Thursday, January 28, 2010

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Is he even injured?

Why is he wearing a hoody vest?

What is the point of hoody vests?

Dude's wearing black leather gloves pushing the chair...don't like it.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

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Dare you to eat a hot dog, dawg.
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Figure It Out was shown in the television purgatory time slot of 5:30 PM that put me in the position of watching some crap "Ed, Edd, and Eddy" or "Static Shock." It was my least nerdy option.

No show frustrated me more than Figure It Out. I was at that age when I couldn't determine if Summer Sanders was hot because she was so tall (damn sure she is). Danny fucking Tamborelli was the ring leader with cynical ass Lori Beth Denberg taking second fiddle. Throw in a "not quite there" Amanda Bynes and we have a pretty shitty cast.

The show focused around the panelists guessing random little kid's talents that weren't quite talents. Oh, little Michelle remade the George Washington Bridge with lasagna, I am sure she'll get a ton of prom dates. Billy can burp his ABC's? And Mikey can juggle not two, but three tennis balls? Wow!! I was able to make the fart noise in my underarms and my knees and Nickelodeon wasn't calling me up from the farm team. Did anyone notice that none of the panelists were even remotely close to figuring out the talent until their final guess? The charade brigade was working their ass off, but no, Danny is able to figure that shit out, covered in most assuredly cold slime. These guys either read the shit out of these kids' pokerfaces or some money was being tossed around.

Let the nerd get some Genesis games and a Huffy. Pull out the big guns for those trips to Disney World and Busch Gardens. Mainly because I had a Genesis and a Huffy.
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Long post, might be worth it if you’re feeling blue. Probably not though.

I was emo-ing it up yesterday, because yesterday sucked. It sucked badly. You won’t believe how many bad things happened in sequence.

The morning started out with me oversleeping and stepping on a stone as soon as I got out of bed. This stone cut under my foot, but not really, and left a pretty painful/annoying blister thing. Solid start. Rushing to get dressed and ready with a bloody blister thing on your foot is pretty trying, trust me. I got outside and walked all the way down the hill to the T-stop and realized I left my Ipod on my bed. Days don’t go well without my Ipod. Needless to say, I get yelled at for being late.

My job life-span is running out at this place, so I didn’t really care, since I’m feeling pretty miserable as is. I got swamped and eventually overwhelmed with a pretty busy day (no posts yesterday). Then I get caught shit deep in W2 confusion that takes like an hour and change to sort out. When lunch rolls around, I see it as an opportunity to clear my head and relax. Noooo, my mom decides to call me to yell at me about some stupid thing that is too stupid to mention in here (Hi Mom), and then as soon as I was done with that battle, my Dad called me right after to yell at me for some stupid, dumb reason. After the conversations, I had about 20 minutes left for lunch, so for some unknown reason, I decided to try to crush a large sub (with extra turkey) from the supermarket. I bet you can guess how many bathroom naps I took and profit-killing I did from that point.

Next, we had a work league basketball game at 7. I wanted to get there early for once, since I am routinely late and miss my first few shots because I’m not warmed up. I get there, stretch, get some shots up, and start the game. We end up having a 17 point lead with 6 minutes left, so it’s a pretty comfortable situation. Next thing I know, the whistle blows and I get my 5th foul (positive I had 3, I hate Basketball City). I ask if it takes 5 or 6 to foul out and they tell me it takes 6. Relieved, I sat for the next few minutes since we had a fairly substantial lead. Like 2 minutes go by and we are only up 4. I try to sub back in but that huge B at the scorer’s table told me I fouled out after I verified the six foul snafu. She manages to muddle around her papers for the remainder of regulation until the other team brings it into overtime. Oh, I am able to play in overtime? Thanks huge B at the scorers table. Basketball city overtime is arranged just as poorly as the NFL. Whoever gets the ball first will probably win. 2 minutes, running clock. Dammit. They proceed to Harlem Globetrotter the ball around for awhile and then with about 20 seconds remaining, the lone girl on their team drains a three. We go down, miss, foul them, they miss, ball bounces out of bounds, with about 3 seconds left, Basketball City lets the clock just run out because (with us down 3) the game was “over.” Did I mention I hate Basketball City?

Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any worse. I walk all the way to the T to go home and realize, you guessed it, and I left my fucking cell phone in the gym. I have to walk back and re-do the trip. I get home, and what do you know? The blister popped and bloodied up my entire foot. Awful, awful day.

I challenge you (barring death, or illness) to top this day.
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I'm on that rain cloud is following me bullshit. Literally like 47 bad things happened in sequence today.

It feels similar to a guy shaking your hand and then immediately hurling a ball of shit at your face. Or kind of like those Sour Patch Kids commercials when the candy does something mean, but makes up for it in the end, except my candy was straight mean. I'm a believer in luck and believe me, that lady was not on my side today, nor was any lady.

I'll explain in depth tomorrow, because some of you sadistic folks out there might find it funny.

Until then listen to one of the wackest songs of all time.

Monday, January 25, 2010

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In a world filled with Luke Wilson AT&T commercials and bad Bud Light "Too Light"/"Too Heavy" commercials, it is a great breath of fresh air to see a commercial that's clever, funny, and wildly inappropriate at the same time.

Within 5 minutes of seeing this commercial, I looked up and I had like 9 "Detailers" and a shitload of receipts around my room. Just kidding. That shit looks like it hurts.

All in all, a fantastic commercial.

Props to Worm for introducing me to the commercial.
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In my 15 years of being a Jets fan, I have never tasted the experience of being able to play in the Superbowl. There were many years in which we did alright (winning some wild cards and divisionals), but this year truly made me believe.

The mentality of defense and running the ball coupled with the progression of Mark Sanchez late in the season made the Jets a true force to be reckoned with. This has been the most fun I had watching football and the feeling is only going to get better with every coming season. I like the pieces that we have in place right now and can legitimately see us making some noise for years to come. It basically rides on Rex Ryan not dying due to his 7000 calorie a day diet and no crucial injuries, but I am excited.

2009-2010 was a hell of a ride for a NYJ football fan and I would not change anything that happened throughout this season. We started as a good team, became a bad team, then rallied together to become a team of destiny, and finally we became a team with a very bright future. Good year gentlemen, good year.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

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Friday, January 22, 2010

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Let's fuckin' go!!!
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Batman has the Joker. Superman has Lex Luthor. Mario has Bowser. Everyone has an arch-nemesis out there. Mine happens to be an inanimate cheeseburger with onion rings and barbeque sauce.

Let’s break this down, seeing as I probably don’t have much time left on my life clock. Without knowing it, I engaged in what I’d like to call a “Rodeo-Burger-A-Thon.” It is as you guessed it--a personal challenge to myself to see how many of those bastard burgers I can eat before passing out or suffering through cardiac arrest. I don’t know why I chose today of all days, but the stars aligned and I had a table with a stable of enemies. Burger three I got woozy as hell and was starting to lose sense of reality. I later powered onto burger four, and needless to say, the last 3.5 hours have been a mash-up of a blur, brief PTSD moments involving the burgers, and gummy bears. No I don’t know why the best remedy for whatever was happening to me was gummy bears, but I ran with it.

While not medically possible, I think I’ve given myself an enlarged heart. It’s working so hard to balance out the cholesterol, the sugar, the random espresso shot (?), and my overall will to not be at work.

Is the Rodeo Burger the ultimate chad-bro-chill food? I can only see a grilled stuffed burrito competing for that title. If my memory serves me correctly, I was part of a fictional gang in high school called JMFB (don’t ask) and our “signature food item” (I swear I wasn’t a nerd, I played sports!) was the rodeo burger. We were the only ones able to rep the rodeo burger unless otherwise noted. All of sudden, for like 8 months, they took the rodeo burger off the menu. It was like we all lost a friend. We couldn’t look at a Burger King without our stomachs growling and our belts loosening. That shows the staying power of the sandwich with not only me, but many other people’s hearts. It’s like when the Green Ranger was the Power Ranger’s enemy, but they still cared about him and wanted the best for him…err something.

Before I pass out drunk off Rodeo Burger grease and BBQ residue, I want to say that I will forever have a love-hate relationship with this sandwich. I care too much, but I can never commit.

Rodeo Burger, you are my Buggaboo. Destiny’s Child, take us away!

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I remember reenacting the “People’s Elbow” in the schoolyard. There are several home videos of me “Rock-Bottoming” smaller cousins left and right. I can assure you that there will never be any footage or recording of me emulating anything that Dwayne Johnson has done post-wrestling. He’s allegedly coming out with a movie called the Tooth Fairy today. When I saw the preview, I thought it was a joke, albeit not a funny joke. You know, something along the lines of a “Funny-Or-Die” skit. To my surprise this morning, this movie was really being released. The People’s Champ is on a downward spiral similar to Eddie Murphy. Do you know where Eddie Murphy has been the last 2 years?? Neither do I.

I feel like these movies are cries for help. The Rock is screaming to his former fan base, “I made a terrible decision leaving wrestling at the peak of mine and the sports’ career. Please someone save me.” It’s very uncomfortable to see him follow that same path. What path you ask? The Disney, Disney, Mummy, bad action movie, Disney, repeat path. Vince McMahon--if you are reading this--please throw a dog a bone and let The Rock come back to the WWE. I’ll start watching again, and other bros and bro-like figures will flip to the USA network every now and then on Monday nights again. I won’t stand for this anymore. All these roody poo, candy-ass, jabroni movies they are roping you into Rock is pretty much setting the (return) oven at 400 degrees.

If all goes well, dinner will be ready in a couple of months and we will again SMELLLLLL WHAT THE ROCK…IS COOKIN’.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

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-Kobe, just being a condescending ass as usual. Like that puppet doesn't know what miniature means. It's been in the game since like '72, it doesn't need help. And as I've said many times before in this blog, kids don't get it. I've seen one walk into a wall after knowing it was coming for about 10 feet, no chance it'll absorb the definition of "miniature."

Again, this shit will be completely over kid's heads, because they'll be hitting it against walls, but I found this pretty funny. I hated Doogie Howser, but I have enjoyed everything he's been in since then (How I Met Your Mother & Harold and Kumar). I also find it hilariously ironic that as a gay man in real life, he plays a character that pulls down nothing but dimes on his show. It's clever.

Ding ding ding, this match is over.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

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-tons of dudes own this game.

Whether its bubble wrap, a balloon, bottles, or pimples, dudes like to pop shit. I don’t understand why, but it’s like the bro version of catnip. One of the girls that I work with received a package and took out the bubble wrap. It was like throwing a piece of steak in the middle of a pack of wolves. Guys from across the office were smelling blood. When I emerged victorious, there were nothing but scowls and jealousy in the air.

What the hell? I have no idea why I had to have that bubble wrap, but it needed to happen. It really isn’t fun, nor does it relieve stress. If I didn’t get that bubble wrap though, it’d bother me all day. Like, “shit, today would have been awesome if I popped that bubble wrap before lunch.” That’s borderline crazy, but I know I am not alone because every Y chromosome near me went for that shit. In a “Back to the Future” moment, I mentally zoomed back to a young Dub Jeezy (Young Jeezy? Copyright infringement?) during birthday parties. Every guy wanted a god damn balloon for no reason. It was a mini-epidemic. Moms were baffled and dads were shaking their heads, because they knew what was going down. When you were young, you’d fuck around with balloons knowing they could pop, and admittedly that freaked you out, but some part of you wanted that balloon to pop…for no god. damn. reason.

Granted, a young Dub Jeezy was a borderline sexual deviant with no real understanding of right or wrong, but there is something here. Can we get some world renowned sociologist to look into this shit so I can get some answers? Someone sneezes loud and the “Today Show” has Sanjay Gupta on that shit with a box of Kleenex and a bag of Halls. At the least we can grab up Bill Nye? I’m fairly certain he’ll do anything for 10 dollars these days.
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Before I tell you the worst horror story since Jason Goes To Hell, can we break down the difference between a possum and an opossum. Are they the same animal? Is it one of those regional things? Mainly, is one more vicious than the other?

I ask these questions because, as you can guess by the title of the post, we possibly (we do) have a possum in the crib. To be honest, I thought nothing of these creatures after coming from the rat haven that is Allston. My first possum sighting was pretty chill and kind of depressing. I saw a small possum walking up my street and assumed it was rat-like. In Allston, if you made eye contact with a rat that shit teleported to another dimension..or they were just really fast, you decide. This possum struggled to get out of my way. They are quite possibly the clumsiest, most easily confused animals in the game right now. Needless to say, they weren’t on my immediate threat radar.

Naturally my bro-pad developed a (1) mouse problem. Mice are cute though and provide a pet-ish aspect that I desperately need in my life to balance out my sinning. The mouse made random appearances in the living room and the kitchen and pretty much popping out to say “what up” every now and then. Shit got real the other night. Watching Friday Night Lights, me and a couple buddies hear some aggressive rustling in the pantry region. First thought was the mouse, so we didn’t assume anything was up. Then it sounded like pizza boxes were being lifted up and moved. That narrowed it down to a homeless person or a stray cat (it really did). More time went by with us stricken motionless by fear as this homeless man-cat did some serious damage to our pantry (what is a pantry?). Blah, blah, blah. We have a god damn possum in the crib.

I consulted Google for the best way to handle the situation. Literally, the only option is some Looney Toons, carrot-box-stick mechanism that traps the possum so that someone can discard it. Eff that. That shit bites me, it’s a wrap on so many things I can’t even begin to explain. Dude is eating so much food, chillin’ in a nook, and sneaky watching tv all day, I know it is. Not paying rent, possummin’ out (bro-in out?), and terrorizing people.

You can’t help but to respect that bastard.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

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I am seeing a lot of disrespect for Gang Green out there. Revis not winning defensive player of the year, Rex Ryan “fat jokes”, and an inexplicable ESPN Sports Nation that omitted Mark Sanchez from the “What Quarterback Do You Trust To Lead Your Team” poll.

Revis has done nothing but quiet crowds, diminish egos, scare quarterbacks, and routinely change the momentum of big games. Decent resume. Oh yea, Rex Ryan is fat, but you don’t need to be in great shape to be a great coach (what up, Herm Edwards). He’s implemented a system and has stuck with it through thick and thin. There is no way you can disrespect his authoritative attitude and ability to mesh with such a young team. And lastly, what the hell ESPN? How do you just omit the other QB in a 4 quarterback race? That shit was just blatant and ridiculous. Granted Mark doesn’t have the stat line or the accolades that match Favre, Manning, and Brees, but damn, put him on the list. Let him rack up 4% from us Jets fans. We will ride and die with this guy until he can’t throw the ball anymore, and even then we will continue to ride (i.e. Chad Pennington).

Moral of the story, back off, respect this team. They earned their spot and they are playing their hearts out each and every week. Don’t go around thinking this will be an easy victory for the Colts because it was supposed to be an easy victory for the Pats in Week 2 and the Chargers last week. It’s the playoffs baby. No holds barred.

God Bless.
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I may need to wife up Oprah to even have dreams of affording this^

M-A-R-S, Mars bitches. I have determined the only way to take this blog off the ground (pun intended) is to literally take this blog off the ground (double pun). I’m just playing. Blogging from space isn’t as baller as it sounds. It’ll be cold as hell, lonely, and I am going to hazard a guess and say that there is no Wi-Fi, which would kind of hurt the blogging process.

A spaceship would be a good thing to hold onto in your storage closet though. Anytime I want to go chill with Space Ghost or Zordon, I could just hop up out the bed, turn my ship on.

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Babies. McDonald's. Sold.

On the real though, what's up with that first billboard? It's on some Barnum and Bailey's, Comic-Sans, multi-colored stuff. Insulting intelligence and dishing out McMuffins. My type of dual advertisement.

Monday, January 18, 2010

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-not this year's version, but not very far off.

Watching the Magic-Lakers game on a glorious Dr. MLK Jr. anniversary evening, Craig Sager displayed some shoes that Nike created for the event. If last year's shoes (shown above) are any indication, these new shoes were some of the most rank, borderline offensive shoes I have ever seen to honor on of our most important figures. It's like take some dirt, silly putty, and a gray magic marker and you have these bad boys. I swear Kobe Bryant is going to miss the rest of the season because he's trying to make a point.

Dr. King's impact cannot be defined through a day, a week, or a year, because without him, this shit blog, or anything for that matter doesn't exist as we know it today.

That being said, I'm going to play in basketball tomorrow in my Adidas cushy slippers to commemorate all the bro's out there.
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I could be (I am) hopped up on a shit ton of Hawaiian Punch or this actually happened. For those of you too lazy to click the link (I am assuming all of you), Russia apparently came to a halt today because billboards along the work commute were playing porn. Again, most likely the Hawaiian punch talking, but this new development is getting all of my neurotransmitters firing. Is this some type of space race shit? I feel like this is Sputnik all over again. Disregard how uncomfortable and awkward porn billboards would make a traffic jam on the morning or evening commute and recognize the progression here.

I am sure the initial test runs of these will probably cause mass destruction and death, but let's be honest, we don't know how well fire did when it first popped up. I say have at it, see what happens. Somewhere our forefathers are turning in their grave knowing that in the end...Russia won.

Or that could be the Hawaiian Punch talking.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

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On that midnight train to Indy. Buckle your chin strap Peyton.

Friday, January 15, 2010

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Name me a yellow flavored candy that you legitimately enjoy. Go on, keep thinking. You couldn’t name one could you? You did? Well you sir/madam are you god damn liar because there is no such candy. Yellow flavors are always in the bottom three of any candy. Because I crush candy all day, I’ve become nothing short of an expert on all things high fructose. Starbursts—a true mainstay in the popular candy world is ruined by the yellow, supposedly “lemon” flavor. Why try to recreate a sour fruit into candy? If I can quote the great Dr. Dre here and say, “It’s not worth it to risk it.”

The lemon flavor single handedly killed the Warheads franchise. Yes, you remember Warheads. They were those devilish little sour treats that were borderline dangerous. I remember seeing a kid in 6th grade break into tears because he had 5 in his mouth at once. No joke my friends. I also remember kids just straight up throwing the lemon (yellow) ones away right when they opened a pack because if you mistakenly had a yellow warhead touch your tongue you can mark that day as over. Great franchise ruined by yellow candy.

I’m not saying lemon is the only culprit. Banana tries to get in on the act as well. What the hell were you thinking Runts?! You can’t advance from the quarter candy machine with that type of selling tactic. I’ve seen pineapple attempted and failed on a few occasions as well. Only the truly reputable companies make an attempt at the pineapple because it can go bad real fast. Jelly Belly is basically taking on all challengers in candy’s version of a pissing contest. So we have lemons, bananas, and pineapples. The pissest of poor choices for candy flavors. Gummy bears have the right idea. Because I have eaten at least 9 packs today I can safely say that there have been a total of 8 yellow bears total.

Is it 6 o’clock yet? I’m clearly losing my mind. Have a good weekend.
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Theme Song:

They’re Jeezy and the Bros, yes, Jeezy and the Bro’s. One keeps on blogging while the others gave up hope. They go out every night. They drink until they fight. It’s Jeezy, it’s Jeezy and the Bros, Bros, Bros, Bros, Bros.

Typical Thursday-Saturday night start-up conversation:

Random Friend Text: What are you doing tonight?

Me: Same thing I do every night ____, try to get drunk and pick up girls.

It’s like clockwork. The roles sometimes switch, but that is the gist of what I’m about on the weekend. If you break me down to the core at like 11pm on a Friday night, my basic characteristics match-up best with a cave man. Instead of torn up clothes, I am probably wearing a button down shirt and instead of holding a club, I have to “spit game” (Seriously though, back in the prehistoric times, the club solved a lot of problems. Kidding.).

It’s safe to determine that college did not, in any way, prepare me for the real world. I’m not asking you to recall in-depth Pinky & the Brain knowledge, but just the basic concept. That mofo Brain was determined. Pinky was just that down ass bro that supported Brain’s harebrain schemes to take over the world. Some other shows followed this concept. Kenan and Kel is one that immediately pops in my head. Now that I think of it, Kenan and Kel was the live-action equivalent of Pinky and the Brain. Question is, will this be my life for the next 7-9 years until I just so happen to get married?

I’ve been gathering information from friends, relatives, Matt Lauer, Meredith Viera, and Al Roker, and I have heard two things. This will be my life forever and that the 20s are the best time of your life. Now, I know I just entered the fray, but that was some pretty disheartening news. Once my metabolism goes it’ll be a wrap. I don’t know, maybe I am a complainer (fact: I am a complainer) and have no idea what I am talking about. I have only been out of school for 8 (what feels like 258) months and have been doing a fairly deese job of living independently. Maybe this blog post will inspire change. It really is a toss-up between whether this post will make people jump out of the nearest window or make changes to their routine.

Just food for thought.

It’s Jeezy, it’s Jeezy and the Bros, Bros, Bros, Bros, Bros
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Pretty crappy day from just about every perspective. They happen sometimes, and that's why Apple created Ipods. The shuffle gods know exactly what the right medicine is depending on your mood. Here's what got me back into the positives:

-calming track, I've liked this one for a few years now.

-skinny rolled up jeans aside, this is the happiest video I have seen in a long time.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

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Ronald McDonald and Kim Possible!

Raise your hand to your heart and look to our flag.
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Didn't we learn from "The Ringer" that some shit just shouldn't be put into film production? I have a real unsettling feeling about how this is going to blow over. I mean it's a brilliant concept, with smaller built individuals competing against average sized individuals wearing large burdensome costumes in physical competition. It also might cause a uproar. I just want to know one thing: can a smaller person balance better than a person in a giant lynx costume in the middle of a kiddie pool? You don't know either.

I guess we can call it a research experiment?

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

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A brief letter to Braylon Edwards:

Dear Braylon,

I've been in your shoes before. Dropping some JV, Varsity, Intramurals, and Men's League passes, but you may notice that none of those things I participated in included the NFL. Intramurals was close, but I didn't have Darrelle Revis guarding me in practice, nor did we hold practice.

I can see the fact that you had a Darrelle Revis (robbed of Defensive MVP) guarding you everyday in practice, but come on. Mark threw like 14 incredible passes this season and you dropped like 13 of them. It pains me to hear the announcers make up excuses as to why you dropped passes, like: "hmm, the stadium lights/sun appeared to be in his eyes", "oh it appears, the defender tipped that one away" (no defender in sight), "he thought about the run after the catch." It's like come on. There is a ball imprint in the middle of your jersey. Strikes directly to the numbers that you let trickle to the ground. This is me saying it's over Braylon. It was magical when it first began, but now I have to say that I am done. You've disappointed me too many times.

Eff You,

Dub Jeezy

I request the New York Jets release Braylon Edwards at the end of the season, burn the #17 jersey and forget that such a time ever happened. I am saying this because I guarantee he will ruin something for us (ie drop a wide open TD) versus San Diego.
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^This guy, my friends, is full of shit. GET IT?!!?!

But seriously, just as I am wrapping up a fairly mediocre Sprite, I read this article. It becomes frustrating how something as mild mannered as a fountain soda can be contaminated with feces. What can I trust anymore? If they one day say Double Cheeseburgers are "Now 100% Beef", I am going to start freaking out, beating people up and flipping chairs.

Someone tell me how I am supposed to continue my week knowing I probably ingested someone else's waste. The week is a wrap and it's only Tuesday.

Monday, January 11, 2010

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I'm kind of pissed that this gentleman chose the green shell. Those green turtles (were they turtles?) had not one discerning bone in their body. If there was a cliff in the next 25 feet of my walking path I'll make the necessary adjustments to avoid plummeting to my death. Green shells have no choice but to accept death.

Does this mean that this green guitar is limited? Can it only play a limited amount of chords? If I am jamming on stage rocking to some Paramore song, while chicks are drilling me in the face with all sorts of undergarments, I have to be at my best. My request to you sir, can you make this exact guitar, but with the red turtle? The more reasonable, think-things-through turtle.

It's like picking a quarterback that loses games (Tom Brady) over a quarterback that wins games (Mark Sanchez).

Haha, I had to. Let's go Jets--Super Bowl or Bust!
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In the most groundbreaking news story of the young decade, it has been revealed Mark "Big Mac" McGwire has done steroids.

I now hear that they are close to breaking the news on Clay Aiken and Lance Bass being gay. Scientists also revealed that the Earth does in fact have one moon and cats ALWAYS land on their feet.

But seriously, I might get on that steroids train since according to McGwire's case, it takes like 10 years to detect. Domination of work league basketball and flag football here I come!!

Friday, January 8, 2010

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Some things can slip through the cracks. You know, like gnats, or those little sparrow things you see hopping around everywhere. If a gnat grew an extra leg or started speaking English, people wouldn’t have a clue until like 2027 (JK! World is ending in 2012). It’s the same thing with sparrows. Those little things, bless their heart, are probably the most worthless/least cared about animals. They’d only grab my immediate attention if they started breathing fire, because that shit is baller to me. Salamanders apparently slipped through some cracks as well.

I watched this excruciatingly boring video up until the 30 second mark. Then all of sudden the greasiest most not-wanting-to-be-alive creature ever recorded appeared on the screen. How did this shit happen? No one said, “Damn, that’s a big salamander”? Based on the looks of these poor bastards, they didn’t want to be this big either. It’s like being a 6’4 kid in middle school.

2012 prediction #15394: We find out Japan has been dumping illegal chemicals in the area where salamanders like to frequent. Dec 23, 2012, one of these things keeps growing, learns to breathe fire and starts roaring and destroying Tokyo. It then swims across the Atlantic, terrorizes Manhattan and P. Diddy makes a song about it. Wait, what? That already happened in 1996? Alright. Carry on Japanese.
// //

Just to prove how confident I am in this track, I will post the song without actually listening to it. If it looks like a club banger, it probably smells like a club banger. That is in no way how the saying is supposed to go.

Enjoy the song. Let me know if it's the fireball I predicted it to be.
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-wonder what those choices are

Not going to lie, I like this guy’s touch. He has the “I’ll just litter my sign with crucifixes and throw in the ol’ ‘God Bless’ at the end” approach to his homeless game. If I had a readership of more than four people, I’d definitely have a “make the best homeless sign” contest. People would get out the Elmer’s and glitter for that shit.

My sign would have all the elements tied into one. It’d have to feature the fact that I am a veteran. I may need fatigues or some shit, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Next, I’d probably go with the whole terminal disease approach. That seems to tug the heart muscle just a tad. The decision lies in whether I go with AIDS or liver cancer (because I’m a drunk bum), but again, shouldn’t be an issue. The next two can be intertwined into one calculated attack. If I hit people with the homeless-child/dog/both-accessory AND the crucifixes, I am bound to rake in $0.27 from that chick I just held the door for.

Alright, if I haven’t offended all of you yet, let me get my piece out. I saw this homeless character on the street yesterday with his dog AND crucifixes just making dough and flaunting his success. He told this chick that gave him a stank look that he makes $200+ a day. At that point, my professional choices seemed so incorrect. Needless to say, I did make a sign.

Cardboard sign that reads: Homeless Veteran With AIDS-Cancer That Needs To Support His Son and Dawg (because I am witty)…God Bless Everyone and America. The sign will also be tattered with crucifixes and strategically placed sad faces. Tell me you won’t give that mofo money.

See you at the fiery gates.

PS. Shout out to for scavenging the internet and discovering this crap heap of a blog. It’s true, I thought Waffles was a cartoon character. First time I went on your site, I saw that image and the rest is history. But seriously, keep it up guys. You have a great site and I’d love to be featured on there again. Maybe, like, today?

Thursday, January 7, 2010

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Like four days ago, I thought I was a god damn genius when I made the executive decision that my body isn't meant to do laundry. My hands seize up and I walk into walls and shit. The cerebellum pretty much shuts down. Bright idea! I'll get a cheap ass, efficient, pro-working man laundry service. Things are looking up for ol' Dub Jeezy.

With this new laundry freedom, I am treating my room like Tom Cruise treated his house in Risky Business. Clothes are everywhere and I am throwing shit around with reckless abandon. It is then, I realize, I don't want a stranger handling some of my clothes. A man's whites are basically an invitation into their soul. This is bad news before it even began. What if they have a blacklight?! Is this some NBC Dateline investigation type of shit, because if it is, I am screwed. I am seriously thinking this is some candid camera, slip on a banana peel type shit. Laundry service is scheduled to pick up my sad sack of clothes in roughly two hours. Don't know what to do here. I am debating removing my unmentionables (and scared to mentionables) and washing them on my own, but I am a man (I'm 40!!), a working man. My life sucks too much to give a shit about this stuff. Who knows, a really hot girl with a fetish for stank ass, questionably stained clothing could be the one to drop my clothes off.

I'll probably just cancel my order.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

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In an effort by Nintendo to wackify sports games and create a video-game only environment for today's youth, they decided to remake NBA Jam. I nearly threw up in my own pass out when I got wind of this news. I've wasted potentially 600 1993 dollars on this game in quarters. That's like 722 dollars today(what up dollar value)! With that extra $122, imagine how many double cheeseburgers I can get. I digress. The Wii is known for swallowing a good sports franchise and shitting out a kiddie game. Granted, the Wii is marketed to children, but don't put NBA Jam exclusively on the Wii. Do you know how many drinking games and pre-party experiences you elimated EA? Do you?! A six year old girl won't know that she can straight goaltend shots when she's on fire. She'll be surprised and possibly scared by all the loud noises and flashing lights.

Get this shit on the PS3 and XBox 360 immediately EA, or else we are striking and signing petititions and shit. By we, I mean me. A waste of a good idea.
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"i have something that i'd like to get off my chest. i cheated this fantasy football season. i cheated a lot. my original plan was to have steve originally tank the first half of the season then trade me one or two of his superstars in a couple of questionable trades. everyone would just chalk it up to steve being a retard. what i didn't count on was steve changing the p%^$word to his account before going on a school trip to costa rica. what a knucklehead!!! i started panicking. my team was crumbling before my eyes. luckily, steve got back just in time to change his roster and ** craw out of the playoffs. oh yeah, as the league creator i ****ed with your rosters a lot, especially you roseville. i feel pretty bad about that. i don't know why i did it. maybe it was i grew up a die hard pats fan. i just hope you guys can forgive me. especially you roseville.

ps next year 50 dollar buy in and promise no cheating"

I've been associated with some high stakes stuff that doesn't involve the exchange of money. Like, NBA Hangtime and Apples to Apples to name a few. I've cheated my way to victories in both games on more than one occasion (sorry guys). This is first time I've seen anything like this. It feels like the day you realize Santa Claus isn't real. I thought Fantasy Football was a sacred club. A modern day treehouse if you will. This message was like a shitload of termites just coming into my treehouse and breathing fire everywhere. C'mon dawg. Why'd you put Seneca Wallace (Seahawks Backup QB) in over my starter (Aaron Rodgers-top 3 fantasy QB) during a crucial week 5 game. Not like I noticed because I am drunk every Sunday morning, but c'mon. And oh yea, i'll be sure to give you $50 next year. I'll also give you all of my credit card information and my social security number. You seem like a good dude.

Yes, you read correctly. I've consistently cheated at Apples to Apples.

Monday, January 4, 2010

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-Apparently, it was a lot nicer in 2008.

Not to say Club Rebel was a bad spot, but there was something a little off about that place. Mainly the fact that it resembled a condemned parking lot and the questionable "I can't put my finger on what that is, oh wait, it's the crab rangoons they're serving near the dance floor" smell. Again, it was not a bad spot. Welp, here it goes. My New Years.

My buddy and I head to Poughkeepsie to take the Metro North railroad into the city because, well, we don't have a definite place to sleep for the night (more on that later). We train into the city and take down a couple Amtrak Heinekens to try to prepare our livers for the blind-sided hit they were about to take. The "where are you" texts started to roll in and it was almost time to ring in the new year the most classless manner possible. We crushed some pizzas and made our way to rebel. GPS told us that we were either 25 minutes away of 2 minutes away from the place. To top off God's GPS joke, I was also mistaken for a Bank of America security officer and subsequently called good looking by a gay couple. Things were looking strange to say the least.
We get to Rebel after being a little confused at whether it was really a parking garage.

Rebel smelled a tad on the rank side, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt because they served food. A lot of flashing lights, people, and booze at Rebel it seems. Pretty much Grandma's recipe for a bad decision. We all hit the open bar with the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cubs. So what it was 9:00pm and the open bar ends at 3am, we feared a big line. Needless to say, within 2 hours I am blackout drunk and leading the league (bar) in questionable overall decisions.

The bar gives us notice that 2010 is only 20 minutes away and then no notice after that. No 10 minutes warning, or 5, or 1. Or I was hammered, but I'm pretty sure they just forgot or the mic was broken. Most anticlimactic new year ever. Drinks keep flowing, women keep appearing and disappearing and then appearing again. I'd say I had 12-15 Jack'n Cokes at this point and maybe a beer or two. Coat check is a blur and next thing I know we are getting into a near brawl inside a local pizza shop. Just screaming at strangers. Next image in my blur is a diner in Times Square crushing eggs and bacon. One of our buddies calls and I end up talking to him about god knows what. I politely exited the conversation, walked outside, and vomited all over the concrete jungle. After frightening a few happy couples, I walked back inside the diner and finished my breakfast. With my momentary post-vomit sobriety, I suggested that we should get to Penn Station and get home. Sobriety disappears, I now see that we are getting chased by a drunken girl in a pink jacket. What?

We narrowly escape to Penn Station at around 4:15am and realize that the next train isn't until 7:15. Fuck. Well..the ground is looking appealing. Yes, we slept on the ground of Penn Station until 7:05am when a kindly Amtrak worker told us to get the hell up and catch our train. Train to Poughkeepsie was much of the same drunk. Same guy waking us up, same drunken scurry, but this time to the back of a cold big red van. In Newwwww Yorrkkkkk....

Hope everyone's New Years was safe and happy. No Penn Station floors for you guys.