Wait, it’s almost the 4th of July already? Wasn’t
it just like Memorial Day? Why does the time between Memorial Day and the 4th
seem to fly by? Even if you’re sober. It’s just not fair, it’s just not right.
We need more summer. We need more beach, pool, coolers, Frisbee, hiking,
hammocks, suntan lotion. . We need more time here, we need a longer summer. So
I have come up with an idea-June 40st. Who doesn’t want a longer
summer? More time for pool parties and BBQs. More time for college girls to
take bikini pics on Insta. And I am pretty sure this will benefit the farmers
as well. Someone track down Willie Nelson and Neil Young, and I believe they
will agree with me. I think they’re currently splitting the Chairman of
Agriculture position.
You DO know what this is the source picture for, right?
We all know summer gets the short shrift anyway. Doubt me?
Go into any store like Target or Bed Bath & Beyond. Up until July 4th,
everything in the front of the store is all about summer; BBQ supplies, patio
stuff, American flags, etc. I assure you, come July 5th, all that
shit is GONE. Even worse, it’s replaced by the dreaded Back To School BS. Look,
I want all those little rugrats out of my way whenever I venture out into the
general public, but even a miser like me says this is too much. Give the kids a
summer fer chrissakes!
Yup, so I am proposing we add 10 (ten) days onto June. It
makes perfect sense, as most of my whacked out ideas do. Who doesn’t want an
extra ten days of summer? It’s win win!
Kevin, you just can’t arbitrarily add ten days to the
calendar, it doesn’t work that way. You have to take the 10 days from somewhere
else.
Whoa, who dafuq let you into the bathroom? I’m taking a
dook, writing this shit out (like, literally). And you want an explanation? Ok,
fine. We’ll get rid of the week between the Pro Bowl and the Super Bowl.
Nothing gets done that week, anyway. Unless you live in Philadelphia, Cleveland
or Buffalo.
That date always
changes. You can’t take a week that always moves.
Really? You’re splitting hairs, here. OK. We’ll take the
week from February. That’s the shortest month anyway. No one will notice. Hell,
if I can even work it to get rid of Valentine’s Day, even better.
Ugh. Brilliance is always met with resistance. Go with me here, folks.
This still doesn’t
make any sense. Plus you’re talking about adding ten days, but only replacing a
week. There’s still three other days to deal with.
UUGGHHHH. Can’t we just add ten days to the calendar? Who
said the Greeks got it right, anyway? The 4th of July is when- the 4th
of July? In the old June, that’s 4 days after the last day of June-the 30th.
So, new June will now absorb that date, and the 4th of July will be
celebrated on June 34th. You pinko commies want to fight me on that
one? Happy June 34th America!
Now every year is 374 days.
OK, hotshot, what
about Leap Years?
What am I, am mathematician here? Look, we’ll have three years
to figure that shit out. I’ll have top men working on it. Top men.
Kev's Warehouse of Whacked Out Ideas
We can’t NOT afford to do this. Here’s what not having the
extra 10 days of summer looks like.
Pretty bleak, huh?
Now here’s what those 10 extra days of summer looks like.
Frolicking like a boss.
"I would like to have your hot buns as well."
Something smells fishy here.
OK, fine a little eye candy for my 2 female readers as well.
I swore I'd never put selfies of me on my blog, but here we are.
Gettin' my swole on. (And what's the deal with the hair on the guy in the bottom right?)
Very nice,
You're welcome, ladies.
Still, you can’t just
add 10 extra ten days. You have to be, like the President or something.
President? Look, I’m just a dopey white guy with bad hair
and no prior experience. But “president’ you say….hmm….
I hate tuxes. (I was once told in a writing class I never
took, that your first sentence should set up your piece. And I think that sentence
is a pretty strong example of that.)
So I have to get a tux for a wedding I am going to. Did you
get that? Not in, but going to. What horse shit is that? I could see if I was
in the wedding party, fine. But to go to a wedding? I will have to eat three
dinners and just move my chair to the bar to begin to recoup my losses here.
I don’t know whoever came up with the idea of the tuxedo.
But if there is a hell, I hope they are there, suffering the worst eternal fate
possible. Like, Idon't know; WEARING A TUXEDO! While being
forced to listen to Celine Dion. In French. Suffer, you sick bastard.
I don’t like tuxedos. I have only worn a tux a handful of
times as I have been in a wedding or two. I actually didn't wear a tux to any of my proms. BECAUSE I DIDN'T GO! And I don’t care what those whiny ass
bridesmaids say, tuxes are far more uncomfortable than whatever garish nonsense
they are wearing.
"Testicles are not part of the deal."
First, the whole process is quite demeaning. You have to go
to some hawty tawty store where some handsy little jerkoff has to measure you.
They give you a generic white shirt to get your chest measurements. I am sure
they wash it after every fitting. They also make you wear a pair of generic pants
to get those measurements. Note to the fellas; don’t go to Men’s Wearhouse
freeballing. They will NOT like the way you look. Then some dude will run a
measuring tape over various parts of your body. I am sure the broad who is Wonder Woman didn't get man handled like I did. I told my guy to not make the
chest too tight, as I still had some chest days to do before the wedding. He
looked at me and said “Do you even lift, bro?” Asshole.
So let me get this straight. I will most likely wear an
undershirt. Then a button down shirt. Then a vest. Then a suit jacket. Then
turn the heat on in the oven by restricting any airflow with a tie. How is this
comfortable? How is this sexy? I’m pretty sure if you put one of those ghost huntery type heat cams on me, my pits and FUPA would be red. No wonder overheating drunk
guys often take off their ties and put it around their head Rambo style. They’re
sweating their ass off. I feel like an onion, trapped under layers. As the
night goes on, I am sure I will begin to smell like an actual onion.
At least hide a bunny in there or give me those never ending
hankies in the pocket so I can do some tricks or something. I will need a thirty minute head start just to
open the door to fit though when I am finished. How does one feel comfortable
with 18 layers of clothes on? I feel like the Rock says; “10 pounds of monkey
crap in a 5 pound bag.” And who in the blue hell wants a five pound bag of monk…..
"Damn it, Rock! I walked right into that one."
And, o yea, by the way, some other rank dude just wore this
same exact thing, so do you really think it’s clean? That thought will keep me
up in my hotel room as I sleep in between sheets with my head on the pillow,
drinking a glass of water that is also holding the remote control.
This is way too dressed up for me. I am out of my element. I
feel most comfortable in flips, board shorts and a well-worn concert T. If I
can ever find a job where that is the dress code, I think I will have found my
calling. Until then, the only thing I can tell you is that is not the outfit to wear to any job
interview. If only Career Builder told me that sooner.
And tuxes aside, why do we need the tie? What purpose does
it serve? Is it supposed to cover up the buttons or something? It serves little
purpose other than getting trapped in paper shredders and pulling the wearer
into a gruesome, yet compact death. Have they done that yet in a Final Destination?
(I've never seen the movies, but I am pretty sure this is all the good parts.)
"What's that? Aunt Cloris died? I'm ready."
I have exactly 6 ties
Fish tie-every guy has to own one
A tie that is an actual piano that I won at Dave and
Busters. Only cost me $67
A tie that lights up-for New Years Eve. And funerals, I
guess
A Simpsons tie
A Loony Tunes Tie
A Jerry Garcia tie. What else the formal man needs, I do not
know.
(Note; I don't know why the rest is formatted like this. But I am too lazy to change it, so just deal, huh?)
Look, I won’t
bore you all the details. I went to the wedding. There were many other tools
there, stuffed into ill-fitting tuxedos. We’d pass each other and silently nod,
as if we were saying, “I feel you brother. You are not suffering alone here.
And did you see the bozingas on the
blonde bridesmaid? Woot woot!”
I was hit on by almost every available girl at
the reception, as well as a few of the “taken” girls. All because I had a tux
on. OK, that is a lie. I didn’t get hit on at all, and three
people thought I was a waiter. That’s OK, because I spit in their food anyway.
My shirt ended up
falling out twice. I didn’t even use the cuff links, because who has time for
that nonsense? I took my jacket off, and
walked around in the vest like I was some sort of hot shot Vegas card dealer.
(I did make a cool 50 bucks playing the shell game.) My feet
hurt in my shoes, so I ran around most of the night in socks. I found out the
hard way the external pockets on the jacket were sewn shut when I tried to
stuff some shrimp in there for the ride back to the hotel. And just because you are
wearing a tux doesn’t mean you can pull off James Bond the bar when ordering
your Malibu and diet “shaken, not stirred.”
The next day, I
returned the tux. Now, you would think they would inspect such a fine garment
from such a shady looking character, but they didn’t even bother. Guess they
couldn’t smell the left over h'orderves in the pants pocket.
If you have ADD, you can follow me on the Twitter machine @ifyouseekev
DVD Bonus Material
Rejected Titles for This Post
No Tux Were Given This Day
How To Wear a Tux
How Not To Wear a Tux
Tuxedos Are For Cats and Penguins, Of Which I Am Neither
My Baby Fits Me Like a Flesh Tuxedo (massive internet points for anyone who gets that reference)
I’m a man of many vices. Gambling. Gluttony. Miami. Girls
who are above school girl age, but still dress like school girls. Rot gut rum.
What was I talking about again? Some sort of devices?
As I sit, it’s Friday night, just past 8PM and I’m here
staring at half naked college girls on Insta. How this differs from any other
random weekday mornings is no different. Unless it’s Tequila Tuesday. Or Whiskey
Wednesday. Don’t even get me started on Mouthwash Monday. All of this is
probably why I haven’t posted a blog in a while. It’s always a party at the
Theory Office. This is also probably why I’ve never made any money writing. But
this is also probably why I get Xmas cards stuffed into empty bottles of rum
from all the nearby liquor stores. So there’s that.
On any given Friday or Saturday night, you can probably find
me at a bar. Or a party. Or in my backyard. But there will be a bottle of
something near by. Occasionally, I will listen to my wuss liver, and be sober.
Like tonight. And regardless if I’m shit faced or stone cold sober, there’s one
thing I get great enjoyment in doing. And that’s watching other people fuck up for a change. To that end, the TV show Cops has always been a favorite of
mine.
Cops is a great show. When I’m down and feeling blue, I find
an episode and immediately feel better about myself. Because, I am at least not
that knucklehead who just got busted on national TV. Everyone knows the show. It’s
great ADD viewing, it’s like an anthology series without the creepy Crypt
Keeper. Every story generally lasts 7-8 minutes. There’s a beginning, a middle
and an end. And you’re on the way. Self esteem back to normal levels.
Fox had a great idea for a TV show that was generally cheap; we’ll follow around cops as they do their job all day. Brilliant! Who doesn’t want to watch that? Let’s face it, we’ve always been drawn to police activity.
Once you see those blue and red lights flashing in your street, you are intrinsically
drawn to see WTF is going on. Did that weird neighbor finally kill his kids?
Did the cats finally overpower the Crazy Cat Lady?
Cops makes me feel better for two reasons. 1) There are
actually brave ass men and women that will charge into the face of danger and
risk their lives daily for people they don’t even know. 2) I’ve never done
anything stupid enough to get arrested on national TV. And if that don’t make
you feel better about your current point in life, at least you’re not that guy
running around shirtless with the bad tattoos in the Save A Lot parking lot cranked on
bath salts. #winningatlife
Cops is great Saturday night viewing. You’re most likely a
beer or two into your evening. Probably heading out to meet some friends somewhere.
It’s a pretty sobering reminder not to fuck up when you see some drunk running
around topless in a Mickey D’s proclaiming they’re the “peace walker.” Or you’re
just gonna sit home, have a few beers and let the TV rot the brain cells your
Bud Lights aren’t already killing. “I’m just gonna watch other drunk/high jerk
offs do incredibly stupid stuff and wallow in my buzz. And, hey, these are not
my pants.”
I’ve often wondered about some of the perps on this show. I
mean, how do you break it to work you once got arrested for soliciting a hooker
in a sting operation? And the whole thing is on TV? Or how stupid does one have
to feel for getting busted stealing things that are now worthless? I once saw
an episode when they busted a couple for stealing video tapes from a
Blockbuster. (You guys do know what video tapes and Blockbusters are, right?) Not
only do you get busted for stealing a bunch of Schwarzenegger VHS tapes, but
you get busted on national TV. And the show runs FOREVER. Can you imagine if
you work with this guy today and never knew? There you are, watching an old
episode of Cops, feeling all full of yourself. “Oh….oh my god! That’s Randy!
Hey honey, come here! You know that tool at work I talk about all the time?
Randy? He was arrested on Cops! For stealing video tapes! I can’t wait to tell
everyone at work on Monday!” I mean, how stupid does Randy gotta feel? If he
waited just a few more years and-boom!- all movies are free! Music, porn and
books, too. Ah, Randy, you be feeling stupid now, son.
Along comes a show called Live PD on A&E. Essentially, some high paid exec just discovered Spike TV is 40% Cops reruns, and said, “Hey! I have an idea! Let’s rip off Cops, but we’ll do it live! And for three straight hours! Now someone order me my in ground pool with infinity edge!” Live PD is hosted by Dan Abrams, who is also the chief legal affairs anchor for ABC news and does not at all look pissed that he can’t get hammered at B Dubs on the weekends anymore.
I wonder what someone would do if they get busted on Live PD Friday night. I guess in some cases, they can bail out in the morning,
but where do they go? Does their social media just become nothing but busting
balls? “Hey, Tom, now I know why you missed brunch this morning, LOL!” “Tom,
can I have your autograph, or at least your inmate number? LOL!” “Hey Tommy
Boy! My meme generator is working overtime. See you Monday morning.” “Tom, stay
away from my children.”
If you actually have a life on weekend nights, and don’t sit
home watching TV and writing blogs no one reads, Live PD runs “live” for 3
hours. And for the folks who actually do go out to have a life, it reruns 12-3
AM. The show has expanded to Friday and Saturday nights, has a “rewind” show
the hour before and then reruns pretty much the rest of the weekend. For
example, I just pulled up the schedule, and episodes of Live PD air for 15
freaking hours on Saturday. (Conversely, it’s not lost on me that a 15 hour
Live PD marathon can lead to an epic drinking game, and that sounds like a damn
solid idea for my next blog. And possible appearance on the show.) This is a
real easy way to feel good about ourselves, guys, without all the expensive
meds. I’m not a doctor, but I play one on my blog.
"Hi everybody!"
Conversely, it is also
redeeming to go out on a Friday night, have safe but responsible fun, come home
to your own bed (or not, depending on the situation), wake up late, and turn on
A&E to see what knuckleheads couldn’t figure that shit out on their own.
That’s so Randy.
I often wonder how the producers for Live PD pick the
relatively small cities where they follow the cops. Does the conversation go, “Hi,
yes, is this the mayor of Greenville County, SC? We’ve looked at the stats and
there is a ridiculously high arrest rate for dipshits in your town. So how’s
about we send multiple camera crews to document this, mmkay?”
"Where was this show when I was mayor of Toronto?" (And yes, this is a Rob Ford joke in 2017.)
One can learn many a life lesson from shows like Live PD and
Cops:
Generally, shirtless men are trouble.
Meth is a hell of a drug.
Every suspect proclaims their innocence. I saw one episode
when the suspect proclaims his innocence, even though he was wearing his victims’
shirt and had his victims’ wallet in his pocket.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about” = “I know EXACTLY
what you’re talking about.”
We’re all just one stupid decision away from fucking up our
life. So straighten up and fly right. (However, this lesson does not apparently
apply to persons named Tiger Woods.)
NASCAR fans seem to be sorely over represented when it comes
to getting arrested. It’s not like you ever see a Real Madrid fan getting
arrested. Although I suppose they probably do in the British version, Live
Bobby.
No one EVER says, “What the hell is with the cameras?”
All my neighbors who think I’m the asshole neighbor have NO IDEA how bad it can be. Also,
unfortunately for them, I now do have
an idea how bad it can be…
So what have we learned here? We've learned that there is an endless amount of stupid out in the streets. And that, as long as we are not that stupid, life is generally not as bad as it can be. Enjoy your weekend and y'all be safe. And if you do happen to get busted on Live PD, I will pay you $25 if you mention Kevolution Theory.
Cheap plug, follow me at @ifyouseekev for humor in more manageable 140 characters or less.
I admit, I’ve been checking out on Facebook recently. For a
lot of reasons. Life is more than looking at your phone. (Wow, that sounds
philosophical coming from a twit like me.) I’ve just found myself generally
getting annoyed and wasting vast amounts of time. I know I’ve missed a lot of
birthdays, and I really don’t care if people miss mine. Which just happens to
be this month, BTW. My theory is if you don’t have a present for me, just don’t
say anything at all, it’s cool.
So as I lurked through FB recently, one of the reasons why I
have been ditching it became apparent; a lot of my FB friends have become
annoying. And someone needs to say something.
Ugh, this shit again.
Now, I have no problem speaking my mind, as my five longtime readers
of this here blog are well aware of. But the thing about the written word is it
can be taken so many different ways. At times it’s become a cop out. It has
become so much easier to text people on the phone than actually use the damn
phone for it’s original intent and talk
to someone.
Hey! This is my secret, too!
I now see it as my duty to help straighten some of you guys
out. However, the truth hurts. This week I’ve been going through Post
Secret: Confessions on Life, Death and God. (If you are not familiar with
the Post Secret website, do yourself a
favor.) It became clear to me the best way to call youze out on some of your
shit without all the resulting butthurt is to do it anonymously. Remember, I am
only doing this out of love. Or spite. OK, mostly spite. Finally, a post all
about YOU!
Your children are ugly. Maybe your friends don’t want to
tell you, but it’s apparent. So how about less pictures, eh?
Your boobs are great, and I wish you would show them off
more.
No one cares what movie you are watching.
You can post all the hippy trippy, karma, new age-y, Buddha,
Hindu and Dalai Lama quotes, pictures and memes you want. I see through that
bullshit and know you’re still the same judgmental cocksucker you always have
been.
You’re pro Trump. WE GET IT!
You’re anti Trump. WE GET IT!
You're a winner!
I admire that you are so socially and politically aware.
But, GD, I really do miss your funny posts.
I would totally bang your wife.
And yours.
And your girlfriend.
And yours.
Is your full time job just posting vapid shit on Facebook 20
times a day? Because that’s all you seem to do.
You don’t have to take every survey you see. No one cares
what 70’s sitcom character you are.
I dropped you from my feed. The only reason I haven’t
unfriended you is because when I am feeling down about myself, I lurk your page
and think, “Thank God, I am not this flaming dipshit.” Thank you for making me
feel better about myself, friend. (And I know I can’t be the only one that
hangs on to some FB friends like this, right?)
No, I will NOT play freaking Candy Crush Saga with you, so
knock it off with the requests.
I had the BIGGEST crush on you in high school, but I never
had the balls to tell you.
I think you’re not on FB very much because you do a real good
job of just going out and living your life.
The entertainment value in your self indulgent, proselytizing posts
is only surpassed by your constant misspelling of common words.
Dude, not everything is a conspiracy theory, OK?
Or is that just what I want
you to think?
You’re way too old to be posting shitty pop music lyrics.
It’s getting kinda creepy now.
I think some of your best one liners are copied from someone
else, and as a “writer” it pisses me off you don’t give them the credit.
Every time you post a picture, I get an alert and I don’t know how to make it stop.
“Oh, look, another picture of the wing from inside the
plane.”
Posting pictures of an unknown beer in an unmarked glass has
been deemed lame.
No more than three hashtags in a single post is the agreed
upon limit. Look it up.
A picture of a plate of food serves no purpose. Just because
you’re not eating at Red Robin for a change doesn’t make a damn of difference.
You are too old to be taking selfies in public bathrooms.
Can I just designate only one of you to post the Trump bits
from SNL?
Your love for shitty 90s rock bands is getting more embarrassing.
I know what you did last summer.
Boobs.
All this so called “drama” you proclaim to be so against is
all of your own making, bonehead.
You claim to be “family first” but I know for a fact, you
never have been. And more and more people are seeing that, too.
Just because I don’t update my status every 17 seconds for
the latest cause de celebre, doesn’t mean I am a bad person. It just means I am
spending time in the real world and don’t have time to read your constant
nonsense.
Facebook is not your PR firm, so knock it off.
Why in bloody hell do you keep watching a show that makes you cry? How is that even fun?
If you're "checking in" at the gym, just a FYI this doesn't count as "working out."
I feel like there could be more. There probably is more. But I hear the pizza guy at the door and someone has to eat the two pizzas and wings I ordered.
Wait a minute, your night ain't over, Champ. Sure, The Big Game is over, but the jokes aren't. Instead of posting all these beauts on social media, and them getting lost, I put 'em all here! In one place! So grab that Gatorade. Since I believe your recollection of the game to be "foggy at best" after all those beers, wings, nachos, poppers and secret shots you swiped from your hosts' liquor cabinet. I even have these chronologically, so it's like watching the Game all over again with your funniest, sharpest, smartest friend! And here we go!
"I got the 0 and 0 block in the pool! Woot woot!"
PREGAME
Y’all should be protesting Budwesier because it’s a shitty
beer is all I’m sayin’.
That's actually going IN to his mouth.
Instead of plowing down nachos and wings at every commercial
break, I’ll be doing 10 pushups and 10 burpees. (This is how #AlternateFacts
works, right?)
At halftime, the Patriots are leading and somehow the Browns
are losing.
Hate on Joe Buck all you want, he could be worse. He could
say, “Any now let’s got to Tony Siragusa.
"They're really hitting hard down here, guys."
The conspiracy theorist in me suspects the Super Bowl is just a front for the chicken wing barons.
Hmm, Eli Manning is at the game. Tom Brady seem mumbling, "ohhh shittt" under his breath.
I wonder if Tom Brady wore his "recovery sleepwear" last night? A true steal at a hundred frigging dollars!?! I don't think I could sleep if I knew I blew a Franklin on a shirt that was supposed to help me sleep in the first place. And why in the blue hell would you want to sleep next to freaking Giselle Bundchen??
"You spent how much on what??"
I appreciate that Spike is countering the Super Bowl with an all night marathon of Cops, then Jail. They just might as well do live shows from Boston and Atlanta tonight.
I wish Ving Rhames would narrate a day at my job.
Let's take a live look into what Buffalo fans are doing...
Aw, snap! You crazy Buffalo kids never change.
I don't know who Luke Bryan is, but I'm gonna hazard a guess he is everything that is wrong with country music and that's the first time he's sung without wearing a nasty ass old ball cap.
Is there any big budget movie where the world DOESN'T get blown up?
George Bush flipping a coin to make a decision is probably not the first President to do so.
FIRST QUARTER
Seeing as how I won a Fantasy league this year, I can imagine what these guys are feeling right now.
I am pretty sure that fly by was taped earlier. How would you know?
Natty Ice better have some back end deal with Matt Ryan if he wins.
Maybe if they put as much work into commercials the rest of the year, they would sell more products?
Pretty sure today is Day 3 of a four day weekend in Atlanta and Boston.
Anyone else believe Arnold Schwa...Swart....Arnold has never played Mobile Strike in his life?
That's Julian Edelman's wife. No joke here. That's his wife.
0-0 at the end of one. BORING! Is there a hockey game on? I am sure all the Canadian teams are playing against each other.
SECOND QUARTER
Justin Bieber and Terrel Owens should not be on the same commercial together. I would think there's some sort of rule about how much "suck" can be in one commercial.
Freeman is the first player to score a TD. His jersey number? 24. That's some shrewd cross promotion there, Fox.
How late am I staying up tonight?
That is not the first time a good strip had lead to a solid score, ifyaknowwhatImean.
This game has been so bad, I'm actually peeing when Brady has the ball.Thank god this Dorito bag is empty.
After three holding penalties in a row, they really just call the next 3rd down "third and a hold."
Atlanta runs back a pick 6. Brady seen throwing a flag he had hidden in his jersey, looking for another holding call.
Did I miss the memo that said, "No funny commercials" this year. WTF? I can't do all the heavy lifting here.
"My eyes are up here."
This is apparently Danny Amendola's girlfriend. No wonder he usually has good hands.
At the end of the half it's Atl 21 NE 3. I wonder if that's the same score at the White House.
At the half, somehow the Browns are losing, too.
HALFTIME
Read my Gaga review. I swear, I don't know with the kids and their music these days. I guess Whitesnake and Marilyn Manson are passe these days. And I would damn sure check the field. A certain team could hide certain items to adjust the pressure of certain things in a certain way. But I can't be certain.
THIRD QUARTER
Sexy Mr. Clean will haunt my dreams tonight. What happened to the sickeningly skinny girls eating the calorie bomb Carl's Jr burgers for some eye bleach?
That's what I'm talkin' about. Quick trivia about these commercials; apparently there are hamburgers in them! I will have to watch again.
Atlanta scores another 7. It's not 28-3. Boston is ready to burn, Fox is ready to start 24 early.
Somewhere in a Kansas City Cracker Barrel, Andy Reid is going, "I like Belichick's play calling here."
Speaking of, Eagles fans are so desperate for a championship, they are now claiming Matt Ryan since he was born near Philly. No, dipshits, that's not how it works.
It only takes 43 minutes for the Patriots to score. AAANNDDDD Gost misses the kick.
Suddenly, Ryan's helmet stops working, he's sacked on the very next play. Hmmm....
FOURTH QUARTER
This game is just not good. It's not exciting, it's quite boring and the commercials suck. I guess this is what it's like to watch the World Series.
Pretty sure it was Dan Quinn who out Belichicked Belichick by flying Eli in first class.
Eli Manning; New York Giants Walter Payton Man of The Year recipient.
Eli Manning: Atlanta Falcons Walton Payton Man of The Year recipient.
8:24 to go and Atlanta turns it over for the first time in the playoffs. Brady sacked on following play. Drunks in Boston and Atlanta start to brown back in now. Amendola scores, Pats direct snap the two point conversion. We have a game, world still hates Pats fans, sky is blue, water is wet.
If I'm Dan Quinn (the Atlanta coach, please tell me you know that by now), I'm telling Ryan (you know who he is, right?) audible "OMAHA!" every play. Even runs.
Here is where the game will be won. If Atlanta plays to win, they will win. If they play to not lose, they will lose.
3:30 to go, Pats with the ball, down by 8. 2 plays and no flags against the Falcons. Pats convert the following 3rd and 10. The amounts of people calling out of work in Atlanta and Boston sky rockets.
Edelman makes awesome catch to keep drive alive. Anti Pats fans-you know, like everybody- groans like they've been here before.
This-no
This- yes
A million times, yes. And, oh yea, Patriots score, blah blah blah. Tie ball game.
The Atl back up QB bears a more than passing resemblance to Eli Manning.
And this is the first OT Super Bowl game. I'm glad I don't have any money on this game. Because I lost it all on the Puppy Bowl.
The heartbreak one team will suffer will only be made worse by the inevitable, hilarious memes that will soon follow.
I am a football fan, yes. But I am not a Lady Gaga fan. I don't think I could name one song outside of "Poker Face." So what is the take of a football fan watching Lady Gaga for the first time? I guess the halftime at the Super Bowl is a good an opportunity as I will get.
I am not enthused by the Tiffany commercial. This already tells me she is not like me. No one has really connected with me a a Super Bowl halftime show since Left Shark. I love how people say they are "too this" or "too that" and they shill for a high end jewelry company. Yup, makes sense.
She's starting out on top of the frigging stadium? OK, that's cool, And singing a medley of American songs. Somewhere Sting and Shawn Michaels knows how she gets down. That's a lot of fucking faith in those wires.
I don't know what bloody song she's doing now, and I am OK with that. I am pretty sure all the kids on the field have no idea what a on side kick is. And if I was a player I'd be pretty pissed that the field is most likely getting trashed right now by a bunch of Little Monsters wearing heels and jumping up and down.
The handheld keyboard is such an underused instrument. Maybe Kimmel should have played that in high school instead of the clarinet.
It seems like her hair is growing during the performance. These songs are all starting like they are from the same soundtrack of a teen movie. The part where the girl thinks she lost the guy, but anyone with half a brain knows they are totally getting together.
I don't know what I watched, but it was inoffensive enough to not piss anyone off. Now be sure you inspect the field, because I am sure the Patriots are up to some shenanigans in the second half.
I think we’ve all pretty much have had Saturday (or this
coming Monday) mornings like this:
“Oh, God, what did I
drink last night? Was that really a fishbowl of Harvey Wallbangers? And who
drinks Harvey Wallbangers anymore? All right, let’s take stock of the current
situation. Where. Am. I?” Slowly, cautiously looks around. “My bed. OK, this is
good.” Swings legs off of bed onto floor. “Oh God! Is that vomit? Is that
really vomit?” Yes, it really, really is vomit. This is bad. “Wait a minute, is
that corn? I haven’t eaten corn for three months! Not my vomit. Good. Somebody
else is cleansies. Now let me check my phone. Oh shit, the battery is almost
drained! WhatdidIdo? Whatdidido?” Plugs in charger, screen is smudged with what
appears to be queso. “Let me check texts.” No drunken texts. “Whew. Oh God,
Facebook! WhatdidIdo?” Facebook is clear. “Oh God Twitter! What did I Twee…
ppffttt, just kidding, no one tweets anymore.” Checks what windows are open. “Hmm…GIS
sexy neighbor…nope, that’s not her. Huh. Amazon is open. Oh God. What. Did. I.
Do? Much like a bad Celine Dion song, it’s all coming back to me now.”
What? You’ve never had a morning like this? Only me?
(Awkward pause.) Sooooo anyway…. Apparently I went drunk Amazon shopping last night. Now, it’s
up to me to fashion some sort of story as to how I purchased a seemingly bunch of
random things. There really should be some sort of safeguard on Amazon so this
doesn’t happen. I remember reading a story I just made up how approximately 9%
of Amazon’s profits come from drunk shopping. BTW, pro tip from your old bud Kev Theory-Honey. Your reckless spending won't be as bad. Theoretically.
We’ll start at the top. I distinctly remember shopping
Amazon for a new trimmer. My old one is pretty busted, and it’s time to do some
manscaping. I hope to one day shave images into my face to distract from the overall ugly.
I still have illusions of growing one of those long, thick
beards that are in vogue with hipsters and bald guys who can’t grow hair
anywhere else on their head. I can tell when my meager “beard” gets a little too shaggy when I take a drink of Malibu and diet, and I can still taste it five
minutes later. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. It’s like drinking twice. I seemed
to also pick out a model that vacuums as well. Ah, always thinking. And it’s
not lost on me I’m apparently not the only one thinking about manscaping.
Dale forever. Suck it, junior.
Again, apparently I am not the only one thinking ahead here.
OK, this isn’t too bad. I admit, this is where I begin to
brown out, but I am super sure I am still a responsible shopper who only buys
the absolute necessities. What else is in the cart?
I think it’s kinda lipstick on a pig kinda thing at this
point, but cool. Aww, well look at Buzzed Kev, looking out for the mess that is
Everyday Kev. I find this inspiring, like subconsciously, I’m telling myself I
am handsome, desirable, confident and secure. Way to go, Buzzed Kev! I am anxious to see
what’s next in the cart.
What the fuck, Buzzed Kev? That’s just mean! I am pretty
sure (judging by the empty Skinny Girl Sangria bottles-don’t judge- by the Lazy
Boy) the black out is settling in. I feel like we’re taking a turn here. Buzzed
Kev is now Drunk Kev.
Oh, FFS Drunk Kev. Drunk, Lonely, Horny Kev. Well, at least
the reviews make this seem like a semi sensible purchase.
And to be fair, I have always found the sensation of a boob
in my hand seems to make stress disappear. And twenties. Lots and lots of
twenties disappear. I went to a strip club once and found glitter in my wallet
the next day. My empty, empty wallet. But that’s for another post. What else is
in the cart?
Sweet! If I had to have one replica wrestling championship
belt it would be ECW. And 65 bucks seems like a fair price. Wait, it’s a kids belt? GD it Drunk Kev, get your
shit together. How is this supposed to impress the lady folk? It’s gotta be a
pretty wasted girl that believes I am a real wrestling champion. Sigh, this
belt will never get glitter on it. I haz a sads.
Awww, Drunk Kev, you still get me. And that’s a damn good
price for 18 boxes of tissues! Way to pull yourself back together, DK! We are best buds!
Oh. Dear. God. Bloody hell. Drunk Kev just played me. Wai…$2300!! FFFuuuuuuuuucckkk me. Wait.
Cumisha is in it? Well, then, this is a total waste of money. Amazon will be
getting a very angry call shortly. After I get all liquored up again to
complain about shelling out 23frigging hundred dollars for porn. Porn is free
these days. This is bad. Very bad. There should be some sort of automatic
warning triggered in Amazon whenever you try to blow a ton of dough on
worthless shit. Did I already tell you guys about that article I read about how
9% of Amazon’s profits come directly from drunken shopping? Right now, I think
it’s up to 14%. MFers. I’d like to say it can only go uphill from here, but….
WTF?! I already bought those! GGGRRRR. These are getting regifted for Xmas. You’re welcome, Dad.
Oh, look, there’s more stuff in my cart. How freaking late did I stay up last
night wasting money?
I don’t even fish.
I don’t even know how I got here. But ladies, here is the
takeaway. This look is HAWT. I have a pair to sell you cheap. Real cheap. HMU.
WTF, One item left. BTW, y’all should note I use smile.amazon
and you should, too. It’s a great way for your reckless Friday night purchases
to help various causes. So…
