First Annual America Day Post (The Origin)

It’s America Day! and as I mentioned on our Twitter feed it’s the special time of year when I hide from my family and friends and watch baseball alone while drinking my secret stash of good beer while my family drinks PBR. I’m a generous host.

Many people wonder why I don’t  write about baseball more. I enjoy baseball a lot it’s not because I have some secret vendetta against the sport, but my history with baseball is… unique.

When I was a child, I was a very gifted pitcher, by the time I was a teenager I was one of the best in the state. I started showing prowess for the sport at a very young age and as a result, my father took it upon himself to make sure I was going to be the best in the world. From around the age of seven up until high school I was outside every day until the sun went down throwing pitches trying to perfect my craft until my arm felt as though it had fallen off hours ago and I eventually crawled back to the house to eat a quick dinner before my father sat me down to go over everything I had done wrong in a series of videos and profanity fueled rants.

This would’ve all been fine if it weren’t for one minor detail, I hated playing baseball (still do, but I’m an adult now). I eventually gathered the courage to tell my father that I no longer wanted to play baseball. This was the first time my father kicked me out of the house. I was always allowed back, but this was merely the first in a series of ejections that would ultimately come to my final one later in life where I didn’t go back, but that’s another story for another day.

Baseball is a great sport. I enjoy watching it as much as possible. But baseball and I, have a strained relationship.

Mistakes Were Made (Part One)

I’m sure it comes as no surprise to anyone that I love to drink (I’m almost always drunk when I write something for this blog. Hence the litany of typos that I refuse to change even after I sober up because I don’t care and no one reads these devil words that closely anyway).

I’m pretty sure I’ve consumed just about every type of alcohol available, and if you’re like me (an alcoholic) then you have probably made some drink combinations that were vile and could peel the paint off a boat, but you probably also finished said drink only to have some sort of negative consequences. This is one of my favorite times.

(Frat story approaching just FYI)

So two of my brothers, Ken and Adam (neither of their real names), were going on simultaneous trips and I had a rule at our house, if you go to another state you have to bring back a local beer (I’m a huge fan of cool local brews if you’ve never read my yelp page which I highly recommend). Instead of beer, they both brought me something much better. Ken brought Everclear (the real stuff not that cheap garbage they sell in Minnesota) and Adam brought a bottle of absinthe (I’m assuming not legit absinthe that makes you hallucinate and shit but it was still pretty damn cool.) Naturally, my reaction was like when I’d wake up on Christmas morning and my parents had stayed awake all night to build some giant elaborate toy or structure for my siblings and I. Alcohol is adult Christmas. God bless my parents and God bless my former housemates.

First thing I did was rip the cap off the Everclear and pour shots (because I’m a sadist.) Now, regular vodka is bad enough to do shots with but Everclear should not be allowed on store shelves, this shit serves no purpose except to make large batch death brew for an awful party. Ken and Adam immediately refused the shots but being the housemaster (and much larger) I made them. They both wretched at the smell and nearly died from the taste while I couldn’t control my violent laughter.

“Let’s try the absinthe!” I shouted like a viking warlord thirsty for blood. They both responded with pained groans but ultimately agreed.

Absinthe is so cool. It came with this medieval spoon and it’s fucking green! It looks like something from a science fiction movie. I pulled the cork out and started to pour a drink for myself.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,”  Ken said hesitantly.

“Yeah he’s right bro,” Adam chimed in, “You have to use that spoon and pour it over sugar.”

“Sugar?!” I yell/ask.

“Yeah bro, sugar.”

“Well fuck that! I’m on Atkins!” I yelled as I continued to pour the absinthe into the nearest vessel by me. (SIDE NOTE: I was not on Atkins and I have no idea what Atkins is even to this day).

The green liquid smelled awful,for those that don’t know, absinthe has a very distinct black liquorice flavor, but that didn’t stop me from downing the green substance in one painful swallow.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Adam said.

“Fuck you, it’s the best idea,”I’m such a clever drunk.

Adam then proceeded to place a sugar cube on the fancy spoon and pour the absinthe over it into another glass and it became clear! Fucking clear! This stuff is so cool. It tasted much better with the sugar. I was proven wrong once again.

END OF PART ONE.

Deal with it. Part two will be out shortly. I didn’t want to write one long alcohol saga so I made a multi part epic. Enjoy this while I sleep off my hangover.

 

Suck it Losers (Part Two)

Back to back releases I’m like the mother fucking Hobbit movies! We back at it like Yung Lean. Let’s get it!

If you live in Indiana I am officially issuing a call to action. I don’t care about your lame state, but your basketball team hates you and if you even remotely care about the Pacers you should be marching on the street in protest about how carelessly your team is being handled.

SIDE NOTE: If you’re a Pacers fan PLEASE PLEASE comment I truly want to know your opinions on how the Pacers office is handling the team right now.

How on God’s Earth did the Pacers frivolously give up their best player? I criticized the Bulls last week for giving up Jimmy Butler to he soon to be NBA champion Timberwolves but that trade makes infinitely more sens than the asinine bullshit the Pacers gave up for Paul George.

I made the joke the Wolves got Butler for a bunch of garbage, but the Thunder got Paul George FOR NOTHING. NOT A GODDAMN THING. It’s like walking  into a store and the cashier says:

“Just fucking take it bro, I don’t care.”

If you’re into fantasy basketball, take PG13 first round I promise he’ll take you to the finals.

People of Indiana, please do not take this atrocity lying down, you’re all better than this and you do not deserve to live through the abysmal years of basketball that are about to follow. Trust me, I’m a Timberwolves fan. It’s a hard life I would never wish upon anyone EVER.

Suck it Losers (Part One)

Holy fucking dick whistles! Just when I thought this NBA off-season couldn’t get any goddamn crazier Adam Silver showed up to my doorstep and slapped me in the face with his massive basketball loving dick.

I’m saying it again, THE TIMBERWOLVES ARE GOING TO THE PLAYOFFS!!!!!

They have had the most productive off-season in their history. Their lineup is now better than when they had Spreewell and the “human hairless cat” Sam Cassell.

As a longtime critic and religiously abused girlfriend of the Timberwolves (metaphorically, I’m a dude that has described my love for shitty Minnesota basketball as an abusive relationship) this is everything I have ever wanted and prayed for every night before I went to bed.

Like a child, I would pray on bended knee that one day the Timberwolves wouldn’t suck miles of cock and they don’t (despite never having played a single game). SWEEPING DECLARATION: Timberwolves are going back to the western conference finals within three years.

I’m basketball Nostradamus.

I’m torn, I don’t know if I want to make this one very long article, or stretch it our into various renditions. FUCK IT, multiple renditions! Adding “Part One” to the Title.

After School Special

“Come on man, you’re going to love it I promise,” Jake said while holding a marijuana pipe in his hand.

I had never done anything beyond having too much to drink so this was quite a new experience for me despite being in my twenties. The idea of drugs still seemed scary and dangerous as all those teachers in grade school had made it seem. Indeed, I was a truly ignorant child.

“I swear, you’re going to love it,” Jake assured once more as he handed me his pipe.

“I don’t even know what to do,” I said both honestly and ashamed at my inexperience.

“It’s easy, just put your thumb over the hole on the side, light the top, and take a big inhale. It’s just that easy.” I did just as he instructed.

As the smoke traveled through my mouth down my throat it felt as if a thousand very sharp knives were stabbing my esophagus. I coughed instantly and Jake began laughing hysterically.

“That was really good,” he said, the pride beaming from his eyes knowing he had taken my narcotics virginity.

“Let’s go for a drive,” he said with a big grin on his face.

We jumped in his hot rod and began cruising down country roads taking rips off his pipe. I felt like I was the coolest person in the universe.

I wish I could say we got into all sorts of drug addled shenanigans or got arrested and make this a cautionary tale, but we didn’t. We drove around, smoked pot, went home and watched a television documentary about super volcanoes. At some point in the night I switched to alcohol and passed out on the couch. I woke up the next morning to find Jake sleeping in the bath tub. Apparently he finished our vodka and thought the tub was a safe place to sleep. Moral of the story, drugs are fun.

Are You Serious?

I’m going to keep this brief, but this moment was so batshit insane I had talk about it.

I’m not an old man, but I am older than a lot of my coworkers (technically subordinates, but I’m not a dick so I would never use that term).

There’s two twenty something girls in my “pod” as they call it, a “pod” is basically just an open work area designated for people that share a similar purpose, and these two girls LOVE to go out to lunch together (I have to listen to this shit every week):

“Where do you want to go?”

“There’s this new bistro that supposed to be good.”

“Let’s go here.”

“No, let’s go here.”

THIS GOES ON FOR FOUR HOURS!!!!!!! EVERY WEEK.

This last week they went to Arby’s. Fucking Arby’s. Think about this. They went to a place that’s perpetually awful BY CHOICE. But that’s not why I wrote this. Here’s the actual transcript that lead to this conclusion:

“Where should we go today?”

“Have you ever been to Arby’s?”

“No, what’s that?”

“It’s amazing, we should go there.”

“What do they serve?”

“Like sandwiches and stuff.”

“Like Subway?”

“Kinda but this is better. It’s hot and the curly fries will change your life.”

THE CURLY FRIES WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE.

This statement just made the CEO of Arby’s life complete. So congratulations girls, Steven Arby’s can now die happy (I have no idea who the CEO of Arby’s is and I don’t care enough to look).

Her life is going to change because she ate fast food curly fries. I’m going to let that sink in while I abstain from the urge to slap my co-workers.

Tired Yet? Good! Deal With it.

You like basketball? No?! Well too bad! I’m going to talk about it some more because I can. And if you don’t live in Minnesota or follow basketball, this article will mean nothing to you so feel free to skip it, but as the title says: DEAL WITH IT!

In the greatest trade deal in the history of the NBA, the Timberwolves acquired Jimmy Butler from the Chicago Bulls. I am very happy about this. This is the most self destructive idiotic move I have ever seen in my life. I cannot believe the Bulls would EVER agree to this deal.

“Hey, can we get your best player?”

“Sure, what do you have?”

“We have a big pile of garbage.”

“DEAL!”

The bulls are idiots and I weep for all their fans. HOWEVER, suck it Chicago the Timberwolves are about to become Western conference contenders and I could not be happier.

Thank you Chicago Bulls, for being run by a bunch of incompetent morons. You have changed the face of Minnesota basketball.