Thursday, April 30, 2009

Random Thoughts

For the first time in almost 2 years I didn’t feel like posting anything. Jericho and Caity have been carrying the load. Quite well I might add. (If we can only get Caity off her high horse and have her write more then we’ll be set. She’s a fucking diva if you can’t tell. “Magglio I need some water.” “Jericho stop staring at me when I write it makes me nervous.” “Do you have any naked pictures of TahoeSanta?” “Where’s my vibrator, I’m having writer’s block.” Bless her. She’s a gift and we should all be thankful. Am I wrong?)

I can’t remember the last time we went more than 2 days without a post. It’s like when Tiger came up a bit short at the Masters this year. You didn’t expect it and you were left wondering “what happened to Phil’s bitch tits?” So, I’m here to tell you that I’m back. And Phil’s bitch tits are doing just fine.

Let's get into it....some Apples & Moustaches...because I said so...

The Giants made it through April with a respectable 10-10 record. This team is dangerous. If we get 2 clutch hits during a game, we will win. It’s as simple as that. Unfortunately sometimes our bats go silence and we wind up losing 2-0. But with this pitching staff, the BEST pitching staff in baseball, 2 hits with runners in scoring position means that we’re going to win the game. If Sabean had some balls he’d make a trade for a big bat and we’d really make some noise. I can dream right?

This Friday I’m going to the San Jose Giants game. Yes, I’m a big fat dork and I know it. The San Jose Giants are single A but the stars have aligned (unfavorable weather in the East Coast) and all of our best prospects are in San Jose. Buster Posey, Madison Bumgarner and 17-year-old Angel Miguel Villalona. What’s the felony equivalent to lusting after your team’s single A ballclub? Hearing that the incoming 8th grade class at a local middle school has some potential and then timing your lunch break with the school’s so you can ‘hang out’ in the parking lot? Yep. That sounds about right.

Fuck the Swine Flu. Seriously. Go fuck yourself Swine Flu. Me and all my readers are not letting you into our lives. And to prove it I’m going to order a carnitas burrito, lick the handrail on the bus and fire up the crock pot for some old fashioned cocktail weenies. And fuck you too Rajon Rondo while we’re at it.

Real World Road Rules Challenge off the fucking charts this season. No doubt about it. This might be the best show on TV. If you’re not watching, start now. It’s got everything; athletic competitions, frat guy partying, sweet lesbian muff diving, and professional BMX biker TJ Lavin. What more could you ask for? In my draft I picked Derek (not the badass one, he’s not on this season) and Rachel…the sexy lesbian. I like my chances.

The Niners stole Michael Crabtree. The Raiders have gone from punchline to scary lunatic wacko, like when the crazies on Market St. stop asking for change and just try to touch you instead. Mark Sanchez is a dreamboat. The Hawks lucked out when Aaron Curry fell into their lap. Rhett Bomar will be the best QB in this draft when it’s all said and done. Pedro Gomez could use a big fat shoe up his ass. Next year the Niners will pair their two first round picks together, trade up to 3, and get Taylor Mays. Ballgame bitches.

Heidi Montag wears the fuck out of a bikini…am I wrong?

Monday, April 27, 2009

Get the Week Going

I like the new Noah Wyle spot about polar bears, how by donating ten cents a month to WWF you can help save X number of bears. However, shouldn’t the commercial start with, “Hi, I’m Noah Wyle, much like polar bears, my career is on its way out.”

Rather than abstinent, can we start saying agnostic? The Jonas Brothers really want to believe that sex is awesome, but have doubts so aren’t committing to anything. This will really get awesome if Nick Jonas starts having sex with Miley Cyrus after seeing her vagina appear in his burrito.

You know what phrase I hate? Anti-hero. I know why people use it, to describe a hero that doesn’t fit the normal hero build (e.g., Jack Bauer, Jack Sparrow, Tyler Durden) but doesn’t anti-hero literally mean villain? I mean, if your girl decides just to lick it up and down, you wouldn’t call that an anti-blow job would you? “Get that fucking thing away from me!” That’s an anti-blow job.

On that note, I officially turned on the term anti-hero when I was reading a preview of 24 and the writer (can’t remember who or where I read this) referred to Jack Bauer as the “anti-hero du jour.” Look, rather than “anti-hero du jour,” just print a picture of the giant dildo you’re sitting on, we can do the math.

The dude from Twilight is getting on my nerves lately. Smugness in Hollywood is akin to respect in the real world, you have to earn it. This fucking lemon drop hasn’t earned that smirk yet. Clooney can smirk. Harrison Ford can smirk. Pierce Brosnan can smirk the fuck out it. Twilight? That’s not smirk-worthy, fella.


Friday, April 24, 2009

Caity's Time of the Month...

*We've got tits! That's right. A&M has a female writer complete with anatomically correct parts. Enjoy Caity's time of the month, a segment written for the female side, from the female side of Apples and Moustaches.

by Caity

My sister has been dating a real fucking douche-bag for some time now. Apart from acting like a 13-year-old girl with her first period on the daily, this future Tool Academy reject says things like, "You have a black hole in your heart" and "I just don't know if I can trust you anymore." Really? I saw that episode of Hannah Montana, too, and it doesn't end well. As if that weren't sufficient grounds for dismissal, I was looking at her Facebook pictures (shut up) and this grown, tax-paying individual blatantly frosts his tips. What? Sun-In and lemon juice wasn't cutting it anymore? Just had to go for the real deal? Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ, your balls called and they want to come home. What do you even say when you go to the salon?

Dick Lick McGillicutty: Um, if you could just lighten the top part of the strands a little bit...

Central Florida Super Cuts Associate: Oh, you mean you'd like me to frost your tips? Dick

Lick McGillicutty: [hangs head] Yes.

Central Florida Super Cuts Associate: [Rolls eyes and says in Tagalog] Queen.

You want to know the episode of Dawson's Creek I remember most vividly? Season 2, episode 1. Pacey, convinced that a new school year spells big changes for him, decides to frost his tips. I remember this episode because it was the day my 10th grade heart shattered into a million tiny pieces that I'm still picking up. At that moment I realized that if Pacey could fall for this fuckery, then perfection was an illusion and I've been looking for love in all the wrong places ever since. Taking this to its logical conclusion, I thought it would be appropriate to compile a list of the "10 Least Appealing Things a Gentleman Has Said While I Had No Panties On." I have some real winners, but I decided to include some of the gems from my best loved (read sluttiest) friends, as well.

The 10 Least Attractive Things a Gentleman Has Said While I Had No Panties On:

10. "I never hold in farts."

9. "Whoops...maybe I should have taken a piss beforehand."

8. "I am not Zach, I am his father. Zach is resting after last night, young lady. Now, get some clothes on so I can take you home."

7. "Hey, could I borrow twenty dollars tomorrow for a cab?"

6. "Maybe if you had another drink you'd be more open to it." (For the record, I did and I was, so this one could be out of place.)

5. "I did meth earlier so I'm probably not going to be able to fall asleep for a while."

4. "Wait, if I started the medication on Tuesday I should be fine to do it today. Right?"

3. "I never lost my suckling reflex...want me to show you?

2. "I see you're fine with the ball gag. What do you say to a game of anal ring toss?"

1. "Check out my new Christian Dior sunglasses."

I know the readership of Apples and Moustaches are an elegant and sophisticated group, but should any of you have your own klassy stories to contribute, that's why Jesus invented the comment section.


Thursday, April 23, 2009



That’s the only word that can describe the office baby shower thrown at 3pm on a Thursday afternoon. There’s nothing worse than standing awkwardly as the chubby pregnant chick unwraps a gift box filled with stuffed toy animals and a mini baby food maker. Hungry? Grab a baby carrot or a mini-peanut butter and jelly sandwich without crusts. Get it?

Man chicks are stupid. No, you know what? Chicks aren’t stupid for throwing baby showers. They’re stupid for making guys go to baby showers. I don’t know what it is, a different chromosome, a crossed wire, whatever…but guys DO NOT want to go to baby showers. For all you ladies out there (all the single ladies, all the single ladies….sorry, can’t help it. I secretly want to shake my ass when that song comes on. Who’s the chick now?) For all you ladies out there…don’t make your husband or your boyfriend or your brother go to your baby shower. Please. Let them golf. Let them watch TV. Let them be free for the day.

But not at work. Nope. Forced fun I call it. It’s like in Office Space when everyone gathers to sing someone else happy birthday. Fucking painful. Small talk is hard enough with people you work with. Now imagine small talk surrounded by pastel streamers and balloons. And it’s not like its 5pm and you’re nursing a cocktail at a nearby bar on the company’s dime. No. It’s 3pm and you’re checking your blackberry. Praying that an urgent email will come through. But it didn’t. I had to stick around. I had to participate in the games.

Then it was time for the t-shirt making contest. I shit you not. We had a t-shirt contest complete with puff paint. Go on, read that sentence again. Yep, puff paint. There weren’t any guidelines. Just design a tiny little t-shirt for the yet-to-be-born baby using the provided puff paint. My mind ran wild. At first I wanted to write in big block letters “SHOW ME YOUR TIT”. Get it? Not tits plural. Singular. Fuck I crack myself up sometimes. Then I thought maybe I’d draw a big open baby mouth and have an arrow pointing in it that read ‘Insert Nipple Here’. But then I thought it would be hard to properly portray an open baby’s mouth using only puff paint. My last idea was to cut out a picture of myself, paste it in the middle, and write ‘Who’s Your Daddy?’. I’d never met her husband. He couldn’t be all that tough…could he?

I settled on a fire engine. Damn I can be such a chick sometimes.


Stuff is happening!

Note: Fuck you. I don't know how to make the links go to an external window. Just be sure to come back. Thanks, Management.

* Roddy White…100 catches in 2009!

* Tyson’s getting paid!

* Worst deal since the Skins gave Randel-El $120million?

* DJ Gallo from can suck a squirrel’s nutsack!

* SG is as good as it gets!

* Only 2 days till the draft….read things!

* Sweet Lohan side-boob shot!

* Things you should not Twitter!

* Un-Fat White Guy?!


Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Ramble On

Do you ever noitice that guys with big dicks can’t never spel or write good?

Two terms that I think we should try and bring back to the vernacular: finger banging and eating out. How awesome/unnecessarily gross are those terms? I mean, when you think back to being 15 and describing your latest conquest to your buddies, we were really, really 15 weren’t we?

The question, “which famous person do people mistake you for?” is a good one, but it’s only half the story. The better question is “how much fun is it to be mistaken for a famous person and then offer to blow the guy?” Simultaneously you get a) to slander a celebrity’s reputation and b) fresh sausage in your mouth. Talk about a win win!

I give this social media thing 5 more years and then we all collectively realize, “wait a minute, I hate these people!”

This just in from the department of the inconceivably offensive: fuck Earth Day, fuck the kids from Slumdog Millionaire and fuck Michael J. Fox.

I appreciate Perez Hilton’s question about gay marriage at the Miss USA Contest, but I do think he should’ve had a dick in his mouth while asking, would’ve been so much more impactful, harder to understand maybe, but more impactful.

Oracle bought Sun! And in other news, the San Diego Zoo just got a Mastodon.

Profit at Yahoo! was down 78% this quarter, but the brass is still adamant that not selling to MSFT was the right idea. Riiiiiight. Other than all that mess in the middle, how’d you enjoy the play, Mrs. Lincoln?

When you aren’t allowed to bring deodorant on a plane, they need a to build a better plane. When creepy high school security officers are strip-searching 13 yr olds for drugs then they need to build a better plane.


Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Suck my Podcast!

Last night we had the privilege of joining the two sweet dudes from NFL Draft Day Countdown on a podcast. Is that what the kids are calling it these days? A podcast? I call it a phone call that now is posted online for eternity so those pot references I made will someday be used against me by my own children when they want to smoke pot and they’ll be saying ‘but Daddy you were a huge pothead’ and I’ll say ‘go ask your mother.’

I even convinced Jericho to emerge from his hole and join us. Let me just explain something. Besides being a total movie junkie, Jericho lives for the NFL draft. For the past 2 months every IM I get from him is a potential trade between two teams that is so complex it’s hard to follow. I’m sure they make sense. But let’s be honest, I don’t give a shit if Seahawks trade this year’s 3rd and 5th rounder for the Dolphins 2nd rounder in 2011, 4th rounder in 2016 and John David Booty’s soiled jockstrap from the 2007 game versus Minnesota. Yes. This is my life.

Listen here. These guys know their shit. And stay tuned for next week. We’ve been invited back.

***Miss California is ignorant but still sexy kinda like Sarah Palin.


Monday, April 20, 2009

PH balanced

No matter what you think, no matter how long it’s been, no matter how easy you think it’s going to be because you hired movers, and you’re more organized now because you’re an ‘adult’…moving sucks. It fucking sucks. There is nothing cool about moving. Your life is turned upside down, you eat off of paper plates and taking the dog out to pee involves military-type agility tactics.

This is my normal morning routine: wake up in my boxers sporting a raging stiffy, stumble to Patch’s bed, carry him outside, stand there with my fucked up hair and through sleep crusted eyes say ‘go potty’ 50,000 times until he finally concedes, get laughed at by the perverted neighbor chick making breakfast, then stumble back inside. My morning still starts the same way, but now since we’ve started the move, my morning now includes such events as ‘the box hurdle’, the ‘dodge the exacto knife’, the ‘fuck I think there’s tape stuck to my foot again, yep, there’s definitely tape stuck to my foot again’ and of course, my personal favorite, the ‘fuck I packed my deodorant. I guess I can just use hers. Shit. This smells like chick deodorant. Now I’m going to smell like chick deodorant the rest of the day.’

And you know what? I do smell like chick deodorant today. You know why? Because it may be strong enough for me but it’s definitely vaginally balanced for a woman. Where’s my deodorant? It’s buried somewhere, probably 3 boxes deep, shoved between the Flight of the Conchords DVDs and our massive stack of Domino magazines. Oh yes, Domino went out of business months ago. But we still hang on to these. Every single one of them. They’re priceless. Let me tell you, you haven’t seen a duvet cover on a bed with princess posts till you’ve seen how Domino does it. Devine. Spectacular. These magazines are DEFINITELY keepers.

Where was I? Oh yes. We’re moving. I can’t wait for it to be over with. The best part about moving is it will soon be over and we’ll be in our new place consummating every nook and cranny possible. And this tangled box mess will all be a distant nightmare.

Now pardon me while I go search for my peace pipe. Today is 4/20 and I am an ‘adult’ now.


Friday, April 17, 2009

Jericho EATs IT

Back in July of ’07, I went to the EAT IT conference (Entrepreneurs Attending Today will Invigorate Tomorrow) and highlighted some of the best ideas here. The conference went on an economy-driven hiatus recently, but returned in all its glory last night. What follows are the 4 weirdest, coolest, most offensive and just plain awesome ideas presented at this year’s EAT IT.

(*Editor’s note – there were actually 5 companies in Jericho’s original profile but one organization, Dickos, a company that makes tacos out of the dick meat of endangered species, was recently shut down and all of its employees arrested and or deported. Due to the high ethical standards of this blog, we’ve decided not to profile Dickos in this space. However, if you ever have the chance to eat an Ocelot Dicko, we wouldn’t talk you out of it)

A Biological Calendar
The company, BioDar, has invented a monitoring system that feeds real-time updates to a Google calendar allowing for more accurate and more “sensible” meeting planning. For example, if I’m trying to schedule a meeting for 4pm today, I can enter the potential participants and be told things like, “hasn’t eaten, is bitchy” – “working on a deuce, time to drop unclear” – “has large erection, can’t stand up for at least 6 minutes.” Avoiding these types of warning signs means that meetings are more effective and efficient and ensures that a team member will never scowl at you across the room as they accept a meeting during their normal crapping time.

Building on the theory that playing music for a fetus helps heighten mental acuity, this company, Rock Your Rolls, has built wireless headphones that attach directly to the testicles, a device they call BallPhones. Offering over 100 music channels, including everything from symphonies to Ska, the company claims that music inspires the sperm, resulting in better swimmers and a higher overall count. Now, there’s obviously no way for me to really test this, but I will say this. About a week after trying the BallPhones, I was servicing myself and actually saw my yazz stop in mid air, change directions, analyze my portfolio and question why I don’t have any index funds and then disappear down the sink with a hearty “adios muchacho!”

GPS for Degenerates
Of all the life-changing technologies that have come out in the past 10 years, GPS ranks right near the top. What if you could take that same technology and apply it to real life? I mean finding a gas station or the closest historical landmark is always nice, but what about the closest weed dealer, bachelorette party or two-for-one beer special? Now you can thanks to “The TroubleFinder” - a new GPS that allows you to search for over 100 “off the grid” categories. Now, like most of you, I was a bit dubious about the accuracy here, I mean, pot dealers typically don’t advertise so how could this really work? To test it, I typed in “biggest dick in the zip code” when the TroubleFinder showed my exact location I bought one immediately.

Automatic Shower Sex Settings
You know what’s awesome? Going down on a girl in the shower. You know what’s not awesome? Drowning while going down on a girl in the shower (although, not a bad way to go comparatively). Or for the ladies, ever been giving head in the shower and been absolutely frozen by the time he Irish Springs? Say good-bye to these problems thanks to ShowerHead, a company that has developed a shower head (see, clever name, huh?) that automatically adjusts when the action starts, moving with you when you move so everyone stays warm and happy. When I asked CEO Herman Londerbees how ShowerHead recognizes the position or act and adjusts accordingly his answer was, “do you question why a finger in the ass feels so good?” No, Mr. Londerbees, no I don’t.


Wednesday, April 15, 2009

A&M - Superstition Edition

By Magglio and Jericho

I slept in my Matt Cain t-shirt jersey last night. I can’t tell if that’s really creepy or really awesome. I’m a grown man, sleeping in the fake jersey of a 24-year old in hopes it will bring us luck today. The Giants need a win so badly today. We’ve lost 4 in a row since our pitcher Joe Martinez got hit in the head with a line drive. He’s still in the hospital. And baseball is all about superstitions right? At least I didn’t wear my Eugenio Velez garter belt to work today. Now that would be awkward.

Random fact: the schedule for Monday Night Football next year features only one game in which both teams went to the playoffs last year: week 2, Colts v Dolphins. How the fuck did that happen? Isn't MNF supposed to be the best game of the week? Member when Lance Bass wanted to be an astronaut, even though astronauts are typically the best Americans we've got. Kind of similar right? I guess we should've known better when halfway through this press conference Roger Goodell grunted and Lance Bass sheepishly emerged from under his desk.

My fixation on the Niners drafting Mark Sanchez is now officially in full-steam obsessed mode. It’s kinda like when all I wanted to do was date this big blonde freshman Pi Phi in college. She didn’t give me the time of day and then wound up gaining a good 25lbs over an impressive 3-month first quarter span. What’s the gambling equivalent? I figure it’s like putting money on CT to win this year’s RW/RR Challenge and then settling in for the first episode only to see his big dumb face get booted after punching Adam in the jaw. I shoulda seen it coming. She had the frame to support at least 25 more. What was I thinking?

As Magglio makes a point of reminding you every three weeks, we are extremely West Coast centric and biased. Fuck the East Coast. However, West Coast football teams need to shut up about the amount of travel and the 10am start times. It’d be one thing, if like the rest of us, they were crammed into a Southwest flight nodding aimlessly as Ashley, a 900 pound third grade teacher from Lubbock, Texas, blabbers endlessly about how fun her dad’s birthday was. But they have private planes and stay at the nicest hotels in the country. Give me a fucking break already. Now, will I use this excuse when the Hawks get buttholed by Peyton in Week 4? Absolutely. But until then let me say this: Ashley, I’m not holding my breath b/c I have the hiccups, I’m actually trying to kill myself you gelatinous cum bucket!

I’m not a big metal fan. But I just got the new Mastodon album and I can’t stop listening to it. It’s big and thunderous like Metallica’s black album but better because you don’t picture James Hetfield’s stupid face on every song. Man that guy is such a dooshbag isn’t he? Metallica might just be the weakest tuff guy band in the history of the universe.


Good morning

Monday, April 13, 2009

Thinking Big

I found a bump on my balls. Not on both balls, just on the left one. Now, before this turns into a scary post let me just tell you everything checked out fine. I have a follow up next week but the technician who checked it out said not to lose sleep over it. So I’m not. I’m resting quite peacefully actually.

The technician also told me I had nice balls, among other outlandish statements that lovely afternoon. Not outlandish in its truthfulness. Let’s be honest. I have nice balls. Outlandish that I was lying on my back, with no pants on, my balls covered in what can only be described as a jelly type substance, with a small Korean man rubbing what appeared to be a checkout scanner over my freshly exposed balls. His other hand working a keyboard connected to a monitor straight outta 1988.

It’s funny what conversations occur in such a compromising position. He asked me if I check myself regularly. Being a healthy, rather attractive man with a larger than average Johnson, sure…I check myself often. Then he complimented my balls. It wasn’t even both balls that got the shout out…it was the right one. That was the first one he checked. The only response I could muster was a “thanks.”

“You probably want to keep it don’t you?” he said, his eyes never leaving the ghetto monitor. I couldn’t tell if he was joking. I don’t think he was joking. How can you tell if an old Korean man proficient in applying jelly to balls is joking. There’s really no precedent here is there?

“Uh, yes.” I said. My hands folded gently across my chest. “I’d like to keep them both actually.”

Then it got weird. If it wasn’t already.

“You could be like Lance Armstrong,” he said. His hand steady as it glided effortlessly from one ball to the next.

“He only has one ball.”

My quiet contemplation of ‘what if’ was now replaced with a steady thought of ‘who the fuck?’

“You know what they should do.” He asked rhetorically. I’m assuming it was a rhetorical question. Cause I couldn’t possibly guess what they should do. Or who they were while we’re at it.

“They should make fake balls. You know, so visually it looks right. So when people look down there it looks. It looks…”

“Symmetrical?” I couldn’t believe I helped him finish the thought. We were like Regis and Kelly.

“Yes! Symmetrical. I think some day I might start my own business making fake balls for people who need them. Women get fake breasts why not fake balls? Have you ever seen Real Sex?”

Again, a rhetorical question.

“Dildos are a billion dollar industry internationally.”

“You don’t say,” I replied. Not sure what else you could say at this point.

“Oh, people spend so much money on dildos. Glass ones. Double sided dildos. Ones that vibrate. All kinds. They show that stuff on Real Sex. It’s on HBO.”

And with that he trailed off. We returned to an awkward silence and nobody said a word until he assured me everything looked ok. He then told me we were done and he gave me a moist toilette to clean off the boys. I quickly put my pants back on.

I thanked him. What’s the etiquette here? I needed an out-line. I figured a ‘thanks’ would do. And he reached out his hand like we were two guys talking sports in line at the snack bar. I shook it and said “Well, let me know how that whole fake ball thing works out. Could be a BIG idea.”

He burst into laughter, nodding ferociously and saying he would. And with that I exited the room. To continuing cascades of laughter.

Seriously. I couldn't make this stuff up. Only in San Francisco.


Save us Matt Cain

Five things I cannot explain

1) What’s wrong with Tim Lincecum?
I was so excited to update my Facebook status with ‘Timmy pitches on Easter because Timmy is the second coming.’ Two starts and an ERA over 9.00. Sure, he’s always been a little wild but nothing like this. Last night he gave up 10 hits in 6 innings. He didn’t give up 10 hits all last season. Too much weed? Did some chick dump him? I’m not really sure. But he needs to sort it out. Off day tomorrow, then Matt Cain on Wednesday. Just what the Dr ordered.

2) Why is ‘Facebook Perving’ is so fun?
Not much explanation is needed. Just search your friends’ profiles until you find things about them you shouldn’t have found, didn’t want to know, or might have to lie about if you ever take the stand in their defense.

3) How does Tiger Woods do what he does?
First off, fuck Phil Mickelson and his now non-existent bitch tits. You’re not fooling anyone. Secondly, anyone who thinks golf is boring needs to watch Tiger Woods on a Sunday afternoon. He is THE best athlete of our generation. Better than LeBron, better than Tom Brady, better than Jeter…and dare I say, better than Patrick Willis too.

4) Why does the NBA go from the stupidest sport on the planet to really fucking exciting after only 5 short months?
I can’t tell if that statement was ironic or sincere? Let’s be honest. Nobody gives two shits about the NBA until the playoffs. And then do we really care? For me, not unless Kobe or LeBron are in the Finals. Wake me up when Derek Fisher rises from the dead...again. And while we're at it Fuck Dwayne Wade.

5) Why is my cable bill $185 this month?
Oh wait. I just checked the movies we rented: Kung Fu Panda, Ghost Town, Three-way Nymphos 4, Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2, College Coeds 9, Iron Man, Jenna Jameson: Sex in the 80s, My Best Friend’s Girl and House Bunny. Yep. That explains it.

*Bonus: Why are pictures up Jessica Simpson's skirt sexy even when they look like this?


Thursday, April 9, 2009

Little Joey Gets the Potties

Who’s having what?
by Magglio and Jericho

Dustin Pedroia: A lemondae with a lemon twist in a SpongeBob sippy cup

Tim Lincecum: A Miller High Life, in the bottle

Dante Stallworth: A 40…because it's the easiest to drive with.

Shawn Merriman: Gasoline chased with lighter fluid in one of those party yard sticks you find all over Daytona Beach during Spring Break.

Josh McDaniels: His own piss. They offered him Cristal but he turned it down.

Albert Haynesworth: Whatever you're drinking. Because Albuurth wants it, and he wants it now.

Phil Micklelson: A chocolate milkshake with chocolate sprinkles, chocolate chips, chocolate bunnies and a dash of protein, because you know, he's an athlete and all

Shaq: Shaqtastical liquidicious poured over Shaqubes (translation: ice water)

Peyton Manning: Gatorade because Peyton Manning is one of those people who succeed early and just keep going. He had plenty of background and motivation for his football career, with his father and two brothers having played football. But a famous name won't help if you haven't got the inner discipline and motivation to succeed yourself. And that's where Peyton Manning stands out. (p.s. that's verbatim from Gatorade's Web site, you may now vomit)

Dwight Howard: Holy water (editor's note, Yao Ming also drinks holy water except his comes from a butthole)

Reggie Bush: Coke Zero. He used to drink Coke, but switched to Coke Zero b/c he felt more comfortable drinking something that never lived up to its hype

Kobe Bryant: A Screaming Viking. Bartenders actually hate making these, but Kobe forces them to.

Mark Cuban: Maker’s Mark mixed with Cuban rum. While drinking he repeats to himself “I am Mark Cuban. I am Mark Cuban.”

Curt Shilling: A Bloody Mary made from Christ’s blood and the tears of migrant field workers.

Vince Young: Sprite, Pepsi, Gatorade, basically anything with a recognizable brand and a shiny label (Vince Young can't read)

Joey Harrington: Chamomile Tea. But never before bedtime. It gives Joey the potties.

Coach K: One and a half ounces of bourbon with 2 sugar cubes, stirred once with a blue straw, counter clockwise and poured into a 3 oz, symmetrical cocktail glass.

Marshawn Lynch: Hennessy and Maple Syrup over Ice…’cause Marshawn just don’t give a FUCK!


Tuesday, April 7, 2009

The USS Colon

Does anyone care about the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame? Say what you will about the credibility of the major sports’ hall of fames but at least they have stats and can be somewhat objective. Why don’t we call the Hall of Fame induction ceremony what it really is, a chance to scream “holy titty fucking Christ!” when you see how old and weird Lars Ulrich looks in HD.

Member that scene in Almost Famous when Billy Crudup screams “I’m a Golden God” and then jumps from the roof into a swimming pool? So he’s standing there and everyone is egging him to jump but you can tell he doesn’t really want to but has no choice now, so he backs up and jumps with a “man, what the fuck did I get myself into?” look on his face? Isn’t that exactly how Josh McDaniels is feeling right now about the Cutler situation? He talked big, stood his ground and now he’s wearing all his clothes in a swimming pool with Kyle fucking Orton. Awesome, Josh, enjoy going 5-11 for two years and then coaching receivers at Oklahoma State.

Do you think porpoises ever wonder about the purpose of porpoise life? Or, like the rest of us, are they just too preoccupied pursuing porpoise pussy to ponder anything?

About three years ago after a hellacious night of drinking, I stood up from the toilet and realized that I had shit a sailboat. It was incredible. Here’s this little sailboat, floating around the bowl and there’s a crew, and people sitting on the bow with drinks and cheese and they’re all waving at me. As you can imagine, this surprised the fucking hell out of me. In retrospect however, crapping out the USS Colon was not nearly as surprising as learning that Fast and Furious made $71 million last weekend.

Thanks, Michigan State, thanks a fucking lot. You had a chance to revive an entire region, to put food on people’s tables, to create millions of new jobs, solve the energy crisis, fix the ozone layer, get Arrested Development back on the air, reduce dependence on foreign oil, solve the JFK murder, cure AIDS, stop George Lucas from making Star Wars movies, finally get a topless picture of Jessica Simpson on the Internet and remove that grimy tap water everyone is forced to drink and replace it with fresh Unicorn urine. You didn’t just get your colon ripped in half on national TV; you let the nation down, shame on you.

Monday, April 6, 2009

One more day...

No MLB post today. The Giants don't start until tomorrow. So while the rest of you are celebrating Opening Day, I am waiting until 1:05pm...tomorrow. Cause Timmy's pitching. And the season will finally begin. In the meantime, please take a look at the past 20 years of NCAA Champions. For no other reason then to jog your memory. I was sitting next to my good friend DC when Juan Dixon took over. I was sitting with my Dad when Chris Webber traveled. I was sitting on Tray's couch going nuts when Toby Bailey and UCLA buttfucked Arkansas...where were you?

2008 | Kansas def. Memphis 75-68 (OT)
2007 | Florida def. Ohio State 84-75
2006 | Florida def. UCLA 73-57
2005 | North Carolina def. Illinois 75-70
2004 | Connecticut def. Georgia Tech 82-73
2003 | Syracuse def. Kansas 81-78
2002 | Maryland def. Indiana 64-52
2001 | Duke def. Arizona 82-72
2000 | Michigan State def. Florida 89-76
1999 | Connecticut def. Duke 77-74
1998 | Kentucky def. Utah 78-69
1997 | Arizona def. Kentucky 84-79 (OT)
1996 | Kentucky def. Syracuse 76-67
1995 | UCLA def. Arkansas 89-78
1994 | Arkansas def. Duke 76-72
1993 | North Carolina def Michigan 77-71
1992 | Duke def. Michigan 71-51
1991 | Duke def. Kansas 72-65
1990 | UNLV def. Duke 103-73


Sunday, April 5, 2009

Death, Taxes and 19 year olds

There are three constants in life. Baseball, Death and Taxes. Man I hate taxes. Tonight was spent at the dining room table doing taxes (see how grown up I am? We have a dining room table. I also eat cereal that is very high in fiber) amid a mess of papers, calculators and number 2 pencils. It looked exhausting. Luckily Patch and I were on the couch playing ‘who wants a tickle’ while my pretty wife crunched the numbers. She wasn’t a huge fan of ‘topless taxes’ even though Patch and I were more than willing to participate. Every time she mentioned the word ‘jointly’ Patch and I would laugh like we were 16-year old stoners whose teacher just talked about ‘erecting statues.’ Sweet.

We saw Adventureland on Friday night. I have 3 quick observations:

1 – Kristen Stewart is dangerously sexy. (Wait, shit. How old is she? Is this ok to say? Just checked. She’s 19. Ok, we're cool. 19 is totally cool.)

2 – Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig should be required to be in 65% of all movies made. This shouldn’t be questioned. Obama should’ve included this in his stimulus proposal. You want to stimulate our economy? Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig. You want to smack the shit out of North Korea? Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig. You want arms like Michelle Obama? Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig.

3 – This movie is authentic. That’s the best way to describe it. The time period, the emotions, the plot. It truly brings you back to the first time you were really in love with a girl and all the crazy emotions and games that happen. It brought me right back to my days spent thinking about nothing but touching boobs. Oh wait, I always think about touching boobs.

The San Francisco Chronicle came out with their annual Best 100 Restaurants in the Bay Area. Not bad. I figure at least 10 on the list are negligible (human error in selection), 5 are hippy fare and maybe 2-3 are so pretentious that I won’t want to go anyways. So that brings my total possible to 82 restaurants. We’ve been to 31 on the list. Not bad. That’s an average of .378. About what Pablo Sandoval will be putting up in his first full season.

Jericho came over for the 2 Final Four games yesterday. Two words. Hamm-ered. Fuck we got after it. Here are my thoughts on the championship game Monday:

1 – Michigan State’s big white guy is a fucking tool. Anyone disagree?
2 – Tyler Hansbourgh has as much personality as Patch’s shriveled scrotum.
3 – There is no way Michigan State will keep this game close. UNC wins by 9.


Friday, April 3, 2009

Remember when?

This morning on my way to work I started laughing because I was thinking back to when we would argue about what to name the blog. For the longest time we wanted to call our blog ‘Tuffie and the Fag’. But the problem is we would spend the rest of the day arguing who was the fag. Good times Jericho. You’re still the fag, but good times anyway.


Thursday, April 2, 2009

Fart Noises

Jericho wouldn't help me with the post today. So I made a bunch of fart noises and put them down on paper. Check it out...

The trailer for the new Sasha Baron Cohen movie Bruno is right here. Not sure this movie could look any funnier. This man is a genius. I'm so there.

The top 10 ugliest shoes of the past 20 years.

The non-stop promos about LeBron James being on 60 minutes got me hooked, so I stuck around last Sunday night to watch. I wanted to see King James talk about how incredibly talented and rich he is. But of course, CBS knows what they’re doing and put the segment at the end of the show. But I thought what the hell? I’ll watch 60 minutes. Sure, I’m a “grown-up” now. I check on occasion. I eat cereal high in fiber. I’m sure this will be interesting. Fuck was I wrong. The first story was on computer viruses and included such user tips as “don’t click on an email from a friend with the message ‘I just saw this video of you. It was hilarious. Click here’. The journalist turned to the camera and admitted ‘I would’ve clicked on this link. You mean it might not be safe?’ For fuck’s sake. 60 minutes is the reason my mother continues to send email forwards.

Want to see a bunch of slap dicks all together on one list? Here are the starting QBs for the Chicago Bears over the last 20 years. Why do I feel like if you threw them all into a blender out would come Jay Cutler? Hey Jay, enjoy Rashied Davis.

1988: Mike Tomczak
1989: Mike Tomczak
1990: Jim Harbaugh
1991: Jim Harbaugh
1992: Peter Tom Willis, Will Furrer
1993: Jim Harbaugh, Peter Tom Willis
1994: Erik Kramer, Steve Walsh
1995: Erik Kramer 1996: Erik Kramer, Dave Kreig
1997: Erik Kramer, Rick Mirer
1998: Erik Kramer, Steve Stenstrom, Moses Moreno
1999: Shane Matthews, Cade McNown, Jim Miller
2000: Shane Matthews, Cade McNown, Jim Miller
2001: Jim Miller, Shane Matthews
2002: Jim Miller, Chris Chandler, Henry Burris
2003: Kordell Stewart, Chris Chandler, Rex Grossman
2004: Rex Grossman, Jonathan Quinn, Craig Krenzel, Chad Hutchinson
2005: Kyle Orton, Rex Grossman
2006: Rex Grossman
2007: Rex Grossman, Brian Griese, Kyle Orton
2008: Kyle Orton, Rex Grossman

The picture above is courtesy of Fat White Guy and Tim Tebow. I mean, that is Tebow’s girlfriend. We should give him some credit right? God Bless.

And oh shit. Stop the press. Heidi Montag is pregnant.


Wednesday, April 1, 2009

April Fool's

We had big plans for today. For April Fool’s Day, that is. One idea was to reveal our true identities. I was going to be a middle-aged housewife with glorious cougar tits and Jericho was going to be Taylor Hicks. But then we decided that was about as stupid as our Overrated Week idea. (Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday here and here, Thursday here and here, and Friday. It was a good week.)

Another idea was to pretend that we were retiring the blog so we could go on our Mormon mission. But, like the first idea, that one was just plain dumb. So we did nothing. All day we were on our toes however. Waiting for some far-fetched email from a co-worker. Checking our coffees to make sure nobody spiked them with laxatives. Skeptical anytime posted anything remotely bizarre. And for the most part we were fine. Business as usual. We spent a majority of the day exchanging IM’s bitching about clients and co-workers, talking about how brilliant The Sports Guy is, and patting ourselves on the back because of how hot our wives are. You know, the usual.

And then I got an IM. It came from my brother. I don’t think he was trying to trick me. No, I’m positive he wasn’t. It went something like this.

Scrotum: Dude! Check it out! Tits! This is totally tits! (Scrot likes exclamation points as you can see.)

Magglio: What?

Scrotum: Check it out!!!

You can click on the link if you want. It’s incredibly believable. What with the Broncos out and saying Cutler was as good as gone yesterday, why wouldn’t it be? It sets up a massive trade between the Niners and the Broncos for Jay Cutler. I read it quickly scanning for the details…something about a 1st, a 2nd and a 3rd round pick…something about Alex Smith…something about finally landing “franchise quarterback.” My ears turned a bright pink I was so excited.

Magglio: HOLY SHIT! Are you fucking kidding me?!?!

Scrotum: TITS! Big fat Oprah tits!

I had to tell Jericho. I had to tell KK. I quickly sent them both the link.

Jericho: WHAT?! Buddy this is HUGE! Let’s get Cutler jerseys.

KK: Wow! This can’t be real. Is this real? That’s a lot to give up for Cutler.

I was blind with excitement. I was sweating like it was 9th grade and I was feeling up Megan Vanderwood at the Sadie Hawkins dance while ‘End of the Road’ was playing and my date sat sulking in the corner. This was a defining moment in my lifetime. I could feel it. And then I was brought back down to earth. Jericho spotted it first. It was buried at the very bottom of the post.

“This April Fools story has been brought to you by If you have read this far, you probably already figured that out.”

I was crushed. I was physically defeated. I couldn’t talk to anyone anymore. I broke the news to KK and then to Scrotum. I knew it would hurt Scrotum pretty badly. April Fool’s Day is stupid. If you don’t believe me then check this out this nerd site which tracked all of the pranks on the net. Sweet.

Now pardon me while I go tell Patch we found his eye.