my blog

dear jake shields,

Fri, 30 Apr 2010 11:21:17 -0700

Not gonna lie, it’s been a long time since I’ve updated this blog, and those of you who were ever fans of it, might be disappointed that this is the story that brought me back. Though it may not be one of my funnier posts, it’s something that I take great interest in.

Many of you know that Strikeforce is not only one of my clients, but my favorite client. In the time I have worked with the company I have developed a familial feeling with Strikeforce employees and fighters alike. After the recent CBS fight between Jake Shields and Dan Henderson, I had several friends ask me what I thought about the fight, and if i think Jake is going to the UFC or not.

By the way: for all of my friends who are fight fans, you might know who Jake Shields is. But I’ll introduce him to the rest of you: Jake Shields is the current Strikeforce middleweight champion at 185 pounds.

Perhaps one of the worst kept secrets in all of MMA, is that Dana White has moved in and courted Jake for some time now in efforts to bring him back to the UFC.

At a recent WEC event where Jose Aldo handed Urijah Faber his own ass, White was seen with his arm around Jake Shields, mouthing the words: “hes mine”.

I don't really know how I feel about this. I like Jake a lot, both as a person and a fighter. As a true fan of the sport, I enjoy watching his technical prowess in the cage. In my opinion, he is one of, if not the best technical grapplers in the sport. It saddens me to say, however, that Strikeforce might be better off without him.

In the past five years, the most excitement I've garnered from a Shields fight was watching as he survived Mayhem Millers rare naked choke just long enough to hear the bell. ONE SECOND longer and Mayhem would have won the belt. Amazing fighter, yes... no doubt. Exciting fighter, meh... not so much.

Good riddance Jake. I honestly wish you the best, and hope you tear up UFC's 185 AND/or 170 pound division. Grab those belts and and watch as their PPV interest plummets as challenger after challenger (no matter how potentially exciting they are) falls in (what the casual fight fan considers) boring, technical fashion.

You are like Floyd Mayweather, only without the personality. Amazing fighter... but the only excitement I ever get from watching his fights are when I think he's about to lose. And much like you, this is not very often.

My newest beef to pick with mcdonalds

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 10:46:49 -0700

McDonalds has never been good to me. Sure, when I was a little kid, I found Mickey Ds to be amazingly delicious. But thats also one of the main reasons I was a fat little kid.

When I was 16 years old I took a job at McDonalds, mainly because my friend Gabe worked there. I remember they would put me on the grill and all the grease would give me acne. So I complained and told my manager that I wanted to be on register.

He wouldnt let me. He insisted that the person who didn't speak good English was the right person to work the register.

He, by the way was a 400 pound hispanic homosexual. Since working at that McDonalds I have only dined in for breakfast, and even that happens on a rare occasion. I HATE McDonalds. I digress... The point I was trying to make is that most McDonalds I have been to are also managed by an overweight hispanic homosexual. I wonder why that is?

Again, I digress...

I noticed that fatty McHomo would give free food to certain employees on the reg, but when I asked I would get like 15% off. This was Bull Shit!! I was a starving fat kid! I'm not gonna put up with this! So I would sneak McNuggets into my pocket and once I built up a 4piece in my pants Id go dine in the bathroom.

God I was pathetic.

So one morning I was driving by my restaurant on my way to hockey practice. I decided to stop in and check my schedule.

Fatty McHomo: Um, essuze me.. you was supposed to be here a hour ago

Danny: Nah, no way. You guys know that I have weekends off because I play hockey. I made it clear to never schedule me.

Fatty McHomo: No way, this is not asseptable. Youre attitude is not asseptable. You can not talk to your boss like this mister.

Danny: Do you realize how hard it is to respect a grown ass man working at McDonalds for $10 an hour?

Fatty McHomo: Oh no you di'int (snaps his fingers). I'll give you an hour to get your uniform and get to work.

Danny: I have hockey practice, so thats really not gonna happen.

Fatty McHomo: Well then I'm gonna fire you.

Danny: Fire me? Like I'd give you that satisfaction fucking Fatty McHomo. I don't need this stupid fucking job.

Fatty McHomo: ....

The guy in line: You know they cant do that without giving you your last paycheck.

Danny: Sweet. Wheres my paycheck?

Fatty McHomo: You'll have to come back later.

Danny: Fine. See you in four hours, have my paycheck.

He didn't have my paycheck. In fact, I dont think I ever got my final paycheck. I was such a shitty little kid.

Anyway. for my newest beef with McDonalds, I had to come all the way out to Las Vegas.

There is a McDonalds inside the MGM Grand that sold Sausage McMuffins for $0.99. I always thought this was rather cheap, back home they're like $2.50!

I often work boxing matches at the MGM and theres nothing better than a 99cent McMuffin. Especially when I'm hungover! I used to buy like ten of them and hand them out to co workers and security guards. Nothing made me happier than starting out my day by providing sausage egg McMuffins to unsuspecting people. The smiles that I could bring to people were glorious, and for just 99cents!

Well I'm out here in vegas right now and I stroll up to the counter to grab a sausage egg McMuffin and the lady rings it up to $2.79.

I lose my shit.

I tell the lady that for years I've been coming here getting my sausage egg McMuffins for 99cents. And she explains that the price changed.

you jacked the price up 175%!?!!?!!?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?

I am livid right now. I can no longer afford to provide 99 cent smiles on everyones face. Which means I am not liked by my peers and colleagues as much as I would have been had they gotten a surprise sausage egg McMuffin.

McDonalds: You are causing me emotional stress. And Ronald, if you are reading this... I'd like some free sausage egg McMuffin coupons for my troubles.

Email me: DannyAffleck@gmail.com

Thanks

wee wee!

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 10:05:49 -0700

The trip to Paris was a lot smoother than we had made it out to be. Seeing as Kim, Chris and I all have terrible, horror stories from traveling with Ryan Air, we had set the expectations for everyone else extremely low.

We decided to show up about two and a half hours early for our 7 am flight. When we left the hotel, there were still kids drinking on the Pantheon steps. I wanted so badly to partake, but I couldn’t even keep my eyes open.

We arrive at the airport too early and have to sit in front of the ticket counter until the lady finally comes and starts working. The weight limit for your luggage is 15 kilos, but for every pound over its a ridiculous fee. I used my smile and a “bonjounro, bella” on the girl and she looked the other way and accepted a few extra pounds. Kinda like some dudes I know after a few drinks.

As I usually am on airplanes, I was asleep before the plane took off, and I didn’t wake up until I was at the gate. It’s a gift, that is sometimes a curse. I don’t even need drugs. I just know how to sleep, I’m good at it.

My first of three Ryan Air experiences that went off without a hitch.

Paris is a beautiful city. I was excited to check into The Roosevelt, but then realized it was nothing like The Roosevelt that I’ve spent time at in Hollywood. The hotel was small and I had to sleep on a cot. There was a good AC system which would have come in handy in Italy. But in Paris, I was able to wear the jeans I had packed for the first time this trip.

We got right to it, and headed to the Tour de Eiffel. The line was long, just like most of the lines for the European tourist attractions. We decided we would climb it the next day. We got on the city bus tour to see some of the sights. I passed out so hard and my head was leaning over the side of the double decker bus and at one point my mother began screaming at me from a few rows back. “DANIEL! DANIEL!”

I guess another bus had come by and almost JFK’d the top of my head, and that would have sucked. Lynne was mad at me! She was like, “You need to stay awake! You’re in Paris!”

I’m sorry Lynne... but you and most people know I have a problem where I can fall asleep at any time, under any circumstances. AND I’ve been awake since 4 AM, AND they’re playing this awful classical music in my headphones, so hook it up with a little bit of that understanding stuff and we’ll call it a day.

A seat had opened up next to Kim and Chris at the back of the bus, so I go and sit there. Figured something interesting might come out of it. And I was right, kind of. The back row has five seats straight across while the other rows have two on each side of the aisle. On certain streets you had to be aware of low hanging branches and trees. On some of these branches, were those little prickly ball things that were really hard. They would hit the metal backing of the bus every once in a while and make a loud ding.
 At one point this Indian family gets on the bus. The mother and the daughter take the two seats next to me, and the father grabs one 2 or 3 rows ahead. He gets up to come say something to his family in French. I tell him to watch out. He looks at me blankly. I grab his arm and try to pull him down, but he pulls away... WHACK! Branch to the back of the head.

He let out a very feminine moan.

Thats what you get, idiot... sorry.

It came time for lunch and I begged and pleaded that we tried the Chinese food place around the corner. I wouldn’t say it was a hissy fit, but I made it entirely clear that I neeeeeded that Chinese food, and if I didn’t get my way, I would be entirely unhappy. Nobody wants an unhappy Danny, that guys no fun. So we got our Chinese food. and it was delicious. It was French-Chinese... but could see the resemblance.

After lunch we went shopping. I can now tell you the confirm the following stereotypes about Paris:

YES: It is probably the most expensive city I have ever been to.

YES: It is beautiful there.

YES: The majority of the people do not know English, or pretend not to because they do not want to help you.
 YES: The previous fact is most likely true because I am American.

YES: They think they are better than us.

YES: They are wrong.

YES: They seem to have a lot of money.

YES: They invest it in clothes and purses, BUT not deodorant.

I didn’t write the book... I’m just re-telling it for you.

Shopping was a failure. It was the opposite of a sale. And all of the mens clothes were European and well... European. I feel like European shorts makers have all forgotten to cut off an additional two or three inches of material. In America, we call those “capris” and they are commonly found on the legs of our women.
I wore around this pretty little Coach man bag that my sister wanted to throw away. It was purely as a form of mockery, and my dad did not approve. The contents of said purse were as follows:

- Chapstick.

Actually thats it. It was just chapstick.

When in Paris... act as flamboyant as possible, it seems to work for these guys.

We were trying to find a place for a late lunch and the entire family decided that a quality hamburger sounded absolutely amazing, seeing as I hadn’t even seen one in three weeks. Were in luck, there is a restaurant called “Quality Hamburger”. Sold.

Unfortunately, this place is no different than a McDonalds, essentially, which is what I wanted to avoid. But screw it, were here- were eating.

I get to the counter and order for everyone. I have my French phrase book in tow. The girl behind the counter isn’t attractive, but I have an obligation to my family and to my country to embarrass the both of them. So I read her in the dirtiest, broken French you can imagine the words that should mean: “I’d like you to take me out tonight. We can have a dance party.”

She laughs, and says- in English- “I’m afraid that is un-possible”.

SHOT DOWN! I give her a confused look. If she could read the English coming from my face, it would have read: “But... You work at a god damn McDonalds...”

I feel shame. Okay, thats a lie, I don’t have feelings in these circumstances.

The burger was alright. I had heard a rumor that Euro McDonalds use horse meat for their burgers. I didn’t want to think about what was being put in my mouth so I didn’t. and I enjoyed it.

I bet thats how girls are able to wake up with a smile on their face.

Desert time comes and my buddy from home, Pascal highly recommended this bakery. Supposed to be top notch. We sit down and flip through a huge menu. I find a total of 3 things that look good. None of which were available. I’m really not a big sweets guy, to be honest.

I decide I want to try some French sushi down the street. I order one salmon roll and one tuna roll. Its only 12 Euro, which I figure isn’t bad at all. I get back to the restaurant and open my sushi box. Apparently a sushi roll consists of 3 little pieces, I am heartbroken. I have never eaten sushi slower in my entire life. Literally trying to savor every single second of it’s visit to my mouth. I’m like chewing it up and swishing it around, making sure all of my taste buds got to try this slutty piece of sushi out.

And it was horrible. I miss you LA sushi.

First day in Paris was pretty successful. Chinese food, a hamburger, and some sushi. I’m really experiencing French dining at its best.

Rome sweet rome part 3

Thu, 6 Aug 2009 23:03:58 -0700

Stood up at the fountain...

Today was successful... And a failure... But I must be an optimist during this time. It was a successful day.

We took a tour of the Coliseum and the Forum/Ruins in downtown Roma. For 12 Euro you can get into the Coliseum. For 20 Euro you can get in with a tour, and skip all of the lines. Prices were never really a concern for me since I met up with la familia.

Either way, the tour was pretty rad. My guide wasn’t a gypsy, and she most likely had no idea who Chuck Norris was... But she was, in fact, Italian. I know this because every time she spoke she would end her words with “a” or “uh”.

So if I were to tell you: “This is the Coliseum where Caesar watched gladiators fuck shit up on the reg,” it would sound more like this: “Thisa isa the Coliseuma, wherea Caesara watcheda gladiatorsa fucka shita upa ona tha ragu.” I know what you’re thinking... Ragu doesn’t quite fit the mold. But you are dead wrong... Any time an Italian says a word that is anywhere close to Ragu, it sounds like Ragu... Crazy, I know... but I don’t make the rules. I love the Italian accents!

I can’t tell you a whole lot about the Coliseum and the Forum/Ruins... Not because it wasn’t interesting... Because, believe me, it was... But you aren’t reading this blog for a history lesson. Those of you that are...Click this link... Seriously, click it.

After visiting the Coliseum, the kids and I went to a place called the Capuchin Crypt. This shit was nuts. Straight up, I had no idea if I should throw up, shit my pants or just look on in awe. Basically, this crypt was about four or five different displays made up completely of human bones. Sometimes they were clearly childrens skeletal structures.

It was a series of mosaic art segments that were comprised of thousands and thousands of bones. Only bones. Real bones. (not like that girl Ashley’s ex boy friend). There were little kids just walking around, checking out the thousands of dead people that have since been transformed into “art”. It was definitely cool as shit, but I don’t like hangin’ around human skeletons, especially when I don’t know how they died.

I mean thousands of skulls, hip bones, femurs, fingers, jaws, spines etc. These fools could have been Jews or Gypsys from the Halocaust, dudes from the black plague... I DONT KNOW. I just know there were a whole lot of dead people that gave their bones (most likely, unknowingly...) to this church of dead people “art”

Dinner time cometh.

I will be completely honest with you here. Everyone who has told me the food is amazing in Italy, bla bla bla, booshit booshit booshit booshit. (Forgetting Sarah Marshall). It’s not. The food here sucks. I would take Chipotle, or Kings Burger, or Sushi, or Taco Bell over any of these restaurants any day of the week.

But tonight was a little different. Tonight I had a pizza that blew my fucking mind. A pizza that Joel David Miller would run away with to a far off land, marry and sleep with for the rest of his life. Keep in mind that I have recorded Joel Miller saying the following quotes:

"all i know is im gonna die with a slice in my hand."

"i dont care if i ever find love again... pizza is my mistress"

me: "I bet you cant wait for the pizza flavored blow up doll"

"i wouldnt want to sully the good name of pizza by fucking it. it would make it unholy"

He is a pizza connoisseur by any mans standards. I’ve never met a man who loves pizza more than Joel. I doubt that I ever will. Every bite I took was bitter sweet, I just wished the entire time that I could overnight Fed-Ex a slice to the man... but I can’t... Sorry Joel. I know if you are reading this that your mouth is watering and you’ll probably need to go masturbate in the restroom at work... Which will really suck for your customers, considering you are a chef. Sorry in advance to your patrons.
I kid you not, I had a quick chat with him when I was writing this and I was gonna send it to him before I posted it... This is what I saw on his facebook page...

THIS JUST IN!! Joel was so inspired by this blog... this particular entry that he created a blog himself... It’s all about pizza. Check it out and say hi to the man.

Half way through dinner I realized that I had planned on meeting Ashley squared and Alyssa, the girls from the HO-C, at the fountain outside my hotel... I had been corresponding with them using my sisters blackberry, and they were going to email me when they were on the way.

I asked my sister if she had gotten anything, and she hadn’t. I asked to borrow it, and went outside to send the girls a message. As I was about to type, I received a message saying they were on their way and would be there in 20 minutes. Awesome.

NOT. shitttttttttttttt cell phone bull shit.

That message was sent an hour ago.

I ran out to the fountain, and they were nowhere to be seen.

Blew it. Sorry girls... Hope you end up having a great night!

Mine was spent writing this blog. I think it’s best that I fall asleep now I am supposed to be awake at 4 A.M. to catch a plane to Paris! The flight is through Ryan Air, so this should be rather interesting...
 Ciao friends.

Rome sweet rome part 2

Mon, 3 Aug 2009 14:48:01 -0700

The hostel was trash. There was no common area, and I ended up meeting nobody. I wrote the previous portion of this blog then fell asleep watching “Dee Dates a Retard” from season 3 of Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

Anyway. We woke up this morning and were excited for our free breakfast. It was trash- purely disgusting. Cold. Trash.

Half a block down- for the second time for as many days... we indulged in a delicious Kebap stand. I effing love Kebabs, or kebaps, or however they want to spell it, I’ll eat it- and I’ll be thoroughly satisfied.

We go to meet up with the parental unit and we get a cab driver who is pretty fast, but the mother fucker had his meter all kindsa rigged. We’ve done this drive in less time, and it cost half as much. Good luck telling him that though. It’s so rough when you can’t stand up for yourself when your being completely ass raped because you’re a tourist. Sometimes I just want to talk some shit to one of these guys and hope that they understand it. For now, I’ll just bite my tongue. BUT NEXT TIME! I’m gonna know Italian, and I will not stand for you’re sketchy cab meter, buddy.

We check into our fancy hotel. It’s alright. Definitely fancy, but in an old school kinda way. I’m excited to sleep on a real bed again. The one in Serravezza definitely did not count as a real bed. That bed sucked like monsters. The last real bed I slept in was at the Hilton. In fact it was the only one I’ve slept in this trip.

But screw the bed. I’d be down to sleep on the floor... You know what I’m excited for? Air Conditioning. Life is going to be good tonight.

Today we went to the Vatican. We got a private tour for the day from this old Gipsy named. She was pretty awful. She was old and slow and spent most of her time following rather than leading. I would have to ask her a questions about something to get any kind of tour out of her. She spent most of the time talking to my grandma about god knows what. This is when grandma earned the name “Gipsy Barbara”. I proceeded to call her Gipsy for the rest of the day, and I don’t know that I’ll ever stop.

My mom tells me that back in the day, when my grandfather would get mad, he’d call gramma Gipsy because of her Hungarian background.

Well I ain’t mad atcha gramma, but your new nickname is Gipsy, and thats that.

Back to the Gipsy tour guide. To her only credit- she knew who Chuck Norris was.

The Vatican is incredible, I highly recommend you check it out at some point. The Catholics must really give their church that 10% of their paycheck, because this thing was built with $$$ steeze.

 

I just found out from an awesome tour of the Coliseum and the ruins, that various popes over time straight up jacked all of the marble that covered said Coliseum and ruins. Jacked. I don’t know about you but I think thats kinda bull shit.

Personally, I don’t practice or believe in organized religion. I won’t judge people that do, but I will never understand certain things about it. I feel like most of the so-called “good” girls are all religious though... So it can’t all be bad. It promotes non-whoredom, but this is not to say that there aren’t religous whores.

Anywayyyyy...

Go watch Bill Mahrs movie, “Religulous”, it’s good stuff.
So at a certain point, our Gipsy tour guide, Gabriella, kicked rocks (an expression meaning to leave a place feeling shame). We went on another tour at the vatican that was very exclusive. It was called the Scavi. Basically, below St. Peters church is the original vatican. At one point, one of the evil popes packed it with dirt to level the land out and build the new basilica. Now they are uncovering it and you can go see more dead people... origins, ruins, sarcophagi, and even the remains of St. Peter himself.

That portion of the tour was pretty rad. Our tour guide was a younger, English-speaking theologist from Minnesota. I don’t remember her name, but I’m pretty sure she did a few lines of coke before giving us that tour. Put it this way, I literally fell asleep at the lunch table... thats how boring the gipsy tour guide was. After speed racers tour- I was ready to do something crazy, like read a book.

We went back to the Swimming World Championships and watched 7 or 8 races. Chris and I enjoyed laughs at several of the swimmers expense. Victoria Poon from Canada was racing in lane 6 and right next to her... I swear to god, was a girl from Belarus with the last name: Khoklova. I don’t care how you want to spell your name. In our immature minds Khoklova and cocklover are identical. It is what it is. Finally, a dude from Great Britain set a world record, and his name was Liam Tancock. One day I promise I’ll grow up. One day...

Michael Phelps was in the 100m fly against this Serbian cat, Cavich or something, who is supposed to be better than him. The Serbian holds the world record for this event.

After 50m Phelps wasn’t even in the top 3. I knew at that point that the weed we had smoked over breakfast probably wasn’t the best idea. Then, in the final stretch he comes to life (as he usually does), and made it interesting. Came down to the wire, but America prevails again with their golden swimmer. He broke the World Record and the crowd roared. Choke on that Serbia.

Its amazing what you’re capable of doing while smoking weed. I think that the government should legalize it, just because the guy who wins countless gold for the country would want it to be so.

You can check out the blog I wrote about Mikey back in the day, here.

After a quick celebration, we went out a family dinner. It was another great restaurant called Alfredos. We’re two for two in Rome now. My food actually kinda sucked, but the appetizers were enough anyway. Kim’s dinner was out of this world. I want that at the next restaurant.

More than anything else, though, I just want some sushi, or Mexican food. I miss you both so much. I won’t want Italian food for a long long time after this.

We wrap up the night in a simple, yet enjoyable fashion. Personal bottles of vino to be polished off on the steps of the Pantheon. It’s nutty to be getting faced on the same property where dudes were getting faced back in 27bc.