Its been nearly two and a half weeks since the A-Rod on roids story surfaced, so why am I still seeing it every time I turn on the TV? Is there really nothing better to talk about on sportscenter and all the other espn shows that are exactly the same, I.E. around the horn, PTI, and Jim Rome has gonorrhea? I for one am completely sick of hearing about baseball and its steroids scandal. I don't care anymore and I'm tired of hearing about it. After Barry Bonds and his enormous 20 lb melon head broke the home run record it was most everyones hope that a clean A-Rod, on pace to break Bonds' record, would eventually become the home run king. Now that baseballs greatest star player has been outed, I don't think there is anywhere for the sport to go but up and finally put all these steroid stories behind them. Now that A-Rod has been exposed, I don't think I can be surprised by anything anymore. As far as I'm concerned, every player from the late '80s till last year when the Mitchell report came out was on roids, at least every player that mattered. If you were one of the three players not on roids you probably weren't that good. If it comes out tomorrow that Kevin Stocker was on roids I wouldn't be surprised. Everybody was on roids, so I no longer can be surprised nor do I care. And if everyone was on roids doesn't that kinda even the playing field?
Well fuck it. I don't care anymore. Hopefully this whole steroid circus has scared the new generation of players completely away from steroid use and we never have to go back through this annoyance again. I am no longer interested in A-Rod or baseballs steroid problem. A-Rod did however kinda get me thinking though. What I am interested in, actually, is maybe some roids. Anybody, anybody? I kinda think it would be fun to do some roids, don't you? I've been trying to think of a way to get jacked without really having to do all that work for a long time now. Lets face it, working out is hard. And it often sucks. Well fuck that shit, I say lets do some roids. It will be great.
Lets just think about it for a minute before you judge. First of all, I will get jacked and ripped and awesome. Chicks will dig me, like A-Rod. I will become B-Rod. My head will probably grow fatter and oddly shaped but thats ok because it will look proportionate on my newly enlarged, bumpy body. I can now wear those extremely tight tee shirts that look like they are choking my arms. I can even wear those cool tee shirts with the squiggly tribal-looking lines all over them, or maybe even some see-through mesh shirts! Awesome! And then when the squiggly lines on my shirts are just not enough (how can you ever get enough squiggly lines) I can get them tattooed all over my biceps, maybe some barbed wire around my wrists and ankles too. While I'm at it I might as well shave my head and get an ass crack tattooed down the middle of my dome.
My balls will shrink, which I cannot afford, and I hear there may be mood swings. So I guess I'll be stomping around in an angry rage a lot, but that's ok because I'm jacked and will kick anybodys ass I please for pretty much doing nothing at all. God help you if you accidentally step on my new gym shoes. And I guess every time I glance down at my shrunken nuts I will just get even angrier, you know cause they look like soaking wet baby balls. Fuck it though, its gonna be great. You know what, I think we should all do roids. Lets all do roids, all my friends. I'm gonna need a spotter at the gym anyway. I'm gonna need someone to shout inspirational shit when I'm lifting my weights like “Come on!”, “One more man!”, and “Uggghhhh!”. Then we can share a protein smoothie.
After we all hit the gym and eat a healthy dinner of roids, chicken , and eggs (also blended into a smoothie) then we can go out drinking and pick-up chicks. We will all wear the same tight, squiggly shirts and those of us with hair will soak our blowouts with LA looks, the rest of us will just oil our bald ass domes. We will then crush beers at my house. Literally, you must crush every beer can after you drink it, those are universal douchbag rules. Then before we go out we have a flex off. The winner will be judged in the categories of; 1) most obnoxiously abnormal size, 2) overall amount of veins about to burst, and 3) swimsuit contest (speedos only).
Once at the bar we will all gather in one corner and stand there as if we have claimed that area as ours for the rest of eternity. We will crush beers and shots and a vast array of bombs. Most of us will clutch our beers far too tightly and hold them at a right angle to flex our guns without really having to obviously flex our guns. The rest of us will obviously lift our arms and flex our guns. One or more of us will eventually start a fight for no reason and then we will stomp our angry asses down to old city where apparently all the chicks are. However, none of us actually hit on chicks anymore. Instead, we simply club them over the head and drag them out by their ankle. The girl awakes in the morning with a pounding headache and a pounding asshole. She charges me with rape and I must flee the country so I do not get my own ass pounded in prison because lets face it, I'm roided-up but I still can't defend myself. So now I live in a third world country under a bridge. My head is an over sized coconut, my neck has fused with my shoulders, I have a crazy nervous twitch, I eat the village children, and I fuck billy goats, or maybe just a regular goat that I have named billy.
Ok, maybe I'm getting a bit carried away. Anyway, if anyone is down let me know. Fuckin' roids man. In other news it is almost spring time and the new line of GBW is in the works (for real this time). We are finished with the design phase are now planning to buy a printer and start production shortly. Orders will be taken on this site as well as in person. GBW, this is our year bitch!
- Bows
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Arent we old enough
So I just got done work at 3:3o in the morning in Philadelphia PA. I walk in to LBR's house and Hess is passed out on his couch with painted fingernails and dicks all over his face. Hilarious. However, what the fuck. This guy just fought an MMA pro and did stand up comedy in the last two weeks. Give em a break! Once your outta high school its time to stop writing on your friends. My friend Hess maybe a lifelong scumbag, but hes earned the right not to be writen on.
He left a center city apartment with cocks on his face and dicks on his arms and drove home! What if he got pulled over! Even his silly Hess charm couldnt pull em outta prison (well maybe a white cop). One time our buddy in the frat house left in 8am to go to a mid-term with a huge dick on his face. The prof said nothing, nor did his fellow students till he finished. He handed in his paper and his prof said "son, u need a mirror". He took the whole final in front of 1oo ppl with a big fat dick on his face! And he Aced it. Needless to say he came back to the house pissed, but he was a bitch and LBR punched him in the face. Prob solved. but
What im trying to say is, Hess is old. He doesn't need this abuse anymore, and he gets too drunk to defend himself. As his manager, I feel Ishould. He drove home last week wasted with "I love cock" on his forehead! Fuck! Just a joke, like Die Hard 3! He hit me in the gut and ran away. His roommate was not happy. Tonight, he was drawn on and I felt the need to step in. I took a warm wash cloth and rubbed my Hess. He did not respond correctly. Drunk fuck threw punches and mumbled like a retard. I tried to hold him down but, since his MMA class, has found some new found balls. So he hit me, HARD. I wanted to tea bag him (put my balls on his face), but LBR said no. Then LBR said yes, so I did. Then we tried to clean him with a washclothe. We got most of the shit off his face but he was fighting us in his sleep. Silly Hess, were justg trying to clean you. We scrubbed the shit off your fingernails, the mustache off your face, the dicks off your back. So when you wake up Hess, know that Bows and LBR love you. No more drawing on Hess please. Its far too easy.
- Bows
He left a center city apartment with cocks on his face and dicks on his arms and drove home! What if he got pulled over! Even his silly Hess charm couldnt pull em outta prison (well maybe a white cop). One time our buddy in the frat house left in 8am to go to a mid-term with a huge dick on his face. The prof said nothing, nor did his fellow students till he finished. He handed in his paper and his prof said "son, u need a mirror". He took the whole final in front of 1oo ppl with a big fat dick on his face! And he Aced it. Needless to say he came back to the house pissed, but he was a bitch and LBR punched him in the face. Prob solved. but
What im trying to say is, Hess is old. He doesn't need this abuse anymore, and he gets too drunk to defend himself. As his manager, I feel Ishould. He drove home last week wasted with "I love cock" on his forehead! Fuck! Just a joke, like Die Hard 3! He hit me in the gut and ran away. His roommate was not happy. Tonight, he was drawn on and I felt the need to step in. I took a warm wash cloth and rubbed my Hess. He did not respond correctly. Drunk fuck threw punches and mumbled like a retard. I tried to hold him down but, since his MMA class, has found some new found balls. So he hit me, HARD. I wanted to tea bag him (put my balls on his face), but LBR said no. Then LBR said yes, so I did. Then we tried to clean him with a washclothe. We got most of the shit off his face but he was fighting us in his sleep. Silly Hess, were justg trying to clean you. We scrubbed the shit off your fingernails, the mustache off your face, the dicks off your back. So when you wake up Hess, know that Bows and LBR love you. No more drawing on Hess please. Its far too easy.
- Bows
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Hess Didn't Suck
So, the plan after Monday was for me and Bows to both write our perspectives of my stand-up performance. However, by the time Bows woke up and finished his on Tuesday, I was already out drinking. I signed up for another open mic on Tuesday, but I didn't get on, which is probably a good thing. I will explain, but first I gotta call out Bows. So, I am basically completing my bucket list of things to do before I kick the bucket, which is funny because I'm 30 and not Jack Nicholson or Morgan Freeman (but with my lifestyle, I suppose I could go at any minute). Anyway, in the past week and a half I have gotten my ass kicked by a pro MMA fighter, played with a high school basketball team (which I always wished I was good enough to do (I'm still not)), and did a ten minute stand-up routine at an open mic. Meanwhile, Bows has watched me get my ass kicked (still awaiting video) and watched me kick ass. Other than that, I think he watched a Rangers game. Bows, I may push you out of a plane this week, cause I am running out of ideas on how to embarrass myself.
On to the open mic. I will try not to repeat too much of what Bows already wrote. I know it sounds gay and contrived, but it has seriously been a dream of mine to do stand-up. I always thought I was funny enough, but lacked the balls to actually pursue it. Anyway, after all my other recent exploits I thought, fuck it I need something to blog about. So I came up with a little material, and I must have started drunkenly talking the idea up around the watering hole. I say must have because I have no recollection of doing so, but I have convinced myself in hindsight that it was intentional (tell enough people, you have to do it, drunk Hess knew this). That said I got a post on facebook on Sunday asking if I was still down for the open mic night on Monday. My reaction, "what fucking open mic night". I had no idea, and at that point, no plans on actually following through with this.
Word started getting around though and before I knew it LBR's facebook status said something like "can't wait to see Hess's first stand-up performance" on Monday afternoon. Then I started getting texts, calls, and posts. Then I started drinking. I still thought there was no way I would actually do it, but I figured if I was drunk when I thought of all this maybe it would help if I was drunk again. The more I drank, the more I started thinking that I could possibly pull this off. I have to apologize at this point to the people that I didn't invite, because some of them are pissed. I really didn't think I was going to do it, and I definitely didn't want to hype it up, because it either wasn't going to happen or it was going to suck. So, I pretty much only told the people who reached out to me once I decided that I was indeed going to do it. Also, on that note, I am shocked there were friends in the city who knew about this and didn't go. Seriously? Hess is potentially going to make a complete ass out of himself and you opt to stay home. Its beyond me.
On to the performance. My brotha from anotha motha and I went to sign up around 8, then proceeded to drink, hash out material and hit on the bartender until we went on. He had done this before so mercifully he led off for me, which in this crowd was huge. Bows already touched on the fact that this wasn't really a comedy crowd, so I had no idea what to expect, especially since all my material was about porn and sex. After a few musical acts, my boy led off and did a great job of getting people laughing and into comedy. And then, I was up. Holy shit. I opened with "Hi, my name is Drew Hess and I'm an alcoholic. I skipped that meeting so I'm getting it out of the way here." Don't know if that's funny or not, but I like it and may use it again. Then, I was off. I basically did three bits; two were good and the third killed time. I ended the first bit with "So I ended up blowing this guy named Steve out back". I was told after the fact that there were a couple apprehensive gay guys there that I eventually won over despite another gay reference in the second bit.
I guess I somehow made it through about ten minutes of material and people actually laughed. All my friends assured me it was funny and they aren't the types to blow smoke up my ass. LBR was even nice to me for a day, which is rare. I think that overall it was a success and I am working on some new material now. I said earlier that I went back on Tuesday and didn't get on, I will explain now. Monday night was a completely open mic night at a bar. All acts were welcome. Tuesday was a comedy club with a big crowd and some legit comedians just working out material. I'm glad I got to watch that one before I perform it. I will hopefully get some video up here soon. Until then, I will keep you posted on my wildly successful fake career.
-Hess
On to the open mic. I will try not to repeat too much of what Bows already wrote. I know it sounds gay and contrived, but it has seriously been a dream of mine to do stand-up. I always thought I was funny enough, but lacked the balls to actually pursue it. Anyway, after all my other recent exploits I thought, fuck it I need something to blog about. So I came up with a little material, and I must have started drunkenly talking the idea up around the watering hole. I say must have because I have no recollection of doing so, but I have convinced myself in hindsight that it was intentional (tell enough people, you have to do it, drunk Hess knew this). That said I got a post on facebook on Sunday asking if I was still down for the open mic night on Monday. My reaction, "what fucking open mic night". I had no idea, and at that point, no plans on actually following through with this.
Word started getting around though and before I knew it LBR's facebook status said something like "can't wait to see Hess's first stand-up performance" on Monday afternoon. Then I started getting texts, calls, and posts. Then I started drinking. I still thought there was no way I would actually do it, but I figured if I was drunk when I thought of all this maybe it would help if I was drunk again. The more I drank, the more I started thinking that I could possibly pull this off. I have to apologize at this point to the people that I didn't invite, because some of them are pissed. I really didn't think I was going to do it, and I definitely didn't want to hype it up, because it either wasn't going to happen or it was going to suck. So, I pretty much only told the people who reached out to me once I decided that I was indeed going to do it. Also, on that note, I am shocked there were friends in the city who knew about this and didn't go. Seriously? Hess is potentially going to make a complete ass out of himself and you opt to stay home. Its beyond me.
On to the performance. My brotha from anotha motha and I went to sign up around 8, then proceeded to drink, hash out material and hit on the bartender until we went on. He had done this before so mercifully he led off for me, which in this crowd was huge. Bows already touched on the fact that this wasn't really a comedy crowd, so I had no idea what to expect, especially since all my material was about porn and sex. After a few musical acts, my boy led off and did a great job of getting people laughing and into comedy. And then, I was up. Holy shit. I opened with "Hi, my name is Drew Hess and I'm an alcoholic. I skipped that meeting so I'm getting it out of the way here." Don't know if that's funny or not, but I like it and may use it again. Then, I was off. I basically did three bits; two were good and the third killed time. I ended the first bit with "So I ended up blowing this guy named Steve out back". I was told after the fact that there were a couple apprehensive gay guys there that I eventually won over despite another gay reference in the second bit.
I guess I somehow made it through about ten minutes of material and people actually laughed. All my friends assured me it was funny and they aren't the types to blow smoke up my ass. LBR was even nice to me for a day, which is rare. I think that overall it was a success and I am working on some new material now. I said earlier that I went back on Tuesday and didn't get on, I will explain now. Monday night was a completely open mic night at a bar. All acts were welcome. Tuesday was a comedy club with a big crowd and some legit comedians just working out material. I'm glad I got to watch that one before I perform it. I will hopefully get some video up here soon. Until then, I will keep you posted on my wildly successful fake career.
-Hess
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Fat Hess Does Stand-Up
So I had this crazy dream last night that Hess was doing stand-up comedy at Fergie's Pub on Sansom St. Now normally I would have awoke this morning with my usual hangover and stale beer breath and just chalked this weird dream sequence up to some sour beer, but since we've started this blog it seems anything is possible. So in reality, Hess really did stand-up last night and even more impressive is the fact that he actually did really well. He did not get booed off the stage, which is always a good start, and had enough composure and material to finish out the 15 min slot he was provided and he did it with a comfortable flow. And the jokes were funny, another kinda big element I think.
I cannot go into his actual performance because that will just ruin it for everyone who hasn't seen it yet, but it's dirty, immature and funny so it should work for most audiences. And if you know Hess (which our only two readers do) you need only use your imagination. Instead, I performed the role of observer seated at the back of the room. I was unaware when we started this web page thing that Hess would consistently be opting for the physical challenge. He has already been whooped by a trained MMA pro and flung himself in front a live studio audience for shits and giggles. Since I must ultimately do my part, I will do what I was born to do and swim the Delaware River this summer (date TBD). But for now I am simply an observer.
First off, let me state for the record that this is one challenge I could never go through with. I am deathly afraid of public speaking and even the thought of Hess going up there made me nervous. I couldn't even stay composed for book reports in jr. high. My voice would crack, I would stutter, my hands would shake and I would make virtually no eye contact. Fucking shit was not good. So I already gave credit where it was due just for Hess to get up there. We got to the bar shortly before nine and headed upstairs to the second floor. There was about six or seven tables upstairs with a small stage set in the corner of the room and a small six stool bar in the opposite corner. We took our place at one of the tables in the back of the room and waited for the first performers to go on.
As we glanced over the crowd we both immediately realized this was probably not the best environment for crude jokes. We were the only people in the small crowd of twenty or so that did not have long hair, dreadlocks, fluffy sideburns, weird oval glasses, too many piercings, or silly hats that would even look ridiculous on Prince. Yup, we were surrounded by hippies, yuppies, and homos. The first act took the stage and began their set and only solidified the uneasy feeling of impending rejection. It was a jazz band composed of three young black men, one on the drums, one on the bass, and the other vocals and keyboard. Shit. Hess stood in the back of the room with a classic deer in the headlights look on his face. He already told us all that he was extremely nervous but till this point had not really shown many physical signs. He now was standing quietly in the corner with a look of fear and possibly regret in his eyes. He was drunk but at the moment had no drink in his hand, which is a sight I have not seen in a long time. He must have been really nervous if he stopped drinking. His adams apple had swollen to the size of a grapefruit and was beginning to bob up and down like a fishing lure with a small mouth bass on the other end of it. And to make matters worse, the band was actually really good. All the weirdos in the crowd were bobbing their heads, swaying with the rhythm. This crowd was obviously used to quality performances. I was beginning to overhear some of the conversation in the room. I heard words like "righteousness man", "peace and love", "let me get two hoegarrdens with extra fruit please". Shit! This was not good. You could cut the fear in the room with a knife. The smell alone was intoxicating. I had to go to the bathroom just to get out of the room for a minute. That bathroom by the way was one of the creepiest places on Earth, about the size of a broom closet, dimly lit, broken window patched with a board of wood, perfect for some fag out there to sneak in behind me and get his rape on.
Apparently we may have been more nervous than Hess because he got up there and killed it. Very impressive Hess, especially for a first time. I think we all prepared for the worst too. Public humiliation, a room full of crickets, Hess knocks the mic stand over as he runs from the room sobbing. That would have been awkward. And then how do we, his friends, react to the situation? "I guess we'll take the check" I say to the bartender from across the sad and quiet room. When this blog site inevitably fails maybe we should concentrate on writing you some material and get you on a circuit. I could be your scumbag manager, wear a lot of guido suits and get myself some gold rings, much like your Jerry McGuire but much sleazier. Anyway, for those of you who haven't seen the act Hess has no reason not to do it again so get in touch with him for future dates. Good stuff Hess.
- Bows
I cannot go into his actual performance because that will just ruin it for everyone who hasn't seen it yet, but it's dirty, immature and funny so it should work for most audiences. And if you know Hess (which our only two readers do) you need only use your imagination. Instead, I performed the role of observer seated at the back of the room. I was unaware when we started this web page thing that Hess would consistently be opting for the physical challenge. He has already been whooped by a trained MMA pro and flung himself in front a live studio audience for shits and giggles. Since I must ultimately do my part, I will do what I was born to do and swim the Delaware River this summer (date TBD). But for now I am simply an observer.
First off, let me state for the record that this is one challenge I could never go through with. I am deathly afraid of public speaking and even the thought of Hess going up there made me nervous. I couldn't even stay composed for book reports in jr. high. My voice would crack, I would stutter, my hands would shake and I would make virtually no eye contact. Fucking shit was not good. So I already gave credit where it was due just for Hess to get up there. We got to the bar shortly before nine and headed upstairs to the second floor. There was about six or seven tables upstairs with a small stage set in the corner of the room and a small six stool bar in the opposite corner. We took our place at one of the tables in the back of the room and waited for the first performers to go on.
As we glanced over the crowd we both immediately realized this was probably not the best environment for crude jokes. We were the only people in the small crowd of twenty or so that did not have long hair, dreadlocks, fluffy sideburns, weird oval glasses, too many piercings, or silly hats that would even look ridiculous on Prince. Yup, we were surrounded by hippies, yuppies, and homos. The first act took the stage and began their set and only solidified the uneasy feeling of impending rejection. It was a jazz band composed of three young black men, one on the drums, one on the bass, and the other vocals and keyboard. Shit. Hess stood in the back of the room with a classic deer in the headlights look on his face. He already told us all that he was extremely nervous but till this point had not really shown many physical signs. He now was standing quietly in the corner with a look of fear and possibly regret in his eyes. He was drunk but at the moment had no drink in his hand, which is a sight I have not seen in a long time. He must have been really nervous if he stopped drinking. His adams apple had swollen to the size of a grapefruit and was beginning to bob up and down like a fishing lure with a small mouth bass on the other end of it. And to make matters worse, the band was actually really good. All the weirdos in the crowd were bobbing their heads, swaying with the rhythm. This crowd was obviously used to quality performances. I was beginning to overhear some of the conversation in the room. I heard words like "righteousness man", "peace and love", "let me get two hoegarrdens with extra fruit please". Shit! This was not good. You could cut the fear in the room with a knife. The smell alone was intoxicating. I had to go to the bathroom just to get out of the room for a minute. That bathroom by the way was one of the creepiest places on Earth, about the size of a broom closet, dimly lit, broken window patched with a board of wood, perfect for some fag out there to sneak in behind me and get his rape on.
Apparently we may have been more nervous than Hess because he got up there and killed it. Very impressive Hess, especially for a first time. I think we all prepared for the worst too. Public humiliation, a room full of crickets, Hess knocks the mic stand over as he runs from the room sobbing. That would have been awkward. And then how do we, his friends, react to the situation? "I guess we'll take the check" I say to the bartender from across the sad and quiet room. When this blog site inevitably fails maybe we should concentrate on writing you some material and get you on a circuit. I could be your scumbag manager, wear a lot of guido suits and get myself some gold rings, much like your Jerry McGuire but much sleazier. Anyway, for those of you who haven't seen the act Hess has no reason not to do it again so get in touch with him for future dates. Good stuff Hess.
- Bows
Friday, February 13, 2009
Hess Can't Hoop
There are many things in this world that I cannot do, or that I just plain suck at. It just so happens that I discovered two of them this week. I will write about any future shortcomings as I encounter them, keeping the Hess Can't... thing going. Again stressing the main point of my blogs; I suck and I am a little bitch. Also, before I begin, I just wanted to point out that I posted a link to this blog on my facebook page and so far it has added a whopping zero readers. I just want to take this time to thank our three loyal blog members. Without you guys I could pretty much just call Bows and tell him these stories. On to the blog.
I want to start off by saying that I used to consider myself a pretty decent basketball player, and I think our three readers can back me up on this. I wasn't good enough to make the team in junior high, and I never really tried to play organized ball after that. However, I dominated some backyard and trooper park games in my day (granted everybody was normally high in those games), I played pretty well on the frat house's death trap court, and I played my share of pick-up games with Lou in which I didn't embarrass myself. I haven't played at all in a few years, but I guess I always thought it was like riding a bike. I mean I haven't forgotten how to play soccer and I haven't forgotten how to be totally awesome, but I definitely forgot how to shoot a basketball. I will explain.
So, I arranged to work out with a high school basketball team yesterday, and to put it kindly, this team was not good. They haven't won a game yet this year and they have only one left (they're not winning that one either). As I set this up, the song Glory Days was playing in my head. As I often pathetically do, I spent way too much time reminiscing about the good old days, when I used to be popular and good at things. Anyway, I somehow convinced myself that I was just gonna kill these little punks...and then we started playing.
We started out just shooting around and this is right when I knew I was gonna be in trouble. All the kids were there asking me questions like "Mr. Hess, you play ball?" "You any good?" Stuff like that, and I was nodding confidently, until I put up my first shot. Just inside the key, nothing but air. I laughed nervously and made weak excuses, "Been awhile" and "Must still be sore from working out, haha". Deep down I was terrified though. It felt wrong. I had completely forgotten how to shoot a basketball. I think I shot like another 3 or 4 airballs in a row before I began overcompensating and launching bricks off the backboard. It was a truly embarrassing and pathetic spectacle (I feel like I say pathetic and embarrassing alot in these blogs, which is in and of itself, pathetic and embarrassing (I also really like parenthesis)). I got to the point where I was just taking layups, even missing some of those.
Shootaround mercifully ended and I opted to sit out the drills, instead waiting nervously to scrimmage. By this time I'm pretty sure the coach and all the kids thought I was just an old loser trying to play with the kids, not to mention a big fraud. I probably should've just gotten the fuck out of there, but there were only 9 kids, so I stuck around to make a full 5 on 5. I was the biggest guy on the court, so I got a bunch of rebounds, and I'm still a pretty good dribbler and passer. I had a few money assists, but I was terrified to shoot. I passed up a bunch of open shots, only to drive to the lane and have my shot blocked by a 5'8 center (oh yeah, apparently I can't jump anymore either, and I used to be able to grab rim). I did have one shining moment; I blocked a kid Billy Madison style. Just crushed the poor kids shot, but then I ruined it by posturing after the fact. I mean, I'm 30 the kids 18, I'm like 5 inches taller than him, our team is getting killed and I'm stinking up the joint, and there I am posing after I swat the kids shot. I am a huge deusche (how the hell do you spell that word? that looks like German money). Anyway, my final stat line probably looked liked this: 0 points on 0-5 shooting, 13 rebounds, 4 assists, 1 block, 5 to's, 1 embarrassing pose, and 1 kid with hurt feelings. Lou, you gotta fix my shot. I cannot accept that I now suck at this sport. Anyway, tune in next time for Hess Can't Fuck.
-Hess
I want to start off by saying that I used to consider myself a pretty decent basketball player, and I think our three readers can back me up on this. I wasn't good enough to make the team in junior high, and I never really tried to play organized ball after that. However, I dominated some backyard and trooper park games in my day (granted everybody was normally high in those games), I played pretty well on the frat house's death trap court, and I played my share of pick-up games with Lou in which I didn't embarrass myself. I haven't played at all in a few years, but I guess I always thought it was like riding a bike. I mean I haven't forgotten how to play soccer and I haven't forgotten how to be totally awesome, but I definitely forgot how to shoot a basketball. I will explain.
So, I arranged to work out with a high school basketball team yesterday, and to put it kindly, this team was not good. They haven't won a game yet this year and they have only one left (they're not winning that one either). As I set this up, the song Glory Days was playing in my head. As I often pathetically do, I spent way too much time reminiscing about the good old days, when I used to be popular and good at things. Anyway, I somehow convinced myself that I was just gonna kill these little punks...and then we started playing.
We started out just shooting around and this is right when I knew I was gonna be in trouble. All the kids were there asking me questions like "Mr. Hess, you play ball?" "You any good?" Stuff like that, and I was nodding confidently, until I put up my first shot. Just inside the key, nothing but air. I laughed nervously and made weak excuses, "Been awhile" and "Must still be sore from working out, haha". Deep down I was terrified though. It felt wrong. I had completely forgotten how to shoot a basketball. I think I shot like another 3 or 4 airballs in a row before I began overcompensating and launching bricks off the backboard. It was a truly embarrassing and pathetic spectacle (I feel like I say pathetic and embarrassing alot in these blogs, which is in and of itself, pathetic and embarrassing (I also really like parenthesis)). I got to the point where I was just taking layups, even missing some of those.
Shootaround mercifully ended and I opted to sit out the drills, instead waiting nervously to scrimmage. By this time I'm pretty sure the coach and all the kids thought I was just an old loser trying to play with the kids, not to mention a big fraud. I probably should've just gotten the fuck out of there, but there were only 9 kids, so I stuck around to make a full 5 on 5. I was the biggest guy on the court, so I got a bunch of rebounds, and I'm still a pretty good dribbler and passer. I had a few money assists, but I was terrified to shoot. I passed up a bunch of open shots, only to drive to the lane and have my shot blocked by a 5'8 center (oh yeah, apparently I can't jump anymore either, and I used to be able to grab rim). I did have one shining moment; I blocked a kid Billy Madison style. Just crushed the poor kids shot, but then I ruined it by posturing after the fact. I mean, I'm 30 the kids 18, I'm like 5 inches taller than him, our team is getting killed and I'm stinking up the joint, and there I am posing after I swat the kids shot. I am a huge deusche (how the hell do you spell that word? that looks like German money). Anyway, my final stat line probably looked liked this: 0 points on 0-5 shooting, 13 rebounds, 4 assists, 1 block, 5 to's, 1 embarrassing pose, and 1 kid with hurt feelings. Lou, you gotta fix my shot. I cannot accept that I now suck at this sport. Anyway, tune in next time for Hess Can't Fuck.
-Hess
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Rangers Snap Losing Streak in Slugfest, Top Caps in Shootout
First off, I would like to say that chugging beers while watching Hess get his ass kicked was extremely satisfying. I cannot wait to go back to the bar when Travis is working and throw stuff at him then point to the poor unsuspecting schlep next me. That guy can kick some serious ass. Also, I never admitted that Hess started to look "completely bad ass", he merely stopped looking like a retard which in turn looked decent compared to his uncoordinated start. As soon as we figure it out we will have the video posted on here. Its a little grainy because of the lack of lights we had but you can still see the beating. Anyway, I'm trying to recruit some Rangers fans to actually read and talk some hockey on this site, so since the Rangers broke out of their dick sucking streak tonight with a huge win I decided to write a semi-credible article following the game:
The last time the Rangers hosted the Washington Capitals at MSG the blueshirts skated out to a dominating 4 – 0 lead, only to have Alex Ovechkin return the favor by erasing that lead and eventually winning the game in overtime. I just happened to be at the garden that night to see first hand one of the saddest collapses in recent Rangers history. The first half of the game was awesome. I spilled a shit load of beer jumping from my seat in celebration four times. Luckily we were in the first row of our section so I could not soak anyone in the seats in front of us this time (last year there was a young couple seated in front of our drunk asses that was not so lucky).
But tonight was a different story. Tonight the Rangers managed to break out of their five game losing streak in style, on the winning side of a 5-4 final by way of shootout.
This was honestly one of the best all around games I have seen all season and not just because my team came away with the W. I would be saying the same thing even if the caps had won tonight because this game had everything a fan could ask for. There were 8 goals, more than enough hits, 2 fights, 4 lead changes, countless great saves, power plays, shorthanded chances, overtime, a shootout, and all at a feverish fast pace. To top it all off, Mike Green made history by tying Mike O' Connells mark for consecutive games with a goal by a defenseman at seven.
Losers of the last five straight games, the Rangers knew tonights game would be an unlikely W to break out of this slump. The Caps are among the eastern conferences elite, currently sitting in the number two spot in the standings and coming into the garden tonight with a 7-2-1 record in their last ten. The game started with a great back and forth pace that did not end until final seconds of overtime ticked away. Then Colton Orr and Donald Brashear dropped the gloves and the building erupted. Two of the nastiest fighters in the league going at it, and they didn't disappoint. These two beasts threw haymakers at each other for a minute and twenty seconds, an eternity for a hockey fight, each trading huge shots square in the face. If one of these guys punched me in face I would shit my pants and I'm pretty sure my head would explode, yet these animals never went down and eventually had to be separated by the refs. Awesome. Anybody who thinks fighting should be banned from hockey is either not a real fan and doesn't have enough knowledge to know what their talking about or is just a huge pussy. But I cannot get started on the that topic right now because I would be here all night, we will talk about that some other time for sure.
Aaron Voros dropped the gloves right after the ensuing face off and once again ignited a fire in the garden faithful. Ryan Callahan got the blueshirts on the board minutes later before the Caps stormed back with two goals of their own. The Rangers tied it on Lauri Korpikoskis goal in the second period before Washington re-took the lead. New York got one back from Markus Naslund to tie the game and then Paul Mara shelfed a point shot to take the lead once again. It has been seven games since the Rangers scored four in a game, only managing five goals in their last five games during this recent slump. It still amazes me how a team with the offensive talents of Drury, Gomez, Naslund, Zherdev, etc. cannot score to save their cock n balls. The atrocious power play is absolutely killing this team. The Rangers power play, or lack there of, went 0 for 6 tonight including a wasted 5 on 3 for 34 seconds followed by a wasted 4 minute double-minor. That fucking sucks! Get that PP together Renney! I know I'm talking out of my ass but how hard can it be? Not scoring on a 5 on 3 late in the 3rd is ridiculous, especially when you can't even register a single shot during that time. After those shitty power play chances I thought for sure Washington would put it away in the closing minutes. But tonight our boys pulled it off by crashing the net, getting rebounds and playing a very physical game, basically they finally played simple hockey (fucking thank you!). Ovechkin was kept in check all night (mostly by Mara) with physical play although the leagues ultimate stud did get a goal to briefly prolong the shootout and threw his 230 pound wrecking ball ass around all game for a total of 13 hits. I love Ovechkin, by far the leagues best player. Forget Crosby, forget Malkin. Not only do you have to worry about Ovechkin winning the game by himself, but you also had better skate with your head up or else he will murder you. The best all around player I have seen since the lockout. All A.O. Does is score goals and kill people. I love it and I hope he wears a blueshirt someday. At least we don't have to see him again until a possible playoff situation.
Mike Green tied it at four, scored his 20th and 21st goals of the season to go along with tying O' Connells record. He scored two beautiful top-shelfers and is a sure thing for the Norris trophy as the leagues best D-man in my eyes. After both teams exchanged close calls in the overtime session it was on to a shootout. Nigel Dawes got the rangers on the board first and Henrik Lundqvist stopped both Washington shooters before facing Ovechkin as Washingtons third and final shooter. Both Lundqvist and Theodore played outstanding games despite allowing four goals apiece. Ovechkin forced an extra shootout round when his shot found daylight between Lundqvists pads. Great shot though, he had about a split second to force it in there and made it through by a cunt hair. Callahan then shot for the Rangers and rang his shot right off the crossbar but got a lucky bounce as the puck shot downward off the crossbar, off Theodores ass and into the net! I knew that we were gonna need some luck and some hard-nosed hockey to snap outta this slump and if banking a shot off a pipe and into an ass for a goal isn't luck than I don't know what is. Tom Renney couldn't even watch as King Henrik sealed the win with a pad stop on the final shooter for a much deserved win in a very entertaining game. Nice work blueshirts. Now you just have to beat philly on Sunday for me. Losing to the flyers is unacceptable because I live in philly and I hate them with a gut-burning passion. Losing to the flyers counts as ten losses for me. Not trying to overlook Florida on Friday but can't help it.
On another note, Sean Avery made his first step toward wearing a blueshirt again when he was assigned to our AHL team in Hartford. Fucking awesome! This team has been missing its swagger ever since Avery left. It seems like the Rangers are his most likely destination but there is still a possibility that a lower-seeded team can claim him off waivers before the Rangers do, and if that happens I will have to send death threats (maybe some boxes of shit) to their offices. New York wants its Avery back! Until then, Go Rangers.
- Bows
The last time the Rangers hosted the Washington Capitals at MSG the blueshirts skated out to a dominating 4 – 0 lead, only to have Alex Ovechkin return the favor by erasing that lead and eventually winning the game in overtime. I just happened to be at the garden that night to see first hand one of the saddest collapses in recent Rangers history. The first half of the game was awesome. I spilled a shit load of beer jumping from my seat in celebration four times. Luckily we were in the first row of our section so I could not soak anyone in the seats in front of us this time (last year there was a young couple seated in front of our drunk asses that was not so lucky).
But tonight was a different story. Tonight the Rangers managed to break out of their five game losing streak in style, on the winning side of a 5-4 final by way of shootout.
This was honestly one of the best all around games I have seen all season and not just because my team came away with the W. I would be saying the same thing even if the caps had won tonight because this game had everything a fan could ask for. There were 8 goals, more than enough hits, 2 fights, 4 lead changes, countless great saves, power plays, shorthanded chances, overtime, a shootout, and all at a feverish fast pace. To top it all off, Mike Green made history by tying Mike O' Connells mark for consecutive games with a goal by a defenseman at seven.
Losers of the last five straight games, the Rangers knew tonights game would be an unlikely W to break out of this slump. The Caps are among the eastern conferences elite, currently sitting in the number two spot in the standings and coming into the garden tonight with a 7-2-1 record in their last ten. The game started with a great back and forth pace that did not end until final seconds of overtime ticked away. Then Colton Orr and Donald Brashear dropped the gloves and the building erupted. Two of the nastiest fighters in the league going at it, and they didn't disappoint. These two beasts threw haymakers at each other for a minute and twenty seconds, an eternity for a hockey fight, each trading huge shots square in the face. If one of these guys punched me in face I would shit my pants and I'm pretty sure my head would explode, yet these animals never went down and eventually had to be separated by the refs. Awesome. Anybody who thinks fighting should be banned from hockey is either not a real fan and doesn't have enough knowledge to know what their talking about or is just a huge pussy. But I cannot get started on the that topic right now because I would be here all night, we will talk about that some other time for sure.
Aaron Voros dropped the gloves right after the ensuing face off and once again ignited a fire in the garden faithful. Ryan Callahan got the blueshirts on the board minutes later before the Caps stormed back with two goals of their own. The Rangers tied it on Lauri Korpikoskis goal in the second period before Washington re-took the lead. New York got one back from Markus Naslund to tie the game and then Paul Mara shelfed a point shot to take the lead once again. It has been seven games since the Rangers scored four in a game, only managing five goals in their last five games during this recent slump. It still amazes me how a team with the offensive talents of Drury, Gomez, Naslund, Zherdev, etc. cannot score to save their cock n balls. The atrocious power play is absolutely killing this team. The Rangers power play, or lack there of, went 0 for 6 tonight including a wasted 5 on 3 for 34 seconds followed by a wasted 4 minute double-minor. That fucking sucks! Get that PP together Renney! I know I'm talking out of my ass but how hard can it be? Not scoring on a 5 on 3 late in the 3rd is ridiculous, especially when you can't even register a single shot during that time. After those shitty power play chances I thought for sure Washington would put it away in the closing minutes. But tonight our boys pulled it off by crashing the net, getting rebounds and playing a very physical game, basically they finally played simple hockey (fucking thank you!). Ovechkin was kept in check all night (mostly by Mara) with physical play although the leagues ultimate stud did get a goal to briefly prolong the shootout and threw his 230 pound wrecking ball ass around all game for a total of 13 hits. I love Ovechkin, by far the leagues best player. Forget Crosby, forget Malkin. Not only do you have to worry about Ovechkin winning the game by himself, but you also had better skate with your head up or else he will murder you. The best all around player I have seen since the lockout. All A.O. Does is score goals and kill people. I love it and I hope he wears a blueshirt someday. At least we don't have to see him again until a possible playoff situation.
Mike Green tied it at four, scored his 20th and 21st goals of the season to go along with tying O' Connells record. He scored two beautiful top-shelfers and is a sure thing for the Norris trophy as the leagues best D-man in my eyes. After both teams exchanged close calls in the overtime session it was on to a shootout. Nigel Dawes got the rangers on the board first and Henrik Lundqvist stopped both Washington shooters before facing Ovechkin as Washingtons third and final shooter. Both Lundqvist and Theodore played outstanding games despite allowing four goals apiece. Ovechkin forced an extra shootout round when his shot found daylight between Lundqvists pads. Great shot though, he had about a split second to force it in there and made it through by a cunt hair. Callahan then shot for the Rangers and rang his shot right off the crossbar but got a lucky bounce as the puck shot downward off the crossbar, off Theodores ass and into the net! I knew that we were gonna need some luck and some hard-nosed hockey to snap outta this slump and if banking a shot off a pipe and into an ass for a goal isn't luck than I don't know what is. Tom Renney couldn't even watch as King Henrik sealed the win with a pad stop on the final shooter for a much deserved win in a very entertaining game. Nice work blueshirts. Now you just have to beat philly on Sunday for me. Losing to the flyers is unacceptable because I live in philly and I hate them with a gut-burning passion. Losing to the flyers counts as ten losses for me. Not trying to overlook Florida on Friday but can't help it.
On another note, Sean Avery made his first step toward wearing a blueshirt again when he was assigned to our AHL team in Hartford. Fucking awesome! This team has been missing its swagger ever since Avery left. It seems like the Rangers are his most likely destination but there is still a possibility that a lower-seeded team can claim him off waivers before the Rangers do, and if that happens I will have to send death threats (maybe some boxes of shit) to their offices. New York wants its Avery back! Until then, Go Rangers.
- Bows
Hess Can't Fight
First of all, good call Chowda. I would write more but my life isn't THAT glamorous and I have to start spending more time doing work at night. That said, we'll try to update at least every other day. I mean, there are 2 of us.
Ok, on to my extremely painful experience training with a pro MMA fighter last night. Just as a free ad for him to my 3 readers, his name is Travis Roesler, and he's an absolute beast. He also works at our watering hole of choice, so this kinda of started out as a drunk joke. Well, I was drunk anyway. Bows swears that it was my idea to take a one-on-one lesson with Travis while he filmed it for this blog. I feel, especially after the fact, that if it was my idea, I probably would have recommended that I be the one behind the camera. Anyway, enough talk of Travis kicking my ass got around the bar that it became inevitable. The time was set for 4:30 PM yesterday. I started getting pretty scared around noon, and by 3 I had drawn up a will (and all my debt goes to...).
The plan was for me to get my ass kicked and Bows to videotape while LBR provided commentary, but he couldn't make it. So, it was just me and Bows, who stopped to get a 12 pack on the way to Travis' place (I was extremely jealous of this, by the way). I was terrified the whole way there, because the talk all week in the bar (from people who trained with him) was how I was goin to puke, I was gonna get knocked out, I was gonna pass out, etc. Anyway, the place wasn't easy to find (you'll see the video) but we got there on time. Bows got ready setting up the camera and drinking while I got ready to have the shit kicked out of me.
Despite all the shit being talked all week, Travis runs a professional operation. He didn't just punch me in the face as soon as I walked in the door. The plan was to work out for about a half hour; learning punches and kicks and getting a bunch of cardio. Then we were supposed to do a couple 3 minute rounds of sparring followed by 5 minutes of submissions. We started with 5 embarrassing minutes on the speed bag. I'm not even kidding, I challenge any of you to look as cool as Rocky trying to punch that thing. I basically spent 5 minutes apologizing to Travis for being an uncoordinated retard. Not the start I was hoping for.
Next up, we started with 5 minute drills teaching me how to punch and kick, surprisingly skills that I completely lacked. I started off pretty shakily, but I got to the point where even Bows had to admit that I was looking completely bad ass. And then the sparring began. The first 3 minute round Travis was leaving me alone; kinda feeling me out. At first I was scared to hit him. He had to drop his guard on multiple occassions and force me to hit him in the face, which was in and of itself, terrifying. Also, 3 minutes has never felt so long. I was completely winded about a minute and a half in, and I've been running about 15 miles a week lately. Also, when I finally grew the balls (out of fear) to actually hit him, it was like swinging at air. I thought I had him lined up, and all of a sudden he was gone. Kid's amazing.
So, after the first three minutes, I couldn't breathe, thought I was going to pass out, and definitely was about to puke. Thank god for the 1 minute break. Ha! Again, he was taking it easy on me, but the second round was 10 times worse than the 1st. He started attacking me more, and I was dead after a minute. I was trying to stay the hell out of his way, but he clocked me a couple times just to keep me honest. I won't say much more, we will have video up here soon, but I just wanted to quit at this point. I had one last session in store for me though, the 5 minutes of submissions.
Now, as I've said, Travis was taking it extremely easy on me up to this point, but now he wanted to have some fun. His goal was to get me in 30 different submissions in 5 minutes. He was no longer trying to teach me anything. He didn't explain the submissions, he just fucked me up. We had to start on our knees facing each other, and every time we slapped hands he grabbed me and inflicted extreme pain. I thought 3 minutes moving around on my feet was bad. 5 minutes having my air supply cut off and having my limbs twisted unnaturally was 10 times worse. I kept stalling getting back up while Travis impatiently waited to kick my ass again. At one point, I'm pretty sure he invented a submission that prominently involved a teabag. One minute, his balls were directly in my face and the next, my arm was being ripped out of its socket.
Anyway, I somehow survived the 5 minutes and the whole ordeal. It turned out to be an excellent workout, I can't lift my arms above my head today, but I don't know how soon I can put myself through that again. I now have a new found respect and fear for men that I already respected and feared. I have watched enough UFC fights to realize now how hard and grueling that time in the ring is. Also, it takes me back to the birth of UFC. A time when you had to win like 5 matches in one day with no weight classes. I know it was the early 90's but I don't know exactly when, and Royce Gracie would rock dudes like 100 pounds heavier than him. Breaking arms and fucking guys up on the way to a crazy amount of wins. That guy was my hero then, and I think he is again now. Thanks for the ass whooping Trav.
Ok, on to my extremely painful experience training with a pro MMA fighter last night. Just as a free ad for him to my 3 readers, his name is Travis Roesler, and he's an absolute beast. He also works at our watering hole of choice, so this kinda of started out as a drunk joke. Well, I was drunk anyway. Bows swears that it was my idea to take a one-on-one lesson with Travis while he filmed it for this blog. I feel, especially after the fact, that if it was my idea, I probably would have recommended that I be the one behind the camera. Anyway, enough talk of Travis kicking my ass got around the bar that it became inevitable. The time was set for 4:30 PM yesterday. I started getting pretty scared around noon, and by 3 I had drawn up a will (and all my debt goes to...).
The plan was for me to get my ass kicked and Bows to videotape while LBR provided commentary, but he couldn't make it. So, it was just me and Bows, who stopped to get a 12 pack on the way to Travis' place (I was extremely jealous of this, by the way). I was terrified the whole way there, because the talk all week in the bar (from people who trained with him) was how I was goin to puke, I was gonna get knocked out, I was gonna pass out, etc. Anyway, the place wasn't easy to find (you'll see the video) but we got there on time. Bows got ready setting up the camera and drinking while I got ready to have the shit kicked out of me.
Despite all the shit being talked all week, Travis runs a professional operation. He didn't just punch me in the face as soon as I walked in the door. The plan was to work out for about a half hour; learning punches and kicks and getting a bunch of cardio. Then we were supposed to do a couple 3 minute rounds of sparring followed by 5 minutes of submissions. We started with 5 embarrassing minutes on the speed bag. I'm not even kidding, I challenge any of you to look as cool as Rocky trying to punch that thing. I basically spent 5 minutes apologizing to Travis for being an uncoordinated retard. Not the start I was hoping for.
Next up, we started with 5 minute drills teaching me how to punch and kick, surprisingly skills that I completely lacked. I started off pretty shakily, but I got to the point where even Bows had to admit that I was looking completely bad ass. And then the sparring began. The first 3 minute round Travis was leaving me alone; kinda feeling me out. At first I was scared to hit him. He had to drop his guard on multiple occassions and force me to hit him in the face, which was in and of itself, terrifying. Also, 3 minutes has never felt so long. I was completely winded about a minute and a half in, and I've been running about 15 miles a week lately. Also, when I finally grew the balls (out of fear) to actually hit him, it was like swinging at air. I thought I had him lined up, and all of a sudden he was gone. Kid's amazing.
So, after the first three minutes, I couldn't breathe, thought I was going to pass out, and definitely was about to puke. Thank god for the 1 minute break. Ha! Again, he was taking it easy on me, but the second round was 10 times worse than the 1st. He started attacking me more, and I was dead after a minute. I was trying to stay the hell out of his way, but he clocked me a couple times just to keep me honest. I won't say much more, we will have video up here soon, but I just wanted to quit at this point. I had one last session in store for me though, the 5 minutes of submissions.
Now, as I've said, Travis was taking it extremely easy on me up to this point, but now he wanted to have some fun. His goal was to get me in 30 different submissions in 5 minutes. He was no longer trying to teach me anything. He didn't explain the submissions, he just fucked me up. We had to start on our knees facing each other, and every time we slapped hands he grabbed me and inflicted extreme pain. I thought 3 minutes moving around on my feet was bad. 5 minutes having my air supply cut off and having my limbs twisted unnaturally was 10 times worse. I kept stalling getting back up while Travis impatiently waited to kick my ass again. At one point, I'm pretty sure he invented a submission that prominently involved a teabag. One minute, his balls were directly in my face and the next, my arm was being ripped out of its socket.
Anyway, I somehow survived the 5 minutes and the whole ordeal. It turned out to be an excellent workout, I can't lift my arms above my head today, but I don't know how soon I can put myself through that again. I now have a new found respect and fear for men that I already respected and feared. I have watched enough UFC fights to realize now how hard and grueling that time in the ring is. Also, it takes me back to the birth of UFC. A time when you had to win like 5 matches in one day with no weight classes. I know it was the early 90's but I don't know exactly when, and Royce Gracie would rock dudes like 100 pounds heavier than him. Breaking arms and fucking guys up on the way to a crazy amount of wins. That guy was my hero then, and I think he is again now. Thanks for the ass whooping Trav.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Philly Disappoints Me
You're Damn right Temple sucks. They do this every year, and unlike my predecessors I did not get to see any of those great Temple teams. Temple sucked serious cock during my four year tenure. I got shit, not even one lousy NCAA tournament berth. But since we are on the subject of disappointments, I have finally gotten over my super bowl hangover or should I say my “Eagles lost another NFC championship game they should have won” hangover. This last sad episode of underachieving has left us Eagles fans with 4 losses in NFC Championship games sandwiched by one extremely painful super bowl loss. At least this year I did not get completely hammered and punch through a window then use a searing hot iron to close the wounds (I only got completely hammered and punched a brick wall this time). And yes, for those of you that don't know me, I actually did that. I was drunk and upset, so much anger. I admit it got a little crazy. Andy Roddick is now calling and telling me he doesn't think we should hang out anymore. But when it comes to disappointment, nobody does it better than philly.
To get so damn close every year just to fail miserably to an inferior team is just plain wrong. It feels like a kick in the balls and then a cock-slap in the face. However, I would be crazy if I told you I didn't see it coming. It is just the script of philly sports, and it sucks. I'm not saying it eases the pain, but philly fans are used to this kind of misery. Thank God for the Phillies. I did not see that coming. What were the Vegas odds on the Phils winning it all before the season started? The Phillies used to be the best team at doing the exact same underachieving shit every year, it was like a script or a movie with the exact same ending every year. We all know how it was supposed to end this year: Brad Lidge blows that final save in game 5 and the Rays pull off an improbable Red Sox like sweep of the final three games. That is how the story was supposed to end. Somebody upstairs really must have fucked up, dropped the ball on that one. Brad Lidge you are the fucking man by the way. Going perfect all year long and in the playoffs in a city where the fans are literally on your back hissing in your ear “don't fuck up or we will skull fuck you” is truly amazing. We all had nightmares of when that inevitable blown save would come, but you pulled it off. Brad, philly has man love for you.
Not so much man love for the birds right now. Nothing sucks more than watching two teams you beat handily in the regular season play for the super bowl. I guess I have to say congrats to the steelers and their fans. You have six rings now, you greedy pricks. As for us birds fans we must find another way to fix our piece of shit green jalopy that breaks down at the same time every year, much like a chevy. You can sure bet on Andy Reid and Donovan McNabb coming back for another season. I have always been a McNabb supporter and still believe he is a top three quarterback in this league, but I'm not so sure Reid should be coming back. I never like to see someone lose their job but it seems as if Reid has taken this team as far as he possibly can, and I thank him for that. He is one of the best coaches in Eagles history (if not the best) and gave us fans one of the best runs we have ever seen. I'm just not sure there is anything left in his bag of tricks. If you can stop the screen to Westbrook you can probably stop the Eagles, or at least give yourself a great advantage to do so. Reid has one of the best running backs in the game, yet cannot salvage anything that even remotely looks like a running game. Running undersized Brian Westbrook up the gut every play and refusing to even acknowledge that there is a fullback position is not a running game. It sucks. Aren't both his kids in jail because they love smack? That really sucks, he must have other things on his mind come Sundays. Sorry Andy, but its been a great ride.
As for McNabb, if they don't give this guy a number one receiver I am gonna shit in a box and send it to Joe Bucks house and Joe Banners office with a tag that says sends return to sender (just not a Joe Buck fan). Yeah thats right, stop giving us this shit you call a receiving corp. TJ Houshmanzadah (spell check, stat boy?) has said he is interested in the Eagles. If we cannot sign Anquan Boldin I would be more than happy with Housh-ur-mama. Housh is a big, tall, fast receiver that jets down field and gets the jump ball, a T.O. type receiver without the mental baggage and his nick-name is awesome, Housh-ur-mama! We know McNabb has accuracy issues and tends tense-up in big games, but we also know that he has a gun and thrives when he goes deep. McNabb needs the big-play guy, he needs the down field threat. What happened last time McNabb had a number one receiver? Anybody? He choked and lost us the super bowl, thats right. But the key words here are super bowl, not NFC champ game. He had his best season in 2004 tossing 16 bombs to TO and leading the birds to a 13-3 record (they rested starters for final two games of reg season, so could have been 15-1) and their first super bowl appearance since 1980. You cannot argue with that. Just fucking get him a number one guy to take the pressure off McNabb. A guy like Anquan or Housh can only make McNabb better. I would like to see them go after Boldin first, who is a beast by the way, and then go after Housh if Boldin doesn't work out. How can you not love a guy who breaks his face and then comes back to play three weeks later. Man shit! I would have taken the pain killers though Anquan, lovely painless pain killers. Boldin and Heinz Ward have to be at the top of the list for manliest receivers in the game. Ward is another guy I would love to have. He goes out and wires linebackers jaws shut. He's a chipmunk looking bastard and his name always makes me think of ketchup, but if your ever interested in choking in big championship games and disappointing millions, give us a call Heinz. We want a receiver Banner, make it happen.
- Bows
P.S. I hate you Joe Buck, you philly hating motherfucker. Why do you hate philly so much. I know you had a shit-eating grin on your face when the Eagles lost. Troy Aikman secretly wants to punch you in the face at least six times a broadcast. You get so fired up when teams score on the Eagles, then give a monotone, sounds like we ran over your dog, call when philly does anything good. It's not just the Eagles, you did to the Phillies in the playoffs too. I wish Randy Moss would whip out his butt cheeks and press ham right on your lenscrafters after every TD catch this coming season. This concludes this weeks meeting of the Fuck Joe Buck club, I hope to see you all along with a couple new members next time.
To get so damn close every year just to fail miserably to an inferior team is just plain wrong. It feels like a kick in the balls and then a cock-slap in the face. However, I would be crazy if I told you I didn't see it coming. It is just the script of philly sports, and it sucks. I'm not saying it eases the pain, but philly fans are used to this kind of misery. Thank God for the Phillies. I did not see that coming. What were the Vegas odds on the Phils winning it all before the season started? The Phillies used to be the best team at doing the exact same underachieving shit every year, it was like a script or a movie with the exact same ending every year. We all know how it was supposed to end this year: Brad Lidge blows that final save in game 5 and the Rays pull off an improbable Red Sox like sweep of the final three games. That is how the story was supposed to end. Somebody upstairs really must have fucked up, dropped the ball on that one. Brad Lidge you are the fucking man by the way. Going perfect all year long and in the playoffs in a city where the fans are literally on your back hissing in your ear “don't fuck up or we will skull fuck you” is truly amazing. We all had nightmares of when that inevitable blown save would come, but you pulled it off. Brad, philly has man love for you.
Not so much man love for the birds right now. Nothing sucks more than watching two teams you beat handily in the regular season play for the super bowl. I guess I have to say congrats to the steelers and their fans. You have six rings now, you greedy pricks. As for us birds fans we must find another way to fix our piece of shit green jalopy that breaks down at the same time every year, much like a chevy. You can sure bet on Andy Reid and Donovan McNabb coming back for another season. I have always been a McNabb supporter and still believe he is a top three quarterback in this league, but I'm not so sure Reid should be coming back. I never like to see someone lose their job but it seems as if Reid has taken this team as far as he possibly can, and I thank him for that. He is one of the best coaches in Eagles history (if not the best) and gave us fans one of the best runs we have ever seen. I'm just not sure there is anything left in his bag of tricks. If you can stop the screen to Westbrook you can probably stop the Eagles, or at least give yourself a great advantage to do so. Reid has one of the best running backs in the game, yet cannot salvage anything that even remotely looks like a running game. Running undersized Brian Westbrook up the gut every play and refusing to even acknowledge that there is a fullback position is not a running game. It sucks. Aren't both his kids in jail because they love smack? That really sucks, he must have other things on his mind come Sundays. Sorry Andy, but its been a great ride.
As for McNabb, if they don't give this guy a number one receiver I am gonna shit in a box and send it to Joe Bucks house and Joe Banners office with a tag that says sends return to sender (just not a Joe Buck fan). Yeah thats right, stop giving us this shit you call a receiving corp. TJ Houshmanzadah (spell check, stat boy?) has said he is interested in the Eagles. If we cannot sign Anquan Boldin I would be more than happy with Housh-ur-mama. Housh is a big, tall, fast receiver that jets down field and gets the jump ball, a T.O. type receiver without the mental baggage and his nick-name is awesome, Housh-ur-mama! We know McNabb has accuracy issues and tends tense-up in big games, but we also know that he has a gun and thrives when he goes deep. McNabb needs the big-play guy, he needs the down field threat. What happened last time McNabb had a number one receiver? Anybody? He choked and lost us the super bowl, thats right. But the key words here are super bowl, not NFC champ game. He had his best season in 2004 tossing 16 bombs to TO and leading the birds to a 13-3 record (they rested starters for final two games of reg season, so could have been 15-1) and their first super bowl appearance since 1980. You cannot argue with that. Just fucking get him a number one guy to take the pressure off McNabb. A guy like Anquan or Housh can only make McNabb better. I would like to see them go after Boldin first, who is a beast by the way, and then go after Housh if Boldin doesn't work out. How can you not love a guy who breaks his face and then comes back to play three weeks later. Man shit! I would have taken the pain killers though Anquan, lovely painless pain killers. Boldin and Heinz Ward have to be at the top of the list for manliest receivers in the game. Ward is another guy I would love to have. He goes out and wires linebackers jaws shut. He's a chipmunk looking bastard and his name always makes me think of ketchup, but if your ever interested in choking in big championship games and disappointing millions, give us a call Heinz. We want a receiver Banner, make it happen.
- Bows
P.S. I hate you Joe Buck, you philly hating motherfucker. Why do you hate philly so much. I know you had a shit-eating grin on your face when the Eagles lost. Troy Aikman secretly wants to punch you in the face at least six times a broadcast. You get so fired up when teams score on the Eagles, then give a monotone, sounds like we ran over your dog, call when philly does anything good. It's not just the Eagles, you did to the Phillies in the playoffs too. I wish Randy Moss would whip out his butt cheeks and press ham right on your lenscrafters after every TD catch this coming season. This concludes this weeks meeting of the Fuck Joe Buck club, I hope to see you all along with a couple new members next time.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Temple Sucks
For starters, in response to whichever of our three followers posted the question, "didn't you get dunked on by Dahntae Jones?" The answer is yes. He stole my inbounds pass and put his big sweaty betos right in my grill. I'm pretty sure his cock rested on my shoulder for a couple seconds. I was also dunked on by Kevin Johnson. Not the one from the Suns, but the guy who was a decent receiver for the Browns for a few years (he used to get picked up in fantasy). So, that's my claim to fame; getting dunked on by far superior athletes. That said, I'm working out with a winless high school basketball team next week, so that should be a pretty good tune up for my tryout with the Knicks.
I said yesterday I would write a little about the Temple game, if I could remember it. Mission unsuccessful. Its not so much that I blacked out its that I really didn't see that much of it. I had a corner seat at the bar; bad angle on the main tv and I had to turn around to watch it on the tv behind, which was uncomfortable. So, for the most part, I ignored it and stared at girls until they felt uncomfortable. Anyway, I know Temple lost, and they kept it close early, but TU basketball depresses me for the most part anymore. They seem to have the same season every year. At this point they're always around 12-10, 13-9 and their only shot at the real tournament is a A-10 championship. We were lucky enough to get it last year, don't know if anybody is beating this Xavier team this year. So we're headed for another NIT berth. Fucking fantastic. I was spoiled during my time there. My first 4 years we had, I think, 2 Elite 8s, 1 Sweet 16 and the best team of them all got bounced in the second round as a #2 seed to Seton Hall (I still fucking hate Seton Hall for this by the way, I think that guy that died was on that team, and I almost feel comfortable making a joke about that.) (If you haven't noticed, I love parenthesis) Those were the years of getting high with Lamont Barnes, who was the only player I've ever seen have a great freshman year, and then decline every year after, only to end up playing for the Kentucky Generals or some shit. We had Quincy Wadley, Mark Karcher, Lynn Greer, Pepe Sanchez; just some great teams. I remember beating #1 Michigan St and fucking Mateen Cleaves on 2 Sanchez free throws with time left on the clock. We stormed the court made Digger Phelps curse and twisted Pepe's ankle in the pile on that ensued. I remember beating #1 Cinci and K-Mart on the road and storming Broad St. Shut that bitch down. Drago was running around naked until he finally mounted the front of a Septa bus and pressed some serious ham. Now, we got one tournament berth sandwiched by NITs.
Good times, but memories is all I got now. Story of my life. Stat boy, how much of this did I fuck up today?
I said yesterday I would write a little about the Temple game, if I could remember it. Mission unsuccessful. Its not so much that I blacked out its that I really didn't see that much of it. I had a corner seat at the bar; bad angle on the main tv and I had to turn around to watch it on the tv behind, which was uncomfortable. So, for the most part, I ignored it and stared at girls until they felt uncomfortable. Anyway, I know Temple lost, and they kept it close early, but TU basketball depresses me for the most part anymore. They seem to have the same season every year. At this point they're always around 12-10, 13-9 and their only shot at the real tournament is a A-10 championship. We were lucky enough to get it last year, don't know if anybody is beating this Xavier team this year. So we're headed for another NIT berth. Fucking fantastic. I was spoiled during my time there. My first 4 years we had, I think, 2 Elite 8s, 1 Sweet 16 and the best team of them all got bounced in the second round as a #2 seed to Seton Hall (I still fucking hate Seton Hall for this by the way, I think that guy that died was on that team, and I almost feel comfortable making a joke about that.) (If you haven't noticed, I love parenthesis) Those were the years of getting high with Lamont Barnes, who was the only player I've ever seen have a great freshman year, and then decline every year after, only to end up playing for the Kentucky Generals or some shit. We had Quincy Wadley, Mark Karcher, Lynn Greer, Pepe Sanchez; just some great teams. I remember beating #1 Michigan St and fucking Mateen Cleaves on 2 Sanchez free throws with time left on the clock. We stormed the court made Digger Phelps curse and twisted Pepe's ankle in the pile on that ensued. I remember beating #1 Cinci and K-Mart on the road and storming Broad St. Shut that bitch down. Drago was running around naked until he finally mounted the front of a Septa bus and pressed some serious ham. Now, we got one tournament berth sandwiched by NITs.
Good times, but memories is all I got now. Story of my life. Stat boy, how much of this did I fuck up today?
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Wing Man
So, obviously, Bows is our go to hockey and tennis guy. I honestly didn't see that hypothetical night on the town with Roddick coming. Speaking of little bitches crying after losses, though, Bows' rant reminded of when Adam Morrison and his wispy, wanna-be porn stache broke down in the NCAA tournament. I don't remember who beat them or round it was in (you'll notice Bows and I aren't big on fact checking, we need a stat boy) but I do remember him sobbing and rolling around on the floor like someone just punted Baxter off a bridge. At least he's had a stellar NBA career to atone for his sissy antics. Is he still on the Bobcats? Are they still in Charlotte? Is MJ still involved with them? So many questions. Now in the interest of full disclosure (I am a fake journalist, afterall) I must admit that I just remembered a relevant story while typing this paragraph. The last organized soccer game I played (yeah I played soccer, which is gonna make this even worse) was a state tournament game against our biggest rivals. I was the goalie, and the game did not end well. After their fourth or fifth goal, I was begging my coach to take me out and end my misery. He did not comply, so I started a fight with the closest opposing player, taking out a couple of my teammates in the process. The ref finally tossed me, and I left that field weeping like a six year old girl with a skinned knee. The moral of the story, and a running theme of this blog is that I am a little bitch.
Well, if Bows got hockey, I guess I got basketball, and I got nothing really today, because I only have paid attention to the games that were on last night. I will say this though, I am confident I could hang 20 on the Knicks. No, seriously, if I got 30 minutes and enough shots, I could do it. That said, I just wanna relay a depresssing story with a happy ending from last night. I had class til 7:30 last night and I was supposed to hang out with Bows after. The campus bar has college night on Wednesday and we hadn't been since we were undergrads a lifetime ago. We owned this bar back in the day, our picture was up on the bar and they used to reserve us stools. Again this was like 4 years ago. Needless to say we did not receive the same reception this time around. Bows will probably argue that we weren't pathetic, but I, at least, felt pathetic. We were the only 2 people in the bar that didn't know anybody else there, and we used to know everybody there. Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name. So after being ignored for the better part of 3 hours (but also enjoying several $1 bottles) we decided to head for homebase around 12:30. There weren't too many broads still out but I had 2 sitting to my right and Bows had 1 on his left that was clearly into. I started talking up the one sitting next to me that I was interested, but her friend was clearly losing interest and looking for the tab. So, what does Bows do? He left the chick he was talking to and came over to entertain the friend. It was great, like he was doing his job. He even had her number, before I got the one I was interested. It may have cost him a shot at the other broad, but he went in anyway. That my friend, is a true wingman. They used to make commercials about guys like you. Anyway, that made a short story long. Thanks Bows. I'll be watching TU try and take out a top 10 Xavier team tonight, I'll try and remember enough to write a little about it.
-Hess
Well, if Bows got hockey, I guess I got basketball, and I got nothing really today, because I only have paid attention to the games that were on last night. I will say this though, I am confident I could hang 20 on the Knicks. No, seriously, if I got 30 minutes and enough shots, I could do it. That said, I just wanna relay a depresssing story with a happy ending from last night. I had class til 7:30 last night and I was supposed to hang out with Bows after. The campus bar has college night on Wednesday and we hadn't been since we were undergrads a lifetime ago. We owned this bar back in the day, our picture was up on the bar and they used to reserve us stools. Again this was like 4 years ago. Needless to say we did not receive the same reception this time around. Bows will probably argue that we weren't pathetic, but I, at least, felt pathetic. We were the only 2 people in the bar that didn't know anybody else there, and we used to know everybody there. Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name. So after being ignored for the better part of 3 hours (but also enjoying several $1 bottles) we decided to head for homebase around 12:30. There weren't too many broads still out but I had 2 sitting to my right and Bows had 1 on his left that was clearly into. I started talking up the one sitting next to me that I was interested, but her friend was clearly losing interest and looking for the tab. So, what does Bows do? He left the chick he was talking to and came over to entertain the friend. It was great, like he was doing his job. He even had her number, before I got the one I was interested. It may have cost him a shot at the other broad, but he went in anyway. That my friend, is a true wingman. They used to make commercials about guys like you. Anyway, that made a short story long. Thanks Bows. I'll be watching TU try and take out a top 10 Xavier team tonight, I'll try and remember enough to write a little about it.
-Hess
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Congrats to Adam Graves, Not so much for Roger Federer
The New York Rangers retired Adam Graves' number nine to the garden rafters last night and as expected there was no shortage of tears. Mark Messier gave Graves an introductory speech and unleashed the waterworks almost immediately, something I wish I could have bet on since Messier has made crying his specialty. And actually, people love it! Someone in the stands last night held a sign that read “thanks for making crying cool Mess”. All the guy does is cry and win cups, not bad. As a huge Rangers fan myself, I can tell you that Messier is nothing short of a God in New York. If you want to cry Mess, goddamn it you go ahead, you cry like a bitch if you want. Messier won us the cup, he could steal wigs from cancer patients if he wants to and we would still love him. Graves held it together pretty well but lost it at the end of the ceremony as he stood among his family with his number nine ascending to the rafters. These sorts of honor ceremonies are always a bit emotional, especially when they are done by Madison Square Garden as no one puts on a show like New York, but watching all this has made me realize I have seen a lot of blubbering this past week, most notably by Roger Federer.
Roger Federer began crying uncontrollably after he lost the Australian Open final to Rafael Nadal in five sets last week. Let me say that one more time, Federer began crying after he lost to Nadal. And he wasn't just wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, he was all out weeping like a little bitch. There was shaking involved, puffy red eyes, that sad quivering lower lip, all the symptoms of a little bitch. There's no crying in tennis! Nadal wasn't even crying and he won the title! I guess he couldn't cry because he knew how bad it would look having two of tennis' best stand at center court and weep together. Nadal actually had go over to console Federer. I mean it really got awkward. I didn't know whether to keep watching or quietly turn off the TV and slowly walk away. Your supposed to cry when you win not after you lose, nobody wants to see that. In the moment of glory and on nights like Adam Graves night when your legacy is being honored, thats the emotional tears we want to see. Now I'm not trying to be a cold hearted prick here, I have had my moments too. I saw “All Dogs go to Heaven” but c'mon. I was ready to give Fed a pass this time cause he really did play a great, gut-wrenching five setter, but then I learned that this was not the first time he packed up his nuts and had a hissy fit after a loss. He cried after losing to Canas and to Hewitt in Houston a couple of years back. You know what happens when you start crying after losing a game? Your drunk dad gives you smack, thats what. And then he says “stop your damn crying or I'll give you something to cry about” but you already got a smack (and it hurts) so you cry even more and things never really end well. Then you get no fuckin' ice cream either, but hey maybe that was just me. I'm surprised McEnroe didn't come down from the press box and uppercut Fed in the taint.
If anyone should be crying after losing a match it should be Andy Roddick. That guy just cant catch a break. Federer has completely owned Roddick virtually his entire career as he is unbeaten in major tournament matches against Roddick. It always seems Roddick gets only as far as the draw allows him until it is time to face Fed. So many times they have faced one another, so many defeats at the hands of Federer. It seems as if it is in Andy's head that he just cannot beat Roger. How deflating and infuriating do you think that must be. Now that really sucks. One US Open title compared to Fed's 13 titles over all and Fed is the one crying. You've got 13 freakin' titles Roger, let Andy win a couple damn it, or at least do us the favor of not sobbing when you lose one! There is however one area where Roddick cannot be beaten, even by Federer on his best day, and that is in the press conferences where Roddick never disappoints. This guy has some of the best press conferences and interviews I have ever seen. They are fucking hilarious. I don't have time to dive into all the details so if you have time look up some of Andy's work on youtube. It was after Roddick lost the 2006 US Open final to Federer that he really sold me as a Roddick fan. After the loss Micheal Barkan interviewed Roddick at center court and asked Roddick what he needs to do to finally beat Federer. “I don't know, I think next time I should just punch him” says Roddick, with Federer standing right next to him no less! “How about a beer” says Roddick before leaving the tennis court in disgust and thirst, not tears.
Yes sir, I think you and I have a lot in common Mr. Roddick, we could definitely hang out, which suddenly got me thinking. What if Andy Roddick and I hung out? I think it would go something like this: beers, beers, and more beers. After a solid pre-game of beers Andy Roddick and I would head to the bar looking for more beers and chicks. We get to the bar at five-o-clock sharp, sure not to miss a drop of happy hour. Who doesn't love some good old fashioned happy hour, I know I do and I think maybe so does Andy Roddick. We chug down some cheap lite beer and then decree this bar sucks cause theres no chicks, so we leave. Arrive at another bar where we drink beers, beers, and more beers. There are no chicks at this bar either, however there are plenty of suits, young, cocky doushbags who obviously don't have the time to go home and change out of their suits let alone take off their ties at the bar. Andy (we are on first name basis now) gets belligerent and tells the suits he makes more money than them and wishes to kick their ass. We yell “this bar sucks” as we are forced to leave.
Beers, beers, shots, and more beers later, we finally find a bar with some chicks. We watch Nadal beat Federer on TV and laugh like hyenas when Federer cries. Andy makes his way over to the girls as I force down more beers and shots because of my inability to talk to females sober. We get a table with some girls and order more shots and beers. Andy is now surrounded by gorgeous females, I am surrounded by empty glasses and peanut shells (this bar happens to have free peanuts, awesome). More shots, more beers. I begin to get drunk, I feel that I can now talk to girls. Ironically, as I become drunk I start losing my ability to speak. I tell one of the girls I am Andy's younger brother. Andy tells her I am not. Thirsty and frustrated, I take two beers and make my way over to the juke box. I play ToTo, Duran Duran, and oddly enough, three six mafia. On my way back to the table I pass some fat chicks that are completely uninterested in Andy or any sports for that matter. I hesitate for a second but then realize that I am completely uninterested in fat chicks.
Beers, beers, shots, shots, and even more beers. Andy is really working on the girls now and we are both slipping further into intoxication. Andy is flexing a lot now. Eventually he rips off both his sleeves to expose his guns. Insecure about his non-serving arm, he puts one sleeve back on. The girls want to dance. We are both white so no dancing going on here. Girls usually solve this problem by dancing with themselves in a very slutty manner, awesome. One of the girls at the table turns to talk to me. I inadvertently give her the stink eye because I am now wasted. Not a good first impression. I begin to lose the ability to speak to completely now. I speak to her only in a series of grumbles and moans, usually followed by a couple of sighs. She is not impressed. I go to the bathroom, fumble with my zipper and my junk, and eventually pee on myself.
Beers, beers, and more beers. Andy is rich and famous so he is getting laid tonight. I am incoherently wasted and wearing pee pants, not getting laid tonight. Eventually my mumbles, groping and cross-eyes creep out all of the girls and they leave. Andy is not happy and never wants to speak to me again. I stubble out of the bar when he goes to the bathroom and beat him for the tab. Lesson learned: there's no crying in tennis and Andy Roddick and I should hang out more often.
- Bows
Roger Federer began crying uncontrollably after he lost the Australian Open final to Rafael Nadal in five sets last week. Let me say that one more time, Federer began crying after he lost to Nadal. And he wasn't just wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, he was all out weeping like a little bitch. There was shaking involved, puffy red eyes, that sad quivering lower lip, all the symptoms of a little bitch. There's no crying in tennis! Nadal wasn't even crying and he won the title! I guess he couldn't cry because he knew how bad it would look having two of tennis' best stand at center court and weep together. Nadal actually had go over to console Federer. I mean it really got awkward. I didn't know whether to keep watching or quietly turn off the TV and slowly walk away. Your supposed to cry when you win not after you lose, nobody wants to see that. In the moment of glory and on nights like Adam Graves night when your legacy is being honored, thats the emotional tears we want to see. Now I'm not trying to be a cold hearted prick here, I have had my moments too. I saw “All Dogs go to Heaven” but c'mon. I was ready to give Fed a pass this time cause he really did play a great, gut-wrenching five setter, but then I learned that this was not the first time he packed up his nuts and had a hissy fit after a loss. He cried after losing to Canas and to Hewitt in Houston a couple of years back. You know what happens when you start crying after losing a game? Your drunk dad gives you smack, thats what. And then he says “stop your damn crying or I'll give you something to cry about” but you already got a smack (and it hurts) so you cry even more and things never really end well. Then you get no fuckin' ice cream either, but hey maybe that was just me. I'm surprised McEnroe didn't come down from the press box and uppercut Fed in the taint.
If anyone should be crying after losing a match it should be Andy Roddick. That guy just cant catch a break. Federer has completely owned Roddick virtually his entire career as he is unbeaten in major tournament matches against Roddick. It always seems Roddick gets only as far as the draw allows him until it is time to face Fed. So many times they have faced one another, so many defeats at the hands of Federer. It seems as if it is in Andy's head that he just cannot beat Roger. How deflating and infuriating do you think that must be. Now that really sucks. One US Open title compared to Fed's 13 titles over all and Fed is the one crying. You've got 13 freakin' titles Roger, let Andy win a couple damn it, or at least do us the favor of not sobbing when you lose one! There is however one area where Roddick cannot be beaten, even by Federer on his best day, and that is in the press conferences where Roddick never disappoints. This guy has some of the best press conferences and interviews I have ever seen. They are fucking hilarious. I don't have time to dive into all the details so if you have time look up some of Andy's work on youtube. It was after Roddick lost the 2006 US Open final to Federer that he really sold me as a Roddick fan. After the loss Micheal Barkan interviewed Roddick at center court and asked Roddick what he needs to do to finally beat Federer. “I don't know, I think next time I should just punch him” says Roddick, with Federer standing right next to him no less! “How about a beer” says Roddick before leaving the tennis court in disgust and thirst, not tears.
Yes sir, I think you and I have a lot in common Mr. Roddick, we could definitely hang out, which suddenly got me thinking. What if Andy Roddick and I hung out? I think it would go something like this: beers, beers, and more beers. After a solid pre-game of beers Andy Roddick and I would head to the bar looking for more beers and chicks. We get to the bar at five-o-clock sharp, sure not to miss a drop of happy hour. Who doesn't love some good old fashioned happy hour, I know I do and I think maybe so does Andy Roddick. We chug down some cheap lite beer and then decree this bar sucks cause theres no chicks, so we leave. Arrive at another bar where we drink beers, beers, and more beers. There are no chicks at this bar either, however there are plenty of suits, young, cocky doushbags who obviously don't have the time to go home and change out of their suits let alone take off their ties at the bar. Andy (we are on first name basis now) gets belligerent and tells the suits he makes more money than them and wishes to kick their ass. We yell “this bar sucks” as we are forced to leave.
Beers, beers, shots, and more beers later, we finally find a bar with some chicks. We watch Nadal beat Federer on TV and laugh like hyenas when Federer cries. Andy makes his way over to the girls as I force down more beers and shots because of my inability to talk to females sober. We get a table with some girls and order more shots and beers. Andy is now surrounded by gorgeous females, I am surrounded by empty glasses and peanut shells (this bar happens to have free peanuts, awesome). More shots, more beers. I begin to get drunk, I feel that I can now talk to girls. Ironically, as I become drunk I start losing my ability to speak. I tell one of the girls I am Andy's younger brother. Andy tells her I am not. Thirsty and frustrated, I take two beers and make my way over to the juke box. I play ToTo, Duran Duran, and oddly enough, three six mafia. On my way back to the table I pass some fat chicks that are completely uninterested in Andy or any sports for that matter. I hesitate for a second but then realize that I am completely uninterested in fat chicks.
Beers, beers, shots, shots, and even more beers. Andy is really working on the girls now and we are both slipping further into intoxication. Andy is flexing a lot now. Eventually he rips off both his sleeves to expose his guns. Insecure about his non-serving arm, he puts one sleeve back on. The girls want to dance. We are both white so no dancing going on here. Girls usually solve this problem by dancing with themselves in a very slutty manner, awesome. One of the girls at the table turns to talk to me. I inadvertently give her the stink eye because I am now wasted. Not a good first impression. I begin to lose the ability to speak to completely now. I speak to her only in a series of grumbles and moans, usually followed by a couple of sighs. She is not impressed. I go to the bathroom, fumble with my zipper and my junk, and eventually pee on myself.
Beers, beers, and more beers. Andy is rich and famous so he is getting laid tonight. I am incoherently wasted and wearing pee pants, not getting laid tonight. Eventually my mumbles, groping and cross-eyes creep out all of the girls and they leave. Andy is not happy and never wants to speak to me again. I stubble out of the bar when he goes to the bathroom and beat him for the tab. Lesson learned: there's no crying in tennis and Andy Roddick and I should hang out more often.
- Bows
Monday, February 2, 2009
Welcome to our blog
Hey everybody, welcome to Bows and Hess Sports and Beer Happy Hour. We have been meaning to start something like this for a while now, and we figured the day after the Super Bowl was a great time to talk about sports and beer. Anyway, I'm Hess, you'll hear from Bows soon enough. If you know our first names, please don't use them in comments on this blog. Last night was a pretty good night for me. I went 4 out of 5 in my Super Bowl bets, but since I bet like a bitch, that was only worth $140. Still better than the alternative. The parts of the game I remember were great, especially the 100 yard interception return for a TD. That alone won me $50.
Bows watched the whole game at home while I was at the bar. He stumbled in as soon as the game ended pretty banged up. Before he said hello to me, he walked right up to the only two girls sitting in the bar. Bows is on fire right now, by the way. Me, not so much. Watching from across the bar, I figured Bows was just creeping them out, and we eventually went our separate ways. I found out today that Bows woke up on his couch with all his clothes on this morning, and upon checking his pockets he found a piece of paper with the name Ashley on it and a phone number. He has no idea what either of them look like, let alone which one is Ashley. We're gonna have to get to the bottom of this.
Anyway, Bows will tell that story in time, and we will be posting at greater length as we get started. Going out for a couple now. More later.
Bows watched the whole game at home while I was at the bar. He stumbled in as soon as the game ended pretty banged up. Before he said hello to me, he walked right up to the only two girls sitting in the bar. Bows is on fire right now, by the way. Me, not so much. Watching from across the bar, I figured Bows was just creeping them out, and we eventually went our separate ways. I found out today that Bows woke up on his couch with all his clothes on this morning, and upon checking his pockets he found a piece of paper with the name Ashley on it and a phone number. He has no idea what either of them look like, let alone which one is Ashley. We're gonna have to get to the bottom of this.
Anyway, Bows will tell that story in time, and we will be posting at greater length as we get started. Going out for a couple now. More later.
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