May 21, 2013

Trivia Blog: Doucheswag

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

It’s gotta be hard to be the Biebs…

Normally I could give a good god damn about the trials and tribulations of Justin Bieber, but I gotta say, the kid is reaching levels of douchebagginess (and baggypantsness) not seen since the heyday of Dane Cook. When I read about the crowd booing him while he was accepting an award from Chevy (?) at this past weekend’s Billboard Music Awards, I couldn’t help but be tickled by it all. It’s just one of those perfect moments in life that you’re just glad you get to be a part of.

But more than that, I wanted to understand what goes on under all that hair gel and inside Bieber’s brain. So, using advanced psychological techniques, I was able to extract his inner monologue during his acceptance speech:

“Alright, Biebs, it’s award time. You’re lookin’ good. Feelin’ good. You’re rockin’ this sweet leather v-neck t-shirt, your hair is lookin’ super Brigitte Nielsen in Rocky IV-esque. Let’s do this.

“Uh oh. They’re booing you. Pull it together, Biebs! This is the big time! This is CHEVY!

“I gotta get the crowd back. Maybe I should take my shirt off or throw up some gang signs? How can I explain to these crackers what it’s like to grow up rough on the streets of Stratford, Ontario, Canada? That shit’s like Baltimore in The Wire, son! Maybe I’ll just remind them that this award is totally earned on merit, and not a gimmick provided by the sponsor of the awards show…

“Aw shiznit, that didn’t seem to work, they’re still booing… Maybe if I talk about my craft and my struggles as an artist, they’ll see the real me under all this swag. They’re still booing! Don’t they know how hard it is to bare my soul when I’m out there layin’ down swag? O, bittersweet muse, why must thou continually torture this weary wanderer with your siren song of swag?


“Thank god I’m wearing these Ice Man from Top Gun aviators so no one can see my tears…”

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