The little battles in life are really what gets to me, probably because I currently live with my mom and am clinically obese. Looking at the big picture would probably make me long for Chris Benoit after a few HGH margaritas as my common-law partner.
True litmus test: time aside, I'd still watch the Saved by the Bell JUNIOR HIGH years over this. Uh huh. The Rockies are good. Awesome. We get it. Same with the Patriots. Sports dominance right now has fewer new angles than that girl you plowed midway through sophomore year. But Miss Bliss, on the other hand ... meow.
People That Aren't Professional Athletes
"After last night, he better pay for parking!" - some girl Derek Jeter pretzeled all night long. I once coached a team of eight year olds to a second place finish in a summer day camp league; the only thing that touches my manhood is the tepid water of my morning shower through my cascade of tears.
The Heisman Trophy
Can you think of a time when its awarding seemed more meaningless? It's the socio-cultural equivalent of Toonces the Driving Cat.
The World Series
Cleveland vs. Colorado. Ha. This stuff writes itself.
(1) Because of the above, he'll have to keep watching NFL Films video of Browns vs. Broncos from the mid-1980s.
(2) His son couldn't coordinate the offensive of a Jewish bagel deli.
(3) The Chargers are about to blow up again.
(4) According to the strict definition offered up near the end of Pulp Fiction, he is, in actuality, still a bum.
Frank Caliendo, impressionist fat ass, might have been the biggest non-Arizona or Turner executive loser to emerge from the NLCS. By virtue of a sweep, he's gone over a month before his show actually debuts (don't worry: there's always pre-game for Jets vs. Niners). Dane Cook's faux-excited "There's only one October!" will be heard by precisely one person next week - whatever soon-to-be-exposed pervert holds the Mayor's Chair in Denver.
I picture him looking in a mirror about 14 minutes before Midnight Madness, calmly repeating over and over: "I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. This is the year I reach the Final Four," then breaking down in convulsive tears, barely able to control the razorblade in his right hand, and inexplicably smearing mascara all over his face when Brandon Rush walks in, stares straight ahead, and silently slinks away.
Osborne to him right now: "It puts the lotion on its skin, or it receives the hose again."
When Woodson puts the carving knife to his Heisman hopes and BCS contention on Saturday, I'm wondering how he'll top his "kiss and cry" CBS appearances so far this season. Oh yea. By f*cking Ashley Judd silly.
The Power Rankings
are very predictable
Brady's dick wins out.