Word to your cruller

Vanilla Ice + ice coffee = karaoke mayhem at Copley
By SARA FAITH ALTERMAN  |  March 30, 2007

btvstart222488221btvend

It’s 45 degrees outside, and Vanilla Ice has just frisked me. 

Tattoos, lip ring, and loose cannon reputation aside, Rob Van Winkle is a pretty mellow guy. Gone are the baggy pants and zealously-gelled fade haircut of his alter-ego; the new Ice (can I call him Ice?) is handsome and gentlemanly, a family man who adores his two daughters and is quick with a genial giggle.

At least, when the cameras aren’t looking.

The man who famously “borrowed” a hook from Queen and is notorious for his destructive tendencies (forget the Surreal Life debacle -- remember when he took a baseball bat to his album, then the set furniture, on MTV, as a bemused Jon Stewart and Denis Leary looked on?) has the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. And though off-screen it’s charming, even jovial, it’s a different story when Rob Van Winkle morphs into Vanilla Ice: suddenly, in the glare of the cameras, he looks like a homicidal jack-o-lantern. The grin is just a little too wide, the hand gestures just a little too sharp. 

The dichotomy lends itself well to public appearances, and Tuesday’s was no exception.  In town to judge, of all things, an “Ice, Ice Baby” karaoke contest, Ice was all unnerving smiles as he talked about the crowd of freestylin’ wannabes that packed Copley Square Park at lunchtime. “Anytime people are smiling and having a good time, I love it,” he says, “It’s hard to do! A lot of people had a hard time catching up to the beat. It doesn’t wait for you. It doesn’t slow down. You gotta try to figure out where you’re at.” 

Of course, you’d never catch Ice wielding a mic to the manufactured beat of Japan’s favorite party game. “I’ve never done karaoke.  I don’t do karaoke,” he tells me, his lips twisting into an incredulous sneer as though I’ve just insulted the very essence of his manhood.  I’m  not sure if I should apologize or shield myself with the nearest piece of furniture, but he quickly slips back into friendly, affable Ice and pats down my jacket.  “I get paid for that! Where’s your checkbook?”

The competition, a bizarre exhibition of ‘talent’ that required contestants to rewrite the words to Ice’s ‘90s anthem “Ice, Ice Baby”, was part of a promotional stunt brewed up by a certain prominent local coffee chain. One-by-one, people took the stage to spit rhymes in the hopes of winning $1000 and a year’s supply of – yep – iced, iced coffee. By noon the park was jam-packed with cheering fans and baffled onlookers, the latter group legitimately confused, perhaps, as to why the hell a crowd of people was so worked up over iced coffee in near-freezing temperatures. No matter. When contestant Kerry Michaels dropped a note-perfect “Word to your cruller!,” the confusion gave way to glee, and, dare I say, a little bit of respect.

Ice was an enthusiastic participant, tag-teaming with co-judge (and hometown comedy hero) Lenny Clarke for good-natured slams against those contestants who dared to get sassy. “That was entertaining for about ten seconds!” Ice told an unfortunate competitor wearing even more unfortunate sunglasses, who immediately spat back, “So was TheSurreal Life!”

1  |  2  |   next >
Related: Asia minor, Ding Ho home, Wordplay, More more >
  Topics: Lifestyle Features , Entertainment, Culture and Lifestyle, Media,  More more >
| More


Most Popular
ARTICLES BY SARA FAITH ALTERMAN
Share this entry with Delicious
  •   INTERVIEW: ANDY RICHTER  |  November 25, 2009
    We have a chub for Andy Barker, P.I. (just released out on DVD), because we have a major chub for the show’s star, Andy Richter. Richter plays an accountant who is mistaken for a detective-for-hire and decides to just roll with it. 
  •   REVIEW: SPREAD  |  August 19, 2009
    If only there were some way to watch a con-artist houseboy give his cougar sugar mama a squirming reach-around, charm the pants off a candy-necklace string of countless empty-eyed Hollywood stick figures, lose his heart to an untouchable social chameleon, and, in the process, find himself .
  •   NORTHERN EXPOSURE  |  July 29, 2009
    While New York is grittier, Los Angeles juicier, and Boston is wicked smahter, for some odd reason it is Montreal that, for two weeks every summer, becomes the epicenter of the comedy universe.
  •   JUST FOR LAUGHS  |  July 27, 2009
    Blogs, Tweets, and comedy video direct from moose country
  •   BEAT THE TWEET  |  July 22, 2009
    Warm weather is supposed to be accessorized by lackaday, by a breezy sensibility best enjoyed with a frosty tall boy in one hand, the sloppy product of a back-yard barbecue in the other. Instead, I find myself struggling to balance my beer between my knees and my overstocked paper plate on my thigh as I furiously poke at my BlackBerry.

 See all articles by: SARA FAITH ALTERMAN