I Can't Help But Wonder...

I thought another segment of "I can't help but wonder" was in order today. I found myself wondering about a couple things on the way to work this morning.

I can't help but wonder...

Why the fuck obese people complain about their weight and then go out for lunch and order 2 value meals at McD's. Super-sized. I don't get it. Listen, I have nothing against the obese, or the crippled or Carnies for that matter. But I hate the incessant complainers who refuse to do a damn thing about their situations. I can't go into too much detail, but I work with several of the gravitationally challenged. I hear most of them complaning in the bathroom about their weight, and about how it's so hard to get out of bed, and about how they dread sitting on the toilet (wiping must be a fucking nightmare)...and I feel bad. But when I see them in the cafeteria with two helpings of shepard's pie, four rolls, unlimited butter, a sandwich, two puddings and three brownies, my good samaritan disposition goes out the window. Eat a fucking vegetable. Jesus.

I can't help but wonder...

Why Dunkin' Donuts even bothers to make the cinnamon and powdered munchkins. I go into the same DD about three times a week for my iced coffee and occasional bagel. If I'm in a good mood, I bring back 25 munchkins for the sales team here. But I always go for the chocolate/jelly/glazed assortment. I've never once ordered cinnamon or powdered and I never will. Not to mention, I don't think I've ever been in there when the two respective bins for the cinnamon and powdered weren't completely full. No one orders that kind unless they don't specifically ask for only the chocolate/jelly/glazed combo. And frankly, you're retarded if you don't specify that combo. One thing you can be sure of: if someone in your circle(s) has eaten a powdered donut or munchkin, it will be blatantly obvious because they will be covered in powder. Be careful, though...try not to mistaken he who has eaten a powdered donut with he who has snorted coke in the bathroom.

I can't help but wonder...

Is it ever going to snow again in New England? It's to the point where I'll see a report that it's going to snow, I'll look outside and comment that it 'looks like snow', but in the back of my head I know that it's a crock of shit. Do you know that it's snowed more in Malibu than it has here in Boston so far this winter? Yes, Malibu. This city needs a snowstorm to feel normal again I think. Christ, this place is upside-down as of late. I wrote about how backwards the weather was making things back in November when it was 75 degrees. At least the Patriots were still normal then...in case you missed it, they lost the AFC Championship to the Colts on a late, game-winning drive that was orchestrated by Peyton Manning. What a backwards fucking world it is. Please god, make it snow a shit-load at some point soon. I can't take this anymore. I need to feel normal again. (I also want work to be closed)

W'eeeeeeeeee'kend.

In ranking weekends over the course of a year, this past weekend is typically the worst one from a sports standpoint. The Pats are done, the Sox are still a few weeks away from reporting to Ft. Myers and...well, what else is there? Sunday had absolutely nothing to offer in the way of sports, unless you count the C's/Wiz game. But with the exception of the play of Delonte and Gomes, there wasn't much to be pleased about. The return of Wally saw him shoot 3-for-12 and look miserable out there, overall. I don't recall any Gerald moments and once again, all anyone talks about now is the Oden race. And finally, this little tidbit: if the Green lose to Indy tonight, that will be 12 in a row, setting them to break the franchise record for losses in a row on Wednesday night against...who else? The Lake Show. Of course, I will be at this game with a barrage of threats to yell at Kobe.

This weekend also brought the first Helton rumors to my eyes/ears, courtesy of the Levine wire. EEI reports that Helton is on board and so is Rockies' brass. I'm ok with giving up Julian Tavares and Craig Hansen, but I don't know if I can be totally ok with letting go of Jacoby Ellsbury if need be. He's part of the future of this team along with our young arms, Pedroia and Murphy. Supposedly Lowell would be involved in a deal too, but he's getting dumped after this year anyway and Youk would be our everyday 3rd baseman with Helton in town. That's pretty much a wash in my eyes, although Lowell is a superior defensive player. I know that 17 is available to Helton, since Marty Barrett is longer playing and Butch Hobson is no longer managing. I hear Helton carries a very blue-collar work ethic to the game as well, which we need to replace the style of Trot. I'm all for this deal.

Some good material from this weekend: La's brother Ilan was in town again, bringing his lovely girlfriend Celia in for a showing. Sunday morning brought this conversation prior to my Dunkie's run.

La: "Are you sure you can carry all that stuff?" (talking to me, referring to 4 coffees, 4 boston creams, 4 bagels and cream cheese...it ended up being 4 coffees, a dozen assorted donuts and 6 bagels with cream cheese)

Ilan: "It's like a tray and bag."

Me: "I was going to say that it's a bag and a tray."

Ilan: "I know that a tray and bag is the same as a bag and a tray through the symmetric property."

Really classic material there, and thus we spent a good 15 minutes coming up with the four basic properties of basic algebra. They are: communicative, associative, distributive and transitive. Sadly, I only got one of them. Celia and Ilan knew the other three between them. They're also 19 and not too far removed from Algebra 1 when compared to me.

Finally, we're now 5-for-5 as far as blacking out at Ned Devine's as a group. This time it was for Russell's birthday and we didn't disappoint. The photo above marks a few firsts on the blog...La appears (next to me), G-Money is there is all his glory and of course, the Uncle, in his classic Johnny Cash attire. I think he commented on how good he looked about 74 times that night, but he was money. Lastly, this is also the first appearance of Jay and Sarah in the blog (far right). They're newly engaged, too. Richie, this photo is pretty much for you since you couldn't make it. Notice the look on my face, signifying that you indeed were not there. I'm just showing my dismay.

Cozy, One-Family Tree with a View. Cheap!

I was further researching the state of the Cambodian centaur lady this morning when I happened upon another interesting article of non-traditional dwellings. Check this out: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/6275623.stm

Here's a story about a man from a rural area of India who left home after constant fighting with his wife. When men leave their families in this country, they probably go to a hotel for the time being and maybe return home after some time or just move into an apartment if there's no hope of moving back into his original home. Our Indian friend here chose a different path, however. He moved into a tree.

You can see a picture of this man if you click on the link above, as he sits in his apparent treehouse, looking ever so neighborly. I just wonder what may have been going through this guy's head when he chose this new abode. Granted, things are much different over there in India and maybe his options were limited. But when you're first instinct is to live in a tree, there have got to be some alarming reasons behind your decision.

Maybe this guy is a raging pedophile. Besides living in an ice cream truck, where else would you be able to better attract young kids than a fucking treehouse? Can I tell you how badly I wanted a treehouse when I was a pre-pubescent boy? Nothing else mattered to me. And think about how cool it would be if you were foraging for berries with your pal in the Indian forest and you saw this dope treehouse above you. There's no way you're turning down an invitiation. Chances are, he wouldn't even have to kidnap you or tie you up or anything. He knows you're coming back there every day. It's a fucking treehouse.

Our friend here reports that he had to move to the edge of the forest upon first moving into the community because he feared that elephants and/or monkeys wouldn't take too well to his arrival and ultimate existence. Analogy: the elephants are like the elderly couple who hate it when younger people move into their neighborhood and they constantly complain about the noise and partying. The monkeys, on the other hand, are like the family you just don't want to live next to, no matter what. They're dirty, never mow the lawn, there's a couch on the edge of their driveway, a huge compost pile in the backyard that smells of vomit and feces and they're always yelling, no matter what. Not to mention, the whole neighborhood can hear them when they have sex. Naturally, our friend here had to move to the outskirts of the neighborhood/forest to get away from this shit. I'm guessing the elephants would try to shake him out of his tree and the monkeys would just be a damn nuisance, constantly coming over to his treehouse and crapping all over the place. I'd imagine there would be a good amount of banana peels left behind, too.

I don't know if I could make it in a tree. Our friend talked about a cyclone that came through the area at one point and he said that falling trees came within inches of killing him and wrecking his fort. Imagine how pissed you'd be if took all this time to craft this nasty treehouse and then a fucking cyclone barrels through and in about two seconds, it's gone. And you were just about to put in that trap door for intruders that doubled as an escape route to an adjoining zipwire. Balls. Can you even begin to imagine the sheer terror you'd experience if you were looking a cyclone in the eye, with nothing but a bunch of sticks and leaves between it and you? That's certain self-defecation.

This I can promise you: If I ever decide to leave the confines of Humboldt or any home for that matter, I'm going straight to the harbor in Marblehead and finding a boat to live on until the owner comes out to use it. I'm willing to bet you he wouldnt do anything to you...and he might even be happy that you've been taking care of things in his absence. Who knows, maybe he even lets you stay there. Regardless, if this ever happens, my door is always open. Actually, my deck. My deck is always open.

One Telly Cut, Please.

Sandwiched between a documentary about the death of an American Journalist and Friday Night Lights, I took in a portion of Sportscenter last night and I was lucky enough to see a candid interview with Tony Romo as conducted by Ed Werder. I can safely say that my hatred for this man Romo has ceased and promptly upon my arrival to my computer this morning, I ordered a Romo fathead for my wall and a Romo jersey. Ok, you got me. I'm so lying. Truth be told, I hate him even more now. What's also irking me this morning is the Superbowl matchup and while I vowed not to talk about it, I can't help it. It's the worst possible matchup for Patriot fans to surmise. I'm also going to do something for the first time at the end of this entry: post an advertisement.

I begin with the Romo thing. As Werder asks him what exactly happened on that fateful day against the Seahawks, Romo looks up and to the side, ums and ahs and offers this. The ball was slippery and he couldn't get a good grip on it. But following this, he does mention that it was his fault. I'm sorry, didn't you just blame it on the ball, Tony? Perhaps you're saying that it was both of your faults that contributed to the second most embarrassing play in Cowboy history (http://espn.go.com/page2/s/superbowlmoments25.html --see #11--). Here's my opinion of what happened. You mention this slippery ball and later on the interview you hop into bed with T.O. and detail how he texted you so much after that game and was just really supportive. What you forgot to mention was that this 'slippery ball' was merely a result of the semen on your hands that you failed to wipe off after beating T.O. off on the sideline prior to the field goal attempt. I mean, are you really going to build this guy up after he lead the league in dropped passes and suicide attempts? You shouldn't. Think about paying homage to those Cowboys who actually made a contribution this season. Maybe Marion Barber or Terry Glenn. I'm getting off track here...digression...my suggestion for the 'Boys is that they draft Brady Quinn and breed him to be the next Troy Aikman. Tony Romo should not be a starter in this league.

Moving onto the Superbowl XLI matchup, my bitterness goes beyond the fact that the Colts are representing the AFC in the title game. It goes beyond the fact that Peyton Manning is going to have a ring on his finger, come 10pm on 2/6 (figuratively, since the rings take months to manufacture). A lot of my angst lies in the fact that NFC's representative is the Chicago Bears, a team that the Patriots embarrassed in Foxboro back in early December. I give all the props in the world to the Bears' D and special teams. Hell, if I could take any ONE player in the NFL and put him on the Pats next year, it would be either Lance Briggs or Devin Hester. What I don't understand is how they've come this far with Rex Grossman at the helm. Do you realize that in TWO games this season, he had an overall rating of under 2? He had a fucking ZERO RATING against the Packers at the end of the season this year. Following this game, he admitted that he wasn't fully prepared for the Packers. I don't know how you can even be under-prepared for a game at the end of the season when you have absolutely everything to prove to your team, your coaches and your fans. Well, maybe fans is a strong word...let's say onlookers. People are still suggesting the Brian Griese start the Superbowl for the Bears. It's a disgrace to the NFL that he's a Superbowl quarterback.

Continuing on the anti-Rex campaign, I know that he throws a good deep ball. He always could and honestly when he was at Florida I really liked watching the Gators play. What baffles me about throwing the deep balls is that if you can have the arm strength to chuck a ball 70 yards in the air and put it on the money time and again, why the FUCK can't you throw a dump off to the flats? Why in God's name can't you hit the slant, 10 yards in front of you? And why can't you throw a 15-yard out to a receiver who you work with every, single day?? It's a mystery to me. He's got it all with his receiving corps. A tall, strong possession receiver in Muhsy, a deep threat with blazing speed in Berrian and a very solid third option in Davis. Plus, Desmond Clark isn't exactly a slouch at TE. So maybe Rex doesn't have the work ethic, I don't know. But it's just AWFUL that he's starting a Superbowl. As much as I hate the opposing QB, at least he's deserving of starting a Superbowl.

I think I've actually ranted enough for today which is an amazing feeling for me. I feel rejuvenated. And as promised, I shall conclude with an advertisement/glowing recommendation for the best hair stylist 'round there here parts. For a fine salon experience, good conversation and a downright lethal appearance when you leave, go see CHANTEL at CENTER SALON in BRIGHTON, MA (617-782-7977). My roommate swears that her work alone is responsible for 50% of his hookups since going to her, if not more. And seeing as he's Tubby, I'd venture to say it's around 85%. Seriously, you won't be let down. Just go in and ask for the 'Telly Cut' and tell her French sent you. I can't promise a discount, but they do have free dumdums. Oh, just do me one favor and don't hit on her. She happens to be Mrs. URLB/Richie's girl. So don't even think about it.

Go fuck yourself, San Diego. (in no way is this purporting any dislike or bashing of the state of California or the city of San Diego. I'm merely showing my distaste for our weather)

A Little Sac Never Hurt Nobody

A conversation I had with La last night got me thinking about something and I'd like to have the input of anyone who might care to offer some explanations. Contrary to what you might think, this is not an issue between her and I but it came up last night in regards to another subject who suffers from this thing.

I have plenty of friends who do it in the company of only male friends. Then I have a select few friends that do it whenever, wherever they might be...regardless of company. I am referring to a guy having his hand down his pants, whether he's sitting on the couch, standing against a wall, driving...you get the point. You may hear this referred to as 'playing with the pud', 'pocket pool', 'itchyballsitis', etc. All I can do here is offer my reasons for handling the meat when I do indeed handle it.

I'm a culprit of this more than any other time when I'm driving alone. I can't really say what makes it so satisfying, but it just feels good. It's not like we're pleasuring ourselves when we have the hand down there, it's more of a comfort thing. I like to lightly pull and scratch areas of the sac when I'm down there; rarely do I involve the shaft or the head. I think women might understand this better if they had a sac. It's impossible to assign a value to a this pliable, dangling bag of balls and mystery fluids but I don't know what I'd do without mine. It's fun to play with from a non-erotic standpoint and assuming I've showered that day, it's pretty clean. Granted some duck butter builds up down there (see definition below) at times and it's a dark and damp area by nature but it's pretty clean because I'm hygienic. I just hate when girls refer to having a hand down our pants as 'gross' because really, if it's gross to you that my hand is down there, why would you ever put your mouth down there, for cryin' Pete? That doesn't make sense. Of course, using this argument will only backfire as surely whichever girl you say this to will ultimately become the warrior princess of not giving head. Like, she'll become all militant about it and forever blame you for pointing out that she's a hypocrite. Thus no bj's for you anymore. Nooooooooo bj's.

Another main reason for needing to lightly scratch and tug at the sac on a regular basis is because it's the itchiest place on my body, hands down. it's not like a disease thing, but if you think about, there are long hairs on the sac that curl in and constantly tickle the ball bag and make it necessary to get down there and give it a scratch, or a rub, or a tug. Again, any girl would understand if she possessed a ball bag. I know that we, as guys, don't see you, as girls, with your hand down your pants, playing around. I think this would gross me out, yes. But it's so different. There's nothing remotely close between our sex organs and yours. It's not like we're...forget it, I can't go there. But you get what I mean. It's not the same ballpark...it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. (Winfield)

This isn't really directed at anyone in particular because again, La and I had a very casual and funny conversation about this last night. Frankly, I don't think she gives a fuck either way but I tend not to do this in public simply because I choose not to. But I can defend those who do because I understand.

duck butter - noun.

1. The sweat that builds up on your ball bag from intense heat and eventually makes its way down towards the crack and settles in. (aka swamp ass)

2. The mud in the swamp.

i.e. (as quoted from the Uncle) I'm working with some serious duck butter right now; time for a wipe.

I left my 'H' in Indy

A part of me died in Indianapolis this weekend, thus I will be known only as 'Frenc' from now on. I'll keep you posted on my quest to retrieve the 'H'.

I'm not going to comment too much on the obvious; it's far too painful to conjure up memories of what sadly was probably one of the greatest games ever played between two goal posts. Perhaps my 'H' lies in some of the sweat that I shed over the course of that game...I sincerely hope Richie posts a picture he took on his way back from the pisser, as you see me in a red throwback Ty Law jersey amongst an absolute ocean of Colt blue. It's pretty awesome. But we all sweat it out in that Dome, surrounded by loathing Manningettes and Harrison's Sons. Some were friendly, others were worthy of having paper cuts over every square inch of their body, followed by a bath in rubbing alcohol.

I really enjoyed it when two girls in front of us asked that we stop using the word 'fuck' in our cheering. You can imagine her dismay when I gave her our patented shoulder shrug and a chorus of 'Schmeh', followed by Richie asking her if she 'was fucking serious'. Well played. I also enjoyed watching Ellis Hobbs return kicks in this game. Finally, I think we all agreed that Asante is now worth in the vicinity of $38 million a year now. It's good to be under the cap.

Lines of the weekend are brought to you by a newcomer to this blog: a Mr. Kyle Chepla. I thought me and my boys were a little weird before this weekend. Now I'm assured that if we're a little weird, Chepla is weird x infinity.

"Taking a dump under a heatlamp was not on my list of things to do today."

-and-

"Before I leave, I have to find my hat. And my dignity."

Finally, my favorite part of the trip was when we stopped in at White Castle at 230am on Saturday for a nightcap of burgers and fries (still fried in animal fat...glorious). After much deliberation in front of the menu board, Chep stepped in and stole the show. "We'll take a crave case of 30 burgers and a french fry." (Uncle from aside joins in with "you better make it three fries, gee") "Ok, three fries. And three diet cokes."

Somewhere over the course of our meal, we got into it with some dudes sitting in the booth next to us. I was right next to them and Carl was on the other side of our table. I don't know exactly what caused this, but here's the ensuing dialogue:

Stranger: "Shut up, you fat fuck."

Me: "What did you say? Did you call him a fat fuck?"

Carl: "WHAT? You c*nt? What did you call me? I'll fucking kill you."

Stranger: "You're a fat fuck."

Me: "Did you really just call him a fat fuck, motherfucker? We'll kill you."

Stranger's brother: "He didn't say anything. Dude, shut up. (to brother)"

Me: "No, fuck that. He called him a fat fuck. (turn towards name-caller) You called him a fat fuck, you piece of shit."

Carl: "I will fucking KILL YOU (and he calls him a c*nt about 40 more times)."

This continues for a bit until Carl chimes in with "That's the difference between Pat fans and Colt fans. You sit there and just yap-yap-yap all day while I come over there and pop you in the mouth." It ends there, and when we walk outside, Richie gets chased by a dog in the parking lot and proceeds to throw his diet coke at it. That was easily the funniest part of the trip.

I Give You The Centaur Lady

In case you haven't heard the recent news from the Cambodian jungle from the last few days, a woman was found stealing rice from a farmer and she was later realized as a girl who went missing in 1988 while herding buffalo. Hang on a sec here...ok, I'm cool. I couldn't figure out which was more appalling...someone being found after having been missing for NINETEEN FUCKING YEARS or an 8 year-old girl herding buffalo. I guess they're equal.

The locals there are likening her to an animal, and rightfully so. Apparently, she just sits in one place and quickly turns her head left to right, over and over, like a squirrel might. Also, upon being clothed and walked outside, she promptly de-clothed herself and sprinted back towards the jungle. I mean, can you blame her? Look at guys who come out of prison and can't re-adapt to society...and these guys have had human contact and square meals the whole time away. Here's a woman, a 27 year-old woman, who has been hunting and gathering, living with jungle animals (sloths and whatnot), walking on all fours and sleeping during the day for nineteen years. How weird would it be for her to be walked into a Stop N Shop or an arcade? Jesus, she'd probably bury herself in the produce. Imagine having hunted game and gathered grains and shit for so long. All of a sudden, you're in the markets of Cambodia where you have the right to barter for anything you want. My guess is that her bartering skills aren't exactly honed to perfection.

Remember Brooks from Shawshank? Look what happened to that fucker. And he worked in the library of the prison...the cushiest job of them all. Granted, he befriended a crow whom he named Jake and he tried to kill Boggs with a letter opener...but still. He was better suited for society than the centaur lady, right? Look, she's basically half woman, half beast so centaur lady works for me.

I think there was a movie made about something like this, not so long ago. It was called Encino Man. Perhaps we can sit centaur lady in front of the old tube for a few days in a row and have her watch it. We'll give her plenty of bugs and long grain rice to munch on (healthier than Goobers and buttered popcorn, right?) and see if she can learn anything from it. Seriously though, what could anyone possibly see as a good way to adapt this centaur lady into society? Maybe home schooling. Right, because kids who are home-schooled in this country are so normal. I played soccer with one of those kids when I was 12. His name was Forrester. Enough said. Perhaps we could display the centaur lady at the zoo somewhere. This seems pretty logical, although she may get freaked out when someone's kid snaps a photo of her and then tries to give her one of his french fries.

Here's an interesting thought: do you think she had sex in the jungle? Maybe she found some giant Silverback and befriended him. Eventually he's gonna let his ape instincts take over. Imagine, you're trekking through the jungle in Cambodia on a tour. "To your left, we have a rare blue-beaked, green-toed parrot who speaks 34 languages and to the right, you'll see a...oh, good lord. I believe that's an ape having sex with a cavewoman. And she seems to be enjoying it...tour's over." Although I cannot even imagine the state of this centaur lady's hygiene after this little jungle vacation. Sure, she probably got rained on plenty but last I checked, Cambodian jungle rain doesn't contain shampoo. She's gotta be diseased, right? But wicked strong and alert at all times...she'd have to be. There's some serious shit in the jungle that could easily destroy her. Oh man, the snakes? A 35-foot anaconda? Or a fucking human? Most dangerous game.

I'm really intrigued by this development in friendly Cambodia. If anyone is up for it and can fund the trip, I say we head over there and film some shit. If 'Jackass' and 'My Super Sweet Sixteen' can make money, there's gotta be an audience for 'Crazy Centaur Lady'.

French's Dictionary. 1st edition. Volume One.

Living the dream - phrase.

1. to have oneself a jolly good time
2. to really get after it
3. to really just dip your balls in it and see what happens

i.e. This weekend we will be living the dream in Indy and attending the AFC Championship game.

That's really all I have to say about what my plans are for Saturday and Sunday.

***currently accepting ideas for signs to hold up at the game***

This blog is dedicated to Dr. Russell Kerbel, who attended the San Diego game last weekend with brother Ron. When told about our plans to go to Indy for this game, I liken his reaction to that of an old war veteran seeing a troop of younger soldiers into battle. He gave us advice, wished us well and may have said things like "godspeed", or "make me proud". We will make you proud, Russ. And we will fight with honor.

Hmm...Could Be.

As I mentioned before, I was up in NH this weekend for some relaxation. If you've been up Rte. 16 in NH, you probably know of a town along that road. Nestling itself right up at the top of my list of cool town names is Effingham, NH. Some possible ways this name came to be:

1. Way back when, perhaps there was a lot of fucking going on up in those there parts. Maybe a brothel or two, or just horny people and a bunch of swingers. Either way, at some point someone suggested that it be named for its nature, but Fuckingham wasn't kosher. Thus, Effingham became the name of the town.

2. There was a restaurant there some time ago, simply called 'The Restaurant'. All they served was ham. Yet, every time a customer would come in, the waitress would still ask him/her what she could get for him/her. Before long, someone got wise to the fact that no one need be asked what they wanted and said person replied "Effing ham! What do you think I want?" The restaurant soon became known as the Effing Ham Restaurant and the town name soon followed suit due to notoriety.

3. The first settler up there was a real joker. The people grew to like him and thought he should be in charge of the town, like a mayor or something. At the town meeting, it was suggested that this man be named mayor of the area. A crusty old chap from the back of the room yelled "not him, he's an effing ham!", of course referring to the fact that he was a joker. But the crotchety elder was overruled. However, the elder was given naming rights of the town and thought it fitting for the town to be called 'Effingham' so that the accused joker could then be Mayor of Effingham.

Now I'm not saying any of these really happened, but they could have.

Rock, Chalk, I Love 24.

Some observations based on my Monday night:

First off, has anyone ever noticed how big the Jayhawk at center court at KU's Allen Fieldhouse is? It's enormous and quite frankly, it's a little on the scary side. That's definitely an advantage for KU. I watched the border war game with Mizzou last night, and a few things were very impressive: Sherron Collins can play, and he picked a hell of a game to showcase that very fact. Also, Allen Fieldhouse is LOUD AS FUCK and that was apparent as ever last night. I was watching it with La and she remarked how loud it was at the game. Know that we had the sound down pretty low and we watch a lot of sporting events, so to make this observation is saying something. Anyway, it's nice to see the Jayhawks back in national prominence since the departure of Roy and the arrival of Self. Well, legit prominence, let's say. They are playing and looking like a top 5 team. Hey, when did JR Giddens transfer to New Mexico?

Second, I have to thank Carl for getting me on the 24 bandwagon. I admit that I wasn't on it before this season for whatever reason but now I'm pissed that I didn't start watching it until now. The truth is, I got hooked on Alias when it came out and there wasn't room in my life for two life-altering TV dramas. So I never paid any mind to 24. And shame on me. On a related side note, is it weird that I kind of wanted Ahmed to kill the kid last night? I mean, the kid didn't even look scared when Ahmed had him get on his knees for execution; he looked borderline annoyed at the demand. But I guess his Dad got nuked, so all is well. I really want to know what's up with Jack's hand. Is that dry skin?

Third, I'm just bubbling over with excitement about the AFC Championship game. Yes, I'm thrilled that the Pats are in it and all, but I just can't wait for this game, this matchup...this rivalry. This is fucking storybook shit right here. We, as Patriot fans, could never have asked for anything else to happen this year. We took down the best team in the NFL and now we have a date with the hated Colts...the two best QB's in the world are facing each other AGAIN. Belichick will surely uncork another genius scheme for this game and oh, how fun it will be to see another Manning complain and put his hands on his hips? I think this will be a close game and I think it will be wildly entertaining to watch. And I know that whichever team wins this game also wins Superbowl XLI.

Stay tuned tomorrow for a full recap of Centerfolds 5th Anniversary Party this evening.

Cheerio.

Weekend Update

I thought there were a few excerpts from the weekend that were worth talking about in todays' post, so here they are in random order.

1. La and I ate at a pizza place this weekend that my parents used to take me and my brothers to when we were very little. You see, we went up to my family's cottage in NH for some rustic adventures this past weekend. Thus we landed at the Pizza Barn. As you might imagine, it's a huge barn that serves pizza. The place is freezing, you sit at long picnic tables and it's lit by candles. Oh, the jukebox plays only country, too. It's like a cross between a hoedown and an Amish mess hall. Anyway, we drank icy Bud Light out of frosted mugs (awesome), ate one slice each of what had to be a five-pound pepperoni pizza (double awesome) and we still have leftovers. If you're ever in Tamworth, NH, go to the Pizza Barn.

2. Deleted for the sake of saving lives. EASY.

3. My weekend rounded out with a Patriot victory (ugly as it was) and a nasty start to a new season of 24. Granted, it's my first season but it was fucking awesome. I'm already hooked. And that's pretty much all I got for now. But a glorious weekend it was.

Happy MLK Jr. Day.

Romo's Lament: The Final Chapter

What a glorious day today has been. I had a bomb pastrami sandwich at the Piccadilly for lunch, won in Friday Lunch Keno for the first time, had a free lunch on my punch card at the Pic, and now this from Simmons today:

"Have you ever seen that episode of 'Happy Days' where Richie Cunningham
was the hero in a big basketball game? He was feeling really good about
himself until he ended up losing a game by blowing a free throw with no
time remaining. I couldn't help but think about that episode after
watching the game on Saturday night. Tony Romo was the toast of the town
after taking over from Bledsoe, being interviewed on TV and dating
starlets like Carrie Underwood. Now, he's being compared to people like
Buckner and C-Webb. All we need now is Parcells acting like Mr. C and
giving him a pat on the back and some Lifesavers to make him feel
better."

I'm so happy. I am beside myself that there's a comparison to, not just any 'Happy Days' episode, but the 'Richie Cunningham blows the game' episode. Just awesome. Wait, wait...my favorite part of the Romo Game was right after Romo botched the snap and came up short of the goal line. He knelt where he was tackled with his hands in his face mask, pulling the helmet down over his face. "Don't look at me! I'm hideous!" Then he walked off the field like the fat kid in little league who strikes out EVERY TIME he gets to the plate. You know the walk...there's like one kid who says something like "It's ok, Bobby. You'll get it next time." And the rest of the team is mumbling things like "fatso strikes out again", and "you suck, Tubby". I don't think many things have made me happier than that fumble...and honestly (this is not made up...it actually went down like this) I had the Cowboys to win and stood to win some decent green if he doesn't botch that snap. No matter.

One more thing about this whole Romo catastrophe before I can put it to bed: what the fuck was Gramatica doing during the play? He looked like a injured bird trying to fly. The route he took to try and block Babineaux was is the equivalent of walking around Boston Common and the Public Garden to get from Park Street T stop to the State House. Asinine, but classic place-kicker stuff right there. I do think that if it were Janikowski, he would have found a way to stab Babineaux in the gut with a fishing knife because Janikowski is a bad man.

I'd like to wish everyone a happy and safe weekend...I'll be enjoying the wilderness of middle New Hampshire with La French, 3 Netflix and some playoff football. Awesome.

A Word From Bowen

This is my newest segment, authored by 'Bowen'. Enjoy.

First of all, Barry Bonds has just put distance between himself whoever
is in distant second place for biggest scumbag in sports. Test positive
for drugs, blame it on a teammate, then name teammate and let it be
known he didn't even ask for the pills, he just took them out of his
locker. Sweeney must be thrilled he's been signed for another year.
Fucking asshole!!!

http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=2727325

Second, everyone keeps talking about steroids in baseball and how they
will never vote for Mark Mcgwire even though nobody can definitely prove
he took anything. Sure we can suspect, but there might never be proof
unless he admits it. But, they vote for Ripken without a second
thought. Hello!?? This guy played in a whole crap load of games in a
row and nobody suspects he took anything questionable in an era where
basically everyone was injecting or swallowing something? One of the
reasons athletes take steroids is because of their recuperative powers.
You recover from your workout faster which makes you ready for the next
game or workout. Are you telling me there is no doubt in anyone's mind
that Ripken never took steroids once during his consecutive game streak?
No doubt?? At all??? Bottom line is the writers vote for guys like
Ripken and Gwynn because they're nice guys. Mcgwire fucked himself
over, for sure, but how can you not vote for him but vote for the other
two over suspicions. Two voters got it right. They handed in blank
ballots because they don't know who did what.

That is all. Carry on.

The Uncle's Wonders, Vol. Two

Last night was one for the fucking ages. It was one of those occasions that I can replay in my head whenever I'm really pissed or depressed and I will surely laugh. Here goes.

So Tubby and I played a little poker last night, both losing pretty handily but managing to tie one on before we left. We had to drop Kane's ass off in effing Brookline after, which meant a solid half-hour addition to our commute home. Anyway, Tubs gets the call from a previous one-night stand (kind of...) and toys with the idea of having her over this evening. Let me tell you, if booze didn't play a role in this one there's no fucking way he even considers letting her come over. No way.

So he agrees to pick her up at her place on our way back. Sensational, considering this means serious entertainment for me when we get back to Humboldt. As we wait outside her place beeping the horn, he looks at me and says, "Should we just get the fuck out of here?" Naturally I tell him that would be excellent, so long as she hasn't seen us yet. And she hadn't, apparently. So we drive away. While this is all happening, I'm thinking about how he's going to explain this to her, considering she thought we were coming to get her in the first place and probably heard our beep and eventually went outside. But whatever, Tubby can pretty much talk himself out of a paper bag so I knew he'd surely have a Bueller-like excuse for this girl.

Sure enough, when she calls to complain about us not being outside, he claims that he thought the whole thing was a joke because it was so late. And she buys it. Case closed, right? Oh god, no. Not on this night. As we settled in our respective pre-beds in front of the tube, she calls again and offers to drive over. Calling her bluff, Tubby says it would be fine if she wants to and then offers to park her car for her upon arrival. That one threw me for a loop, but hey, he is the Uncle and most of what he does is beyond the slightest hint of a rational thought. So she comes over.

We all spend a few minutes together in front of the tv as the girl and I get caught up; it had been a while since I saw her last, so we had the standard 'how were your holidays' discussion. Nothing to report from that exchange, sadly. Following this, I shuffle off to bed as it's midnght and I am exhausted. The next thing that happened will go down as the funniest thing that's ever happened to me upon waking up; as I recount this, some will be left out because I know more was said than what I can remember...but I was very groggy and half-asleep, so don't be pissed.

(hand on my arm shakes me awake)

Uncle: "Dude."

Me: "What? What time is it? What the fuck?" (I sit up and draw the blind, certain he's going to tell me that we both overslept and it's like noon or something)

Uncle: "DUDE, relax. It's quarter-to-one. You went to bed less than an hour ago. What's wrong with you?"

Me: "What?? What do you want? WHAT TIME IS IT?"

Uncle: "She fucking told me she loves me."

(silence for about a minute as I muffle my soon-to-be raucous laughter with my pillow)

Uncle: "Dude, she said that if she brought me home to her Dad, he would love me. And then her mom, forget it. What the FUCK?"

(further silence dotted with squeaks from under my blankets as my laughter starts to become more than I can handle)

Me: "So did you bang her?"

Uncle (voice getting higher and higher with his anxiety): "NO. She's fucking ON THE RAG. No sex. Nooooooooo sex."

(I burst into absolutely uncontrollable laughter, as I go into the fetal position like it hurts)

Uncle: "I hate you. Fuck you." (he walks out and slams the door behind him...ten more minutes of me pissing myself)

And SCENE.

Chronicles of Beard: Day 5

Most frenchmen have a sparse beard. I am no exception to this rule. Therefore, I've decided to chronicle my adventure in beard cultivation. This is not a new endeavor for me, but I never see it through. This time, I am making a concerted effort to make something of this pathetic string of sparsely laid hairs on my face. Photo One above shows my progress thusfar. Notice the density of my moustache. Since puberty, I've encountered many a nickname due to this atrocity that sits on my upper lip; my favorites are 'dirt-lip' and 'spanish-looking man'.

Hey Guys, Who Rules? SEC Rules.

Is there a question as to what the best conference in college football is? I know S.I. ran a big spread about the power of the SEC in one of its college football specials this year, but their article focused on whether a team could survive the beating of conference play and stand up to fight for a national championship. Question answered.

Last night's BCS National Championship between the Gators of Florida and the Buckeyes of Ohio State was quite a game. Until about 10 minutes into the first quarter. I'm sure 99% of the viewing audience thought what I thought when Ted Ginn Jr returned the opening kickoff 93 yards for a score. And that thought was that the backjudge missed a blatant holding call on Florida's Reggie Nelson that prevented him from getting to Ginn to save the touchdown. Yes, the wedge did a tremendous job in creating a hole. Yes, the kicker's angle was positively awful. And most obviously, Ginn is the most electrifying player in college football. But there was a hold on that play.

Anyway, that was about the only true bright spot of the game for the previously unblemished Bucks, as they proceeded to lay a giant egg against a faster, stronger and better-prepared Florida Gator team. It's a good thing T.O. doesn't play for OSU because he would have been STEAMED for the duration of this one. The anointed Troy Smith couldn't get out of his own way last night. The speed of Florida's ends ate him alive to the tune of 5 sacks. He had -29 rush yards (granted, the college game subtracts sack yardage from the Qb's run total). The team AS A WHOLE totaled 84 yards of offense. 84! There was a mild fuss about Antonio Pittman before this game, as he is pretty much overlooked in this offense. I thought he looked great the few times he touched the ball in the first quarter. But once they fell behind, it didn't matter a lick. He wasn't a factor. Ohio State hadn't seen the likes of a Florida, or an LSU, Alabama, or Georgia, or Auburn, or Arkansas, over the course of the season. They played and slipped by Michigan and truthfully, this game proved to be the ultimate justice for the BCS system. For those who thought a Michigan-OSU rematch was the ticket for the championship, you were wrong. Florida would have demolished Michigan. Maybe USC had a chance...I guess we'll never know. So perhaps it's not total justice for the BCS.

Back to the SEC as a whole. This conference is fucking scary, no matter how you slice it. In my opinion, southern football in general is just better than northern football. I don't have too much backing to fortify this statement, but I've always thought it. I'm talking college, too...not professional. There's something about those teams from the deep south that adds another element. Maybe it's the climate, I don't know. This I do know: the strength of schedule for any team in the SEC made all of those teams better this season. It's really as simple as that. The SEC boasts 7 of 12 teams within the conference that were ranked in the top 25 at some point this season. Three of those teams allowed less than 175 points all season, and half of the 12 scored over 300 points. That translates to a lot of wins and a lot of good football.

If you take a look at the Big Ten overall, that conference has taken a nosedive over the last few seasons. OSU and Michigan will always be there. But what happened to Michigan State? Penn State? Iowa? Wisconsin had a great year and they'll be back at it again next year. But I was disappointed in the rest of the conference. All of a sudden Michigan State can't recruit, Penn State has no offense and Iowa is just up and down. They had some nice wins, but they lost to Indiana. Drew Tate is too inconsistent and their defense isn't strong enough. I think Kirk Ferentz is a great coach, but they don't have the players. JoePa at PSU is still a great man, but I don't know how much he really has left in that tank of his. Although, I thought he'd never walk again after that spill he took this season, and he refused to leave the sidelines for the rest of that game. He's unbreakable. Anyway, what happened to the days of the Big Ten Quarterback? Seems like Troy Smith is the only legit QB in the conference these days. Henne needs work, Morelli won't be anything...too small, Tate is average, Stocco is a little better than average, Painter is pretty average. I think the PAC-10 has surpassed the Big Ten in overall strength. I'd love to see USC play Florida because I think the Trojans would have beaten OSU as well. You're very welcome, La French.

My mind has turned to mush over the course of this post, which I started writing at 8am and now here it is 3pm. Work calls sometimes. In closing, I'd like to congratulate Florida and Chris Leak; now there's a quarterback who had everything to prove last night and he did. Well done, Chris.

Finally, Gilbert, you're fired. Get the fuck out.

Write This One Down

In light of my cabbie post from earlier, I thought of a pretty good idea just now. Someone should create the zero-dollar bill. It would look like any other bill and be a legitimate note, printed on that linen/paper/whatever combo that our current money is printed on. However, it would have no actual value. Any asshole cabbie is getting a few of these on top the fare. That way, it feels like he's getting hooked up when he fingers the wad but upon analysis, he'll realize that he's received several zero-dollar bills. Zing!

(sorry about 'fingers the wad'...that was in poor taste)

Manning to Miss Game Vs. Eagles

Uncelebrated Giants' Quarterback Eli Manning will miss Saturday's playoff game against the Philadelphia Eagles due to an incident in his suburban New Jersey home early this morning.

Manning had woken up at 4am in his over-sized crib, complaining of pain from some new teeth coming in. He left his crib and crawled downstairs to the kitchen to heat up some milk but on his way to the fridge, he soiled himself and sustained a horrendous case of diaper rash.

"It stings like the dickens", remarked Manning. "I've soiled myself plenty of times, but this time it really burned my cheeks. There's no way I can play on Saturday. No way."

Manning had to sit out a preseason game this year due to, what he described as, the inability to stop crying. Prior to that, he missed several games while at Ole Miss because of the sniffles.

Our Lady is Your Bitch

It is with great regret and sorrow that I hereby renounce my faith in Notre Dame football. I do this every winter, and have done so the last 8 or 9 times the Irish have appeared in and lost a bowl game.

My experience watching the Sugar Bowl went something like this: I missed half of the game due to the fact that I was balls deep in watching LeBron and Gerald at the Garden with La French and her little brother. Yeah, LeBron hit a 3/4 court shot. He's good. Anyway, I returned to watch the tail end of the Sugar Bowl and flipped on the game with about thirteen minutes left in the 3rd quarter. Notre Dame was down 21-14 but they had just caused and seemingly recovered a fumble in LSU territory and I was pumped. This feeling would last for only two minutes as the ref would ultimately determine that the ND corner didn't have possession of the ball before going out of bounds. LSU retained possession and never looked back, scoring 20 unanswered and throttling the Irish 41-14.

Notre Dame has lost its last NINE bowl games. They have not beaten a top 10 opponent in their last 16 tries, under Weis, Willingham and Davie. And it's not like they've been squeaked out by the best in the country. Just this year, they were embarrassed by USC and Michigan and literally had to pull wins out of their asses to beat UCLA and MSU. I love Quinn, Samardzjia and McKnight. I hate their defensive backfield. I hate their special teams and did I mention that their DB's are a fucking joke? Can't win without a respectable D in college. I don't care who your coach is, who your QB is...you just can't.

It's all going to be okay, though. Charlie Weis will ultimately bolster his D when he realizes that it's the only way he's going to bring a title to South Bend. Oh, and there's a young man by the name of Jimmy Clausen on his way to town, my friends. Say goodbye to Oaks Christian and hello to ND, Jimmy. He's the top rated QB in the country right now...6'3, 218 lbs., cannon arm and a great family tree. He'll wear #3 at ND, but not until Darius Walker graduates. Montana wore #3. Yeah, so did Powlus and Mirer, but Jimmy will restore my faith in ND QB's who wear #3. He's going to be that good, trust me. He will win the Heisman by 2011 and ND will be the National Champion by then, too. If all of this should pan out, I will become a priest.

I've gotta vent about Boston cabbies for a minute here. Yesterday morning I took a cab from La's apartment back to my own and for the third time in a row, we get halfway to the destination and the cabbie informs me that he has no change. That's right, a cab driver with no change. Nothing infuriates me more than this. First of all, don't wait until we're almost there to tell me that. Second of all, it's not like you don't know that you're going to need change at some point over the course of the day. You drive a cab, for fuck's sake. Come prepared. Next time this happens, I'm just gonna say that it's quite a coincidence that he has no change because I have no money. That makes us even, right?

Finally, for the first time ever I have decided to give you my picks for this weekend's slate of playoff games. It's too much during the regular season to figure out all of those games. Four is enough.

Home team in CAPS:

Dallas vs. SEATTLE (-5.5)

I know they haven't looked very good as of late, but I have to believe that Seattle will rise to the occasion here. Romo will shit the bed in this game.

New York vs. PHILADELPHIA (-3)

I can't see the Giants winning this game. I just can't. Can you?

Kansas City (+3) vs. INDY

I don't about this one. But I think LJ is going to go OFF of Indy's Efense (Defense without the D? No good?) Take the over in this one though, even if it's 244.

New York vs. NEW ENGLAND (-9.5)

I think the Pats will win this game by two touchdowns, plain and simple. Belichick wants to put 'Mangenius' in his place, and I'd want to embarrass anyone with that nickname. I much prefer Bitchtits Belichick.

Albert Should Be In The Can, Part II

http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=2718365

11/15/06...I wrote the first part of my Haynesworth Hate story. Here's part two. I wish the man could have saved some face (no pun intended) over the last few months, potentially doing something in the way of buying Gurode a car or a really expensive hooker. Alas, he went to a therapist--a former NFL player--who showed him that he has to release his anger ON THE FIELD. Jesus, what a fucking concept. This story from ESPN.com today made me want to stomp somebody's face. How about that? You think I did? Damn right I didn't. I don't have cleats on.

Haynesworth's reasoning: Gurode tried to cutblock me. He tried to end my career. He made fun of me. He said a bad word in my direction. WAKE UP ALBERT. You play in the NFL! It's not a powderpuff league where players strive for the annual Good Sport Award. It's a dirty game, right? A game where, like the therapist told you, it's legal to mash some dude's ribs. It's legal to break someone's fucking arm, for the most part. It's just not kosher to pretend another player's face is an ant on the ground...especially one with his helmet OFF.

"It was almost in slow motion, a flash," he says. "There was no crowd noise.
There was nothing. I had to lose it. I just had to."

He just had to do it. Next time I'm at a bar and some dude looks at La French like he wants a little dessert, i'm going to approach him, sweep his leg and promptly jump up and down on his face. Then I'm gonna say that I just had to do it. I had to lose it. Then I'd be thrown in jail for a few years and WHAM!, no more La French for me. Or anything else for a while, for that matter.

Just read that article about this man's journey to find out what his problem is. Try not to buy a ticket to Nashville afterwards, and try not to bring a gun with you to Nashville if you go and definitely try not to look Albert up. You'll read about other men in the league who retaliated, even big 'ol Richard Seymour who stomped Tarik Glenn's head. But all of these other tales of retaliation involved padded or helmeted players. Simple as that. This article states that Haynesworth saw the unhelmeted Gurode as an opportunity. That's saying something.

Wherefore Art Thou Borderquacks?

http://tonyhomo.com

Thank you to the graciously ungracious Drew Bledsoe for telling it like it is in his must-read blog about the incomparable Tony Homo. Er, Romo. If you aren't reading Bledsoe's blog daily, get to it. It's glorious.

I've been perusing ESPN.com this morning and I just read the QB rankings for 32 starters in the league right now. Where stands the next Tom Brady? Right above my favorite NFC North QB, JP Losman. Just awesome, considering the same website that claimed Romo to be a fantasy stud and great for keeper leagues also refers to Losman as Loserman. And now they're neck-and-neck for one of the worst QB's in the league currently. I don't doubt that Romo, under the right tutelage, can still flourish in the NFL and make a name for himself as a proven winner. But as quickly as he rose to the top of everyone's dick-to-suck list, he's fallen just as quickly into everyone's make-like-Saddam-and-get-hanged list. Here's a look at the worst QB's in the NFL right now.

I have to start with my least favorite QB, Eli Manning. He pouts, he hangs his head in shame and he makes throws that Pop Warner QB's are yelled at for making; the difference is that the Pop Warner QB learns to STOP making those throws. It's the Giant defense that's deficient, isn't it? If I'm Eli, I'm just trying not to lose the game because I've got Tiki, Shockey, Plax and good O-line that should produce for me. Yet he finds a way to give it to Giant fans right in the ass, week after week. Overriding factor: They're in the playoffs. No one has ever limped into the playoffs in such grand fashion. The Giants made it to the final table with Queen-high and a 10-kicker.

Next, Tony Romo. 'I've been saying all along that this guy would prove me right and absolutely shit the bed before too long. Heyooo, thanks Ton'! In six games against teams who averaged 11 losses this season (yes, ELEVEN!), big T's average rating was 128.8. Ok, nice work. However, in games against teams who averaged 9.5 wins this season, his average rating was 68.7. And that's against some very suspect defenses like Indy. The numbers don't lie, folks. Romo is a hack (but GOOD LORD, Carrie Underwood is hot) and the Cowboys won't go anywhere in the playoffs. Again though, they're in...Lord help us all.

David Carr is third on my list. DO SOMETHING, David. I didn't have the highest hopes for you coming out of Fresno but I had visions of a decent career. QB's who wear #8 in Texas are supposed to be good, man. Granted, your supporting cast is suspect but Andre Johnson is legit and you've got good TE play. Stop sucking, would you? DO SOMETHING. At least you're not in the playoffs, though. Enjoy your hot wife...at least you have that going for you. Nevermind, you're ultra religious. Yikes.

Finally I turn to Big Ben Roethlisberger. I felt for the guy this offseason when he crashed his bike and almost ruined his whole career way too early. But it's becoming more and more difficult to believe that he's what he pretended to be last season. He absolutely laid an egg this year and yes, maybe he was rusty when he came back. Maybe he's not the same since the injury. Either way, he sucks right now. No Steelers in the playoffs? I had them locked for a 2 or 3 seed in the preseason. I think they need to give Brian St. Pierre a shot. Much love, SJP. Fuck Xaverian.

There you have it, the cream of the QB crop. But not creme fraiche...I'm talking the cream that forms at the corners of the mouth when you're dehydrated and is usually associated with disgusting human beings. Keep looking up at Tom and Peyton and maybe someday you can breathe the same air as they do. But don't count on it.

Total Digression:

The 'Asparagus Lady' served up her famous asparagus chowder at the annual asparagus festival in Stockton California last April, incorporating 50 lbs of asparagus, 30 lbs of onions, 40lbs of broccolli and God knows how much butter. "You don't want to know the amount of butter I use in this stuff!", exclaimed the Asparagus Lady. She also noted that her pee smells positively horrendous.

Good Heavens, '07! Burt Blyleven, Lucky Number Slevin, got UPN at Eleven.

Line of the weekend, courtesy of Brent Musberger during the Rose Bowl:

"I've gotta say something here folks, receivers should act like LT and not like TO. And I mean it."

Whoa, okay, okay Brent. They're all real sorry and will be sure to stop taunting and acting like jackasses when they make a play. How long has he been broadcasting? Granted, I was yelling at the TV every time Dwayne Jarrett touched the ball and taunted Barringer from Michigan. Yes, I'm a Michigan fan and yes, I was sickened by the aerial attack USC offered up last night. But Jarrett is an ass. I can't say what kind of shit Barringer was talking to him, so maybe his finger-pointing and ball-offering were justified. But you're the second-best receiver in the country. You should expect to beat every corner that covers and simply talk with your play. Act like Calvin Johnson, the best receiver in the country, who also happens to mimic LT in his humbleness. He's fun to watch and easy to like. You, Mr. Jarrett, are fun to watch but easier to hate and wish career-ending injury upon.

I also have a bowl-week confession to make: Boise State is legit and I bet against them thinking they were going to get smoked against OK. They might be the funnest team to watch in college football, in a long time. Who runs the hook and ladder AND the statue of liberty in the same game? Let alone the same drive? To TIE, then WIN the game in OT? Just awesome. I also think Korey Hall could be the best LB n the country and Ian Johnson might be one of the top 3 RB's in the country. Hey, I watched them a few times this year but against WAC opponents. And I'm of the persuasion that in order to prove anything, you need to compete with Big 10, Big 12 or SEC teams. Not only did they compete, they had a big lead, lost that lead, regained their composure without panicking and came back to win. In overtime. On a statue of liberty play. Happy Fucking New Year, Broncos. Welcome to the BCS. My guess on their preseason ranking for 2007: ahead of OK and ND. God yeah. I'm thinking #9 in the country.

Something else from last night's slate of games: I hate Pete Carroll with an angry and aggressive passion. Niot just because he did a horrible job coaching in the NFL with the Pats. Moreso because he looks like a jackass on the sidelines with his antics of jumping up and down and pumping his fist when his team has a 3 possession lead in the 4th quarter and he's piling up the score. I don't respect that. I also don't respect that his players aren't humble at all. Leinart wasn't, Jarrett, as mentioned, certainly is not. Booty appears to be somewhat collected but give him a year. The reason why Carroll can't coach in the NFL is because he's a pussy that doesn't/can't stand up to his players, nor can he demand their respect. In the pros, that formula doesn't work. I'd love to see Jarrett end up under Belichick at some point.

You know, this gives me an idea here. I'm going to lay out my top 5 most hated athletes of all time right now. I'd love to see some opinions of others on their top 5. Or top 3, 2, 1, what-have-you.

5. Terrell Owens. He should be exiled to NFL Europe and forced to play with Danny Kanell as his QB for the rest of his career. I hope 2007 brings a career-ending injury to you, too.

4. Marty McSorley. I don't respect anyone that takes cheap shots at defenseless people, but his actions on the ice against Donald Brashear were the worst I've ever seen in any sport. And to top it off, he did it in a Bruin uniform. What an embarrassment.

3. Joakim Noah. I just think he's a piece of shit overall. I hate his stupid yell/chest pound thing he does. I was really hoping that Greg Oden would shut his ass up. You have three first names in your name (kind of, by pronounciation). Joe, Kim and Noah. That's a tough draw for you, pal. You should go by Kim.

2. Karl Malone. This stems from early childhood and I'm not sure why completely. But I've always hated him and his stupid nickname. The Mailman? Much less cool that Legend, or His Airness. And I hated that he mouthed some shit before taking foul shots. Along this line, I fucking HATE how J Kidd blows a kiss before taking a free throw. He's not on this list, but he's #6.

1. Jorge Posada. As a rabid Sox fan this should come as no surprise to anyone that knows me. For a non-Sox fan, what really did it for me with him was his fist pump from second base during Game 7, 2003 after a hit off of Petey. Plus he looks like a weasel and he's a fucking BITCH. Kudos to Nate and Cree for their 'Posada Is A Little Bitch" t-shirts.

Gee's Wonders: Vol. One

I couldn't pass this one up as an entry, and methinks it appropriate to kick off 2007. You'll notice the title, and I hope there are plenty more of the like this year as opposed to the aforementioned "blunders". This occurred New Year's Eve at the tail-end of the night.

It's roughly 2am following an enjoyable, virtually event-free New Year's party (more to come on this night) at the home of Mrs. URLB and Gee is scrounging for something to really give it to and ring in the new year in style. After an intense and thoughtful search, he begins to notice that most of the qualified dames are already accounted for and lip-locked on the couch of said apartment. Phooey, but don't fret just yet, for he's the gee, you bet, and his plan hath been set to make a decision he won't soon regret.

He chooses a sure thing as his prey, which was a move of total laziness on his part. He had options that would have required some work or travel, but I can't blame him for his choice. Who wants to put in work on New Year's Eve? A man of his stature shouldn't have to, hence he took the ball on the fast-break and went up for the easy lay-up. She's a nice girl...uh oh, the old 'nice girl' remark. Well, she is and that's about all I'll say about it. She's been known to throw on a little Wilson Phillips in the wee hours of the morning and do a little solo twirly-whirly. Fucking weird. Alright, enough of that.

As the story goes, they arrive back at her place. I'll quote the man himself for the end of this tale.

"So we get into her apartment and she immediately goes into her roommate's room to wake her up or whatever. Weird, but hey. Anyway, she comes out of there and heads for the bathroom. I listened closely for the door to close and once I make sure that's done, I take a quick look around, ensure there's no way this girl can get ahold of me by phone when she realizes I'm gone, and I fucking run out the door."

Fucking awesome. I don't know if he was too baked for his own good or if he just wanted to do a good deed and give a girl a ride home, but this is beyond explanation. In my estimation, it's like when an alcohlic has a moment of clarity and suddenly realizes what he has to do. The Gee had a brief moment where he thought to himself, "what the fuck am I doing here?" and felt it best to just flee the scene. Chances are he'll see her again, but my guess is that she'll probably avoid conversation with him.