For Your Viewing Pleasure

Several years ago, I produced a video section highlighting some of New York City’s best aggressive inline skaters for a popular series of skate videos. My section didn’t make the final cut for the video, so my work never saw the light of day (there was no YouTube back then).

So, ladies and gentlemen, this is the world premiere. The skaters in this video haven’t even seen this yet.

Do you think you’re a good rollerblader? Watch this video and then think again.

Make sure your sound is on:

Skaters: Mike Johnson, Billy O’Neil, Franco Cammayo, Julio Amiyama, Damien Prashad, Thomas Lipani, David Lopera, Trevor Marx, Keithfe Bailey, Trevor Johnson, Brandon Gutierrez, Bobby Reichel.

The “Get Out of Jail Free” Card: Is it Real?

For the record: “Get Out Of Jail Free” cards are real. I have one.

I have long heard the rumors of the “Get Out Of Jail Free” card, and I’m not talking about Monopoly. I’m talking about the seemingly mythical wallet-sized token of domestic immunity which people uniformly claim was bestowed upon them by their best friend from middle school who is now a cop. Surely, we’ve all heard this before. I’ve always doubted the integrity of these claims due to the fact that anyone I have ever encountered who claims to posses one of these incredible exemptions of accountability always has a lame excuse as to why they can’t produce the evidence when anyone asks, “Cool, can I see it?”

Last night, I attended a fund raising event for a charitable foundation in the name of the NY Mets current third baseman. The event was a smash hit. Among the auctioned items was a private thirty-minute batting practice with said NY Mets third baseman. The item sold for $10,000. I was not the winner of this item as I have never had anywhere near that much money to my name, much less to spend on a half-hour of batting practice. (sigh) It’s all for a good cause. I digress.

Buying-power aside, my luck turned when I found myself in a cocktail circle wherein I was able to entertain and impress many dignitaries of the NYPD and the DEA (board members, prominent detectives, etc.). I flipped on the charm and the rest is history, folks.

I am the proud new owner of a “Get Out Of Jail Free” card, courtesy of the DEA. I shit you not.

The card looks like your typical plastic corporate employee ID card, except it’s issued by the DEA. I was also given the standard business cards of four of the NYPD / DEA dignitaries to present in conjunction with my “Get Out Of Jail Free” card, should I ever find myself in trouble with the law.

“So, wait. How does this work, exactly?” I asked.

A DEA trustee replied, “If you ever get in trouble, don’t say anything to the officer. Just hand him your “Get Out” card along with my business card and he will let you go. If he has the balls to call me and question it, I will fire that police officer.”

After examining my very own card, I am now positive that 9 out of 10 people who claim to posses such a “Get Out Of Jail Free” card are lying, based on the confidential and substantial nature of the card itself. I, however, am not one of those people.

Towards the end of the party, when we were all exchanging our parting pleasantries, I mentioned to the NYPD / DEA dignitaries that I sincerely appreciated the nature of their gift, though it would have limited use as I had never really been in trouble with the law.

Silence.

The senior detective grabbed my shoulder, leaned in close and sternly whispered into my ear, “That’s the nature of the gift, kid, now you can get into whatever kind of trouble you want to get into.”

I don’t think I’m ready for this kind of responsibility.

Your Telephone Procedures: They Are Incorrect

I loath when people do following:

*my cell phone rings*

Me: Hello?

Idiot: Who’s this?

Me: You called me. Who is this?

Idiot: *click*

If you are one of these idiots, you need to revise your procedures.

When telephoning someone, it is imperative that you identify yourself at the very beginning of the conversation. You may then choose to name the party with whom you wish to speak or the reason for your call.

For example:

Me: Hello, this is PissedAndPetty.com calling. May I please speak with the idiot who just called me and hung up. I would like to speak with them for a moment in regards to their abysmal telephone etiquette. Thank you.

Don’t be an idiot.

Optimum Online (Cablevision): Who’s That Girl?

Most savvy New York media folks are aware of the polarizing effects of the new Optimum Online commercials, from the obnoxious “Reggaeton” ad to the newer creepy “Stepford Wife” spot. No matter how much you hate these ads, like I do, they are setting response records and they have people talking.

With this said, I think everyone is missing the big picture.

Who is the adorable blonde background singer in the new Optimum Online (Cablevision) commercial? I’m talking about the “Stepford Wife” promo, not the “Reggaeton” promo… and I’m talking about the background actress, not the lead girl.

I mean, whatever, it’s no big deal. It’s not like I’m into her or anything. *ahem*

Anyone?

[UPDATE: Mystery solved. She is triple-threat, Lindsey Thomas.]

–Lindsey, babe, call my people. We’ll do lunch. ;)

(A Moment In) Time I’ll Never Get Back

Kevin Robinson broke the world record for a vertical jump on a BMX bike, reaching a height of 27 feet above the top of a custom built 26-foot quarter pipe, yielding a 53-foot vertical jump . It all happened last night in Central Park in conjunction with Red Bull and MSG.

The weird thing? CentralPark.com didn’t seem to know anything about it. As far as they knew, nothing but the usual walking tours and kids’ crafts were taking place in the park that day. As someone who checks city and park event calendars regularly for the sole purpose of not missing events of such magnitude, this really pissed me off. I was present when this record was originally set by Matt Hoffman in 2002, and I sure as hell would have liked to have been there when the record was broken.

After a few light hearted e-mails and a scholarly phone coversation with the administrator of CentralPark.com, here’s his explanation for not mentioning that a mammoth-ass ramp was erected in Central Park for the purposes of facilitating the breaking of a world record live on television:

“The event was a corporate thing, with Red Bull, ya know? It wasn’t really about the park. They could have done it anywhere. Battery Park, Bryant Park… it wasn’t about nature or anything, it’s not really bringing money to the park so we decided not to mention it on CentralPark.com.”

What? How dense can you possibly be?

It doesn’t matter where they could have done it. The point is that they are doing it in Central Park, and you are the webmaster of CentralPark.com. Put the pieces together yourself.

The Peeing Man: The Confrontation

I finally confronted The Peeing Man in my apartment building.

I’d passed on several opportunities to confront him previously, usually because there were other people around or whatever. Today, we rode the elevator up to the fourth floor together. Just him and me.

This is it. This was my chance.

I was apprehensive about confronting him in the elevator because if something went wrong, I would rather not be locked in a steel box with a fat man who pees on things at will.

I waited until we reached our floor. Before we turned our separate ways to our apartments, I said, “Excuse me, sir?”

He grunted and half-turned to look at me over his shoulder.

“I need to speak with you for second,” I continued.

He grunted again and turned fully to face me. He looked half asleep.

“This is weird for me say, but… You have to stop peeing out of your window.”

His eyes instantly shot wide open, he went flush and started sweating even more than he already was. He just stared at me in shock.

“Do you understand what I’m saying? Don’t pee out of you window. If you stop now, this won’t go any further than you and me (and the internet). Please do not pee out of your window any more. Do you understand?”

He just kept nodding. He was completely mortified.

“Okay, then. We have a deal. Don’t pee out of your window anymore, and this will stay between us. Got it?”

More nodding.

“Ok, then. We’re understood. Don’t pee out of your window. Have a nice day.”

And that was it. We both turned and went about our business.

I think I delivered a clear and unmistakable message but to be honest, I kind of hope he does it again so I can pull out the picture wherein I caught him in the act, or maybe I’ll shoot him in the dick with my BB-Gun.

French Urban-Climber Takes On ‘NY Times’ building.

***BREAKING NEWS**

French free-climber Alain Robert, (a.k.a “Spider-man”) just scaled the NY Times building in Manhattan with no ropes. He was arrested when he reached the roof shortly after noon today.

I wish I would have thought of this.

[UPDATE: A second man has free-climbed the NY Times building today. Renaldo Clarke, 32, of Brooklyn. Here is the NY Times’ article about the second man to free-climb their building today. Today. The news writes itself. Truer words…]

I really wish I would have thought of this.

Boyfriend and Girlfriend: A Story of Endearing Commandeering

Girlfriend: Where is my black pillow?

Me: The flat one?

Girlfriend: Yes.

Me: I’m using it for my mouse-pad now. I commandeered it.

Girlfriend: What?

Me: I commandeered your pillow.

Girlfriend: What is that supposed to mean?

Me: I’m not really sure, but in legal terms, I think it pretty much means that I just straight-up took your pillow and unless you have the proper means in place to take it back, then you’re totally screwed.

Girlfriend: Well then how do I commandeer my pillow back?

Me: I don’t know. I haven’t read that part yet but you might consider hiring a lawyer.

Girlfriend: You are such a jerk.

________________

I’d like to nominate myself for “Best Headline Ever”.

“Endearing Commandeering”. Great premise for a song if I do say so myself.
Take it and run with it, Mr. Sondheim. I demand royalties. Call me.

*Nobody better steal my idea because, legally speaking, I’m pretty sure I will commandeer you.

Seriously, though… I heard Stephen Sondheim ties kids up in his basement and does weird things to them. No shit.

Wait, I’m Sorry. This Is New York, Right?

A challenge to all New Yorkers: Don’t leave me hanging next time.

On my way home from work yesterday, the 6 train was running significantly late for the fourth weekday in a row, rush hour. Folks were standing five or six deep on the length of the platform, all waiting for the same train. We commuters, all of us with more important things to do than the next guy, we wait. We all wait for the same train. When the train pulls into the station, we jockey for position. We mentally draft a game plan, the most effective and probable route to a seat or a spacious place to grip a pole. The doors open, hundreds of conflicting game plans launch simultaneously.

When I board a crowded subway car, I instinctively mesh. I innately find a fair and respectable balance between myself and those around me who might be in greater need than myself in respect to who gets the seat or the good grip on the pole or whatever. As I am an able bodied young man, my consideration usually leads to me standing in the middle of the subway car, holding on to the ceiling. This paragraph is meant to give the reader the impression that I am a commuter of flawless mass transit etiquette. You will never catch me on the left side of a staircase. Bet.

Today, as I mentioned, the 6 Train platform was loaded. When the train arrived, a gentleman who was right in front of me on the platform, he stepped onto the train wearing a gigantic backpack. There were people behind us asking if we could move in “just an inch or two”, so they could get on. Not a chance; the doors closed and the train moved out of the station. This guy, the one wearing the backpack, I say to him, four inches behind his ear, “Hey buddy, you should take off your backpack when the train is crowded, it’s common courtesy. I mean, a whole person could fit in the space your backpack takes up.”

At that moment, I waited for a roaring applause from the whole train. I pictured girls throwing their bras at me, people lifting me up on their shoulders and singing impromptu songs which revere me as a deity or maybe just “For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow”, whatever, I’m not picky about the songs.

Nothing of the sort took place.

Instead, I was met with a terribly awkward silence accompanied by several people looking at me with stunned expressions on their faces.

This is not the first time that I have taken action upon a situation in which every observer and bystander was thinking of taking the same action, but didn’t have the courage. Then, when I actually do take the initiative, these same people, the people who are thinking the same thing I am, they become fearful of me for taking the action they wish they would have taken. Here, in a bizarre twist, the offender suddenly becomes the victim. I don’t get it.

Dear New Yorkers:

Next time I speak up for what is right and decent, do me a favor.

Don’t be a pussy.

Thanks in advance,

Ryan@PissedAndPetty.com

This Weekend In Televised Mixed Martial Arts (MMA)

This was a huge weekend, a weekend of firsts for televised Mixed Martial Arts (MMA), or “cage fighting”.

CBS, in conjunction with EliteXC, aired a primetime “Saturday Night Fights” Special featuring five full-contact bouts. This is the first time, to my knowledge that mixed martial arts has been aired on a major television network. Their selling point was the title fight featuring Kimbo Slice, an internet street-fighting legend. If you don’t know about this man, he is fucking terrifying.

The next night, VS Network and their WEC brand boasted a mixed martial arts special highlighting a title fight between the two most dangerous feather-weights on earth, Jens Pulver and Urijah Faber. To my knowledge, this was the first heavily promoted televised feather-weight bout. I’ve always loved watching feather-weights whether in a boxing ring or in a cage because it’s easier for me to relate because they’re my size, around 145lbs. Also, feather-weights are lighting fast while still wielding knockout power. Speed and power. Seriously, what else can you ask for?

Here we go.

In the blue corner: CBS

I was very disappointed by how closely CBS’s production design resembled that of a pro-wrestling event. It was actually offensive to me. By the production design alone, a first time viewer would be forced to draw a parallel between mixed-martial-arts and pro-wrestling –a parallel that is entirely inaccurate and highly insulting. Mixed martial artists at this level are olympic caliber athletes. They are highly trained and devoted self defense practitioners who put their lives at risk every single time they step in a cage. Unlike pro-wrestling, these men don’t need fog machines and laser-light displays to put on a good show. The event is the fight itself. There is no need for special effects. While I commend CBS for taking a chance by airing a fight special at all, I condemn them for not taking a chance on a format, instead, reverting to a format we’re somewhat familiar with, but draws an wholly inaccurate and highly insulting parallel.

Also, at the first sight of blood, it seemed that the referees were searching for any reason they could find to stop the fight. I have a feeling that the CBS producers were responsible for this. It’s almost is if the network bigwigs told the ringside doctor and referees, “A little blood is okay. We actually need a little blood. But as soon as there is blood, any blood, find a reason to stop the fight, any reason.” That is fucking ridiculous. I’m not sure how the television bigwigs thought that they could put two professional fighters in a cage together and there would be no blood. They are fucking fighting, There will be blood! Again, I commend CBS for airing a fight special in the first place, but condemn them for not committing to what is involved. In fighting, blood is usually involved. Sometimes, uncomfortable amounts of it. This is the game.

The title fight between Kimbo Slice and James Thompson personified all my gripes with CBS’s attempt at mixed-martial-arts coverage. In the intro of Kimbo Slice, apparently unable to think of a different angle and stopping just short of calling him a role-model, CBS praised Kimbo for beating the shit of people in the streets to feed himself his whole life. This is right after they’ve emphasized that fighting belongs in the ring among professionals, not on the streets. This was the perfect example of CBS’s attempts to talk from both sides of its mouth the whole night. Now the fight. Coming into the ring, Thompson’s left ear was one of the worst cauliflower ears I’ve ever seen. Without spoiling the fight for you, the fight was stopped as soon as the blood came, which didn’t take long.

I found it all too convenient that the headline fighter, previously and currently under contract to EliteXC, the same production company that CBS partnered with for this venture, gets pitted against some guy who’s ear is one mean look away from exploding. All Kimbo had to do was land one punch to Thompson’s left ear and it would explode. That is exactly what happened. Blood-shy CBS yells “Cut!”, they get their ratings, EliteXC booked an easy “W” for their fighter and the merchandise starts flowing.

I’m vomiting now.

To quote www.mmafrenzy.com writer Eric Shapiro:
“Kimbo has the potential to be a great fighter, but that doesn’t mean that EliteXC should tailor-make victories for him either. Good effort Kimbo, shame on you EliteXC.” Well said, Eric.

Overall, my opinion of CBS’s EliteXC coverage is not so favorable.

In the red corner: VS Network

The VS Network did a pretty good job with their coverage of the WEC event on Saturday night. This paragraph is going to be much easier to write because I don’t really have any major complaints. The production design was more tasteful than CBS’s, though still a little showy for me. The allegiance of the officials belonged with the standards of the sport and not with the standards of the network. Also, the fights were fantastic. The feather-weight title fight didn’t disappoint, and the undercard bantam-weight bout between Torres and Maeda may have been one of my favorite fights ever. Nice job, VS Network.

Ladies and gentlemen, our winner by way of knockout, in the red corner, VS Network!

All things considered I think it was a good weekend for the sport, exposure-wise.

Just to be safe though, CBS, do me a favor and leave this genre alone. This sport doesn’t need to be watered down any more that it already has been.

[UPDATE: This article by the NY Times was published a couple days after my article. It explains my thoughts better than I ever could have. I guess that’s why I don’t write for the NY Times. For what it’s worth, they quoted the same writer and website that I quoted, who also dissects this fiasco with precision.

[UPDATE: This article by “TIME” Magazine echoes some of my thoughts.