WIly Mo fans unite!

Being that I've got a pretty major stiffy for Wily Mo, as a baseball player and a human being, I'll take every opportunity that I can to point out other people who are also pitching tents in their Dockers for the big guy. I gotta say, I'm pretty jealous that they have a Wily Mo t-shirt. To your right, you'll notice that the fantastic Wily pictures just keep on coming. It looks like he's even growing one of Papi's snazzy well-groomed chin-beards. I guess that makes it a cheard..... I hope that catches on.

How about I punch-a-size your face... for free!

Apparently compassion just isn't in the Burger King's vocabulary. Talk about some bad PR for the monarch of meat patties. Charging a severely injured boy for ice to nurse his wounds!! Are you kidding me??? Hey, I don't know how things work in Burger World, but here in reality, ice is frozen water. Water is free. You can drink it from a public water fountain, sip it from a babbling brook... hell, you can tilt your head back and open your mouth during a rainstorm - though I wouldn't recommend it. Water is a building block of life... and it does a body good. What's next? Charge for air?? This kind of behavior leads me to believe that the Burger King is not a kind ruler. In fact, he's probably downright ruthless. The Burger King is NOT a man of the people.

I always thought those 'EFFING BK commercials were pretty creepy. The guy just doesn't rub me the right way. I mean, yeah, he's bringing the people in these commercials a taste-tastic breakfast sandwich, which in most cultures is a pretty friendly gesture. However I'm not totally convinced that he's not just trying fatten them up so he can murder them and eat them Hannibal Lector-style and then wear their faces on top of his.

I'm sorry for yelling...

So I was a little upset yesterday.... a day in the life of a Red Sox fan. Don't get it twisted, I still have little to no hope left for this year's team. I just think I was a bit harsh yesterday.

Maybe I pulled a Thurgood Jenkins today, took a puff, and mellowed out, or maybe I just read this article that really does a good job of breaking the Red Sox season down. It doesn't make excuses, it doesn't say "wait 'til next year", it just does a great job of pointing out that while it's been a pretty miserable second-half, full of question marks and questionable decisions, there's really not a whole lot to bitch about other than players like Beckett and Coc-nasty just not living up to their potential. Y'know what? They're young dudes who are fortunately still south of their prime - it's just way too early to call them busts.

I'm pretty excited to see the direction this team goes in through the next couple of years. We have a lot of young talent that just couldn't cut it this year. The other major factor this season was that the Sox just have some holes that happen to be very difficult to plug without overspending. Pitching has been our main concern and there just doesn't seem to be a lot of pitching available right now. Pitching is at a rediculous premium these days.... but don't take my word for it, ask Chan Ho Park (yup that's right, he's making over $15M this year).

Also, the Yankees are just plain nasty this year. I'm going to take a page from Bill Simmons and just admit it. There, I said it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be spending the next two hours trying to find out how many licks it takes to get to the tootsie roll center of an eletrical outlet.

I'm cleaning out my closet.

Well, that's it. The Sox's ship has officially sailed. The Yankees own us this year. I was singing a different tune four days ago... I was full of hope. However, 5 games, 2 legitimate blowouts, 2 heartbreakers, 7 exploding heads, 1 really big catch Coco DIDN'T make, and one prescription to Wellbutrin XL later, I've thrown my hands in the air and sent up the white flag. I know relinquishing faith is something Red Sox fans should never fess up to doing after '04, but this year is different. This team has no heart, no fight and no spirit. Correction, they have ONE heart, ONE fight and ONE spirit and it's name is Big Papi. Honestly, there's only so much even THAT man-beast can do.

Big Papi aside, Papelbon aside, Manny aside and maybe even Schilling aside, I have nothing positive left to say about this team. No Red Sox team should allow themselves to be swept in 5 games by the Yankees, because let's face it- out of five games even the worst team should be able to squeeze one game out on will alone. David Wells gave it a good shot today to everyones surprise, but even with a solid outing from the fat man, we couldn't manage to win one. There's not a chance in Hades these bitches are going to pull out the AL East and at this point, the Wild Card is to the Red Sox, what The Talon is to Verne Troyer... just plain out of reach. You could make a case that three out of the best four teams in baseball are in the AL Central. Not a doubt in my mind that the Wild Card will reside in that division

How many days until the Patriots' opening game??? At this point I'm even looking forward to the Celtics season... at least they have the common courtesy to not get my hopes up.

{Editor's note: There will be no funny picture on this post, because there is no joy in Mudville... the gayass Red Sox have struck out. All I have is anger and depression.}

Armpittsnogle

Apparently the author of that t-shirt didn't look up the verb 'to Pittsnogle' in the same dictionary that I did. He's a hillbilly, he sucks, and part of me cried when I saw this picture... NOT tears of joy. Let's just hope posing for this picture is the only thing he does in a Celtics uniform all year.







Is old 'Snogle gonna be the first player in the history of the NBA to play without a number? Or is this a good sign that he may not actually be on our roster at the start of the season? My fingers are crossed.

Excuse me, where are your venti condoms?

So this has been brewing (pardon the pun) in my head for a week or so, and maybe it's the crack-laced coffee that's coursing through my veins doing the talking right now, but is it just me or is Starbucks' strict size lexicon a little ridiculous?

I've had a few funny conversations with my co-workers about it during daily treks across the street to Starbucks. While I don't support Starbucks' overpopulation and near-monopolization of the coffee market or their tendancy to charge roughly 5 bucks for a line of non-alcoholic beverages, I can't say enough about what a VENTI Starbucks iced coffee will do for your mood and your productivity. It honestly makes me feel like there's a Scott mascot following me around and a crowd of people chanting my name. Needless to say, I visit their establishment about twice a day and spend approximately half of my paycheck on coffee these days... I digress.

If you've ever been into a Starbucks and tried to order a standard size, i.e. a large, you know what I'm talking about. The cashier will shoot you a blank stare, pause for a second and then say... "You mean a venti?!?". They absolutely insist that you use their Starbucks-exclusive language and damn-near kick you out if you even think about calling that in-between-sized coffee a "medium". They flat out refuse to punch your order into the register until you utter the words tall (small), grande (medium), or venti (large).

So I got to thinking- what if we carried this vernacular into other everyday situations?

• "Umm that sounds like a good plan, but there's just one tall problem."
• "Wow, that girl has some incredibly venti sweater puppets!"
• "After I lost 15 lbs. on the Subway diet, I dropped a shirt size and now I'm a grande."
• "Sebastian Telfair's a very talented NBA player, but some scouts say he's just to tall for the NBA."
• "I think you're making a venti mistake"
• "Man this beach is great, we are LIVING VENTI!"

Complete and utter chaos! You may be the respective king of your industry Starbucks, but you can't just march into America and change the english language! F*ck you. Just give me your addictive coffee and enjoy a nice venti glass of shut the hell up.

Call him George Foreman cuz he's selling everybody grills

I'm not a huge fan of the diva wide recieva' trend that's exploded the past couple of seasons. I have a heavy dstaste for T.O. (although he's got a pretty dope crib), hate Randy Moss with a passion, never really liked Joe "little big" Horn, and CAN'T STAND Fred-Ex. Even recent immature actions by Ashley Lelie and Jerry Porter have left a pretty bad taste in my mouth.

Where do wide reciever's get off acting like this? Running back is a much more exciting position, quarterbacks are a more important part to a successful passing game, and BOTH running backs and quarterbacks are usually more valuable in fantasy football. All of this nonsense makes me really respect '05 Patriots wide recievers like Deion Branch and David Givens, who appreciate their role in the offense, excelling when given the opportunity. On a side note, I really hope the Pats can work something out with Mr. Branch, if nothing else, for Brady's sake. It was tough to see Givens and his workman-like attitude leave the team and there's no question that Branch is even more valuable.

Yet somehow, through all my hate for these attention-hoovering wide recivers, one man shines out as a beacon of hope. Chad Johnson. Chad loves the attention. Chad loves running his mouth. Chad loves scoring touchdowns. Chad loves glamour and models and... and... and twiiiiiiins. But something's different about Chad. He always seems to back his motor-mouth up with big plays and solid numbers. His end zone celebrations are usually good-natured and entertaining. He doesn't seem to ever say anything negative about other players, especially his teammates (standard operating procedure of Moss and Owens). Lastly and most importantly, Johnson seems to understand something that NFL front offices don't: Fans watch the game to be entertained. He aims to entertain the fans with his end-zone celebrations, without detracting from the rest of the game, offending anyone, or upstaging what goes on while the game clock is ticking.

I have no idea what's going on here, but it looks AWESOME and there MAY be a trampoline involved.

I bring this all up because I recently read a really entertaining article by Len "the buffet" Pasquarelli, where Chad outlines his plan to continue his hilarious post-scoring antics, without breaking any of the official No Fun League celebration rules. Pretty inventive plan if you ask me- and you're reading my blog, so technically you DID ask me. Plus the article does a good job of illustrating just how effective and consistant he's been over the past few years- all without purposely taking plays off, demanding a trade, running over any police officers with his car and then paying the fine with "straight cash homie", or making Monday Night Football soft-core pornos with primetime television stars. Maybe I'm a fool and Chaddy boy really is cut from the same cloth as T.O. or baked in the same mold as Randy Moss. Or maybe I'm just hypnotized by his grill and his dance moves.


Let me close this posting with my favorite quote from the book of Chad, coming just before a game agains the Green Bay Packers ("Brother Harris" is in reference to their number one corner, Al Harris): "There are two things for Brother Harris this week; the bad thing is, he has to cover me; The good is he can save 15 percent by switching his insurance to Geico"... what's not to like about that????

Wilfredo Modesto Pena

For those of you having trouble getting a grasp on my obsession with Wily Mo Painmeister, check out this article. Seth Mnookin seems to have a similar Wily Mo fetish... only he backs it up with actual stats and professional writing skills. Whereas I prefer to stick to opinions, slang and funny nicknames.... and pictures. Don't forget the pictures.

Everybody Loves Wily Mo

The weekend is officially here

I just took a shot of hot sauce at work.

Friday wrap-up

Song of the week: Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty. I have a love/hate relationship with this song; it's melodies rang throughout the office all day today. I think it's actually taking over my life. I dare you to whistle a few bars of this tune and NOT have it stuck in your head for the rest of the day. Triple dog dare you, sucka. Also, the Foo Fighters do a pretty nifty cover that's worth checking out.

Sports story of the week: Gotta be Maurice Clarett. A hatchet, a loaded assault rifle, two handguns, half a bottle of grey goose, a bullet proof vest, and a cat hair roller?? Nuff said.

Things that have me excited: A renewed love for the first season of Chappelle Show. The Patriots season approaching fast- I can't say enough about Tom Brady, just a stand-up guy... He'd be on the Wall of Man, but ummm he's arguably kinda fruity. I just put in a vacation request for the last week in August/first couple days in September... I'll be spending my entire vacation in lovely Ipswich, Massachusetts!!! The weather in New York is supposed to be extremely nice this weekend... probably try to spend a little time in the park. The Ballad of Ricky Bobby- what can I say, I love Will Ferrell... if you wanna spend a night debating something, ask a roomful of people who's funnier, Ferrell or Farley. I just turned 23 last week and let me say it's an honor to be the same age as MJ's number... now the next birthday I have to look forward to is 45.

Things that have me slightly depressed: The Red Sox- I know I already blew up my own head earlier today, but I'm just so frustrated with this team right now and I'm starting to suspect that Varitek has more influence on the pitching staff than I thought... Papelbon has blown two consecutive saves in his absence!!! My fantasy baseball team- The Wily Mo Blumpkins just haven't been cutting it all season... I manage to convince myself that they'll turn on the juice and I'll jump into at least third place, but I'm cemented in eighth and I can't do nothin' about it. I've been sleeping on a couch for the past week and I'll continue to do so for the next week or so... it's a nice couch, but a couch nonetheless.

Quote of the week: "Bitch! All that crazy dancin's makin' my penis soft."

Buzzwords from the week: Venti's, remote control blinds, Long Island Iced Tea races, Eiffel Towers, 60GB IPod Videos, French Connection, lease signings, AmsterJam

Picture of the Week: If you haven't seen the Best of Chris Farley SNL DVD, go buy it right now, take it home, chew on it, it's delicious. I can't stop laughing when I look at this picture.

Sweet Lincoln's Mullet!!!!!!

The Sox just got swept by the Royals, and all I can say is....

My name's Tyree, and yeah, I went to prison!

What's really in a name?.... so I feel like this blog has accomplished it's initial goal. I've successfully motivated my good friends over at the Honest Male Perspective to revive their all-but cremated blog. In the past month we've witnessed a special Tuesday edition of a List of Awesomeness from Doug (a nice little listing of interesting things you can find on the zany world wide web), a really entertaining casting call for the members of the blog (which, if I tried to do for my little establishment, wouldn't be quite as fun seeing that this is more of a one-man band), an unprecedented back-to-back-to-back posting from Mr. Dudley and two really well thought out postings from Popkin - we're still waiting on something from Aladdin... uhh i mean Tad. Regardless, I think it's time to rename the blog- the last thing I want is this little masterpiece to be shrouded in unoriginality.So here's what I ask of you folks: before you leave the site, drop a suggestion for a new title in the comments page. Just leave the best thing you can think of, don't stress out about it too much. For you comment virgins, click the comments button at the bottom of this post and then click the "Post a comment" button at the bottom of that page. Maybe we'll even have a vote when it's all said and done; after all this is a blogocracy, not a blogtatorship. Also, I have that nifty visitor counter at the bottom of the page, so I'll know if you minge ninja's are reading without contributing a name idea.

For the love of somewhat misleading headlines!!

So I just rolled into work - post-coffee, but still pre-eyebooger wiping session. ESPN.com came up on my screen from the previous evening and I hit refresh on my browser. Kind of a boring frontpage section, so I meandered over to the headlines down the side of the page. After reading an article about Maurice Clarett's crack and vodka-fueled superhuman tolerance for mace and stunguns, I ran across a headline that looked like it said "Bruschi out rest of season". Not knowing any "Bruschi's" other than the heart and soul of the New England Patriots defense. I had a little heart attack. Pretty standard Wednesday morning.

Turns out, the headline actually said PRE-season, but GODDAMN ESPN!! Your wreckless abandon with headline creation nearly cost me my life. Why is this newsworthy?? No one cares about players missing the pre-season!! Do something about this, Popkin.

P.S. Wily Mo hit a homerun last night. Boo ya.

Hey Phil, the jerk store called...

It looks like Phil Mushnick's from New Braunfels, TX, cuz this little article REEKS of lameness. Seriously Phil, why don't you write your next article about outlawing hot dogs at ballgames because a few poor schlubs have choked to death on hot dogs over the years. Or better yet, maybe they should start using tennis balls and duct-taped wiffle bats to avoid injuries caused by homeruns hit into the stands and broken bats that fly over the dugout into the box seats. Phil gives his readers an open invitation to call him a party pooper at the start of the article- I'll gladly take him up on the offer. Once he's done hating on t-shirt guns, he moves on the bash Mike & Mike because of their affinity for testicle jokes. Everyone knows testicle jokes are funny. Yeesh, and I thought Dan Shaughnessy was an ass.

Awww hamburgers...

So, this article doesn't give the full story, but as a result of absurd heat, I may be without power in the city tonight. Without power, there's no such thing as A/C. It might as well be a mythological creature. Lack of A/C is a sure fire way to make me angry... and I don't think you'll like me when I'm angry.

Man-breasts and Monkey-balls

Another case of lawmakers and journalists just having too much damn time on their hands.

http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=479266

I'm not saying I'm pro-man breasts, but come on... just because something's ugly or unpleasant to look at, doesn't mean you can go around creating laws mandating that it be covered up. If that was the case, Sam Cassell would never see the light of day.

Homosexuality is a stinky cologne

Derek Jeter released his new perfume... uhhh i mean cologne. As you'll see in that article, it reportedly smells like chilled grapefruit, clean oak moss and spice. If you ask me, "clean oak moss and spice" sounds like marketing-speak for gay and more gay. As for chilled grapefruit, I hear that's Jeet Jeet's nickname for A-Rod's fanny.







"You smell pretty."

You're with me, clutch hitting

"All other hitters are down here- David Ortiz is up here"

Okay, so those of you who aren't tittering like a field mouse at the title of this blog, let me refer you to this little Deadspin story about the sultan of catch phrases and nicknames. I've been meaning to bring this story to your attention for some time now, because it elevates Berman to Wall of Man status. For the full story- it even has a Wikipedia entry. Now all of you should understand when you see me wearing my "You're with me, leather" t-shirt.

The point of my story today, however, does not have to do with Chris Berman. It has to do with the master of disaster... and by disaster, I mean clutch hitting - Big motha-effin' Papi. After his performance last night, securing another Red Sox victory with a walk-off, three-run, frozen-rope over the centerfield wall, I'm officially converting to the church of Papi. All followers must own a Papi jersey (those of you who don't have a birthday gift for me yet, I'm a Large, which translates to a Small if you want it to be in the form of a belly-shirt), chant MVP every time he steps up to the plate (even if you're watching the game in a bar or at home), and kneel down and bow 34 times in the general direction of Santo Domingo, every morning when you wake up.

After last night, D-Ort now owns the all-time record for most HR's by a Red Sox hitter in any one single month AND he currently has three walk-off park-jobs, this season alone! He also has five walk-off hits in less than two months and a grand total of FIFTEEN (you can refresh your memory with a sweet Boston Globe slideshow right here.) in three seasons. He continually comes up big when all other Sox hitters fail to do the job. When he steps up to the dish in late inning hero situations, you think to yourself, "I want to believe he can do this again, but no human being could possibly be that clutch." Then with one swing of the hickory, he proves you wrong. While Coco Crisp is struggling a little bit to live up to his billing, he's having no problem creating interesting sound bites; I think he put it best when he said "You know how they say that it ain't over till the fat lady sings? Here, it ain't over till the big man swings." For all you fellow Sox fans, a little disheartened by the fact that the Yankees just stole one of the most talented players in the league from the Phillies for a few peon prospects, the Soxaholix do a good job of putting things in perspective when they point out "David Ortiz has fahts with more powah than Bobby Abreu."

A quick Wily Mo "chronic back" Pena, update. Trot could be out for three weeks and WMP did a good job in his first night as a replacement, coming a double short of the cycle and driving in 3 runs. That deserves a Wall of Man high-five.