What was she thinking?!?!???

Polar Bear Cub Unwanted

In case you're too lazy to go to the link and read the story and see more photos of this ridiculously cute beast, here's the nutshell: Knut, the cute polar bear cub, was rejected by his mother, Beastly McBeasterson of the Berlin zoo (and not even for wanting to live an alternate lifestyle) and the bearded man gets to hand feed and play with the cub.

In other, related news, I'm moving to Berlin, to pursue my true calling: Playing with cute animals. I've tried to add that on as a job description, along with researching adorable creatures, but have so far been rejected. I have to make it to the Berlin Zoo while Knut is still feeling rejected and confused, so it'll be easier to convince him to live with me in Brooklyn.

If I can't get to Germany, I'm hoping to dupe someone into taking my apartment as trade for a bear. Getting a little desperate, so any kind of bear will do. Hey, if the white man could trade beads for Manhattan, I should be able to pull this off.

But the day hasn't been all fun and games. I had to educate my sister, as this real life conversation proves (this conversation took place via Electronic Instant Note Passing):

Sis: Awwwww I want one!!!!!!!

Me: I KNOW, me too. It's the cutest thing ever.

Sis: And then when it grows up we can make it eat people we don't like

Me: YEAAAAAAAAAA

wait

no!

Sis: lol

Me: Bears like chocolate and berries

Sis: Chocolate? Are you sure?
Me: POSITIVE! I've done hours of extensive research. Besides, I'm 3 years older, and therefore i know more.

Sis: Oh of course. Silly me.

I think this conversation should serve as evidence that, had I been able to conversate with Knut's mom, she would have kept her baby. However, her loss will be my gain. Germany, ho!

Photos courtesy of me stealing them from Reuters

Brilliant Roommate Conversation #1

Me: Yo man, where all the bears that I was told live in Brooklyn? I haven't seen any!

Human Dynamo: No, that's a tree that grows in Brooklyn.

Oh Boy

Cam'ron is the David Caruso of the rap game. Well, minus the red hair, stupid sunglasses and lecherous behavior. Take this Killa Cam lyric, from a battle rap between some crappy rappers and some other, less crappy rappers (my viewpoint is slightly biased since I believe Freeway to be the best rapper ever):

"I'm the pink panther, my panther is pink
My mink is mink
Huey and screwy, huey duey and louie
Nah they ain't ready for this."

The words may be slightly wrong, because I don't care that much, and while looking them up, got completely involved in a re-run of Scrubs with the Silver Spoon NYPD Blue nurse detective and why Cam'ron wears Rocawear boxers but hates Jay-Z. The point remains however. Cam'ron has ruined rap, much like David Caruso has ruined Miami and forensics, with stupid and smarmy catch phrases and some sort of bright reddish trait (pink for Cam, fake flame hair for David).

Where could I be?

I came home last night, feeling something was amiss. It wasn't that all the lights were off, as Dynamo is quite energy conscience. Walking past my diamond studded door, in which I usually see my solid gold four poster bed and beautiful harem with ostrich feathers and grapes, I noticed something strange. My door was closed!

I began to panic a little bit. Dynamo and his lady friend were both downstairs. Was I in my room? If so, should I keep it down, in case the me in the room was asleep? It would be awful rude to wake me up. Most annoyingly of all, I couldn't remember being in my room and closing the door.

I steeled myself, and cautiously pushed the door open. I was immediately greeted with fanning and delicious grapes. All was well. This time.

Stay tuned for more, next time on "When Past and Present Larrys Collide"

America's Most Hated

It's not K-Fed. I mean, him and I will probably never be boys, but I'm willing to live with that.

No, last night's episode of Scrubs, in which one of the characters (Dr. Perry Cox, played by John C. McGinley) calls out Dane Cook for being an unfunny buffoon, has given me hope. Hope, and the desire to see "America's Most Hated: David Caruso" front page in tomorrow's New York Times. As I don't actually read the New York Times, or any newspaper not named Metro, someone else will have to look for me, and diligently report back to me. Since this blog lacks the technology were-withal of Time magazine to include a mirror, I will just have to settle for naming the person. You. Yes, you will need to get back to me. And for the love of all that is good, do not fail me.

*************

Yesterday night, at the West 4th street stop, I crossed paths with John Hodgman, author, actor and hobo afficianado. He turned away, no doubt shy after he recognized me as one of his myspace friends. It took you long enough to accept me, Hodg-man. I forgive him though, as it's always a little uncomfortable meeting an internet friend for the first time, especially one who you've never actually spoken to, except through words in a book you've written.