An Ode To Sports

No guts, no glory.

 

To attain greatness, especially in the field of sports, (ha) you gotta have the balls to show up when it matters. And to show up when it doesn’t. To put in the work when the lights are on you, and put that shit in even harder when no one’s watching.

 

No guts, no glory, right? Wrong! Not if you’re a sports fan.

 

If you’re a fan then you just get to lay your sloppy ass right on the sofa – Mountain Dew in hand, Dorito crumbs laid across your flabby chest – and soak in all that ripe and juicy glory like you were right down in those trenches beaten and bloody kicking names and taking ass.

 

When your team pulls in that sweet victory you get to roll into work the next day repping your squad’s gear and talking non-stop shit to all the dumbasses that screamed, yelled, and got into fights with their wives over a different group of grown men throwing a ball around on the TV than you did.

 

We smashed on you guys. We look like we’re gonna take it all.” Yeah. I mean you just dominated those guys that yelled and screamed at different guys than you. You totally had a hand in the beating that they didn’t at all actually endure.

 

And then the guys who yelled and screamed and got into fights with their wives over a different group of grown men throwing a ball around than you did actually feel bad about this. And before anyone gets all offended, look, I’m a sports fan. I don’t have a  wife but I would definitely get into a fight with her over grown men throwing a ball around on the TV, trust me.

 

But let’s get serious now. It’s all fun and games until someone’s team loses in a playoff/championship scenario.

 

Look, even though as a sports fan you have about as much control over what happens as you do of the sun rising and setting, there are real emotions in this shit. Like, when your team loses a big game, like say, the Superbowl, (hint, hint) it actually feels really bad. It feels like you were out there suffering with the players, toughing out those grueling practices, running those laps up and down the field, hitting those weights in the gym until you puked just so you could get the smallest ounce of an advantage over the opposition.  It tastes like real defeat.

 

It’s like you get yourself stuck in this shitty sports make-believe paradox. You put in zero real work but you feel all the pain of a real defeat. You’re humiliated, afraid to go outside. You slip off your jersey – the thing you wear with another grown man’s last name emblazoned across your back – and bury it in the bottom of the hamper, going with the excuse that your wife’s seven layer dip stained/ruined it. (Commence heated argument.)

 

You get a sick pit in your stomach every time you see the logo of your once proud franchise. The one that you have played exactly zero part in the existence of and would be in exactly the same state if you were to have never existed.

 

Some of your friends sympathize with you. Which somehow makes you feel even worse. How dare they patronize you? Some friends choose to kick you when your down, unaware of how dangerously close they walk to the edge of the valley of severed friendship. You get pats on the back and “maybe next year”s. Forget the players, who, you know, actually played the game. This is about you now. I mean, you were the one making sacrifices, right? All those times you could’ve played that video game, or rented that movie, or went to the gym, (yeah, that’s why you don’t work out) and instead you sat your dedicated and disciplined ass down on that couch and yelled at that TV as loud as your out of shape lungs could yell.

 

I mean, all those times your nerves of steel were put to the to the test? Those playoff games where the clock was running low, the score was almost out of reach, the temperature was nearing zero… and you sat there past your bedtime on that warm recliner, heart working harder than you ever have in your life, just so you could see that last minute touchdown to seal the win. I mean you earned that championship, right? You deserved it.

 

At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, because you know that the reality is much darker than that. You didn’t do anything. You didn’t sacrifice anything but DVR space. You worked, sure. But it wasn’t on the field or in the weight room, it was in the yard. Pulling weeds and edging the grass. Yet here you are, feeling like the world came crashing down on your dreams of sports super star glory.

 

And somewhere in between all the Facebook trolling, the office bullying, the dark urges that no one wants to admit they have about jumping ship to a rival, this is when you realize that you played yourself. You realize that all of the athletes that you’ve yelled and screamed at all season through the TV have millions and millions of dollars and all the women and fame you could imagine, and that you should probably stop crying yourself to sleep every night over the fact that they didn’t throw the ball around as good as the other millionaire ball throwers.

 

You realize this and after some deliberation, you sack up. You wipe off the Dorito crumbs, you order that treadmill on Amazon, and you start to pick up the pieces. You return to the real world.

 

Until next season that is.

 

Disclaimer: This isn’t about me. This is not about me at all. I’ll prove it, I mean I don’t have an office job, I’m not married, I don’t even have cable, I mean I’m— Dammit Jimmy G, why’d you have to overthrow Sanders?!?!?!?!!

 

 

 

 

Hungry?

Mmm, soap. Yummy.

Very stupid post here but I just wanted to express my feelings towards surface cleaner, hand soap, and really any cleaning product in general that chooses to portray itself as absolutely delicious.

I’m not gonna name brands but I just cleaned my kitchen counters with a cleaning spray that had the scent of “Pink Grapefruit Banana Kiwi”. I don’t know about any of you guys, but let me tell you, that shit smells flat out amazing. As I cleaned, I seriously considered spraying some onto my tongue or even just screwing the cap off and taking a little sip of it. (Yeah, insert Tide pod jokes here.) The stuff is even in a see through bottle and is a radiant pinkish purple color, looking like a refreshingly delectable beverage that should be going straight down the hatch. It even says, “Non-toxic”. Seriously? Are you tempting me? Do you want me to try it? Cause I will.

I went online to search up the other “flavors” and oh, it gets much better. “Minty Lemon squeeze”. “Toasted Almond”. “Rosemary Herb Butter.” Dude, am I cleaning my counters or am I spraying this on my pasta?

And that’s just surface cleaner. Let’s not even get started with the “Winter Candy Cocoa”, “Frosted French Toast”, and “Warm Apple Pie”, hand soaps. Are you kidding me? How do you even portray warmth in a scent first of all, and second, we live in a world where soap is making me hungry. I sit on my couch sniffing my freaking hands after I go to the bathroom like some kind of narcissistic psychopath.

Dude, if I was a kid, I’d be cussing my mom out on the daily.

“You’re gonna eat soap now to clean out that filthy mouth!”

“Sweet! Can it be the Chocolate Caramel Bundt Cake this time? I ate too much of the Creme Brulee yesterday and got a stomach ache. Bitch”.

Imagine being a parent and telling your five-year-old not to eat this shit.

“Now, these are chemicals, Billy. You do not, under any circumstance, put these in your mouth.”

“Then why is it called ‘Scrum-diddly-umptious Marshmallows and Skittles cleaner?'”

“Because, well— I don’t actually know, Billy. Sounds pretty damn tasty to me.”

The actual food these products are imitating doesn’t even smell or look as good as these delicious chemicals.

All in all it’s probably some kind of conspiracy to thin out the heard. Speed up Darwinism. Next thing you know they’ll have flavored lighter fluid and candy cane car exhaust.

Moral of the story: If you eat Tide pods, you’re a dumb ass. Soap and surface cleaner is where it’s at, man.

 

Addressing Queefs

Are you the person who would go to an MMA fight and complain that it’s too violent?

Would you go to a scary movie and whine that it was too scary?

Are you the one that would go to a magic show, sit proudly upon your high horse, and use your keen intellect to inform everyone that the tricks are fake?

If you answered yes to any of those questions then 1.) Congratulations you’re a fart that comes out of a vagina and 2.) You also probably go to comedy shows and get offended.

Boring backstory: Over the weekend I attended a comedy show that was funny as balls. One of my favorite comedians headlined the show and it was an overall awesome time. The comedian that is one of my favorites is a pretty big name and he crushed the show with relative ease. However, there were quite a few up and coming guys who performed that had to work to win the crowd over. I’m sure you guys all know that comedians get heckled by people in the crowd which was no surprise to me. What did really make me start to sympathize with the idea of population control were the people who sat in their seats with scowls on their face and shook their heads in disgust at most of the jokes performed on stage.

Huh?

Why the tits are you at a comedy show? Better question, why did you pay money to be at a comedy show? Physically manifesting the fact that you’re wasting oxygen is free pal, do that at home.

These are the same people that write bad Yelp reviews because the steakhouse they went to didn’t have vegan crab cakes. If the joke isn’t funny to you, it’s very simple, don’t laugh. That’s all there is to it, guy. Don’t sit there and express your displeasure at the fact that you have 0 sense of humor and even your cat thinks you’re pathetic.

Comedians jobs are to try to make you laugh. Nothing they say should be taken seriously because they’re joking. 

“But that joke just went too far.”

No, you went too far. Too far out of your mom’s basement. Now head back.

Some people were sitting at this show looking as if they just shoved a handful of sour skittles in their mouth. You’re at a comedy show, not sniffing farts, dude. Oh wait, sorry, you are sniffing farts, because that’s the type of person you are. You pass gas and then pompously waft the particles into your own nostrils so you can dissect the aroma because that’s how arrogant you are.

The logic really escapes me on this one. It’s like attending a sports game of a team you hate just to root against them. If I’m a Packers fan I’m not gonna buy tickets to a Bears VS Eagles game just so I can sneer at the Bears every time they try to score points. But then again, I don’t drink my own urine because I like the taste.

Maybe I’m being a little too harsh on these people, I mean they’re obviously miserable and probably cry at night because they’re bullied on Tinder. But hey, I know it’s hard being offended. So here, let me use this next paragraph to show you just how much everyone cares.

Are You Ready For Some Football?

If you guys are ever looking for a way to just kill some time, and by kill some time I mean like really disrespectfully squeeze the life out of it before throwing it in the trash can and setting it on fire, you should think about checking out the SuperBowl pregame shows.

Talk about reaching.

Here we are at Superbowl… uh… can anyone here read roman numerals? Well, anyways, here we are at Superbowl 352. Patriots vs Eagles. Let’s jump right into things. Chris, we talked to Tom Brady before the game and you know what he said? Guess what he said, Chris. He went ahead and stated that he believes the Patriots WILL win this game. My opinion, Chris? As long as they score more points than the Eagles, Tom’s bold prediction just might become a reality. Let’s go down to Susie on the sideline.

Hey, Jim. The energy down here is really crazy, the people in the stands are extremely excited for this game, you know, the game that costs thousands of dollars to attend and is usually a once in a lifetime experience? Yeah, they seem pretty excited for it, which makes for a huge story line going into this game. But what the real scoop here is that during warm-ups Tom Brady took the field and some people noticed something strange going on with his shoelaces, Jim. Upon further investigation experts say that Tom’s left shoelace is actually three quarters of an inch SHORTER than his right shoelace. Yes, Jim, this is a huge development and something that we will be keeping a close eye on as he continues to warm-up. I asked head coach of the Eagles JimJoe McFootball what this could mean for him and his defense. He responded simply with these powerful words: “If we score more points than the Patriots, I think we have a shot at winning this thing”. Really incredible stuff, Jim, you couldn’t write a better story line. Back to you.

Wow, what a game we have on our hands here, Susie. As some of you may know, on top of the already amazing developments here today, temperatures have actually reached below zero here in Minnesota. Now, the game WILL be played in a temperature controlled dome set to exactly 72 degrees, but still. That’s pretty cold, Chris. Well, this has been quite the intense and action-packed pregame show but we still have approximately nine and a half hours left of coverage so we are now going to recap the 92 other SuperBowls that Tom Brady has been to prior to this one. We’ll see you guys at half time where we will let you know who is winning! Something tells me that whoever scores more touchdowns will probably be in the lead but I guess you guys will have to tune in and see for yourselves! 

 

 

All The Time

I bet you hear the phrase, “all the time”, all the time. It’s such a common phrase, anyone who even halfway knows the English language uses it on a daily basis when describing something they do frequently. But have you ever really thought about how strange it sounds to say?

If you say something like, “I make tacos all the time,” to me, you’re saying that during all the time you have, absolutely all of it, you’re making tacos. When do you sleep? When do you go to the bathroom? Exactly how much does “all the time” really mean? Are you using other people’s time to make tacos as well? How much time even exists, and how are you monopolizing all of it to make tacos? How many tacos have you made? Who shops for all the ingredients?

How did this phrase even originate? It had to have come from someone who actually used the phrase in a literal context. What was he/she doing all the time? Maybe it was someone describing human’s inhalation of oxygen while here on earth? Was it a World of Warcraft player’s response to someone who asked him how often he masturbates? We may never know.

It doesn’t even sound grammatically correct. Whether you say it as “all the time” or “all of the time”, to me it sounds like a quote from the fictional movie character Borat.

“Bang, bang, skeet, skeet, my name ah Borat I like having the sex for all of the time!”

It would make more sense for the phrase to be “during all my available time”, that way you wouldn’t sound like some kind of grammatically incorrect multi-dimensional alien wizard-dragon who holds sole possession of “all of the time.”

I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, the point I’m trying to get at is that the phrase “all the time”, is extremely strange. All I’m asking is that if you’re going to use the statement, just don’t do it all of the time. Now, does that mean I want you to merely use the phrase “all the time” sparingly? Or, does that mean I want you to not use all of the time in the universe to say “all of the time” repeatedly? Jesus, I confused myself again. Why does this have to happen all the time?