Is it in you?…

Mmmm Gatorade. Just the thought of it brings back memories of jammed knuckles, overzealous coaches, and the scent of ice rink locker rooms. Available in any flavor imaginable and more often denoted by the color rather than actual taste, Gatorade is an American staple loved by athletes, couch potatoes, and alcoholics alike. It’s tangy yet tantalizing taste holds the ability to refresh the most exhausted of contestants while also maintaining the unusual ability to be mixed with various forms of hard liquor. That, in and of itself, makes Gatorade a favorite for underage rebels evading the ever present authorities while attending various neighborhood, school, and church social events.

Personally, I believe that Frost Glacier Freeze, aka Ice Blue, is by far the best flavor available. I can also go for the occasional 32 oz Red, Fruit Punch, but when FGF is present it is hard to pass up. The range of tastes includes Original Lemon Lime (green), Frost Riptide Rush (Ice Purple), and Fierce Melon (Orange), along with a whole slew of discontinued flavors that can occasionally be found on Ebay. These discontinued flavors have some fairly exotic names such as Starfruit (Light Green), Midnight Thunder (Black), and even Frost Clear Melon (Clear). Let me be “clear,” I do not in any way, shape, or form recommend buying a discontinued beverage over the internet, but who am I to stop ya.

This glorious brew can also be used to cure a variety of stomach ailments including but not limited to hangovers, stomach flu, food poisoning, and even the occasional motion sickness. With this many uses it is no wonder that people of all ages turn to Gatorade to soothe their parched lips. 

I have yet to mentioned the scores of celebrity athletes that have appeared in G-rade commercials, and well, been fired from them. Ahem, Tiger Woods. As for the rest of you sell outs, Michael Jordan, D. Jeter, and Money Maker Dwayne Wade, thank you for making all those annoying breaks to NCAA games worth it. I also offer my thanks to all of those Florida Gators who lent a hand in the creation of this wondrous beverage. Ohh and one more thing, if you are a Powerade, Vitamin Water, or Propel devotee, shame, shame on you. 

Gawker Express…

Lilo has done it again. The New York Post reported Monday that Lindsay Lohan is suing E*Trade for upwards of $100 million due to the appearance of a “milkaholic” baby named Lindsay in their recent Super Bowl ad.  Now I am a huge advocate of Lilos, but this has gone too far. Give it up girl. Just because you can’t get hired for an E*Trade commercial let alone any other public appearance, doesn’t mean you need to start taking out your anger on toddlers. I mean, continue your legging line. Or better yet, make some pants… and wear them once in a while.

Back to Basics…

This blog originated as a stage to highlight my sardine (ditzy) moments to the public. With that in mind I am going to get back to basics, and provide you with the three consecutive idiocies that managed to leap from my mouth this weekend.

Friday, while deciding on a lunch venue, my coworkers and I were torn between I Dream of Falafel, a Mediterranean wonderland of fried food, and Freshii Salads, a posh create your own salad/wrap joint.  While pondering the two options I added in the argument that I prefer to get Freshii because I don’t trust food from, and I quote, “Falafel-Land” because I don’t even know where that is. This statement was immediately followed by laughter and the rolling of a particular coworker’s eyes. She enjoyed the comment so much that she then proceeded to place it on her Facebook status. Moral of the story, Falafels are simply a Mediterranean food with no particular country association.

After work a group of people headed to the ever reliable Franklin Tap for a few end of the day cocktails. Once seated, the random conversations spun from one subject to the next, eventually landing on Zima, the discontinued malt liquor often seen in television and movies. The ensuing conversation is seen below:

Coworker #1: Ahhh Zima was so good.

Sardine: Are you kidding? Zima is STILL so good!

Coworker #1: Ummm they discontinued it…

Sardine: No, they still have it on Family Guy!

Coworker #1: Yea, and Family Guy is a cartoon. There are talking dinosaurs on cartoons, but you don’t see any of those strolling around, do ya?

Sunday afternoon while driving back from Wisconsin with a friend, I stopped at a highway oasis for a scrumptious vanilla milkshake. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I found myself convinced that proceeding forward would put us on the wrong side of the highway, and lead us back to WI. With this in mind I said, “Stop, you are going the wrong way!” My friend quickly reminded me that we were at a highway oasis, so there is only one way to go. Doii, I’m such a sardine!

I say Oscars, you say Academy Awards...

I’m going to throw it out there and say I was very pleasantly surprised with the list of Oscar winners from last night’s awards.  With that said, I was even happier with the list of losers! Of course, my favorite loser of the bunch was Up in the Air. A horrible compilation of boring, useless, and utterly stupid, Up in the Air didn’t deserve the 6 plus nominations let alone an actual golden statue. I enjoyed this loss almost as much as the look on the faces of Dreamboat Clooney and his dumb as rocks GF. Simply priceless.  Another proud loser came in the form yet another overrated Tarantino film, Inglorious Bastards. I was more than okay with Christoph Waltz winning for best supporting actor, but if Nazi Mania had won in a more credible category I may have vomited directly through my television and onto some innocent bystander such as Gabourey Sidibe (Precious), or even poor little Zac Efron.  Untill next year, loved the dresses, loved the show, and still despise Kathy Ireland. 

You a rude boy...

Dear Rihanna,

I desperately hope you do not write you own lyrics. If you do, there may be a reasonable explanation for the physical actions taken by a certain ex-boyfriend of yours. :cough: Chris Brown :cough:

Sincerely,
Sardine


As you all know, Chris Brown was arrested last year for brutally assaulting his famous, now ex-girlfriend Rihanna. I have recently come to the realization that although there is no excuse for domestic violence, this particular island beauty may have brought it on herself. Rihannah’s newest song, entitled Rude Boy, albeit catchy, seems to provide insight into Mr. Chris Brown’s anger management issues. The lyrics might as well be quotes out of a “Dominatrix for Dummies” booklet or “A Women’s guide to Acting Manly.” Get is straight RiRi, you are a beautiful and feminine individual. What happened to “Pon de Replay” or “So live your life, ay oh ayy oh ayy oh?”

In case you haven’t heard the newest addition to the Def Jam repertoire, I am prepared to provide you with some lyrical examples from this Rude Boy creation. Take this line, “Do you like it boy… I wa-wa-want, what you wa-wa-want. Give it to me baby. Like boom, boom, boom…” This seems like a demand straight out of a Peter North/Ron Jeremy “film.” Come on people, did we learn nothing from the Eminem lawsuits? Yes, the universe is going to take your lyrics literal! Another example of unwanted lyrics, and a personal favorite, “Babe, if I don't feel it I ain't faking. No, no…,” is in reality quite horrible to say to a man. In my experience of ehhh 3 years give or take, men do not take the issue of inadequacy very easily. If his tricks and treats aren’t doing anything for you FAKE IT, or at least boost his confidence with a few overarching moans.

Now hear me out. I do not mean to rag on the pop power Rihanna holds, but maybe Def Jam should think about the consequences of their lyric choice before they present them to an assault victim. I mean… really now.

Additional poetry...

Gossip

Killer, sweet and slow, irresistible.

Torment and tragedy. Split.

What he’s thinking, then and WOW.

Life & Death, addicted to plastic surgery.

Mind tricks. Cocktails kill you in your sleep.

Over the edge.

Fairytale wedding, quick and dirty.

Gone to far? She wants more.

Exclusive, desperate…

Gossip.

Inglorious bastard… yes singular…

With the Oscar night right around the corner, I finally found a moment to sit down with a warm blanket, pop in Inglorious Bastards, and see what all the fuss is about. Ohh, don’t worry, fuss I did; throughout the ENTIRE film. Maybe it was that I came into the movie with extremely overrated expectations or that I had been patiently waiting to see Quentin’s latest flick since it was in theaters, but either way I was left with a feeling of utter disappointment when the credits rolled. The mix of tedious subtitles, puzzling plotlines, and Brad Pitts over acting caused an explosion of disgust to swell in my stomach. If it weren’t for Mr. Brangelina’s good looks I have a feeling my pointer finger would have ventured to the power button right after the Laurent family massacre.  I’m sorry Tarantino, but you really blew it with this one. Maybe you need to make another zombie flick?