And this picture is helping me get through this dreadfully boring sports doldrum.  (/no homo)  If that’s not the best 1-2-3 rotation in all of baseball I don’t know what is.

Today’s beer is nothing else but, Pabst Blue Ribbon. Yes, call me a cagey scenester.

It was Quizzo time again at Sweeney’s Saloon. The bar lies across the street from the Philly border, so smoking is allowed. I sat next to the 2 kinda cute dykes that are normally there, but they decided I wasn’t worthy enough to be a teammate. They named their team “Your Mom”. Which, after a few Rum & Cokes, prompted several shouts of: Your mom sucks at trivia. Your mom sucked my dick last night. Your mom doesn’t know shit about current events. Your mom has an inner ear infection.

But my team (Team Coco. Which the Quizmaster was clueless about its origin), finished 4th place once again. I had the help of a 17 year old Russian kid that just moved here from Brooklyn. His name was Ilya. The entire night I kept asking if he was related to Ilya Kovalchuk. He wasn’t impressed. First words he said to me when I sat down, “You got any weed”? We chatted it up and he helped with the music round by using some iPhone app that recognizes songs.

Anyway, he introduced to me the Long Island Iced Tea. Sure, I’ve heard of the drink before, but never tried it. It’s delicious. Ilya says they cost 14 bucks in Manhattan, and patrons routinely pay with a $20 and forgive the change. Disgusting.

So Ilya lives around the corner and doesn’t work. But he is well off, somehow. Then 2 Russian chicks that are most certainly prostitutes showed up to drive him home. Oh, did I say prostitutes? I mean they work for “his mother’s dry cleaning business”.

What kind of effect/affect(?) do Iced Teas have on me? I didn’t know what ball player finished his career with 573 homers (Harmon Killebrew)*, but I knew which Egyptian leader was assassinated back in 1981 (Anwar Sadat).

I got the email from Adolf Hef that I was on tittie patrol today. And all I could think about this chick that I saw on another website this week. After the jump, a delicious woman for your afternoon spanking (Don’t view this at work. Unless you have headphones for your eyes).

*Sports reference

Read the rest of this entry »

The end.

You want the Cleveland fans to move on, yet you still take potshots at your former organization:

“Everything is built around winning and forget everything else. Over there, everything is petty, worried about the wrong thing – what a guy is saying, what a guy is making. There’s just too much foolishness over there and too many people there who are still worried about the wrong thing.” (Yahoo Sports)

Well, I don’t know about the money aspects or being worried about the wrong things, but if it’s one thing we do well around here, it’s “petty” and “foolishness”.

Enjoy your contract negotiations, dick.

Read the rest of this entry »

Just insert nuts in his mouth.

Sheesh, it’s still early in the day and I’ve already run out of material. I created that pic a few weeks ago and just totally, yanno, forgot aboot it. It woulda been totally funny if it was posted on Christmas day. Too bad I have terrible timing. (In case you’re wondering, that’s our fearlesss leader, Andy. Everyone say hai to Andy. HAI ANDY!).

Now for the money shot. I got a package 2 days before Christmas from Clowndrigo Gutierrez in Texas. The box was addressed to Gonzo Bruzzese. Luckily, my terrible mailman didn’t return it, because he can be a dick sometimes. Onto the gifts!!! (I just wish Kevin Duckworth was around to see this)

WOOOO!!!!!!

Double WOOO!!! Thanks Clownie.

It’s almost lunch time ’round here. But before we eat, it’s time for the airing of the grievances. We have a special guest here to point out how the writers and commenters have disappointed us this year.

Say what you want about New York, but we certainly know how to make a point with a Newspaper cover.

Dream Theater’s “Glass Prison” on Guitar Hero at the hardest difficulty?

Don’t lie…this rocked your socks off.

I don't get it.

I love numbers. Ever since I was a kid I have been enamored with numbers in baseball. I aced every math course from kindergarten through high school (except calculus, fuck that shit). My algebra teacher nicknamed me Breeze because I handed in pop quizzes the quickest (plus, it’s a play on my last name; note to CRM, I didn’t give you a fake name) I can can calculate pot odds in an instant. I can determine how many outs I need to win a hand and the percentage it adds up to at the snap of a finger. Although I can be a bit OCD about numbers. Kinda like Will Ferrell’s role in Stranger Than Fiction. I count how many steps I take from here to the crapper. How many times I swipe my toothbrush. How many times I giggle when Tony Romo loses a December football game. But enough about me; let’s talk about my Tool after the jump.

Read the rest of this entry »

Looks like Lisa Simpson is blowing Bart. Here, let me help you visualize it better.
Read the rest of this entry »