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?!?!?!?!!

 

 

 

 

The Almighty Cyclist

Forewarning, this is road rage Saucebox. I am not liable for anything he says. 

😉 

Imagine if laws were optional.

Imagine if obeying the laws of our society was entirely within your discretion. If at a certain moment in time a law wasn’t exactly convenient for you, you could just not abide by it. Then you could go right back to abiding, but only if you wanted to.

“What do you mean I can’t just walk into this house and live in it?”

“That’s breaking the law.”

“Oh, well you see, that isn’t exactly the most ideal situation for me at this time—you know, the law—so I’m just gonna not obey that one for now, sound good?”

I realize everyone may bend the law or even break it a smidge every once in a while. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the cocky-ass-blatant-as-shit-in-front-of-cops-f$ck-the-law type of behavior. People that truly believe they are above all the other peasants of society.

There are surprisingly (or not so surprisingly) tons of these higher beings our society. Thousands, maybe even millions. Through my studies, I have figured out a pretty easy and foolproof way to identify them, too. Using my method, you might actually uncover the frightening truth that YOU are one of these beings.

So here’s how you find out: If you’re driving along the road in your car, obeying traffic laws and not putting anyone’s life in danger, and you see a guy on a bicycle riding on the road along with you………….. that’s one of the beings!

These omnipotent ones, or as they like to be called, cyclists, are citizen/emperor hybrids. They do as they please, and if you don’t like it, you can suck the fart out of an asshole. Their words, not mine. (Actually not their words at all, but I imagine this is what they say.)

If you couldn’t already tell, I have been scorned by cyclists many times. Yesterday was the straw that broke the camels back however and brought me to the dark place of writing a humorous blog post about their behavior. For the first time in my life, my road rage has actually followed me off of the road.

I was late somewhere and of course was hitting every single red light. (I stopped at them though, even though it was inconvenient—*looking at you cyclists.) All of a sudden, Lance Armstrong veers off of the sidewalk and and cuts in front of me as the left turn light changes green. He gives me a condescending “halt” motion without even looking at my peasant face, and of  course I have to stop and let him in front of me. He then proceeds to leisurely pedal with one hand on the handle bars at about 4.72 mph through the extremely busy intersection in the turn lane. There are about 12 cars stacked behind my car which are now honking at me of course. The cyclist takes about 55 minutes to make the turn and I, along with the other 2 cars that actually made the green light are now stuck behind ol’ Tour de France.

He kicks up his speed to around 5 miles an hour and we are all backed up behind him on the two-lane road. He swerves back and forth between the right side of the road and the wrong side cause, well, it must get boring being so powerful.

I guess the poor guy got a little out of breath or something because he decides to just stop. No, not like off on the side of the road or God forbid the actual sidewalk. Just right in the middle of the road. He then starts flagging us by him. He gives us his almighty permission to steer our vehicles around his supreme existence. He then pulls out his phone and starts checking his GPS. I choose to not go around him because I literally can’t fit and instead just lay on top of my horn. The guy moves a few inches towards the side of the road, enough for us to inch by and lob all kinds of expletives at him. He doesn’t hear us though, because his ears are tuned to a higher frequency of sound than our meager human grunts.

I continue down the road, still in disbelief of what just happened, when suddenly, Lance tears by me. Hauling ass. I look at my speedometer, and I’m going exactly 25 mph. The speed limit for a residential, which I was in.

So now, he’s speeding. I see him narrowly dodge a small kid up the road. I watch in awe as he disappears down the street.

Fast forward and I’m still driving through the residential. To my dismay I find myself back behind Thanos the mad Biker.

He’s going a little faster now, but still slow enough to hold me up. His three speed settings are apparently 4, 7, and 55 mph. We are coming up on a stop sign and what do ya know?! The dude just blows right through it. Doesn’t look, doesn’t yield. Nothing. Just flops his metaphorical penis onto everyone’s forehead and guns it through the intersection.

Two cars had to swerve out of his way.

I get to the end of the road and I’M BACK BEHIND HIM. I’m turning left back onto a bigger, busier street.

The guy does a little condescending motion for “right” and I breathe a sigh of relief. As I start to turn left, he goes right. But, no, wait, he checks his phone and realizes that that’s not the most convenient way for him, so he swerves left, right in front of my car.

So we got texting and biking, speeding, holding up traffic, driving under the speed limit, running stop signs, driving erratically—am I missing anything?

I finally floor it past the guy on the main road, cursing his entire shitty existence and what does he do…

He waves.

I drive down the road in a stupor and look back to see a thick line of cars growing behind him. The cars begin dangerously swerving around him, honking and flipping him the bird.

He doesn’t care though.

Know why?

Cause a cyclist doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of sheep.

 

 

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.

Having Grizzly Troubles?

The other day I was doing some Grizzly bear research. If you want to know why I was doing Grizzly bear research it’s because it was part of my predator research. My predator research began because I wanted to know which animal was smarter, a dog or a cat. (My dog was eating my cat’s puke and my cat was licking its asshole, I figured it had to be close.) So naturally, after reading about cats’ intellect and bad ass hunting abilities I had to take it upon myself to find out who the most ferocious of the felines were. This of course turned into a quest to find out who the fiercest predator on earth was. I was basically able to narrow it down to the Tiger and the Grizzly after a few hours of my life that I’ll never get back. So yeah, Google. You guys get the point.

So, I’m researching how attacks from these animals play out on humans and *spoiler alert* ya die at the end. But there is actually some really interesting (hilarious?) advice on how to potentially “survive” a Grizzly bear attack. It’s mostly common knowledge but how many of you have really dissected this bullshit?

First thing you’re supposed to do, my fellow bear snacks, (this is all assuming you don’t have a gun, by the way) is not run. K, I get that bears can outrun the shit out of you. It’s physically impossible to outrun a bear. But, hey, don’t tell me to not run when there’s a ten foot Grizzly trying to eat me. Know why? Cause if I stand still he’s gonna see the shit dripping down my leg and there’s no way he’s not killing me after that.

Alright, step two. If you’ve managed to not run and you’re standing in front of Mr. Grizzly with your shit filled socks, now you must not make eye contact. Yeah, that’s right. Just pretend the snarling Satan creation that could practice his ping pong serve with your head isn’t there. Yup, just stare at a squirrel or something. Although that probably wouldn’t help because the squirrel would be laughing at you for not paying attention to the giant Grizzly bear in front of you. Seriously though, I get that this gives you the best chance to live but is anyone that doesn’t live in a cave that he stole from a pack of wolves really following this advice if actually placed in the situation?

Alright so now, you’re standing in front of a massive snarling Grizzly bear enjoying the weather and looking around at the flowers. Experts say now, if you can, make yourself look bigger than the bear. The ten foot tall thousand pound bear. Make yourself look bigger than him. Go ahead, do it. Oh, you’re not a sorcerer? Okay, well I guess we’ll just go with the option of not doing that.

Let’s say he decides to charge you. This is where you’re supposed to remain calm, stand your ground, and do not scream. Yeah, so if you weren’t calm before, A.K.A. you’re a human being, now is the most essential time to get real calm. That’s right, while the thousand pound bear is charging you. Come on man, calm down. What are you? Some kind of pussy? Also advised: Speak in a very low, friendly voice to notify the bear that you are a human.

“Hey, bear. No need for that aggression around here, man. I’m a human, everything’s cool. You can go back to flossing your teeth with deer spines.”

Bear: “Ah shit, sorry, man. You’re the third one this week. I accidentally ate the other two because they freaked when I charged them.”

Alright time for the most hilariously stupid piece of advice. This is where things really turn into a cartoon. So, if you’ve calmly stood in front of the massive behemoth of fur and muscle trying to eat you, remained super calm, ignored him, politely notified him that you’re human, and he’s STILL charging you, this is what you do.

You lay down on your stomach and cover your neck. You just lay there. Ya let him climb on top of you, hump you a few times, bite off a hand or two. Maybe tear a few ribs out. Poke a hole through your melon. But remember, you MUST REMAIN CALM. Absolutely no screaming and no noise making. If he bites one of your legs off, you MUST make zero noise. Seriously, don’t be an idiot and yell out in pain when one of your ears is swallowed. Do you want to live or not? So you lost a testicle or two? Big deal,  sack u— wait, bad idiom.

To illustrate my point with this last step, imagine laying face down in the dirt with a gigantic Grizzly bear standing over you sniffing you. You’re literally just waiting to see if he’s going to tear you to shreds, slowly eat you, toy with you, etc. This massive apex predator that is about as close as you can get to a flawless killing machine is SNIFFING YOU. There is no conscious thought in this scenario, there is only uncontrolled defecation.

Lastly, if the bear has had his fun with you, and you’re still breathing, now you can get up and go hike for help. You know, with one of your legs gone, your intestines spilling out, throat slashed, etc. Go hike back to camp and get help, buddy. We’re rootin’ for ya.

Alright, so I’ve ranted long enough. If any of you are curious as to what experts recommend for a Tiger encounter, they pretty much just say to hope that he eats you fast.

Finally, some logical advice.

Two is More Than One

Have any of you ever met or known someone that describes their personality with the words, “I like to have fun” ?

 

See, the thing about those words is that they make up quite possibly one of the most idiotically moronic statements ever conceived.

 

Oh, you like to have fun? Do you also eat food when you’re hungry? Do you breathe when you need air? That’s awesome, good for you!

 

What’s ironic about people who say this dumb shit is that they are trying to imply that they are an exciting and spontaneous person, when, in reality, I fall asleep due to a large-scale loss of brain cells immediately after I hear those words come out of their mouth.

 

“Yeah, you know, I just really like to have fun.”

 

No shit, Sherlock Holmes. It wouldn’t be considered fun if you didn’t like it. That’s the whole point. You needed to tell me that? What are the things you don’t like? Feeling sad? Being upset? What makes you laugh? Things that are funny? I mean, what the hell, dude. You are the absolute last person I would ever be around if I was trying to have a good time. You’re probably the type of person who warns others not to breathe under water. Or the type of person that steps outside during the day and is surprised enough that they have to announce, “the sun is bright!” Also, water is wet by the way, and ice is cold. Just clarifying.

 

Moral of this short little story here is that people are just so dumb, man. They make me so angry and I get really mad when I’m angry!

 

 

 

 

Let Me Get a Bite

You’ve just slaved away cooking up a delicious meal. Or maybe you went out and bought it with your hard earned money. You sit down with said glorious meal in front of you and prepare to dig in. You’re admiring the beauty of the object of food that is about to enter your mouth and take a ride on your taste buds. Right as the consumption party is about to commence, your idiot friend or family member says,

“That looks good, let me get a bite.”

This is bullshit. What goes through people’s selfish minds to where they come to the conclusion that that statement is acceptable, and won’t cause the person they are saying it to to have an imaginary murder session in their head?

In the grand scheme of things, what is one bite of my meal going to do for you? Is it going to nourish you? No. Is one measly bite going to satisfy your craving for whatever it is that I’m eating? No, you’ll just want more, which is happening over my dead body.

So, you must be asking because you just want to taste what I have, right? Well, I was the one who made or bought it, and seeing as I didn’t make or buy it for you, or ask you to taste it, maybe you should go make or buy your own. I’m not Bobby Flay and this isn’t a charity. I don’t care about your taste buds and their well-being. If you really want to taste something of mine I can arrange that, you’ll just have to let me finish what I’m eating.

That was shitty, I know. Pun intended.

If I’m eating a burger or a burrito or a sandwich, I’ll bet money I didn’t order it with saliva that isn’t my own. (Shout out to Taco Bell, it’s complimentary there.) That’s disgusting, and since that’s the scenario your proposing, you are also disgusting.

I mean dude, why are you asking me for a bite of my food? Are you homeless? Do you need a job? I can try to talk to some friends and maybe get you an interview or something, but in the meantime I’ll give you a few bucks and you can run down to Mickey D’s and get a Happy Meal, Jesus. You can even keep the toy.

I just can’t really grasp the logic on this one. Sure, sometimes when I see someone eating something that looks good, I want to eat it too. But, I don’t ask them if I can, I think that classifies you as a bum. Like, if your friend walked into your house with an attractive girl, would you say, “hey, she looks nice, let me get a turn”? Now that I think about it, some of you probably would. (If you have, I wanna hear the story.)

Anyway, the moral of this post: If you see me eatin’ a burrito and it looks good, keep walkin’.

Whoopty Doo

I never really know how to start these posts off, so, I’m just gonna say that this one is about the recent solar eclipse. This thing was a pretty big freakin’ deal apparently, and when I woke up and saw on the news that people traveled from all over the world just to be in the locations where the eclipse would fully block out the sun, I really couldn’t believe it. Now, I know it’s a once in a lifetime thing for this to occur in the U.S. and blah blah blah blah. If you believe that the solar eclipse is a truly amazing event, and in a way it for sure is, I have no problem with that. You like what you like. But, in my opinion, all this fuss over the thing is stupid as shit.

 

Alright, you mean to tell me that the moon (which we see almost every night of our lives) is going to block the sun? So, kind of like when you hold your hand up in the sky, or wear a hat? Or use an umbrella? Or just close the blinds on your windows? Also, clouds.

 

What’s that you say? The moon is really big so it’s going to make parts of the world dark? So, kind of like what we call night time? Or, when it’s super early in the morning and the sun hasn’t fully risen? And this event only happens for two minutes? Hmm, yeah, I think I’ll pass. I got better things to do, like eat a grilled cheese, or pick my nose.

 

I guess the logic I’m trying to push is that if you’re going to act like this eclipse is so god damn amazing, then I wanna see you wearing your tin-foil-dildo-hats and using your cereal box telescopes to watch every sunrise, sunset, half-moon, full-moon and everything in between. Because when you really think about it, all those things are amazing. The fact that were are living on a giant rock that’s floating in space and orbiting a massive fireball is amazing.

 

One last thing, and I don’t even need to try to make this sound funny. There are people who have been partially blinded from staring at previous eclipses with their bare eyes. Yes, staring at the eclipse. A.k.a the sun’s rays. With their bare eyes. And these geniuses are now issuing a warning to the masses that you should not stare at eclipses. Well ah shit, Sherlock! Thanks for the heads up! I was planning on staring at the sun right after I was done sticking my penis in an electric outlet and bungee jumping without a rope!

 

Gotta love people, man.

Dry Water

If you want peace and quiet, do you start lighting off fireworks? If you want to stay awake, do you take sleeping pills? What if you’re a vegetarian, then would you make a steak for dinner? If you aren’t clinically insane, you probably answered “no” to all those questions. Well, here’s another question, why do people get into a swimming pool if they don’t want to get wet?

 

I can’t count the number of times I’ve actually annoyed someone in a pool by accidentally getting a minuscule amount of water on their upper body, or God forbid splashing them and getting the dreaded water on their face. Yeah, the water. You know, the stuff they’re sitting in.

 

“Oh, but I don’t want to get my hair wet.”

 

Well if you don’t want to get your hair wet then a pool probably isn’t the best place to be, is it, bud? Last time I checked, a pool is a pretty wet place. Also, hair dryers, towels, air, etc. All very effective for removing water from hair.

 

People who think like this are the same people that throw away the crust on their pizza or only eat the inside of their bread. The very same unstable individuals that order a quesadilla with “light cheese”. I mean seriously, just get freakin’ burrito.

 

If you don’t want to get wet in a pool, then why don’t you just go sit in a bathtub? Oh, the waters too hot in a bathtub? (Yeah, I’ve actually heard this excuse before.) Well, there’s this really cool thing called using the cold water valve! You can even use the cold water and hot water valves at the same time to ensure the temperature is to your liking! Oh, but you want to be able to sit in the sun? Well, now you’re just suffering from a bad case of first world problems. There are people starving in the world, not knowing when their next meal might be, and you’re mad because you can’t be in the sun with half your body in water and the other half completely void of all liquid or precipitation. You’re what I would call a human dingleberry.

Anyways, I don’t want to rant for too long. I’m also hungry, and I think I’m going to make a quesadilla. With plenty of cheese.