Home > Uncategorized > Mary J. Blige sings No More Dramedine, Weekend Activities, Netflix Reveals Personal Failures, more

Mary J. Blige sings No More Dramedine, Weekend Activities, Netflix Reveals Personal Failures, more

Some of you may be confused by the latest round of celebrities tied to the Signature Pharmacy scandal.

50 Cent? Well yeah, dude’s got kind of a bodybuilder physique; none of us should be terribly surprised he dabbled. Tyler Perry? Well, he might as well just focus on getting huge, because being humorous and insightful isn’t working for him (despite what a lot of critics might tell you – his films are AWFUL and tragically unfunny). But Wyclef Jean? And MARY J. BLIGE?!

Whoa, before you think Mary J. took shit so she could hit ’em up style, a quick explanation.

You see, there was a period of time wherein HGH was marketed by some circles of professional athletes and doctors that at best tarnish the reputation of doctors across this great land and at worst are nothing more than licensed snake-oil salesman as a “fountain of youth.” So not surprisingly, a lot of older folks – or perhaps more appropriately folks that are considered “older” in the celebrity realm – gave it a try. So these names, while they seem like they don’t make that much sense, aren’t really all that surprising. And they’re far from the only ones, just the ones that got named.

It’s a reminder that the problem extends far beyond the drug abuse that has ravaged the professional wrestling industry and tainted the prestige of professional sports in the United States. It extends into the living rooms of people you’d never suspect, from all walks of life, who are looking for that 300mg quick fix. It’s also a reminder of who the biggest drug pushers in this country are, and where the biggest problems lie.

I won’t go on another lengthy rant, but abuse and recreational use of prescription drugs has been a bigger problem in this country that we’ve been led to believe, or wanted to believe, for quite some time now. And it’s time for us to look past the dark punchline of roided-up wrestlers and start looking at the bigger picture. We need to look at the trusted professionals throughout the United States and beyond that prescribe potentially life-saving medicines for the wrong reasons, sometimes leading to traumatic results.

You’d think that more people would have come to this realization with the ever-increasing amount of painkiller abuse in the general populace, particularly since while they’re not impossible to obtain off the street, their prevalence would seem to indicate a problem the American Medical Association should have seriously addressed a long, long time ago.

Don’t worry, here’s some Life of Kevin Marshall stuff.

Saturday afternoon was spent waiting, staring at my cellphone for Maeve to call. And she never did. She did eventually post to my LiveJournal making another promise for tomorrow that never came to be.

Oh, Maeve. Maeve, Maeve, Maeve. If you weren’t so hilarious and Irish you’d be dead to me.

Saturday night was a party at the apartment of the lovely and talented JMS. A good time was had by all, culminating in a ROUSING game of War between myself and Ed that had the last vestiges of the party deeply entrenched in our spirited conflict. And yes, I’m referring to the dumbest card game of all time (after Pitch – “it’s Bridge for the under-50 crowd!”).

I’d write more about it and post the pictures from the party, but I’m feeling particularly lazy at the moment. Instead, I direct you to my profiles on MySpace and Facebook. If you’re not friends with me YOU CAN’T SEE THEM, HAAAAA HAAAAA.

…don’t worry. You’re not missing much.

Today was such a long goddamn day. It was just…super busy. Non-stop. There were too many instances where I had to remind myself that it wasn’t worth putting myself in a bad mood over what essentially amounted to inconsequential bullshit, particularly since there wasn’t anything that fell into my lap that I couldn’t fix. If only my working days more accurately reflected my personal life.

Er…what else?

OH! I realized while trying to decide on the next three movies in my Netflix Queue that the three overriding factors in my film selection are as follows: dorkiness, snobbery, and Westerns. This pretty much guarantees that I will watch Netflix movies alone. And it got me to thinking “you know, what a fucking loser I am.”

FO SHO.

More later…

P.S. “Battlestar Galactica: Razor”, “Rescue Dawn”, and “The Simpsons Movie” are en route and should arrive Wednesday. That third one is the one that bucks the trend and may get me to actually use a Netflix rental as a means of socialization. Whoa!

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  1. January 15, 2008 at 7:19 am

    ‘Hit ’em up Style’ was sung by Blu Cantrell, NOT MJB. Just sayin’.

    • January 15, 2008 at 1:33 pm

      Seriously?

      Huh. Go figure.

      Whatever happened to her?

      • January 16, 2008 at 4:38 am

        According to wikipedia she was doing a play on the “chitlin’ circuit” prior to Thanksgiving.

        I’ll just let that one sit there.

  2. January 16, 2008 at 9:42 pm

    ;(

    • January 16, 2008 at 9:44 pm

      You do know, of course, I was being facetious.

      • January 17, 2008 at 1:47 am

        Of course! But I have just enough Catholic Guilt to warrant an emoticon.

        “;(“

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