Posts Tagged ‘Kate Upton’

h1

The Five Most Disturbing Things about the Sandusky Scandal

November 17, 2011

It’s the age-old tale: Man makes millions of dollars and gets famous playing and coaching football. Man starts charity for underprivileged youths. Man takes youths to his team’s games while charity thrives. Man ends up showering and sodomizing little boys. Man gets caught in the act and nobody tells anybody.  WHADDAFUHH!?! Unless you’re dating Kate Upton and haven’t seen the light of day in the past week, you know about Jerry Sandusky and the pedophile scandal at Penn St.

This is a tough blog for me to write, for a handful of reasons: not the least of which is how uncomfortable pedophiles make me, 99.9% of humans and every prisoner in a maximum security prison. First and foremost, I generally try not to touch stories about little boys with a ten foot pole, unlike Jerry Sandusky who thoroughly enjoyed touching, hugging, showering and “horsing around” with them (editor’s note: from here on out, pedophile sex will just be known as “horsing around” because it is the favorite term of the Sandusky defense). More importantly, I try not to make light of stories that have literally destroyed the lives of millions of people apart from just the victims in the Sandusky case. However, this is the biggest story in sports, possibly ever, and I’m going to weigh in. I’ll be taking excerpts from the Grand Jury report and compiling them into the FIVE most disturbing aspects of this whole case. I’ll try breaking up these horrific acts with girls in bikinis, because lord knows we’ll be needing them.

If you have no idea about this story, and it's because of Kate, you're excused.

NUMBER 1. “It was about 9:30 p.m. As the graduate assistant entered the locker room doors, he was surprised to find the lights and showers on. He then heard rhythmic, slapping sounds. He believed the sounds to be those of sexual activity… He saw a naked boy, Victim 2, whose age he estimated to be ten years old, with his hands up against the wall, being subjected to anal intercourse by a naked Sandusky.”

Now, I wish I could tell you the report goes on to say that the 28 year old graduate assistant, Mike McQueary, a former player for Penn St., proceeded to sprint into the shower, pull the old man (posterizing a child against the wall) to the ground and beat him beyond recognition with a blunt object… but I can’t. McQueary instead went to his office and called his father, like a child. Now, I wish I could tell you his father gave him the advice to run back into the shower, pull the old man (posterizing a child against the wall) to the ground and stab him in the jugular with a pen from his office… but I cant. McQueary’s father ordered him to come home and talk, then decided he should tell his work superior, Joe Paterno. If this response isn’t almost as disturbing to you as the rape of a child, you’re most likely Mike McQueary.

There’s two kinds of evil in this world: those who do evil, and those who witness it and do nothing, to paraphrase Albert Einstein. Hopefully, you or I never have to witness this sickening act (I now shutter at the sound of a mild game of Patty Cake after hearing Sandusky’s sex described as “rhythmic, slapping sounds”), but if we do, more importantly, we wouldn’t run away, call our daddy, drive home, and decide to call our boss. Is that even real life?! You’re a grown ass man and you let the boy get raped, run home to your dad and don’t even call the police?! McQueary should be sent to jail just so he could experience what Victim 2 did, with people witnessing it and no one coming to his aid. I might pass out and I just got started… here’s a girl in a bikini…

Thank you, Brooklyn.

NUMBER 2. “Curley specifically denied that the graduate assistant reported anal sex or anything of a sexual nature whatsoever and termed the conduct as merely “horsing around…”

Penn St. Athletic Director Tim Curley, ladies and gentlemen! He obviously read the intro to this blog, and knew that “horsing around” met sodomizing a child. Or, back when he used it, the term simply covered his ass. I don’t know about you, but “horsing around'” is what two 10 year olds might do during recess, not what a 60 year old wrinkly man does in the shower with a 10 year old boy. Let’s meet our next winner in the Penn St. administration…

 “Schultz testified that the allegations were “not that serious” and that he and Curley “had no indication that a crime had occurred.” Schultz agreed that sodomy between Sandusky and a child would clearly be inappropriate sexual conduct… Although Schultz oversaw the University Police as part of his position, he never reported the 2002 incident to the University Police or other police agency…”

Senior Vice President for Finance and Business Gary Schultz, everybody!!! Thank goodness, someone at Penn St. has finally been questioned enough by now to CONCEDE the point that sodomy would be INAPPROPRIATE. How about sick? Disgusting? Vile? Heinous? CRIMINAL? Meh, no need to get the police involved in THAT.

“Graham Spanier testified… described it as “Jerry Sandusky in the football building locker area in the shower with a younger child and that they were horsing around in the shower… Spanier denied that it was reported to him as an incident that was sexual in nature…”

Last but certainly not least, Penn State’s President, Mr. Graham Spanier, folks!!! This guy is so brilliant, so esteemed, and well regarded as to run a university with over a billion dollar endowment. So naturally, when he got a report of a guy “horsing around” in a shower with a little boy, it was not reported as sexual in nature. WHERE AM I?! I swear I know people from Pennsylvania and they never once described pedophilia in a shower as “horseplay.” Sure, I’ve never once discussed pedophilia in a shower with someone from Pennsylvania, but I don’t think that’s the point. Every last one of these officials deserves to rot in prison in the shower stall next to Sandusky, so he can define “horsing around” for them once and for all.

GIVE ME A GIRL IN A BIKINI!!!

Phew, Eva to the rescue.

 

 NUMBER 3. “Victim 1 testified that Sandusky would “crack his back”… With Victim 1 lying on top of him, face to face, Sandusky would run his arms up and down the boy’s back and “crack” it. Sandusky then began to blow on Victim 1’s bare stomach… Victim 1 testified that ultimately, Sandusky performed oral sex on him more than 20 times through 2007 and early 2008.”

I wish this could somehow be construed as a joke, but I am 100% serious when I say I blame the movie Wedding Crashers for this sex move performed by Sandusky. Without a doubt in my mind, Sandusky decided to try his hand at a game of  Tummy Sticks because of this… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JH3Hrtth8fI 

Disturbing as that may be, Sandusky invented a new game with these boys that might top it: “back cracking.” It’s a real twisted motheruffer who decides to ritualistically climb into bed with the boys he has sleep over at his house and crack their backs each night before they sleep. Sometimes, you watch TV or a movie and think they’ve done it all, then you read this Grand Jury testimony and realize unless you’re actually a pedophile, you can’t think like one. Imagine thinking this is completely normal. You climb out of the bed your wife is sleeping in, scamper downstairs to the bedroom (because pedophiles don’t walk, they scamper, like rodents) you molest underpriveleged kids from your charity in, and “crack their back.” This might be so sick it embarrasses the definition of disturbing. If I don’t get a girl in a bikini right now, I might vomit.

Don't you dare call me on the fact that this isn't a bikini! Carrie Keegan, from Attack of the Show just saved my life.

NUMBER 4. “Victim 4 was listed, along with Sandusky’s wife, as a member of Sandusky’s family part for the 1998 Outback Bowl and the 1999 Alamo Bowl… Victim 4 would frequently stay overnight at Toftrees with Sandusky and the football team prior to home games. Sandusky’s wife was never present… Sandusky would wrestle with him and maneuver him into a position in which Sandusky’s head was at Victim 4’s genitals and Victim 4’s head was at Sandusky’s genitals. Victim 4 described Sandusky rubbing his genitals on Victim 4’s face and inserting his erect penis in Victim 4’s mouth.”

Sorry if you got confused during this last one, but let me break it down for your: Sandusky 69’d with this kid. Karma Sutra 101, the Grand Jury just can’t put it that bluntly. Now, here’s the part where Joe Paterno had to know shit was coming down on him. Sure, he might have passed the buck on the shower rapes when he told his bosses and thought it would be handled. But how senile do you have to be if you don’t realize when your assistant coach has a new flavor of the week shacking up with him during team hotel stays without his wife? Only that flavor happens to be a train of varying boys. Victim 4 wasn’t the only kid getting treated to games, he was just the newest model.

Paterno knew this was going down, and it’s probably why Sandusky was told he wouldn’t become the head coach when he left back in 1999 (but got to hang around campus to keep raping boys from Second Mile). But come on people, to say Joe Paterno didn’t look the other way during this is beyond absurd. Fortunately for the Occupy Wall Street folks, the Penn St. student body made their rally look smart, as they took to the campus in protest of Paterno’s firing last week. Those kids should have been pepper sprayed, rounded up in a net, and dropped into a Nittany Lion cage (and I have no idea if that would be a bad thing since a Nittany Lion could be a house cat for all I know). You don’t get to reside over all this morbidly sick stuff and not lose your job. It’s called accountability. Even Occupy Wall Street would agree on THAT.

Erin Heatherton, a new Victoria's Secret Model. I've got nothing else.

NUMBER 5. “I could say that I have done some of those things. I have horsed around with kids. I have showered after workouts. I have hugged them and I have touched their legs without intent of sexual contact… We were showering and horsing around and he [the boy] actually turned all the showers on and was actually sliding across the floor and we were, as I recall, possibly like snapping a towel” -Jerry Sandusky 11/14/2011 in an interview with Bob Costas on NBC’s Rock 30.

I don’t know why, but reading the Grand Jury report was almost so surreal, none of the stuff sunk in. Then, I listened to Sandusky’s interview with Bob Costas and my stomach knotted up like I chased week old Sushi with month old Milk. Here’s this sick bastard on national TV, speaking to his innocence and admitting to showering with boys, horsing around and touching their legs. Claiming no sexual contact, just some towel snapping?! This is chilling. It’s the stuff you can’t make up. The horror story often read about, now suddenly has a voice personifying the monster. Here’s hoping Jerry Sandusky gets what he deserves: to live out his life in a prison, where even the criminals know the one crime worse than murder.

Stay tuned…

Advertisements
h1

Tom Brady Playing Madden, in the NFL

September 21, 2011

Two games: 940 passing yards, seven touchdowns. No, these aren’t the stats of my last two online Madden games (I’d clearly top those, let’s get real) they are real life NFL stats. Easily the top story in the NFL that nobody seems to be talking about is the dismantling of opposing defenses at the gilded hands of Sir Thomas Edward Patrick Brady Jr. (knighted in [New] England for his play. This parenthetical usage got awkward when I had to use a bracket, most likely improperly, to leave out the “New.” If you’re counting; including that semicolon, there have been six different grammatical conventions used inside these curvatures). Each pass seems to be guided by Hermes, Greek god of flight, as the ball nestles into receiver’s bosoms en route to first down after first down, resulting in touchdown. For whatever reason, the media and experts seem to have glanced over Brady’s two-week feat like a pubescent teen seeing an article in Playboy (as opposed to a grown man, who obviously reads Playboy for the articles).

Any time I can get a Playboy reference into a football blog, you know Sara Jean Underwood's cover is coming next...

The numbers are staggering, mind-boggling, obnoxious or any other expression synonymous for “insane as Van Gogh on an acid trip.” Referencing an artist is no coincidence. Tom Brady has been making the Mona Lisa look average (sidenote: the Mona Lisa is a pretty average-to-ugly chick. Does anyone know how it’s the most popular, highest insured painting ever? Like, you’re at a bar, Mona’s just sitting there, hands on her lap, and she isn’t getting two looks from anyone but your fat, blacked out friend who is convinced she’s smirking at him). Brady is throwing at such an indorinate amount of yards, he could be held to just fourteen in his upcoming matchup with the Bills and STILL be on pace to break Dan Marino’s single-season passing yards record.

For whatever reason, and perhaps it’s just my New England bias, Peyton Manning’s neck, Michael Vick’s concussion, Tony Romo’s lung, or Cam Newton’s 0-2 record have captured all the story lines in the NFL. Meanwhile, all Brady’s done is win AFC Offensive Player of the Week honors in back-to-back weeks. With Buffalo, (who just allowed 35 points to Jason Campbell’s Raiders) next on the leger, a three-peat of that award should shock no one. The question that needs to be asked is: are we about to see the best offensive performance EVER by a football team? Here are five reasons why the answer is yes.

1: Nobody has ever played QB better.

Tom Brady has a home winning streak (29 games)  that makes Charlie Sheen look like a loser. In his last 10 regular season games, he has had a QB rating of 110 or better in all but one. That ONE being a 107 in a 34-3 win against Buffalo where he threw three touchdowns and no picks. In Dan Marino’s record-setting yardage (5,084) and touchdown season (48, since broken by Manning then Brady), he had a 100+ rating in 9 of his 16 games.

2. The Patriots Defense Sucks

While Brady has been the gold-standard for quarterback statistics, the Patriots defense has tried their best to make opponents look as good. In two weeks, Brady, with his ridiculous numbers has only thrown for 144 more yards than his defense has allowed. This means you better get used to offensive explosions that would make Michael Bay proud. It’s not absurd to think Brady has many more 400+ yards games in his back pocket, as the last game against San Diego, he went the entire third quarter with just two possessions, one being a three and out.

3. Don’t Worry- Opposing Defenses Suck, Too!

That little lockout thing really got in the way of defenses being able to come together as units. Every team in the league is throwing the ball all over the place. Four different Quarterbacks not named Brady are also on pace to break Marino’s record. Cam Newton, the rookie phenom who critics said couldn’t throw at the NFL level, has only gone out and thrown for 422 and 432 yards respectively in his two times stepping onto an NFL field. Ryan Fitzpatrick (Bills) and Matthew Stafford (Lions) are tied with Brady for the NFL lead in touchdown passes, and best record of 2-0. Nothing seems to be making much sense. The outlier here is that you could see this coming from Brady, not the rest of the league.

4. Patriots Receivers are Really, Really Good

New England is the only team in the league without a dropped pass. Wes Welker and Deion Branch, neither of whom tops 5’9”, are both averaging over 100 yards receiving per game. Hybrid Tight End Aaron Hernandez is splitting wide like a receiver and burning secondaries just as quickly, with two scores and an over 80 yards per game average. Behemoth Tight End Rob Gronkowski leads the NFL in touchdown receptions, tweets at Kate Upton–> http://bit.ly/p9rg2G, attendance at frat parties–> http://bit.ly/lL7yWY, and you guessed it, he’s in the top 20 with the above players in yards receiving. This hasn’t even brought us to Chad Ochocinco, the most well-known Patriot receiver. Ocho should finally know the playbook by Week 5, once he’s done tweeting his every move and buying his gold-digging fiancee, Evelyn Lozado, the stuff Antoine Walker could no longer afford. The scariest part here, is that Brady hasn’t even clicked with all his weapons. Additionally the offense has looked rusty on some of their wide receiver/running back screens that normally gouge defenses at key points.

5. Bill Belichick

We saw it in 2007, and we are about to see it this year. Not necessarily the 16-0 record, because this defense won’t be good enough, but definitely the unconscionable ability to show no mercy on a scoreboard. At this point in both Brady and Belichicks careers, they have seen everything, heard all the detractors, and decided to flip them the finger, in unison. If you don’t think records mean anything to Bill and Tom, just look at the way scores were run up in that 2007 season while Brady ran play action at the 1 yard line for TDs. Belichick is a football historian, and he knows full well the records within the team’s grasp this season.

Not to mention Kate Upton within Gronk's grasp.

Stay tuned…

 

h1

My Book’s Foreword

May 24, 2011

Some time during college, I had the idea to write a book about getting through college with a 4.0 social GPA. One could argue (at least I would) that the more friends you make in college, the better your future opportunities. Sure, there are the foreign exchange students with 4.0 actual GPAs who cure cancer and stuff, but none of those people are reading this blog. Thinking through some titles, I settled on something along the lines of “How to Get Through College Without Reading: Ironic I Wrote a Book.” I actually started the book about a year and a half ago, and combined have probably put about two hours into it since then. I’ve got like 3,000 words (aka- a tad longer than my bin Laden blog), so I thought I would post the foreword. The timing is good because I know nothing about this Israeli/Palestinian conflict and there’s nothing funny about what took place in Missouri. Don’t worry, I’ll throw hot girls in still. So here you go: the foreword to my book, written over a year ago and most likely to never be completed…

In case this blog isn't your cup of tea, Kate Upton twitpic'd a glass of beer, which you have to enjoy.

Monday, September 14, 2009

FOREWORD

Who invented the foreword anyway? This seems ridiculous. I did no research on writing a book, but I know that some books have forewords, and I will do anything to at least present the image of me being an author. Am I an author just for writing this? If people ask, can I tell them that I’m an author, and not an unemployed college graduate living with my parents? (Editor’s note: you are an author when you are published. BOOM. Just published myself). Have I been too rhetorical in my foreword? These thoughts have all come to mind since I sat down and started typing this.

Bobby Frost... beardless as a baby's ass.

I’m starting to really like the foreword.

I originally intended to write this entire book at a Starbucks where I order trendy author-like frappes and have a cute barista know my order every morning. I’d also love to grow a beard, as some pictures I’ve seen of great writers show them with beards. Shakespeare had one. So did Robert Frost (editor’s note: I just googled Robert Frost to check the veracity of my last statement. It is false. Perhaps I can still be a great writer).

Anyway, I think I should tell a story at this point in the foreword to explain why I’m writing this book. If that’s what the foreword is even for.

Sophomore year of High School I wrote a five-page paper on some topic that escapes me now. It was for English class. So it was probably a paper on Shakespeare or Robert Frost. That’s not important. My Mom asked me how the paper went and I told her I finished the fifth page. She asked how long it was supposed to be (five to seven pages) and then said, so why did you only do five. I answered, “Because it said five to seven. That means I can’t be penalized for doing the minimum.” She told me that it was the minimum and maybe I should consider doing the maximum some time to show more effort. I told her, “Mom, I ALWAYS do the minimum. Doing the maximum is just a waste of greatness.”

Recently found out that this chick Ashley Greene is in the Twilight movies as Edward Cullen's sister. Do what you want with that knowledge, but I'm still not watching those movies.

This motto has generally guided my life in all endeavors that require work. It is also most likely the reason that I am an unemployed college grad living with my parents. Just think, if I did the maximum, I would be working a real job and not writing this book. So far, I’m having fun being an author. It has been 19 minutes. Now, I feel bad for the unemployed college graduates.

In closing, (Just the foreword’s closing. Not the entire book. Otherwise this would be a short book that may not classify as a book since it’s just a foreword) I’m writing this book because some people throughout my life have told me I’m entertaining and tell good stories. If they were patronizing me, this book is really going to suck. If they weren’t, then however many pages this book turns into might go down as the greatest words you have ever read (unless you have ever read Shakespeare or Robert Frost. I’ve spark noted them, and they seem pretty good, so I won’t put myself in their league, yet). The book should be about college, life, and things that are in college and life, and how I feel about those things. I just wrote that sentence and questioned whether I can put “, and” twice in the same sentence. I decided that since I’m the author and it’s my book, I could do this.

So without further ado, here is my book. If you are wondering, that foreword was fun. If I write another book, it will have a foreword, too.

Liked what Kate did with the place in her earlier Twitpic, and didn't feel like finding some other scantily clad model whose boobs don't redefine the game.

Stay tuned…

h1

The Party Bus Survival Guide: Nighttime Addendum

May 12, 2011

While the references are rare, her powers are enumerated through brief, forceful examples throughout Greek mythology. Nyx, goddess of the primordial night, spawned some of the greatest mythological representations: death, sleep, the fates, and ironically enough, day, just to name a few. She represents a figure of such magnitude that Zeus himself did not dare anger her, as witnessed in Homer’s Iliad, when Nyx’ son, Hypnos (sleep), runs for her protection after angering the god of all gods. I swear none of that is plagiarized, I just write the goodest, sometimes. Naturally, since this knowledge required an exhaustive researching of Wikipedia, I have reserved this parallel of omnipotence to be drawn between the Greek goddess of the night and a Night Party Bus.  See, I’m back writing gooder thanks to my edumacation. As you’ve all undoubtedly read the Party Bus Survival Guide, allow this blog to act as the night bus’ addendum on those aforementioned daytime laws.  Yes, that means there are entirely new genus’ of riders, potential bus pitfalls, and of course, iTunde postulates. Without further ado…

I'm so excited for this blog, I had to get Rosie Jones involved. Never forgotten.

GUEST LIST: New Species

a. Eagerus Imbiberae

For whatever reason, the cloak of darkness facilitates a speed and intensity amongst some drinkers that is unmatched.  The warming sun of a day bus may compel its drinkers to relax with a beer over the first 15-minute span before raging their spandex off. However, the night bus has people ripping shots, slapping the bag and ‘gunning beers as soon as the wheels part from the curb. Even though Michael Buffer may not be on your bus, his drinking equivalent is there to let you know you better get ready to rumble. While the overall state of the night bus is improved for everybody due to the selfless acts of the Eagerus Imbiberae who ride within, their individual night is often cut short around hour two due to blackout. Arguments can be made and won that “Eagerus Imbiberae” is the noblest of titles attained on the night’s ride.

b. Coherentis Solidaritae

We all remember the Dormis Comatosis from the first bus blog. That lone person who simply goes so hard nothing can keep them conscious. Well, at the night bus’ conclusion, the entire constitution of the bus is bass-ackwards. Now, just about everyone that actually makes it back onto the bus at the end of the night is strewned about, using shoulders as pillows, resembling Jigglypuff in a Super Smash Bros. Gamecube session in the Den. If you didn’t get that Pokemon reference, don’t worry, you probably just suck. Anyway, you may be wondering where the Coherentis Solidaritae factors into this equation. This rider is the lone person fist pumping in the front of the bus on the ride home, when they finally realize nobody else is cognizant. Doing a slow turn back, the crushing realization dawns on them like that Twilight Zone story about the guy who wants to be alone in a library for all eternity, then shatters his reading glasses: they didn’t get drunk enough. Scrambling to awake their closest friend to see if they have any rage left in them, the Coherentis Solidaritae is one of the most unenviable bus species. Take this as your warning.

c. Lordus Danceus

Whether pop n’locking to the musical stylings of the Biebs, bouncing to a mashup by Guetta or giving a tutorial to everyone yearning to Dougie, this rider sits no song out and is often the first to occupy the pole at the bus’ nucleus. Along the way, they somehow manage to constantly gyrate in some semblance of rhythm during each sip (slap or shotgun) of alcohol they take. En route to the bus’ stop at a bar/club they make the bold proclamation that the dance floor within that establishment is about to be held ransom, yet, ultimately murdered in ruthless fashion, regardless of payment… so somebody better call the cops now. Gender carries no relevance here, as the Lordus Danceus primarily acts as the first dancing icebreaker for all non-affiliated bus riders.

Kate Upton, SI Swimsuit Model- redefines hotness and the Dougie, at once.

DRESS CODE

 While I hate to completely remove the notion that the Neonus Feminae is not an extinct species on the Night Bus, it is certainly on the endangered list. Only in the rarest of instances is someone capable of both dressing slutty enough to get onto a dance floor AND being in neon. While always leaving the door ajar for that sort of greatness, it is often a threshold that goes uncrossed. More regularly, the night bus consists of two relatively specific templates for how one is dressed. They are obviously gender specific and go a lot like this…

FEMALE:

Kim just killing the middle 1/3.The guy on the right just killing my retinas.

1- Some variance of dress that presents the optical illusion of it literally being painted onto the skin due to tightness. (It can either be a one piece that requires all bodily effort to be squeezed into, similar to the casing of a sausage, or one of those high-waisted skirts that consistently blur the lines of sex/secretary on Mad Men.

2- Legal length of this dress is not to exceed more than 2 3/4 ‘’ past the curvature of the butt cheek measured from the waist, or less than 1/3 of the subjects body. Yes, the dress should not be covering more than the middle third of the wearer.

3- Regulation fc*k me heels. No further explanation necessary.

MALE:

1- Dark Jeans.

2- Button-down Ralph Lauren shirt.

3- Sperry’s.

Natural observations for each gender:

MALE:

Look, I don’t run a fashion blog like my good friend Logan @ http://onemanswagger.blogspot.com/ … So I’ll let him do a better job describing it. I basically detailed what I wear out, every night I go out, bus or not.

FEMALE:

a. Just as God intended, the females will look far more beautiful then the males.

b. The females undergarments will almost certainly be on display for all to see at one point. It’s the simple formula: skirt+alcohol(bus + sitting/standing)= panty.

iTunde Playlist Updates 1.1 (as always, quotes from Tunde set the tone)

Ammendment 1: “There is literally no time to mess around, so you gotta get hits in early, because people just DIE on the night bus!” Couldn’t have said it better myself, Tunde. For this reason, Khia’s “My Neck My Back” is the easy choice as the commencement song. After that, waste no time getting to the most popular songs within your group because by hour three, people will forget their own phone number.

Amendment 2: “Really? like really…it’s a night bus, there’s no room for relaxing songs. That playlist better be damn TOUGH!” In case you weren’t sure from the Khia song, Tunde isn’t messing around here. We are talking hit after hit, no matter how hardcore, or sexually explicit. Some songs that might fall under this umbrella include: Rick Ross “MC Hammer,” Madcon “Freaky Like Me,” Fabolous “You Be Killin ‘Em,” and YC’s “Racks.”

Googled: Huge Rack. Got: Heidi Montag. Who knew Heigh would ever make it into the Revolver?!

DESERTION

This is perhaps the most pressing issue one must be prepared for when taking part in a night bus. While desertion is a term generally reserved for war, myriad reasons ensure the people who get on the bus to start the night simply will not be riding home on it. Dropping from the ranks worse than a Confederate soldier at the Battle of Antietam, the dangerous elements of a night bus exact their toll quickly and without warning. Let’s first take care of the obvious reasons for straying from the group: darkness, food, sickness, maming, emergency room, strip club, public urination arrest, cannibalism and hallucinations of Ewoks dubbing you their king and carrying you away. Now, let’s touch on the more rare, animalistic survival tactic that often comes into play when excessive drinking and overwhelming human interaction mix.

It's time to go if things look like this.

We all know the scene. You’re unclear of how you got there, but as sure as the day is long, you’re standing in the middle of a dance floor, disoriented, foggy and haphazardly clothed. Without knowledge of the forensic analysis of rape for a few more days, you experience that queasy instinctual reaction: fight or flight. Since there’s nobody to fight because no one is paying attention to your stumbling ass, your brain shuts down all external receptors and enters into tunnel vision. You need to get out. Now. In one of the rarest of drinking miracles, nature has released the basic survival tactics that prevented early mankind from falling enslaved to Sauron’s army of Orcs in the fight for middle earth (if you subscribe to the Tolkien view of man’s evolution).

You alert nobody of your departure as you fumble, crash and spill into anyone who gets in your path. At this very moment, no other stimuli could prevent your ultimate goal: bed. Except for food: the first necessary means of survival. So you stop at 7/11 and stick a shrink-wrapped sub that is officially past expiration since it’s after midnight, down your pants/into your purse. Armed with sustenance, you begin the journey home. Whether it requires a three-mile walk in heels, haggling with an Uzbekistani cab driver over a fixed fare of three wadded up homeless bills, or bumming a ride off a stranger in the middle of a busy intersection, you will get home safely. Just not on the bus.

Okay, so not EVERYONE makes it home.

MORNING AFTER

Unfortunately, the fun from the night before doesn’t end there. As the Sahara-like dryness of your mouth finally forces you to wake up at an otherwise ungodly hour, your first reaction is like the start of a Rick Ross verse when you literally verbalize the thought: “OUAHwha!!!… WHERE AM… OHTHANKGOD” as you realize this is real life.  Walking into the living room, friends immediately blow up your spot talking about the stuff you were unconsciously doing the night before. In this instance, I like to use the “shot at the doctor” coping method. When you need to get bloodwork done, you know it’s coming, you know there’s a sharp prick, and you know in the end things are going to be fine. After the bus, deep down there’s some discomfort as you sit there and take the shot (or retelling of your actions) , but there is also the everlasting memory of a night you’ll never forget you forgot and got told about.  If you’re lucky, you’ll even get the following text sent to you: “I woke up… in only a thong… and a plate with mustard on my desk which leads me to believe I ate a hot dog.” Yup, it’s like that.

There's the mustard!

 Stay tuned…

 

h1

March “Madness” an A Propos Name in 2011

March 15, 2011

It’s true, I just broke out my french-english on all your asses to describe the upcoming NCAA Tournament as “fitting.” Now I’m going to act chivalrous and rendezvous with all of you to share my tourney espionage work. That is literally all the french-english words I care to ever think about, since my affinity for France ends at fry or toast. Isn’t Joakim Noah French? Uff the French. But seriously, this year above all others, the one-and-done player in college basketball has finally created a bracket more “mad” and unpredictable than a Charlie Sheen orgy after banging a seven gram rock and chilling in his theater room. All day I’ve just been scouring reports on upsets, sleepers, favorites, blue-bloods, cinderellas, giants, giant killers, mid-majors, major-majors, intermediary-majors, sub-terranian-majors and every other term you can imagine to describe teams in this tournament. My head is spinning, this is the only thing that makes sense to me at this point…

I know, it's not even a random hot girl. Just this basic, nothing to write home about shot of Megan Fox looking all sweaty and perfect.

Beyond the #1 seeds, who are still vulnerable in latter rounds, I have seen legitimate arguments made for EVERY SINGLE favorite to get upset in the first round. Alas, have no fear, devout Revolver Reader! I am here to make sense of things for you… using the tried and true formula of comparing sports to hot women. I will get you through the important factors of this upcoming tournament. Because, if there’s two things I do well, one of them is dominating an NCAA bracket (or at least staying alive until the Elite 8 weekend) and the other is destroying entire tubs of hummus in a single sitting.

So now, I’m just sitting here crushing roasted red pepper hummus staring at a bracket with more cross-outs than Schindler’s List (does that joke even make sense? Did Schindler cross people off his list? Is it even his list, or is he on it? Should I watch the movie before I offend people? If it’s “Too Soon” my bad), trying to make sense of things. At this point, there’s a solid chance that I’ll be watching the first round, making comments like: “SHIT! I KNEW THEY WOULD WIN, I ENDED UP TAKING THE OTHER TEAM IN MY FINAL BRACKET, BUT AT ONE POINT, BACK IN ‘NAM, I DEFINITELY HAD THEM FILLED IN!” By now, you’re probably waiting for a hot girl comparison, so let’s get into this chinese fire drill of a basketball tournament.

THE MARISA MILLER  “DOUBLESHOTS”

The Best of the Best

Ohio State, Kansas

Just two teams get the distinction of being in the Marisa Miller group: flawless. Much like Marisa, they bring the total package to the table. It’s rare you find an inside-out threat that is so complete, but with both of these teams, their multi-faceted approach can burn you down low (Sullinger for OSU, the Morris twins for Kansas) or up top (Diebler and Buford for OSU, Morningstar and Reed for Kansas). These teams are eerily similar to the way Marisa can torture you, whether you are looking up top, or down low on her bikini, or lack thereof.

THE MINKA KELLY “MINXES”

Near-perfect, with that nagging question mark...

Duke, Pittsburgh, Notre Dame, UNC, UCONN, Purdue

Downgraded like Minka is for dating Derek Jeter, a Yankee manwhore who offers her nothing, aside from his 300+ million in career earnings, all of these teams are flawed in some way. Duke is without star frosh PG Kyrie Irving, and Kyle Singler can’t throw the ball in the ocean from the middle of a Kayak, right now. Pittsburgh doesn’t have the go-to star that is so often needed in March. Notre Dame lacks athleticism (a nice way to say they are too white) and cannot defend. North Carolina has never pieced it together all year as their supposed savior, Harrison Barnes, has only shown flashes of dominance. UConn has Kemba Walker and a bunch of question marks, plus they may be too drained after their five games in five days Big East tournament win. Purdue has the great PG in E’twaun Moore, and the top notch center in JaJuan Johnson, but the season-ending injury to sniper-wing Robbie Hummel leaves them without a solid wing option.

THE SCARLETT JOHANSSON “BOMBSHELLS”

Big names, but not going anywhere this year...

Kentucky, Florida, Syracuse, Louisville

Calipari, Donovan, Boeheim, Pitino… Johansson. Sure, the names on the jerseys and in the coaching boxes are sexy as all hell, just like Scarlett. Sure, they’ve got Final Fours, National Championships,  blue-chip recruits and talent all over, just like Scarlett. Sure, they’ll be marginally successful, just like Scarlett. But, ultimately, they’ve got too much baggage to make any real noise this year. Just like Scarlett is rebounding from a messy divorce and no truly memorable acting roles (seriously, IMDb her… weak), all of these coaches and teams are rebounding from divorces: Kentucky lost John Wall, DeMarcus Cousins and Eric Bledsoe from last year’s team. Or unmemorable performances/rosters: quick, name three players on Florida, Louisville or Syracuse. If you aren’t a big-time basketball fan, there’s no way you can do that. Even if you are, it’s only because you just watched the conference tournament games.

THE KATE UPTON “UPSTARTS”

Who?

Utah St., Belmont, Richmond, Oakland, Morehead St.

SI’s Swimsuit Edition breakout model, that’s who! Never heard of her!? Well here are some sleepers for your pool you probably haven’t heard of either… Utah St., Belmont, Richmond, Oakland and Morehead St. For the most part, just take my word on some of these teams. If you don’t want to take mine, take a bunch of experts and geeks who do NCAA analysis for a living. Utah St. was dominant all year and got seeded far lower than most expected. Belmont and Richmond are two complete teams that got unlucky with tough first-round draws (Wisconsin and Vanderbilt, respectively). Oakland (6’11” center Keith Benson) and Morehead St. (NCAA All-time Rebound leader Kenneth Faried) have legitimate NBA talents on their rosters who could dominate a first-round match-up long enough to spring the huge upset. Just like Kate Upton can dominate a swimsuit long enough to spring a huge… well, you get it.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Lucy Pinder almost represented my unheard of teams, but then I realized I needed a chick hot enough to defend my genius final thoughts.

This blog honestly took more time finding appropriate hot girl-team matchups than my actual wit, so I’m going to use this space to give some final tips.

1- If your team’s best player is known as a “streetball legend” think twice before you pick them (St. John’s- Dwight Hardy). Do you want some And 1 mixtape wannabe getting called for a carry on the final possession? Didn’t think so. Quadruple-double this rule if the opposing team has a point guard who is the offspring of John Stockton (Gonzaga’s PG just so happens to be John’s son, David). If you think this rule is simply racist, well, there may be some validity, as long as Jesse Jackson is arguing for you. Otherwise, it’s simply smart.

2- When in doubt in the later rounds, take the team who will actually get to the game. I know, this sounds odd… you picked both teams to get there! But now, go back and decide who has the toughest matchups en route. If you are at a legitimate 50-50 on the game pick, pick against the team with the tougher road. It’s like when you have to decide what equally hot girl you’d rather hook up with. One is at the bar. The other requires a long cab ride with a man from Yemen. Simple choice.

3- Mascots can definitely break a tie. Seriously. You think if St. Peter’s wasn’t an abysmal 14 seed playing a ridiculously tough Purdue Boilermakers team that I’m not taking the Peacocks all day long?! You’re crazy. Seriously, how did I not go to St. Peter’s. Just Peacocking the living hell out of every day of college. Sporting technicolor button downs, silk clothing and shoes that make Liberace sweat. One solid example of the old mascot tie-breaker this year can be seen in the 6-11 matchup between Cincy and Missouri. Sure, Cincinnati is a Bearcat, but Missouri is a legitimate TIGER. An effing TIGER, bro. Not some androgynous half-bear-half-kitten made up beast. Mike Tyson has a Tiger. Tigger, from Winnie the Pooh is a Tiger (I think) and a damn G. Go Mizzou!

4- Big Men Matter. This is basketball, after all. When you were playing pickup hoops, did you take the big kid AFTER the little kid who could shoot good and do other things good, too?! Nope. You took that big sweaty kid who no one could, nor wanted to guard. In this case, Ohio State and Kansas are sporting some of the biggest kids. Dallas Lauderdale and Jared Sullinger are legit Center-Power Forward manbeasts for the Buckeyes. If you don’t trust me, just ask their equipment guy who has to wring the devil’s ass sweat out of those shorts every single day. Kansas has the Morris twins, who are a testament to modern child-birthing miracles. Seriously, if Marcus and Markieff’s mom lived during biblical ages, she would have no doubt passed out and died popping out not one, but two of these behemoths. I pray she took an epidural, got a C-section, or just transferred her womb into a massive pod, Wolverine style. Added props to Ms. Morris for naming one of them Markieff. She knew his homies would be pronouncing Markeith that way anyway, so she saved them the embarrassment.

5- Fire up the computers at work, get ready to hit the “Boss Button”, (CBS’ genius creation that quickly turns their live telecast feed into a pdf document to fake out a boss, for those who actually work) and get ready to be pissed off. This year, like no other, I predict we will see more upsets than ever. When this many marginally good, marginally bad teams are in one tournament, it’s bound to happen. Thankfully, I will know every single one of those upsets as I stroll to another bracket victory.

Stay tuned.