(1 votes)
Loading ...
The New York Times made headway this morning, taking a break from mainstream, plebeian topics like cilantro and those Tea Party people and instead, giving us a glimpse into where the most exclusive people on this planet live. Halfay between Africa and South America? 1000 miles off the coast of New Zealand? The capital of Greenland. They’ve got it covered.
(1 votes)
Loading ...
In a major statement Sunday afternoon in pristine Augusta, Georgia, Phil Mickelson not only won a major victory for good, family guys everywhere but he also proved that Flow can capture championships.
Sporting his signature KPMG black hat, Mickelson’s flow was in full effect throughout the tournament, a major factor that experts have attributed to his fine play. In fact, a Harvard Sociology study has shown that golfers with flow have exceeded public expectations during just about every Major. It remains to be seen what long-term effects Mickelson’s victory will have on Flow’s emergence on a mainstream level, but we here at Really Chill Dot Org could not be happier with this short-term victory.
Remember, don’t be a sellout: Let that flow continue to grow!
(2 votes)
Loading ...Just when you thought you heard it all, today.. the New York Post is reporting that Tiger allegedly slept with his neighbor’s (at the time) 21 year old daughter
Raychel Coudriet, Tiger Wood's neighbor's daughter
Let’s do a quick recap of how chill Tiger has been lately.
To all RCB’s(Really Chill Bro’s) out there, that are looking for examples of “doing me” look no farther.
Tiger Woods, You’re like REALLY Chill
(7 votes)
Loading ...A debate between Frat Guy and Mr. West Coast.
During a recent trip back to their alma mater frat guy and mr west coast had two things on their mind: getting weird and DALOW. In order to accomplish these goals, however, each man took separate paths. In the end, their journeys left each of them arguing which was the right path, or rather, which was less wrong…
Frat Guy’s Night: Instead of going out to all the college bars, I decided to go by myself (excl) down to the sketchier townie bars. Once there, my lack of a posse advertised that I was single and ready to DALOW. This aura immediately attracted attention from an older woman across the bar. She came over to me (not having to make the move? excl) and we started to chat it up. After a few drinks I found out that she works at the college I went to, is 39, and an ex-swimsuit model. It showed.
She had the eye of the cougar, and the quick analysis of her ringless finger proved she was hungry for a kill. Drinks turned to shots, 11pm turned to 1am, and before I knew it, I was walking her out the bar with my arm around her. I had only promised to “walk her to the car,” but the car proved to be den enough for this cougar. What ensued could only be described as aggressive. This woman-a decade and a half my senior-gave me a quick education in the backseat of the car on why women really are like a fine wine…
Mr West Coast’s Night: Some fellow bros and I headed to an army-themed party at the frathouse for some good old college-style partying. While drinking in one of the rooms I was introduced to two young freshman donning some serious fatigues. After talking to one from LA for a bit, I was interrupted mid-sentence when Juicy came on; “Hold on, this is my song.” Regardless of the fact she was 4 when this was released, that’s like a REALLY chill song to call “yours.”
A little more background revealed I wasn’t dealing with your typical 19 year-old Orange County girl. Juicy gave way to a sketchy closed-door dance party with multiple freshman girls and my fellow brahs (all 24, mind you). After a few shots and more drinks, the sketchiness continued on the bottom floor, where the party was going down. Conveniently, some worthless pledges had constructed some sort of “P.O.W. cage” which immediately served as grounds for freshman-year-style grinding and dancing. If there’s one thing west coast girls know how to do, it’s drop it like its hot. None of this, I grew up in an all-girls-east-coast-boarding-school-where-thinking-about-boys-was-illegal-so-i-barely-move-my-hips-type dancing. After leaving to grab another brewski I lost track of said freshman, but received a text: “ummm you’re like really chill.” She…GETS it. Unfortunately I had to leave for the bars and smaller age gaps, but her ensuing bbm game proved to be just as sharp as mine as she referred to me as “bro,” “hommie,” and “fool” all in the same convo. She really did read at a graduate level because that’s wisdom beyond her years when it comes to west coast communication… which leads me to state: if grinding with girls born after the Wall fell is wrong…I don’t want to be right.
The Verdict: by Mr Exclusive
While I’m so exclusive I only hook up with myself, I was actually chosen to moderate this debate of older vs younger, real housewives vs gossip girl, or days of our lives vs. the hills. Allow us to take examples from Hollywood-a place with all the answers. Example A: Hollywood Cradle Robbers:
Some people might “frown” upon anyone out of college having any sort of contact with underclassmen. Lets look at Livestrong and Michelle (I didn’t bother learning the twin’s name because having someone look exactly like you isn’t excl). When she was 19, he was 34. Should we continue? When Catherine Zeta-Jones was 19, M. Douglas was 44, and when Anna Nicole was 19, J Howard Marshall was 84 (and probably dead). Now these were some of America’s “sweethearts,” and America didn’t have a problem with those cradle robbers. But agreeing with America and Hollywood isn’t always excl. Lets look at Frat Guy’s scenario.
Example B: Hollywood Cougar Hunters
Most any guy will tell you Ashton’s a legend. Bruce got too old and bald, so the young gun who’s never really accomplished anything in Hollywood took over Demi, and eventually the family: thatsexcl. Ashton? HKI. He’s so excl now, he doesn’t even appear on his own show. Now sure Demi’s been around the block a few times, but therein lies the advantage: a cougar can identify young guys who are killing it and this makes them go in for their own kill. Clearly Frat Guy’s cougar could tell HKI, but did Mr West Coast’s young G.I. Jane have any idea? Frat Guy leveraged a voracious appetite, like Ashton did, and started killing it to the nth degree. But will Ashton and Demi end up looking like this (40 and 61)?
or this (41 and 54)?
Crows feet, Lifetime Original Movies, and Menopause? Too big a risk to run. Frat Guy…you DALOW but I’m going to have to side with the bro.
(3 votes)
Loading ...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.
#1. YKI. (“Why Kay Eye”) Acronym for: “You’re killing it.” Verb. Origin: Greek.
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.”
(1 votes)
Loading ...Red Shirt (n) – a stock “cannon fodder” character in fiction, particularly in Star Trek (the original series)
yeaahhh…nnaaahhh.
Red Shirt (n) – a term referring to delaying a college athlete’s participation in order to lengthen eligibility.
Ask any former or current Varsity football player about the coveted Red Shirt and you’ll be instantly met with a smile. After all, there’s no better way to spend freshman year than learning from the upperclassmen on the football field while partying and doing tons of work off the field in the process.
Flashforward five years. College is over, you’ve retired your jersey in your parents’ living room, and the glory days of killing it in your frat house have long passed. To make matters worse, the recession has forced you away from the Center of The Universe – “New York City” – and back home to suburban Maryland. After all, being a highly recruited athlete can’t always land you a job in a shitty economy. You begin to wonder if you made a mistake not following your blockhead friends into the sick world of finance before The Dow plummeted.
That’s when you remember that you’re not losing. You’re just Red Shirting … all over again. Instead of making mistakes on the field, you’re sitting in front of the couch at your parents’ house, eating free meals, studying plays and watching old footage (Facebook). Instead of dropping passes (read: failing miserably at the bar), you’re waiting patiently in the wings to replace your washed out teammates.
You’re taking some time off to make yourself stronger and fitter in the long run, all while taking some “practice snaps” at your parents’ basement or NYC friends’ common areas. So don’t despair, you’ll play again soon enough.
(1 votes)
Loading ...Powered by Twitter Tools
(No Ratings Yet) Loading ...Powered by Twitter Tools
(2 votes)
Loading ...
Let’s face it. If we’re going to stereotype where the vast majority of motivated, educated, young finance majors are working after graduation these days, it’s on Wall Street. Mr Stereotype is no different. I attended your generic top 15 school, graduated, and went on to work at the generic bulge-bracket investment bank so I could KILL it on the weekends and be hated by 98% of the American public on weekdays. I’ll save my interning experiences for another post, but after a fruitful junior year summer, I was lucky enough to receive an offer to work full-time in the fairytale land of financial services.
Fast forward a few years and I’m sitting on a trading floor with dozens of other miserable people, selling products most people don’t understand to people who don’t understand them so that my government-assisted company can make some cash, pay back TARP, and give Joe The Plumber a mortgage for his suburban Cleveland home. Throughout my ten, eleven, or twelve-hour days sitting in front of computer monitors, separated from the people to my left and right by a few feet, no walls, and no cubicles, there is one constant occurrence: the flat screen TVs sprinkled throughout the trading floor streaming CNBC…all…day…long. The only time I’ve seen the channel changed is for high-speed police chases, or Bubble Boy, for which all of Wall Street will pause.
Now, no one usually listens to CNBC because the stories they’re breaking or the news they’re reporting has already hit the trading floor a few minutes earlier. Most people, like me, Mr Stereotype, just leave the volume on mute and pause from time to time to look at the Money Honeys…or rather, the decently attractive women that CNBC puts on the desk to maintain viewers’ attention and keep companies paying for ad spots.
Any person who’s worked in finance will tell you that the trading floor is dominated by men. It’s about a 4:1 ratio. Take that small percentage of women working on the floor and only about 1 in 10 is a looker. So unlike guys working in fashion, marketing, public relations, or any job that doesnt require math expertise, those of us in finance are left with CNBC anchors as our eye candy (sorry women, it’s not stereotyping if it’s true, check those male/female SAT averages).
But some of them aren’t that bad…
A stereotypical finance guy secretly wishes that one, two, or all of the Money Honeys will pose for Playboy or Penthouse to bring in some extra cash during the Financial Crisis. And really, there’s no shame in posing for Playboy. After all, Janet Jackson did it. Nothing is more of a turn on than someone who already has a legitimate career posing naked to let everyone know that along with being successful, they also have a smoking hot body. If not Playboy, let’s at least get a guest appearance in Maxim, GQ, FHM, or something…
EDITORS NOTE: The following Money Honeys were referenced for “research purposes:” Mitali Mukherjee, Becky Quick, Erin Burnett, Melissa Francis, Trish Regan, Michelle Caruso-Cabrera, Maria Bartiromo, Melissa Lee, Karen Tso (CNBC Australia), Amanda Drury (CNBC Australia)
You are currently browsing the archives for the updates category.
follow on twitter 
fan on facebook
