ignore that previous sentence but in general how about you put in a little effort if you are going to try and set me up? At least half of the Sex & the City writers must have been gay men. Why would they go and perpetuate the myth that just because two people are gay, they're automatically perfect for each other. I don't try and set you up with my newly widowed uncle just because you're both straight and single, do me the same courtesy.
And why was Carrie buying spices?! We all know that bitch doesn't cook.
When I Grow Up
I recently joined a Facebook group called "Everyone I know is getting married or pregnant, I'm just getting drunk". This pretty much sums up my life right now. If I'd followed the path that most of the cousins my age did, by now I'd be married with 4-5 kids or at the very least be working on my 2nd marriage. Instead I'm 29 with no kids and to my knowledge I haven't been legally married. There was one crazy New Year's Eve in Las Vegas but I haven't seen any signed papers so I'm pretty sure the marriage wasn't legally binding.
You'd think that since the countdown to my 30th birthday can now be measured in months rather than years I'd maybe start thinking of settling down, starting a family or at least have more than $4 in my account the day before payday. I've been late to work damn near everyday for almost a year. No one seems to notice other than the people in the cubicles in my immediate vicinity. A more responsible adult would arrive at work on-time even when the boss wasn't watching. Those responsible adults clearly don't know how good the extra 9 minutes of sleep that the snooze button provides are. It's been scientifically proven that those 9 extra minutes of sleep are the best sleep of the entire night so I like to hit the snooze button a good 3-4 times before I get up.
Will there ever be a day when I can listen to the Ying Yang Twins "Wait - The Whisper Song" and not lose my shit? I don't see that happening any time soon. There's just something about the lyrics and ridiculous amount of bass in that song that makes me wanna raise a glass and shake my ass. Grown men singing ... excuse me, whispering to a woman about how their entire existence will change once they see their penis sounds like the most ridiculous concept for a song ever. And granted it is, but there's just something about the power of this song that makes me wanna throw up my hands and do the dance that my friend Magda and I made up for it in college. There's just no stopping the power of that song.
Will I ever stop giggling when I see two boys kiss in public? Doubt it. You'd think that since I've been kissing boys since I was 13, I'd be more of an adult when I saw it out in public instead of giggling like a 2nd grader who just heard his teacher let one rip. The first time I saw this was at Penn Station on my first night in NYC. After I stopped giggling at the sight of two grown men kissing in public, I grew concerned for their safety. Surely, their cars would get keyed or their windows smashed. Then it hit me that I was concerned for nothing. This was the Big City, these guys probably didn't have cars anyway. My friends like to point out any male couple kissing or holding hands as we're walking on the streets of Manhattan just to hear my school girl giggle at the preposterousness of homosexuals roaming the streets free. I don't see this behavior of mine stopping anytime soon either, at least not while I still live in this podunk town.
One day when I am a grown-up I will figure out what I want to do with my life. I will arrive at work on time after having eaten a breakfast that did not consist of a bowl of Cocoa Krispies and/or Pop Tarts. I will pay my cable bill before Dish Network sends up a pop-up message on my screen asking for their money every two minutes until I either pay them or pop in a DVD. Most importantly when I'm an adult I will stop roaming the aisles of Target singing the latest Ke$ha single for hours until my buzz off the Olive Garden wine wears off. One day ...
but not today.
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