Que Bueno!

I’m excited about a few things. So naturally I wanted to document my feelings. Like a tender 10-year old penning her daily crushes into a notepad and stashing it under her mattress for nobody to find. Under this scenario I would be the chick, my blog is my notebook, you are the mattress and my crushes are the following:

• I’m excited about...the start of another season of Hard Knocks. Let me put it like this. If you have HBO, then I know exactly what you should be doing tonight. If you don’t have HBO, then I know the call you should be making to your local cable company tonight. This is a must. At one point we even threatened you, the reader, if you weren’t watching. We said, and I quote, “If you’re not watching Hard Knocks this season you are officially uninvited from reading this blog.” This still stands. So make it happen.

• I’m excited about... the offer I just received from the SF Chronicle which will ultimately put the Sporting Green back into my hands. You see, there was a solid string of 18 years or so when I read the sports page daily. It became so much of a routine that when I got to college I would deliberately set my alarm early, waddle my hung over ass downstairs to the fraternity kitchen, confiscate the sports page, then bring it back to bed with me to ensure I could read it when I woke up. After college I did everything in my power to afford a paper subscription. But that shit is EXPENSIVE. Eventually it went away. And my life was crushed. Nothing can take the place of the sports page. Not espn.com, not sfgate.com, not the free paper they hand out on Market St. Nothing. I’ll spare you the details, but as of next week, I’m back baby. I’m back.

• I’m excited about... the upcoming fantasy draft with my high school friends. 17 years and running. Un-fucking-real. Maybe this year I’ll actually win.

• I’m excited about... the rainbow belt I bought. It’s like this, this shit is legit. It’s Paul Smith. And when you look at it you either get ‘dude, is that Paul Smith? Nice belt.’ Or you get ‘dude, that’s a rainbow belt, you’re fucking gay.’ It immediately tells me where somebody stands in life. And you know what? I like it like that.

• I’m excited about... Buster Posey, the chick in the pic above, the half-marathon in November, peanut butter, hating LeBron, Bubba, and the fact that there will be a football game every single Sunday from now until February.

Tits dude, totally tits.







*

Wisdom, Housh-Style

Our favorite fuckhole was interviewed on Sirius yesterday, here are a few highlights:

On his role in the offense last year:
"I don’t feel like last year, I wasn’t a priority in the game plan and I was almost so much told that last year. That’s just not how it’s gonna be."

Correct me if I'm wrong here, but is that the world's first quadruple negative? Wow, so if you're ranking Housh's skills in reverse order, they'd look like this:

1. Speed / separation
2. Leadership
3. Grammar
4. Hands
5. Speaking / thinking



On what Pete Carroll brings:
"Our practices are different. They’re a lot more competitive. And coach Carroll, he stresses that, the competitiveness, the competitiveness. But I think they’re just a lot more competitive than they were last year."

So, if you're scoring at home. Pete Carroll preaches competitiveness, he wants the practices to be more competitive which has resulted in the practices being more competitive.

By the way, when you look up the word "redundant" in the dictionary the definition is: "fuck you, Housh, you pussy wipe." And yes, everything in my dictionary says that.



On how he'll avoid the same struggles he had last year:
"That’s just not how it’s gonna be. And so I believe this year it’s gonna be one of those things where, T.J., you’re gonna have to show us that you can carry the load or you’re not going to carry the load."

Jericho, you're gonna have to show your tens of readers that you can make fun of Housh this year. It's gotta be one of those things where, Jericho, you either call him a toad fuck or you don't call him a toad fuck.



JR

I've Been...

What have we been doing since we posted last? Here's a quick list.

by Magglio and Jericho


*I’ve been working on my incest movie titled: In Significant Others


*I’ve been picking a name for my new indie band. I’ve got it down to two: Just Another Orifice and The Fat Ninjas.


*I’ve been watching Lost, loving Lost and hating Lost. It’s a great show, totally entertaining and I’m so fucking happy it’s over.


*I've been watching Crazy Heart and think it's the best movie I’ve seen in a long, long time.


*I've been slowly turning on Steve Nash. Not really sure why or how, but I love rooting against him all of the sudden. Fuck Nash.


*I’ve been listening to The National’s High Violet so many times I thought my iPod was going to explode.


*I've been playing the game 'can I make it 10 minutes more before I have to pee or should I just go pee now'


*I’ve been using the term “useful” whenever I see a girl with a good but not great ass. You know how the Scottish dude on CBS’ golf coverage will say “Useful. That’s a useful shot.” Same with an ass like that. It’s not epic, but it’s useful.


*I’ve been eating hardboiled egg whites and hiding the stinky yellow part in a co-workers office when she steps out for a few minutes.


*I’ve been watching a lot of late-80s porn. A lot to like about the output (or is it input) of this era; big natural boobs, huge hair, weird music, enormous bushes, developed storylines, once you get past the moustaches it’s a really enjoyable seven or eight minutes. Christy Canyon, I salute you.


*I’ve been locked up in a lesbian prison, dancing in my cell and waiting for Beyonce to bust me out. Oh wait, that’s Lady Gaga.


*I’ve been getting semis riding the train to work this morning. I call that 'bumpy morning train ride semi.’


*I’ve been trying to come up with a real-word analogy for this situation: I write a really good piece of content. My client decides to go in a different direction, rewrites the entire thing and fucks it up beyond recognition. It’s absolute whale shit. Is there an analogy for this? No. But this comes the closest. I go to a nice restaurant and order something I’ve never heard of because I want to try something new. Let’s say I order whale cock. So my whale cock comes (ahem), I take a bite and decide I like it but I want something else. So, rather than order something new, I walk into the kitchen unannounced and buttrape the chef. Not like a fun, “we’re pirates!” buttrape, but a full on, medieval colonoscopy. Once I’m done, I grab a piece of chicken, take a bite and say “that’s what whale cock is supposed to taste like!”



JR

Easy Money

(Whenever I haven’t posted in a while I always start by hurling insults at anyone questioning my integrity and/or commitment to Apples and Moustaches. This time is no different.)

Fuck you. I can’t post at work anymore.

Not like it was a personal decision..."Oh, I need to just concentrate on work instead of being awesome on my blog." No. I’m not a loser. My company has just decided to block Blogger, posting comments on Blogger, posting posts on Blogger, and so on and so forth. Whatever. It doesn’t mean I can’t write a post and make Jericho (who wants you to know that Magglio is an enormous pussy, by the way) post it for me. I wonder what picture he chose for this one. Hmm...

I’m here to talk Giants Baseball. What you thought I wanted to talk about Heidi Montag and Audrina Patridge’s tits battling on the latest cover of US Weekly? Or the fact that this is hands down, without question the single greatest season of Real World/Road Rules ever…and Evan isn’t even on the show?! No. Those are other posts for other times.

This post is about Giants baseball. Notably, the Giants pitching staff which is without question the greatest staff in the entire majors right now. You think I’m wrong? Keep reading.

Barry Zito is 5-0.

In the past 12 hours I’ve said, typed, texted or thought ‘Zito is 5-0’ roughly 18,000 times. Amazing. Also, my brother (who can compete with us for biggest Giants fan on the planet) just sent me this:

The buzz around the Giants for a couple years has been that pitchers Tim Lincecum and Matt Cain are incomparable. But all of a sudden, there's another starting duo putting up numbers that challenge them, and the bonus for the Giants is that these other two starters are fellow Giants. While Lincecum and Cain are a combined 5-1 with a 2.19 ERA and 0.91 WHIP, Barry Zito and Jonathan Sanchez are comparable at 7-2 with a 1.89 ERA and 1.04 WHIP.

My delusional office mate Judy then sent me this tidbit:
Opponents are batting .160 against Zito this season. That ranked as the best mark in the National League, and the leaderboard is stuffed with Giants. Jonathan Sanchez (.170) was second and the Cardinals’ Jaime Garcia (.176) was next, followed by Tim Lincecum (.178). That Ubaldo Jimenez guy was at .182.

Vegas has it at 15-1 Giants win the World Series.

Easy money.

A Few NFL Thoughts

So, if you’re scoring at home, the #37 pick in the draft will get you McNabb (5 NFC conference games, borderline HOFer); the #43 pick will get you Brandon Marshall (better numbers through first four years than Rice; not comparing, just saying); and the #40 pick will get you Charlie Whitehurst (Stats through four years: 0, 0, 0.0, 0, 0.0 0, 0, 0, 0.0, 1). By the way, the one in Chuck’s stat column is for one douche bag fucking face. We’re not sure if he has arms or legs, but we know he has that.


Speaking of trading quarterbacks, here’s a guy I’m surprised no one has made a move for: Troy Smith. Heisman winner, only 25, played pretty well in the preseason and in mop up duty (in 14 games: 48/89 for 558yd, 3td and 1 pick), showered near Ray Lewis his whole career, knows how to win, and the Ravens only tendered him at the 5th rd level. Troy Smith isn’t worth a 5th rd pick?


Here’s another swap that makes sense: Skins send Jason Campbell to the Bills for Marshawn Lynch. Both former first rounders, both fill an area of need for the other team, both would come fairly cheaply because their teams are dying to get rid of them. I know you’re looking at that and saying that Campbell sucks and the Bills are getting robbed exchanging a 23yr old with two 1,000-yard seasons under his belt for a QB with a Buffalo-sized vagina. Here’s a secret: it’s not Buffalo-sized, it’s actually more like a Japanese Apple pear. In other words, Campbell is a vagina but he’s not nearly as big of a vagina as everyone thinks he is. He threw for 3,600 with 20 and 15 last year. You’re telling me Buffalo has a QB on their roster that can match that next year?


Magglio will kill me for this, I mentioned something similar at a bar six months ago and he’s never let me forget it: out of all the QBs in the draft, Colt McCoy will have the best career. He’s a winner, accurate with the ball, a leader from the minute he stepped on campus, competitive, driven, doesn’t make stupid mistakes, if he ends up in the right system (which should be added to the evaluation of every QB) he could have a Brees-like career. Yes, he’s got a dumb face and yes he’s got a dumb little drawl, but if I’m the Rams, I take one of the big DLs #1, then trade back up into the bottom of rd 1 for Colt.


I have no idea what to make of the Big Ben suspension. On one hand, it’s crazy that he was not convicted or even charged with a crime, yet is being punished by his employer as if he was. Something about that just doesn’t sit right, the idea that your company can have its own set of laws that supersede the government’s. On the other, he definitely raped her, no fucking doubt about it, and he should be punished in some way or another. Six games, about $3 million in salary and the respect of a city that revered him as little as 15 months ago, whether or not you think that's a fitting punishment, is it up to the NFL to dole it out? I really have no idea what to think.


I imagine most of you agree so let me state the obvious: with all due respect to 30 for 30, PTI and Erin Andrews' career, the Gruden QB Camp is the best thing ESPN has done in a long, long time. What a fucking epic hour of TV. I’ve watched it three times and it gets better every time. Magglio and I had a running joke last year that during the third quarter of every MNF game, Gruden would start openly auditioning for the losing team’s coaching job. “If you’re the Cowboys, you have to start thinking about getting Romo a teacher, someone who understands the challenges of the quarterback position.” However, after watching the QB Camp, I realized he’s not auditioning at all, that’s just the way he talks. He doesn’t ask a question to hear the answer, he asks a question to set up his next point. Anyone who ever played football can relate to this on some level. Football coaches just have their own way of talking, their own inflection. Like they’re an annoyed stepfather and we’re their idiot stepchildren. I think we need to go further with Gruden, fuck giving him his own show, give him his own network. We need a Truman Show-like around the clock look at this life.

Gruden: How’s the seafood? It pretty good?
Waiter: Yes, sir. We’re known for it.
Gruden: I don’t want good, you understand me? I want great.
Waiter: Yes sir, it’s great.
Gruden: I have very high expectations. Do you have high expectations?
Waiter: About your order?
Gruden: (pointing at menu) What does this say?
Waiter: Grilled salmon?
Gruden: Do you know what that means?
Waiter: Um…that the salmon is…grilled.
Gruden: People see that on a menu and they think different things. They expect different things, do you understand me?
Waiter: I don’t really know…
Gruden: It better be good, man. Because I’ll find you. You understand? You think I’m riding you, but I see it in your eyes, waiter, I think you can bring me great food. Not good, great. You understand?
Waiter: Wait, are you ordering the salmon?
Gruden: No. I don’t eat food. I photosynthesize like plants.


What do I want the Hawks to do tonight? More than anything, I just hope they don’t get cute. Draft for need, don’t take someone because you can’t believe he’s still there – take the best OT at #6. Take the best DE or S at #14. Don’t trade away the #40 pick in a loaded draft for a QB that hasn’t thrown a professional pass and looks like Duece Bigalow’s gay older brother.


And finally, as the draft enters a new era with this Thursday, Friday, Saturday goat fuck of a schedule, I’d like to thank Roger Goodell one last time for taking a gigantic dump on the West Coast. Thanks, Rog, you fucked up a national holiday. I’m totally raping you in my head right now, how many games do I get for that?

JR

The True Price of Beauty

I’m not sure how to set this up or how to begin, so let’s just come out with it: I love Jessica Simpson’s new show. It’s insightful, meaningful, thought provoking; every time I watch it I feel like I’ve learned something, but even better, like I felt something. Yes, I have my doubts about Jessica Simpson as anything other than “blond with outrageously big boobs” – but she’s found the right forum for herself with this show, she doesn’t have to carry it, she just has to exist with it, if that makes sense.


Women face a daily challenge that men just can’t, nor will ever, understand. Forget self or societal-imposed pressure, the level of daily competition between women is absolutely staggering. That’s not necessarily groundbreaking of course, we’ve had enough Sex and The City episodes and Gwen Stefani songs to tell us this, but it’s certainly eye opening to see how these types of pressures extend across borders and cultures. As Ken Paves said in the closing of episode three: “when can a woman feel free to ever just be a woman?” A few years ago, actually a few days ago, I would’ve laughed at the statement and made a joke about Ken’s butthole and its diet, but I feel different now. I feel changed.


The show is worth watching for so many reasons. Some of the supporters are championing Jess as a new breed of feminist, I think we have to go further than that: Jessica Simpson is a humanist. This show doesn’t merely show the plight of the female in the harsh light of multi-faceted competition, the show demonstrates how the struggle of the modern woman affects us all. That is something worth cheering. I hope you’ll join me.


(*Note: not a word of this is true. Fuck Jessica Simpson and her dumb fucking show. However, claiming that I love it is decidedly less embarrassing than admitting that I love this Duke team and am pulling for them to win the championship. So there you go.)


JR

Thanks for the idea asshole

I have a confession to make.

I gave up drinking for the month of March. No, I’m serious. I’m not Catholic, this isn’t for health reasons and this isn’t for some documentary on torture. I did this because I wanted to see if this is something I could actually do. That’s all. Let’s call it testing my ‘will power.’ Or ‘a really boring idea’, either will work just fine. (I actually gave up eating sugar too but that’s easier than making fun of George Clooney’s hair at the Oscars.) Giving up drinking for a month is, and will be, really fucking difficult. Let me give you a quick glimpse into this past weekend. A sober weekend if ever there was one.

Friday night our office left at 4pm for drinks around the corner from where we work. I ordered a club soda. Everyone snickered. But let me say something. I’m a grown ass man. I don’t give a fuck if the waiter or my co-workers make fun of me for ordering a soda at a bar. I do however give a fuck when the waiter brings my drink in a tall, curvy, “made for a pina colada with tiny umbrellas” glass. Why can’t I have a tumbler with a few cubes of ice like everyone else? It’s like the waiter wanted to celebrate my personal struggle outwardly. Dick. He’s lucky I was surrounded by work people. (I’m not sure what that means. It’s not like I would’ve done anything if I wasn’t. Maybe a headlock and a noogie, but nothing more than that.)

And honestly, though it was the end of the work week and a drink sounded nice, I didn’t need one. The sun was still out and though I could feel the momentum of the weekend building, I was ok with my water. I’m an athlete, remember? Hydration is key.

The walk home was actually one of the most noticeable differences on this particular Friday night. I don’t always go out for drinks on a Friday night, but when I do, I feel like the best part is the walk home. Give me my iPod and a light buzz and my walk home suddenly turns into my own personal music video. “Last name Ever. First name Greatest” takes on a whole new meaning when you’re walking with your swerve on. This time? I put on some Yeasayer and dodged tiny Asians with pink bags, chicks from the Financial district in knee highs and skirts, and trade show attendees with gigantic name tags around their necks. It was far less cool.

Friday night was the worst. Seriously. My wife and I couldn’t figure out what to do. Should we watch a movie? No. Should we walk to our favorite local bar and just have a soda? Awkward. Should we go get a coffee or a tea or something? Lame. I decided to text my friend Morgan. He was the one who gave us the idea to give up drinking. Him and his wife gave up sugar and alcohol for a month and raved about how great they felt. This was his stupid idea anyways.

Me: Dude. What the fuck are we supposed to tonight?

Morgan: Go see a movie.

Me: Sweet. Thanks for the idea asshole.

Morgan: Too bad you don’t have kids.

This was his response? Too bad I don’t have kids? Don’t you think that’s something you might want to point out BEFORE you suggest a good buddy goes sober for a month?

We wound up watching a movie. I think we saw The Informant with Matt Damon. No, that was the next night. We watched Wall Street from the 80s with Michael Douglas and Charlie Sheen. Then we had really great sex and went to bed. Oversharing? I don’t care. I’m sober now. I gotta take risks somehow.

The rest of the weekend went a bit smoother. I got up at 8am and went for a run. I felt like Icee, the most sober and most athletic guy I know. Saturday night we basically repeated the activities from the night before. That bottle of Jameson was staring me down all night. I kept calculating in my head how many steps it would take me to grab a glass, grab some ice, and crack that bottle. With some creative maneuvering I figured around 14-15 steps. My mouth is salivating as I type this post. I am not joking.

Do I feel better today? A little. Were my workouts a bit easier? Sure, but who cares. As one co-worker said to me Friday night, “I admire what you’re doing, but I’d never do it.” Sweet.

Only 23 days to go.

Anyone wanna catch a movie?



III