Just give me baseball already [or How to call A-Rod gay in 1864]

A-Fraud, A-Roid, maybe you wanna show her your A-Face.


I'm worn out on A-Rod, and steroids, and hypocritical hero-worshipping nonsense about athletes as role models.

Makes me long for the days when they used to play it like real men, the old fashioned way.

Conan O'Brien 1864 Baseball
by Youpinadi



Gammons: You seem peevish.
A-Face: I hope I have not caused you any vexation or unpleaseant cogitations.
Schiff Happens: You ass!
Interview ends, A-Face leaves the room.
Gammons: That gentleman likes to ply his seed in the other melon patch.

Sweet merciful crap, give me some apple hurling and stick mashing already.

Spring training is nearly here, and not a moment too soon.
I've been enjoying watching the NBA more than any season I can recall in a while, but I'm still watching the Knicks, who reminded me tonight that they still suck.

Besides, all of this A-Hole garbage gets me fired up. The season needs to start so I have somewhere to direct all of my hilarious anger.
Effinay-Rod!
Get out on the damn field and do what you get paid your millions to do.
Just win and the rest takes care of itself. In the end, that's all I care about. Any fan who says otherwise, or is willing to act shocked and disappointed that you did that shit is lying to themself.

You're an entertainer. You perform for my amusement. You're a $300 million circus seal, only you are exceptionally good at the exceptionally difficult albeit relatively inconsequential sporting challenge of hitting a round ball with a round piece of wood...and I prefer baseball to the circus. I really don't give a shit if you want to cheat and make an ass out of yourself - it's your money and your reputation - provided of course that you WIN. 3-letter word, starts with "W" - stop me if I say something that rings a bell.

Not to say I condone what you did, you frosted-tipped lying sack of cheater; I just won't shed a tear for my poor kid brother and all your many fans who will never worship your lipstick wearing ass again. We always knew you were kind of a prick. Now you're just a Webster's-worthy douche defined. Either way, you were never some kind of American hero. Writers who built you up that way and want to rip you now, and "Think of the children!" loudmouths who want to call you out for being a bad role model, see above re: lying to themselves. Again, not off the hook. You still cheated, and everyone still hates you.

BUT
(3-letter word, starts with "B")

All of that is irrelevant if you just do your effing job, specifically in months ending in -ober.

Now just give me baseball, so I can watch it all happen.

Football is over, might be time to start exercising again

I've been going back and forth over whether I should sign up and train for the Charlottesville Ten Miler on April 4. I'm always looking for another reason to go back to The University and relive the glory days, and usually the only way I can motivate myself to start exercising after a long period of Phelps-like inactivity and degeneration is to pony up the cash for an upcoming race and just sign up. Sad though it may be, I can only be moved from perpetual couch-sitting if I know I've got money tied up in the effort. It's one thing to be an out of shape slob when I have excuses at the ready, including but not limited to "it's colder than Eskimo taint outside," but it's an entirely different situation when I've got my hard earned money invested in my relatively ordinary simple human ability to place one foot in front of the other in somewhat speedy succession. And I know what you're thinking, you cheeky little buggers, that I should tweak "hard earned" just a bit to "half-assedly attained in between blogging and gchatting all goddamn day." Well it's still my money, damn it, and that's the point - once I've made the down payment on myself, there's no turning back. I'm training and running the motherfucker and getting my money's worth. I paid 30 bucks for this shit? You're goddamn right I'm getting my ass in shape to race all you fuckers. And don't skimp on the race pack either. I want my t-shirt and my medal, and I'll be a redneck Hokie if I don't get my gift bag filled with useless coupons, a LiveStrong bracelet, free samples of disgusting runners' laxatives energy goo and Bengay anti-chaffing lotion.



Bottom line - signing up for a race is my only hope to start running again, and the Cville Ten Miler gives me that plus an excuse to go back to The Hook and revisit the power and the glory of college by buying rounds of dirt cheap shots and Natty Lights for underage coeds. Ten miles is no small undertaking, but as long as we're talking about living the dream, it should be noted that tomorrow morning at another fine ACC institution, over 5,000 people are expected to participate in NC State's 5th annual Krispy Kreme Challenge. Though not nearly as far as the Ten Miler, the Challenge probably better encapsulates the stereotypical college experience of engaging in asinine behaviors and traditions, throwing up all over yourself, and repeating it the next night. Observe the genius that is Krispy Kreme Challenge:

Beginning at the NC State Belltower, each runner
runs 2 miles to the Krispy Kreme store located
on Peace St. in Raleigh. After downing a full dozen
of the famous Krispy Kreme doughnuts, the runner
must run the two miles back. All in one hour.

Now that is how you binge-and-rally like a true collegian. It should be safe to say this this is the only 4-mile race with an answer in the FAQ that reads "We can't techinically stop you from throwing up, and quite frankly, that's just part of the race." Thank goodness this mess is for a good cause, the NC Children's Hospital. This may explain why the minimum age requirement for the Krispy Kreme Challenge is 6, because the hospital is pretty much the only place you could end up if you attempted this as a freaking first-grader. More power to any kid that small who completes this challenge. You're going to make a fine undergraduate one day, son.

The Krispy Kreme Challenge will have to wait for now. In the meantime, do I do this Ten Miler or what? Let me know what you think in the comments, especially if you've done it before. Perhaps we've finally found an occasion for the first ever Schiff Happens poll...