I have to admit I know very little about basketball, especially college basketball. Luckily for you that means I know about a thousand times more than you on the subject. I mean I don't remember you beating me on NCAA Final Four Basketball. Not to sound like a jerk.., no I can be a jerk if I want to, I have a general comprehension of sports that most mere mortals could, well, never comprehend. It's not entirely your fault. Some of us were created in a little more of his image than others. Over time I have developed a very specific skill set that makes me far superior in the realm of sports commentary and analysis. It has meant much sacrifice in both my personal and professional life. I rarely look up from the stacks and stacks of spreadsheets and various screens that litter my every waking being. I think I may have had a cat at one point, but who has time for feeding time? Not I! Have you looked at how Virginia Tech is 11-23 against the spread after a non conference game? That's negative 13.5 units for gods sake! When I inhale I am filled with the aromas of dirty jocks and half empty cans of slurm but when I exhale I spread the sweet ambrosia of Bracketology to all those willing to receive the word. Wichita State is +175? That is one I'll take! Have you looked at my baby? She is beautiful in her own way... I mean all children disappoint... We can only hope that they straighten up in the end... SAINT JOHNS WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU!!! I HATE YOU SO MUCH! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU! ........It's okay. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. You couldn't have, actually.., meant.., to... Who needs friends when I have all this beautiful beautiful basketball?! Most certainly not me. Kittens you look different today. Have you always spoken the riddles of Manucious? Hold me close Digger. Tonight we dine in hell!
Happy Pie Day, Anger Paraders
Man, I fucking love Pie. I love it so much that I spell it with a Capital P to highlight the divinity of Pie. Or something haughty and philosophical like that.
My favorite type of Pie, you ask? That's a really big question, but I'm relatively tradition (relative to what, I have no idea) in my love of Pie. A nice Dutch Apple crafted with fruit handpicked from my great grandmother Pauline's (Pie rest her soul) small orchard sits alone atop my Pie-power-tower, GodKing over all other baked goods. This is a sensation that lives on only in memory, however.
Lucky, there are many more tangible flavors more readily available. Rubarb Pie is a family favorite, and Huckleberry is a local delicacy that I miss. However, I've discovered a love of Pecan here in TX. Pumpkin Pie is, naturally, a fall favorite, and one rarely goes wrong with a sugar encrusted Peach Pie. Oh, and I almost forgot: The Olivia Munn Pie. Mmm mmmmmmm.
Now, lets talk a little bit about this whole cake vs. Pie thing: Don't you think...
Wait. Wait just a gods damned minute. I've just been informed that I'm a little off-base with this. Apparently - and I can't even believe I'm typing these fucking words - Apparently it isn't Pie Day. According to CNN, my go to source for light reading and current events, it's Pi Day. Instead of a day of celebration for the taste sensation that is a sugary filling baked into a crumbly, buttery crust, we're honoring a number. And it's not even a very exciting number! And really, it's a day for a symbol that represents a number, not even the digits themselves. How fucking esoteric and irrelevant is that?
Whatever. I'm going to go eat some fucking Pie. I leave you with this:
There can be only one: Charlie Sheen
It pains me to jump on any sort of bandwagon and beating dead horses just makes me sad, so I really intended to stay away from this particular wagon being drawn by a team of well flogged long dead equine, but then Mike and I spent two hours drinking and overindulging in the Charlie Sheen media blitz, after which I came home to find this over at Virtual Shackles and, well, here we are...
New Anger Parade Contest! Name Wade's Son!
As every expecting father knows, naming your baby can be one of the most challenging things you will face. I'm sure it ranks right up there with accepting you are always wrong, always smelly, always the cause of generally anything and everything bothering your pregnant spouse at any given time. It is your fault that this demon, heart burn inducing, devil spawn is in her. So man up and name your kid something awesome!
When I drink gasoline we all win!
If while out for a bit of grocery shopping don't hit a pedestrian with your two thousand pound Pontiac Bonneville. Especially not a blind one. At the very least, don't just drive off leaving before mentioned blind person bleeding in the road. That is a dick move, bra.
