He chills at Trestles, catches mondo mackers at County Line, and kicks it at USC parties on the weekends. Mr West Coast doesn't own a car ... his longboard takes him wherever he needs to go.
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We know, we know. It’s been a while since we last posted, but it’s tough to make time to “write” when you’ve been doing things like “winning” for a couple of months straight. Nevertheless, we missed you guys and we’re back with a brand new feature: The Really Chill Phrase of the Week.
Obviously, an essential part of being REALLY chill is having your own terminology that, well, you and maybe a handful of people understand. For that reason, we decided to introduce a couple of key expressions that must be part of your vernacular if you want to be exponentially chiller than you currently are.
The act of “killing” or “murdering it” in any situation, regardless of external factors such as country, weather, or social setting; winning at all costs, doing something legendary. Used in a sentence: “Jonny-I heard you got a table at 1Oak last night then took the bottle waitresses on your G6 to LA where you went to a party at the playboy mansion…YKI.”
Alternate uses: HKI-hes killing it, SKI-shes killing it. IKI-im killing it, I killed it, I’ll kill it, I’ve killed it. NKI – Not killing it.
Close synonyms: YMI: “You murdered/murked it.”
For the chillest of chill…“KMM” – “Kill Murder Murk” Used in a sentence: “I drank so much at that bar, got 10 girls numbers, lost my phone, and got thrown out of own apartment complex. I KMM’d the night.”
It’s 11 p.m. on a Saturday night. What was supposed to be a fratty pregame with some college bros and maybe a couple randos has quickly morphed into a rager. Beer pong balls are flying around the room and someone just popped a couple of bottles of Goose — that’s Geese. A sketchy dance party is in full effect. You’re eyeing one of the blondes in the corner who works with your friend Kristy and she catches your gaze with a smile.
Jason Derulo’s “Watcha Say” is on blast – it’s been your go-to song all summer and – you start grinding against the blonde. You bring out your signature dance move – the invisible microphone, obviously – and she grabs your hand and starts singing along to the chorus. “Jackpot,” you say to yourself as you take a swig of your Jack and Coke while your hand moves against her waist.
She’s feelin you and starts moving in closer. You’re about to motion her to your room to “take shots and maybe watch an episode of ____” when suddenly the music stops. “What the fuck!” you shout as you glare at the culprit unplugging your iPod from the other side of the room. He’s wearing flannel, tight jeans — the token hipster of the party that no one knows — and you overhear him talking about this “really chill trance DJ from Iceland” that he’s trying to “you , know blow up” in the U.S.
You desperately try and grab the blonde work before it’s too late but the damage is done. She bolted. You lost.
Lesons of Losing:
Never leave your iPod in plain sight
Trance music – unless specified strictly for after hours purposes – is, like, nott that chill
If someone says that a new track is like “reeaally chill” it’s probably “not that chill” because you haven’t heard it yet. Therefore, it should not be played at your party.
Christmas break. If you thought it ended in college, you’re mistaken. There’s nothing bros like more than returning to their old stomping grounds (aka high school bars and football fields) after a spat in the “real world,” reminiscing about who they used to “do work” on and potentially rekindling an old flame or 12.
1. he’d either be flying private (refer to mr exclusive)
2. he’d be flying first class (aka NOT coach)
3. the meeting would be coming to HIM.
We all know THAT guy too. He’s the one talking extra loudly acting like public silence doesnt bother him, making sure you can hear everything he’s saying. “No, tell Mike to run the numbers again…and make sure Eddie shoots those docs over to me…ok ya ya ya…I’m taking off, ok…I’ll get at you when we get into Geneva.” Dude…clearly Mike and Eddie are interns, because anyone making sure everyone hears their business calls is most definitely at the bottom of the hierarchical totem pole. And clearly the flight is going to Long Beach airport, not Switzerland.
And how bout THAT traveler with the world’s most annoying ring? Or THAT traveler that has to call their ride the second the plane lands? Ok, everyone on the plane knows we’ve been delayed over an hour, but waiting an extra ten minutes wont kill your friend that’s driving you to your ten year high school reunion. Ya thats like…not that chill.
Happy Holidays everyone and if you come across THAT guy on the plane, move seats as quickly as possible.
So, like, this weekend, I violated a cardinal rule in fratology: I WENT to a CLUB. Needless to say, it was an unpleasant experience for this fraternity veteran. Highlights of the night included 14 dollar jack and cokes instead of $.50 PBR’s, foreign “models,” and Euro dudes in Ed Hardy dancing to techno music by themselves.
Just when I thought I would have to retire my letters out of shame, I saw something out of the corner of my eye: a bunch of dudes in blowouts fist-pumping with their shirts completely unbuttoned. “Had Los Angeles really deteriorated into Long Island?” I thought as I watched a dozen lemon drop shots being consumed by said individuals. Upon further inspection, the bare-shirted clowns proved to be none other than Paully D, Mike “The Situation” and some tagalongs of MTV’s flagship show, The Jersey Shore. Not to be outdone, 4′9 Snookers and J Woww in close by tow. The scene outside Mi6 courtesy of TMZ (Best line “Snookie is a real person, dude!”):
We had a nice little chat last week about probably one of the most disgraceful and offensive programs MTV has ever debuted, The Jersey Shore. As if it wasn’t enough that we viewers had to sit through episodes of Road Rules, Real World and Made, MTV decided 2009 was the time to really throw is in the mud: A show about a bunch of self-proclaimed “guidos” and “guidettes” spending a summer in a shore house with a map of Italy on the front.
As if “real life” on “The Shore” wasn’t bad enough for the network, MTV staff affiliated with the show have been receiving death threats. From The NY Daily News:
“The MTV building inTimes Squarewas getting crazy threats and they are in the process of hiring more security [and] bodyguards,” an insider revealed to Fox News. Those involved with the press for the show were particular targets — receiving threatening emails, abusive phone calls and even hurtful Facebook messages, says the insider.
Clearly, this show was a terrible idea given that it has received this backlash. Even Domino’s has pulled the trigger, refusing to advertising spots during The Jersey Show. And yet…like… hear at ReallyChill.org, we just can’t stop watching it. Is “Snookie” from Poughkeepsie actually going to leave The House? Who’s The Situation going to do work on?
Mr. West Coast checking in. It’s been a while since my last post but now that the latest swell has died down, I can finally put down the board and pick up the blog.
For those of you living on the Wack Coast (read: East Coast), this weekend marks the culmination of Pac 10 football. Despite a disappointing season for the Pac 10 (seriously, a team from Oregon in the Rose Bowl?), this Saturday promises to be one of the chillest Saturdays when U of A travels to the Coliseum to take on the Trojans. Naturally, the question arises, “Which school is more chill?” To answer this question, we’ve assembled a team of bros from the up and down the West Coast to break it down:
Sweet Bros: USC
Despite the fact that lax is not prevalent at either school, both schools boast strong fraternity mansions, so naturally, chill bros can be found in plenty. In fact, we were pleased to learn that over 73 percent of underclassmen polled at both schools expressed that frats had a “strong influence” on their day-to-day lices.
Due to its location in L.A. (center of the Universe), however, ‘SC clearly wins this one. Bros can hit up chill surf spots like El Porto and Trestles as well as good snowboarding spots like Mountain High and still make it back in time to haze their pledges before a trip to the Nine O.
Tucson’s got…well…Monster Truck Rallies and the Rodeo, which means there is little else to condition a bro except to get roided before going to the gym.
Fly Girls: University of Arizona
No contest. Have you seen this place? When the weekend begins on like Monday morning, there is little else to do except chill by the pool and look great. ‘SC has talent though, just not compared to the desert’s finest.
Chillest Quarterback: USC
Again, a tough one because at first glance Matt Barkley and Nick Foles seem like, really chill. However…
From the first clips of “Video Killed the Radio Star” launching MTV into a multi-billion dollar empire based on music videos, the media mogul has now sunk to a new low. Why you ask? Well, the “stars” of the Jersey Shore will surely kill MTV in the new “thrilling” series to launch this December.
Running low on show ideas? Let’s take a bunch of guidos from Staten Island, pay for their “shore house” for a summer, and see what kind of drama unfolds in the Armpit of America (New Jersey)…
Now for my fellow West Coasters who, after watching this, are baffled by the phenomenon of this “guido” grade douche bag, brace yourself. On the East Coast, not only is this breed of animal widespread in certain areas (Long Island, Staten Island, & New Jersey), but some women, as MTV demonstrates, are actually attracted to it.
Let’s start with the hair. Yes, you saw correctly: a young man with a suitcase full of gel, presumably to last him a few weeks. Now, growing up on the West Coast, I can’t hate on gel, cause we all used it…in SIXTH GRADE. But using an entire bottle each night when you go out to get that perfect “blowout” look is just comical.
As far as that guy who only talks about his abs and shows them off…I don’t think it can get much more toolish than that. Calling your abs the “situation,” and likening yourself to Rambo while shadow boxing alone in an aerobics room? NOT chill. Mr West Coast will be the first to tell you he doesn’t have a six pack. Thats because he and Frat Guy have thrown back too many PBRs, Stones, Natties, and Beasts together, while Sammy Six Pack was drinking protein shakes and working out during his breaks from his office job as a telemarketer.
Girls comparing themselves to insects and being proud of it?
“I’m like a preying mantis…”
Wow, honey…you’re like REALLY chill. Oh wait, you’re some psycho girl from Staten Island who’s in “beauty school” and waiting to find “mr. right” at the Jersey Shore.
And last time I checked, “guido” was an offensive term. Maybe someone should tell that to the kid that says
“being a guido and Italian…you’re family is really important to you.”
I won’t even call in Mr Stereotype from the bullpen to give us a simile on that one.
Do you think Tupac ever went to the Jersey Shore? Hell no. He was killing it in Malibu, where people are normal, waves are bigger, and the term “blowout” doesn’t exist. This show would make Biggie roll in his grave. The Jersey Shore encompasses everything I hate about the East Coast: tools, douches, and beach communities that are NOT chill.
“You never know whats going to go down at the shore…”
Actually I do:
a bunch of guido guys will get in guido fights with each other over guido girls while wearing graphic tees
people will say things like “lets get it poppin”
driving their dads’ Range Rovers.
Some sappy music will accompany some dramatic story lines about a girl that is a bartender and “does great things” and
a guy wont be able to score enough steroids to keep up with Rambo the Situation, and …
Ahh yes, its that wonderful time of year again… Thanksgiving time, autumn leaves, holiday shopping…oh yeah, and when two of the least “chill” concepts come together in a horrible portmanteau. The douchebag and the mustache.
The Douchebag (n)
An individual who has an over inflated sense of self worth, compounded by a low level of intelligence, behaving ridiculously in front of colleagues with no sense of how moronic he appears. – urban dictionary
You can’t put into words what the picture hasn’t already said. But I’ll try and dissect some of it.
The Livestrong / Any bracelet – Lance Armstrong is chill. Bracelet = not chill
Hat tipped at to the side at an “oh so perfect” angle? – is this 2001? Are people still wearing American Eagle not CHILL
Chinese lettering tatoos… when you’re not Chinese…and you probably have no idea what the letters even mean – NOT CHILL
The Mustache (n)
A section of facial hair located above the lips. A popular style ith adolescents. Also called a “stache”. – urban dictionary
The portmanteau ”Mo-vember” received its significance when some douchebag thought he was making a social statement by displaying his douchebaggery (read: growing a mustache to support a cause). In many cases, “Movember” is paired with a flat-brimmed Angels cap and Forum shirt, an attire popular in Orange County.
Not to get sidetracked, but each of these righteous causes deserves a dedicated post, however spending a lot of time on things that are not chill… is not… that…chill.
Mr. West Coast here, giving you a little education on this strip of “land” 789 square miles north of San Diego and south of Los Angeles. Call it what you will – The Land of Nixon, The O.C. – but from an anthropological perspective, Orange County is one of the most exotic, richly diverse, interesting regions in the country.
A little background: The famous county symbol is basic a flat-brimmed Angel cap with an oversized Forum shirt to match. RVCA can sometimes be subsituted depending on the occasion. Constituent meetings and governmental decisions are usually made at the executive level at Sharkeez bar in Huntington Beach, or local skateparks in Brea, whichever is more accessible by BMX bike. Most of the incorporated areas mandate at least 7 tattoos across one’s body (though parts of The OC, like Newport Beach, have relaxed these restrictions).
Perhaps most intriguing about the entire region is a phenomenon known as The Orange County Girl. With similarities to her East Coast, hoop-wearing cousin, The Shore Girl, The OC Girl prefers boards to blowouts and flat-brims to fist-pumps. Nevertheless, she can almost routinely be found venturing to Los Angeles nightclubs – MyHouse, Playhouse, anything else ending in “house” = dancing on tables, making a mess, and costing unsuspecting guys hundreds (thousands) of dollars in booze and potential lawsuits.
How do I know an O.C. Girl when I see one?
Easy – dyed blonde hair, fake tan, L.A. VIP area. If you need confirmation or you feel like she is lying when she says she’s visiting from Texas, bluntly ask her for her number. If the area code begins with the 3 fateful numbers “949,” congrats, you’ve caught one in the wild.
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