In observance of Hennessygate, Day 2, I proudly present the Official Hip Flask of the Los Angeles Lakers. This mobile booze-delivery system is available for purchase even if you're not a Lakers small forward. Perfect for the alcoholic basketball fan on your Christmas list! Ehh? *winks suggestively, points thumbs at self*
After practice today, Kobe Bryant addressed the news that a young Ron Artest used to get tipzay in the Chicago Bulls locker room, rhetorically slamming the door shut on the story as it pertains to Lakerdom:
He's not doing that shit here, so it's got nothing to do with us.
Also, Kobe described Ron as an "A+ teammate." Since I read that quote, I can't get the "A Team" theme song out of my head.
Maybe a little Henny will help with that problem....
Some other deeply interesting news bits from a Laker off-day:
The Miami Heat - are playing in Denver tonight (7:30 Pacific on TNT) before visiting Staples tomorrow. What a delightful back-to-back... I'm sure they're thrilled about the scheduling. They should be nice and groggy when they take the floor against the Lakers, although Michael Beasley is often groggy for a different reason.
I know by next summer I will have my ultimate bikini body.
We recommend that you visit Silver Screen and Roll at least 20 times a day for developments on this breaking story.
Shannon Brown - apparently throws good parties. Some blogger I've never heard of but who clearly gets invited to better shit than I do posted this play-by-play account of Shannon's birthday festivities, held at The Playhouse in Hollywood. I have to say, it's a stirring read.
The party got started soon after the Lakers arrived, Kobe and his wife Vanessa (gorgeous woman that she is), Ron Artest, Shannon Brown, Josh Powell, Jordan Farmar and others. The music was jamming and then all the pretty ingénues started arriving. One sexy frequent flyer is Porscha Coleman. She always looks sultry. Porscha is famous for wearing tight fitting jeans with the midriff left to show-n-tell, revealing a chocolaty hourglass waist....
By twelve thirty the party was on fire. People were dancing on the lower level, Girls were slithering and sliding in cages and the VIP’s were on the top level, which by the way you could not see any of the action from that tier. The entire club was jammed packed and the music, the crowd, and energy was a hot bed for an infectious party virus.
I admit it, I'm jealous. "Infectious party virus" usually takes on a different meaning at my place. That's why I keep that candy bowl of antibiotics near the door.