"I just have to wait and see how much of a Sandusky they feel like giving me"
- Me, describing my state of affairs with a co-worker.
November 2011
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The past few days have certainly been the past few days
One of my most commonly (over)used phrases is “to make a long story short” and all its derivatives. So to make a long story short, there have been a number of long stories that are too circuitous and fucked to make short.
Upshot of it all, I feel like my life has split in to two worlds and going to and from work has become a portal between them. I generally try to refrain from posting nonsense about work (honestly, who cares) but in this case, I feel the need to blow off a steam and at the same time say that as long as I’ve got cheap beer, awesome TV, football season, good friends and a beautiful lady I think I’ll make it.
Just remember, that nobody circles the wagons, like the Buffalo Bills.
It's really a shame that A.J. Hawk didn't attend the university of Kansas
What a dick.
Fuck the Macy's Parade
Today was supposed to be easy you cocksuckers.
Isn’t a senator kissing a baby at a food pantry somewhere?
Dozens of people will never know…
Falling asleep at 6pm was a bad choice
Here you can watch me almost get run into by a man running full speed and NBC's steadicam operator →
nfl.com
Note how my cat-like reflexes enabled me to do a nifty shuttle step out of harms way.
"Emoticons ruined my penis"
Submitted without context
Sports-related sex scandals are bad enough to begin with... →
deadspin.com
But the fact that sports terminology is already laden with 7th grade giggle-traps really doesn’t help things when you get sentences like “molesting the team’s ball boy.”
Bud Selig is the worst. →
freep.com
Nothing will ever feel right again.
This is pretty asinine, but it’s only building on previous fuck ups. I will never for the life of me understand why the hell in 1998, when MLB added an expansion franchise to each league, the Brewers switched leagues. At the time, you had 14 teams in each league in 3 divisions (5-5-4). Using simple logic that any third grader could comprehend, if you added one team to each league you would have 3 nice and even 5-team divisions. It makes so much sense that it causes great pain to my symmetry and pattern-orienrted human mind to try and think of any other solutions.
But NOPE, they said. Let’s have a 6-team division (!?) and keep the AL West at 4 teams, based on the faulty logic that to keep the same scheduling formula there has to be an even number of teams in each league… an edict that we certainly won’t be scrapping 13 years later, no sir.
The Brewers swapping leagues was silly, but I could have lived with it had it been to make things equal. What if, for instance, Milwaukee still went to the NL Central, but the Astros moved to the NL west. Then, much like the NL added two teams in 1993, the AL added both the Diamondbacks and Rays to its western and eastern divisions, and Detroit still moved to the central (from 1993-1997 the Tigers were in the AL east- again, MLB building on previous fuck ups). BOOM, 15 teams in each league, 5 in every division. Hindsight is 20/20, but it seems like a solution that would have involved less league switching (which is a big deal in baseball since the rules are fundamentally different) and made divisions equal (especially with the dumbass uneven schedule) 13 years ago if this is what they were going to wind up doing anyway.
But hey it could be worse, we could have the home-field advantage in the World Series decided by an exhibition game where over half the players don’t even play in the playoffs…
"You sold 100 wings to a four foot tall man!?"
Adventures in wing night, brought to you by Slam Rubes.
So a few of us ventured out for 20 cent wings last night. Slamuel, being ever the gentleman, ordered 5 of each kind (buffalo and bbq) a few minutes before I got there. Upon sitting down, I asked the waiter to put in an order for 10 more of each, to which he jokingly (or so we thought) responded, “You guys have like 100 wings on their way out.” Steph thought something was up, which led to an exchange where each person seemed to think the other was still joking— somehow a fictitious hose full of bbq sauce was involved, I don’t know…
Upshot of it all is shortly after the beers came out we all saw the waiter bringing out the result of a delicious— and fortunately inexpensive— miscommunication. He thought we wanted 5 orders of each, totaling 100 for 6 people (one who was not eating wings, two petite ladies, and 3 dudes with only myself matching the profile of the type of person who’d embark on such an endeavor). After a laugh and some negotiation, he took back the last 25 count pile and left us with 75…
Needless to say, we crushed it. 15 Bucks and 18.75 dismembered chickens later, these were my personal results:
Thanks to Slam for a tasty mistake.
