Can't believe it's been exactly a year since this happened...
Happy New Year everybody, from your friends at Slack LaLane...only good things in 2005.
Can't believe it's been exactly a year since this happened...
Short post...then I'm off to meet the Fockers.
I love how difficult it is to earn induction into Cooperstown. It makes being a baseball fan that much better for some reason...
Nobody puts Brisco in the casket.
...three clips of the tsunami rolling into town.
Does Wal-Mart know they sell this book? That's awesome. (ed. note: This post was created because this book was up on Wal-Mart's site today...maybe it was a hacker, but the site was definitely selling it, as this Google search will illustrate.)
We met once. You were old. But you were cool, and you laid the hammer down on that Hammond. Enjoy the great organ party in the sky. The Stadium will miss ya, Eddie.
Pentagon: Rumsfeld misspoke on Flight 93 crash
Nothing I love more than a good samaritan...this guy rocks.
I think my Comedy Central is broken: Every time I hit the TiVo guide to see what's on that channel, it always fuckin' says "Mad TV." What the balls, man, what gives? Comedy Central gave up old re-runs of Saturday Night Live so it can ram this dreck down our laugh-holes? For real, yo?
I did it once and I've done it once again. I've created the perfect mix, even better than my first perfect mix (Redrum Grammar) from the spring of 1998. The other playlists on my iPod are all jealous now, fighting for time. But they got nothing on my latest creation...behold, I give you "New Feeling":
Best signing of the offseason? Could be, could just be. I'll tell you this: It scares me into wanting Randy big time now.
Goin' back to work for a one-time engagement today...should be fun.
Last day of the mini-break for this week, back to work tomorrow...So here are the first things on my mind this afternoon:
I'll never forget the night during senior year when we all went to see Son Seals in ghetto blues bar on the south side of Chicago. It was our friend Jason's birthday, and someone secretly arranged for Jason to get up there and courageously sing Funky Bitch (one of the popular rock band Phish's finest covers) with the song's creator. We all had a good laugh and shook a mean leg as he mumbled through Son's indecipherable lyrics, and I always thought that would be a ridiculous once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have in one's annals. Good times.
It's hard for me to sit here and entertain you sorry-ass worker bees today...see, I took a few days off this week (and next) for the first time since Coventry, and that shit was hardly a vacation. That was hard goddamn work.
SAN ANTONIO -- The City Council on Friday approved an ordinance requiring strippers to wear their permits while they are on stage. City Councilman Chip Haass pushed the measure, adopted unanimously by the 11-member council, as a way to make it easier for police to identify dancers.
...from TJ in OH about his four-year-old little lady:
I went to bed and Randy Johnson was pretty much a Yankee. I woke up, and now not so much. At first, when the three-way dance seemed all but certain, I was squarely in the corner of those against the deal. But then I took Miles' advice to Joel Goodson: Every now and then say, "What the fuck?"
What's the deal with Grape Nuts? You open it up, no grape, no nuts. And for real this time, what's the deal with people wanting famous people's socks? I'm baffled:
How silly is this fuckin' Pedro character? He says he tried his hardest but didn't feel the respect from Sawx management, and both sides just couldn't get the job done. Funny how respect is measured is dollars these days...you suck Pedro. Finally, Yanks and Sawx fans agree on something.
My buddy Dorsey Levin with the e-mail point of the day (and since my e-mail is either broken or everyone's working real hard today, this had very little competition...regardless, great point):
The New York Jets Road to the Super Bowl hit a minor snag this weekend, but I'm not worried. We're still gonna win the whole fuckin' thing, and people will still bow down before me for my excellent prognostication skills. And hopefully while bowing, someone will attempt to lick me in my place of business, leading to my boasting headline "Handsome Blogger Fellated by Area Jet Fan; Gender Unknown."
1st and goal from the 9 yard line. 47 seconds left on the game clock. Arkies trail 26-20 in this epic battle.
Here's an interesting little story:
Go to Yahoo! and type in "Ashlee Simpson Gangbanged" (or just click here, it's safe for work, no worries, hakuna matata). There it is, folks, the Ace Cowboy can now die in peace.
OK, I can't tell if there is someone whose real name is Jack Mehoffer or not, but it appears Bill O'Reilly got seriously punked. Crap, did I just used "punked" as a verb? I suck. Anyway, fortunately for O'Reilly he mispronounced Mehoffer's name as "May-a-hoffer," otherwise conservatives around the country would be writing in to the FCC with a plethora of form letters (and a plethora of pinatas).
Story of the day from the good ol' NY Post:
Gonna be a busy day for yours truly...I desperately wanted to call in sick, can't believe I actually made it in. Drunken times with the family at a marathon dinner last night doesn't necessarily make for a good morning.
A clever way to take advantage of the losing 48 percent of America:
Goddamn, I fuckin' hate these people:
As previously declared on Friday, I love weddings. No matter what, they're always a good time. Always. Even if your mother is there, she gets wasted, does shots with your friends and subsequently hits on some of them, they're still a good time. Even if you're already a bit tipsy, go outside to get ridiculously baked with a couple of random kids, one of which was just hit on by your mother, then come inside and your wasted mother is right there with some friendly conversation before you can hit up either gum or eyedrops, they're still a good time. As long as there's a little cart parked on the side of the dance floor, with a Jager Luge of sorts and many bottles of horribly flavored vodka, everything's gonna be just fine. I mean, you know it's a good time when you have to look your father in the eye and make sure he's okay to drive. "Are you cool, Dad?" If he answered, "Like, how?" I would've just started a slow clap and cried tears of joy.
I walked into the deli this morning for a bagel and some juice, my typical morning ingestables. My iPod was blasting Sly and the Family Stone's Dance to the Music, one of my favorites and the 15th song on a brand new playlist I've been running through this weekend. To order my food from my buddy behind the counter, I pressed pause on the iPod, but the music kept playing. I shook the iPod, pressed some more buttons...what's the big f-in' deal, bitch? Then I realized, the deli was playing the exact same song through the speakers, most likely from the radio. And it was at the nearly identical spot I was at. Now what are the fuckin' chances of that? I seriously love when this happens more than anything in the world, and I'm really not kidding. Freaky and cool.
And now Bonds too! New shit has come to light, man!
Well, it's December 2nd again. I feel like it happens every year.