Chester, Chester, Child Molester...

Soccer team photo, aka the reason I'll never be photographed sober again:
Aww, nice group. Looks like a fun team to be on. Wait a minute, who's that in the corner? Who let them in there?

How old am I?

This is Carlos Tevez, he's a talented soccer player. Can you tell me how old he is?

Based on facial hair alone, I would give an answer of between 35-40.

Based on Hair Grease Coeffecient (HGC), I would guess 30-40.

Highlight for answer: 23

Thanks for playing.

Oh Barristers, How I love thee

Sometimes, I think things are more complicated than they need to be.

Sometimes, I think lawyers are tools.

Sometimes, two of my theories collide into a single pile of ridiculousness.

Say, hypothetically, you're speaking with someone on the telephone. Now, instead of saying, 'I spoke to them on the telephone', put on your retard hat and think of a different way to express that same concept.

If you came up with 'I communicated TELEPHONICALLY' then you win, and I think you're granted admission to the bar.

In the same spirit:
I shall no longer speak french, I will communicate francophonically.
I shall no longer mistake one word for another verbally, I shall be confused homophonically .
I shall no longer play my favorite instrument, I shall rock out sousaphonically.
I won't feel left out, I'll feel excluded abandonically.
I won't be pro-life, I'll express my beliefs anti-abortionically.
I won't chafe, I'll be hurting frictionically.
I won't have a giant navel, I'll be large bellybuttonically.
I won't enjoy true stories, I'll be inclined nonfictionically.
I won't be angry the neighbor's dog crapped in my yard, I'll retaliate defecationically.
I won't throw away my aerosol spray cans, I'll protest chlorofluorocarbonically.
I won't allow my foreskin to remain, I'll take care of my man-parts circumcisionically.
I won't have a seizure, I'll behave convulsionically.
I didn't let the milk spoil, just lapsed refrigerationically.
No more rowdy college students - a ban on acting defenestrationically.
Ants? Not if I'm proactive fumigationically.
No more worrying about meeting new people, just exude positivity impressionically.
Not 'too drunk to take that phone call', just inebriated incapacitationically.
No more embarrassment at the clinic, just in a bad way infectionically.
I won't have to explain my favorite subatomic particle, just more positronically prone than neutronically.
Not dizzy, just disposed rotationically.
Not unable to stand up, just indisposed erectionically.



I'm Rick Duffy, and I approve this message.

Coco Crisp is not gangsta

I'm about as white as you can get. So perhaps this post should be taken with a grain of salt (or pepper, I'm no racist). I have noticed a disturbing progression for a certain Red Sox outfielder though. When Coco was acquired in the winter before last season, he looked something like this:
Or maybe it was like this:The point is, it looked a whole lot more likely that he'd appear in some inane advertisement than show up as a guest on Nas' new album. Oh wait, he DID do some advertisements, didn't he? Oh yes, with his dad.
Hi, Coco. No, I do not want to pay $10 to be a member of RSN. Yes, I am sorry your father is unemployed. Anyway, he's just a smiling, happy dude, uber excited to be hawking any and everything for the Sox. Hell, he had a Hood sponsorship like 8 seconds after signing with the Sox, before he'd even played a game. This year though, he stopped talking with the media (probably because he had 36 RBI last YEAR) and stopped taking shit from anyone. Here he is telling Manny to shut up. Kind of passive aggressively though.
Of course, hair changes aren't unprecedented on the Sox. You'll remember this style from Bronson (McCarver don't call me Branden you son of a bitch) Arroyo. Arroyo was traded soon after. Reasons were not given, although this haircut along with a crappy album (seriously? Covering the Bases?) are suspected.

Coco has heated up of late, hitting 4 homers in his last 7 games played, including a grand slam last night in a 15-4 pummeling of the hapless Devil Rays, losers of their last 11 games. I am still mystified how he hits the ball out of the infield without a stride to speak of, but that's neither here nor there. It's like it's the anti-Coco showed up this season, and as a result, I am going to refer to him as Ococ. My new favorite player.

(Photos from boston.com, and I apologize for this post. It makes almost no sense.)

Odds and Ends

- Is this an exchange that should take place between two adults:

F1: Your bangs make you look twelve.
F2: If you don't stop making fun of my hair I'm not going to your birthday party.


I'm inclined to say no. Especially if one of them is your significant other. I don't even want to say which one because there's no good answer. (Maybe it's both - bow chikka wa wow...No, it isn't.)


- Tiger Woods named his kid after me. Except, it's a girl. She is already better than me at every sport I play, and I imagine will have better boobs in a few weeks.


- There is no possible scenario in which the White House would consider pardoning me for any offense I commit. I am convinced if I was older and had a nickname like Scooter, things would be different. Or maybe just a nickname?


- I feel about as old as good ol' Scoot, because Jesus Shuttlesworth is 33 and plays for the Celtics now.

A tip of the cap

Usually, vandalism is not all that attractive. Some kid practicing his 'tag' by painting it 97 times on the same wall. Or one of those clever stickers that go on stop signs urging one to stop doing something with the possible exception of vandalizing street signs.


Sometimes, though, you come across a work so magnificently perfect that you must pay homage to it. And that is the case with the sign for Catwear.


I urge you to take a close look at the clearly delineated anus of the cat. That, friends, was not part of the sign when it was first installed.

Now, I don't know if it's meanspirited defacement, perhaps by a formerly independent and now very dependent woman, or simply an homage to the fact that, yes, cat's asses are funny and poorly hidden. I prefer to believe that it was an inspired moment - divine intervention perhaps, meant to make people point and smile.

Plus, it's kinda smeared so it looks like poop up close.

PETA told me to

In my backyard, there are two distinct factions: The animals, and the people who hate them. I am a member of the latter. I'm currently engaged in an ongoing battle with the groundhogs, but while trying to catch all those varmints, I've accidentally caught two skunks. In a hav-a-hart trap.

Which means they don't die.

Which means you either have to let them out, or kill them. I have no way to kill the skunks without getting close to them. So I let them go, because I'd rather not have a) a guilty conscience or b)smelly dead skunk carcass rotting in a cage that I'd like to use again. As a result of my mercy, they don't leave my property. That's mostly why I was pleased to find a new treat on my lawn over the weekend. Someone (I like to think God) had taken care of what I wouldn't.
I took the liberty of moving the remains into the hole where the groundhogs live. I'm not sure what will happen there. I imagine a scene of shock and horror as the good 'lil hogs return home from a hard day pillaging to find a skunk carcass blocking their front door. At that point, they pack up and leave, never to return.

Or they relocate inside the house, change the locks and leave me to die.

Not this guy though:

He's been relocated to greener pastures elsewhere. Or at least as long as it takes until he finds his way back.