En Route: Chellin'

As you read this, I'm experiencing the musical equivalent of blissfully soiled undies... Which could very well consist of blissfully soiled undies.

The good news is that my campsite is just around the way.  It has cleaned undies and lots and lots of cold beer.  So as you can see, my weekend is once again going to be better than yours.  But don't be upset! Enjoy it with me!

After you enjoy these:

• First this happens, then Buffalo loses... The gods favor Boston (Hockey World Blog)
• I'm nuts for D(z) nuts (Empty the Bench)
• Man, I wanna be Darren Sharper (The Big Lead)
• The true meaning of The Masters (Joe Sports Fan)

Go on...

En Route: Frozin'

Hockey, for better or worse, is still better than your favorite sport, even when it's in collegiate form.  Indeed, it's the sub zero answer to CBS' corporate-sponsored gaggle of non-stop commercials with a little men's basketball mixed in this weekend at Ford Field in Detroit. 

But first... Some respect:

• If you look us, then you'll like this... (Free Darko)
• A list of (formerly, now probably) one-armed men... (Big League Stew)
• Think Tiger's commercial is horrifying (and/or pathetic)?  Try some funny then... (Deadspin)
• And for more information then I'm about to provide below... (Hockey World Blog)

Go on...

En Route: Parade Pissin'

Okay, Here's what YOU gotta know!

My name is Seamus O'Shanahanigan and I'm a fucking St. Paddy's Day All-Stahhh!  Nobody's mohre Irish than I am, no one Pahty's as hahd as I do, and I love myself a fucking parade.

Why? 

Tits, booze, and buds.  The best fuckin' buds in the world I might add.  Shohre, sometimes I gotta break a bottle or two ova theih heads, but we'rall bettuh friends fawrit aftuhwoods.

Hehe's what you do:  Get 64 beers for yuhself.  That's right, 2-thirty packs of somethin' strong and then yuh gotta finagle 4 mohre of those lite pieces of shit.  The lites ah fuh when those faggots come mahchin' down Broadway.  I hate those fuckin queehs, rubbin theih cocksuckin' noses in my face.Well, hehe you go homos: 4 gay beehs slung right into yuh gay faces.  Now, beat it!  And take yuh Obama neighbuh cahe, with yuh!

And that's pretty much it.  All you need is lots of beer, eyes to see tits with, and an irrational hatred of gays and dahkies.  Happy Paddy's Day folks!

What ah you lookin' at , yuh fackin loozuh?

• We're in complete agreement, Dan-O! (With Leather)
• I think I just heard a handful of youth soccer players scream in horror (The Big Lead)
• Well this should surely inject some excitement, eh? (SS Reporters)
• Oh, it's that time! (Name of the Year)

Green beeh is fuh gay queehs.

En Route: Sparrin'

What a week for controversy, huh?  Specifically surrounding the surly practice of fisticuffs.  Most notably when freshman phenom Brittney Garner declared to Texas Tech's Jordan Barncastle that she would, "crimson her face in a hue not unlike her togs!" And boy did she ever. 

But women's sports were not the only arena where fighting was a story.  For NHL hockey, coming off a successful Olympic bump is now hearing calls to remove hockey one for all from the game.  "The Olympics were great and there was no fighting," critics charge.  In response, Steve Downie and Danny Carcillo dropped the gloves as soon as the opportunity presented itself this passed Tuesday.  The world kept turning and everyone lived.

Anyway, I think we can all agree that fighting, well very exciting in unexpected situations such as a women's basketball game or a blowout hockey game... Wait, that last one isn't unexpected at all... REGAHDLESS, fights are best when they are planned, scheduled, and when they take place in a squared circle, or a proximal parking lot or playground.  And well lookee here: don't we have something special planned for next week.  No, I am not referring to several white men arguing over whether or not Xavier should be in the tournament over Memphis (they shouldn't be).  I'm talking about the battle at Jerry World between Manny Pacquaio and Josh Clottey.  And regardless of the outcome (Manny's gonna win), no one will be protesting or complaining that anyone got punched in the face.  You know, since that's kind of the idea.  And won't that be refreshing?

But let's not get ahead of ourselves, since we got plenty to talk about over the next week.  As for girl fights?  Well, as long as it's kept out of the ice arena, then Sean Avery shouldn't have a problem with it.

Don't fight me on this:

• Best article of the week.  Wanna bet? (Free Darko)
• Is it better to burn out or a break a hip mid-period? (Melt Your Face Off)
• Now if we can just retire the people that say such things (KSK)
• Hey, geeks: check it out! (With Leather)

Hands up, y'all

En Route: Peacin'

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En Route: Standin'

So apparently lent is upon us or something, which is when this tax-free corporation peddling in fluff and assumption tries to make us give something or somethings up for 40 days in honor of sacrifice.  As in like, Oh my god, I don't know how I'm gonna go without french fries for the next 6 weeks.  Or like, man, not masturbating is gonna be tough, so I'm just gonna go out and get drunk and masturbate into someone's vagina/anus.  You know, the typical stuff.

Well tell you what, oh ye of questionable faith, there was once this great man whose name also began with a J.  He suffered greatly before his death but was none for doing great things before he died, most notably, winning a National Championship for a shitty southern school on the East Coast.  And before he died, he wanted to get his message across, namely that you need to live live to its fullest potential.  By soaking up and experiencing everything about it.  The pain, the joy, the details, your smallest day-to-day relationships, the sexually transmitted diseases, the meat on Fridays, hell, the meat at Friday's.  And while I cannot fully endorse that final proclamation, who am I to say otherwise?  But most importantly, this man provided us all a philosophy to which I stand by to this very day.  Namely, never give up.

Fucking EVER.

Alcohol?  Never.  Drugs?  Never.  Big Macs?  NEVER!  Masturbation?  Never ever... YOU HEAR ME?!?

Still not convinced?  Fine, I will give up something then.  For Lent, I'm giving up Lent.  Now back the fuck up and give me that filet.  I don't care what the day says.

Other things that should not be given up:

• Making completely inappropriate comments about co-workers (The Big Lead)
• Being really, really... REALLY creepy (The Sportress)
• Being bipolar?  And/or lying about being bipolar? (Free Darko)
• And of course, making terrible decisions (Zoner Sports)

Hey, that last one looked familiar...

Don't you go changin'!

En Route: Reboundin'

Football has left me.  We went out with a bang, but she's gone and now it's time for me to start pretending that I don't mind... That I'm better off... That something better is around the corner.

Which is bullshit.

But while I certainly cannot outrun the pain, it is always a good idea to keep your mind as occupied as possible during these times.  And what better way to occupy your mind with, well, what generally occupies the mind of any man?  But I ain't talking about just thinking about.  You gotta actualize it!  That's right, folks, it's rebound time.  And with just a little effort, it's really quite simple.

You see, when you're down, the fems can smell it.  Usually it's those that already reak like booze and vibrating jelly dong.  So you can already see why some nice sweat-scented flesh would be attractive, especially on such easy prey as a broken spirited man such as myself.  And look what we got here:

Hey hey, NBA All-Star weekend!  Looking g... Oh shit, who is that?  What are you doing at the same bad as... the Olympics?  That's just silly.  Step aside, dunk Arcompetition, H.O.R.S.E, and you too, celebrity game.  No, I'm not looking for something long haul, but two weeks just might be the perfect amount of time.  Maybe I'll take her out to see that new movie with all the beautiful people in it that obviously won't be formulaic, ephemeral, or aggravatingly named after an utterly ridiculous holiday!  We just had Christmas with our loved ones!  We don't need a second run dang near one month later...

Oh god, it's obvious that I'm not ready for a relationship... Maybe I'll just go see The Wolfman instead, and by myself... I miss her so damn much!

What to read about when you're not wondering where on earth Deuce's Olympic Hockey Preview went:

• Are you Armenian?  Bosnian?  Wanna be in the Olympics? (Melt Your Face Off)
• Meet my bizarro Serena Williams (The Sportress)
• Big 10 and Big 12 to officially change places (Wizard of Odds)
• And lastly, for all you loners... Willful or otherwise (Uncoached)

Spread the love, y'all

En Route: Bracin'

Because this isn't going to end well.

Or perhaps a preemptive strike is in order?  Why wait for the inevitable heartbreak, and broken hopes for a stable future?  Find someone or something else with which to occupy my time.

But what if it never ends?  What if this last meeting together lasts forever.  An endless string of Overtime sessions, cheating finality and conclusion forever and ever until...

Oh there I go again, being a romantic.  Why can I not remember the good times that we had together, and accept them for what they were, while acknowledging the bad but relegating them to their final resting place in the forgettable past?  Well, probably because I'm a big pussy.

I need someone. 

Oh!  I see something on the horizon.  Not a sure thing... But we'll get there.  In the meantime:

• I bet Freddy would understand. He's been there (Chicago Sports Mob).
• It was all just a silly mistake! We all make them (Zoner Sports)...
• A contract!  Why didn't think of that?  Make it lifelong (Jorge Says No!).
• I guess it happens to all of us.  Even the cutest amongst us (You Got Dunked On).

If this is it, well, let's just say I won't be leaving quietly... Nor will she. 

/wink wink

En Route: Hearin'

I ain't talkin' 'bout listenin'.

I'm talkin' 'bout hearin'.

In preparation for "Inventory 2010", I've been trying to keep my ear to the grindstone in order to be better prepared for the year-end festivities rather than rushing around for the last few months in order to familiarize myself with the pompously ordained essentials.  So expect a few more appearances from the Rock Cridick this year not only to bore you with heavily thesaurus-referenced articles, but to also improve and maintain any and all chops that may or may not exist. Why not, right?

And you've no doubt seen our recent Coachella post at which ol' Deucey and I will both be in attendance.  And after investing several hundred to a half-thousand dollars in gaining entry to this desert swassfest, I find that one maximizez such expenditures by being as educated about the music is possible prior to arrival.  Which is why I'm currently sampling every band that will be in attendance in order to better avoid Luceros of the world and enjoy the Major Lazers in attendance instead.  It's a project, but don't worry, I'm using plenty of work time to complete the chore.  Y'all as excited about it as I am, or what?

Now hear this:

• Can't get to the show?  Well then please sit snarkily in the corner (Hipster Runoff).
• I heard the grunts, but now I see the... Holy shit (Deadspin)!
• Who else knew Purple Rain was about that Minnetonka incident (AwfulAnnouncing)?
• And stop me if you've heard THIS one (The Sportress).

Let me tell you something... Yuh suspect!

En Route: Dreamin'

Need I say more?  No.  But I am going to anyway.

I love this holiday.  Yes, the day off is nice.  Yes, often times my birthday falls over this long weekend, and how cool is that?  But more than anything it is just outstanding that our country has a federal holiday devoted to a minority.  To frame this man in such general, even callous terms borders on the vulgar, but come on, did you forget where you were?

Martin Luther King, Jr. is easily one of my top 5 most essential historical figures.  I mean, he's right up there with Chris Farley and the guy that invented Kraft Singles.  We're talking big time here.  He arguably did more for this country than any non-President, perhaps with the exception of Benjamin Franklin, who has basically earned honorary President status given his appearance on our currency.  And perhaps most importantly, his actions fit right in line with FSD's core ideal:  namely, that it doesn't matter if your statements will be considered controversial, unpopular, or even foolish, just say it, that is, if you truly mean it.

And do you even know how much tale this cat pulled down?  By day, he was a blunt instrument of equality, tearing down every official racial barrier that stood in our nation's way.  By night, he was a ladies' man, fucking everything and anything that moved.  If you suddenly feel as if you're not doing enough with your life, well, you're probably right.  So don't fight it.  But, while you're thinking over your next life maneuver, take a break with some of this choice e-literature:

• Hockey and football, united in perfect harmony... /sniffles (Melt Your Face Off)
• You can take the Tiger out of golf, but you can't take the... Tiger out of golf? (The Sportress)
• Too bad Gil wasn't aware of such services (Food Court Lunch)
  
• And it is good to see the spirit of MLK still alive and well.  Ahem. (Style Points)

MLK weekend y'all.  Let freedom ring from couch to comfy recliner.

En Route: Pleadin'

Who the FUCK gets married in January? Put on a dress sweetheart and let's get those tits frozen off before I can even toss you in the sack to consecrate this temporary union! This week, as well as the following week, signify the most consequential football weekends of the year. Why the most consequential?

First off, the season is rapidly coming to an end. This means that we need to extract as much pleasure and excitement out of football as we can, because soon we won't have any football... Like, at all.

Secondly, this weekend and the next are the final days of wall-to-wall football. Meaning that we have early and late games. AND ON BOTH DAYS FOR FUCK'S SAKE! What's that? I shouldn't complain because I will still get one day out of the two to watch football? Hey sunshine, I'm an American and a male. I want it all and I want it all now. This drive is the very reason why we're at the top of this burning scrapheap called Earth.

Lastly, it is underdog weekend. Which of these teams will have the balls to knock off one of the evil bye-week teams in the Divisional Round? A Jets-Colts re-match? A Pats-Charge grudge match? One more Pack-Vikes showdown? The emergence of the dark horse-riding Cowboys? It's all up in the air!

While I'm stuck in a god damn church pew...

When you're busy NOT sending me text message updates on Saturday, check this old fly shit out:

• Just cause fantasy football is over, doesn't mean failure needs to end! (KSK)
  
• Guns don't kill people, Free Darko kills people. (The Sporting News)
  
• Warm up the bus, baseball.  It's gonna be cold once football ends. (Babes Love Baseball)
  
• College football, we bid you good night. (EDSBS)

Drink it in, e'rbody.

En Route: Noggin'

There is nothing more laughable than coming into work on Christmas Eve.  Sure, everyone makes the best of it; there is good, a Yankee Swap, sex on the copy machine.  But no work actually gets done, so in that case, what's the point?  Why not make work optional that day?  If you're going on vacation and get some loose ends to tie up, then go crazy.  But, if you got Christmas shopping to do, then shit, I'm not coming into work.  And have you ever been Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve?  It's amazing.  All the so-called "smart" people are done shopping.  Mom is home cooking the meal, or wrapping gifts, and so the dudes got free reign in every aisle of our choosing.  And if you shopping after hitting the bar as is our custom, well let's just say that things are even easier.

And some of us have other priorities as well.  Priorities such as finishing up blog posts for the year end.  Posts such as the Best 50 Songs of 2009, the Best 25 albums of 2009, the 10 "Best" Shows of 2009, the 40 Best Movies of the Decade, oh and for you who actually expect to read about sports at FSD, the Top 10 Games of 2009.  So no links this week, but do check the "Otherz" section of the blog if you are so inclined, and make sure you swing on through next week during those few special days that separate Christmas from the New Year for some special end of the year posts.  We'll be working on them this weekend for your viewing pleasure.

So no matter what you celebrate or choose not to celebrate, we ALL get that extra day off...

Merry Christmas, y'all...


PS. THE SHEET® should be up, well, whenever Deuce stops pining over his annual post.  Stay tuned.

En Route: Spumonin'

See what I did there?

Now we all know that Native Americans have had plenty of encounters with bears throughout the ages.  But Midwestern natives?  Pssht.  They don't know what to do after stepping into the bear cage.  And that the playing surface will be ice makes no difference to these caniforms.  A mauling is likely, there ain't enough war paint in the world that will make any difference.

Bruins - 4
Blackhawks - 3

I don't make the rules, but I do have to play by them.

When not considering the fate of mythical battles, consider the following:

• To stand or sit?  That is the question. (Fark)
• When an asshole thinks you're an asshole, is panic in order? (ESPN)
• Does rain increase the possibility of a psychotic episode? (Bugs and Cranks)
• Holy shit. What the fuck is that? (EDSBS)

Go B's

En Route: Shoppin'

Christmas is retarded.

Well, at least the process of it anyway.  The consumer feats that is on display is truly wonderful, and it wouldn't be a problem if the whole fandango was simply referred to as "The Consumer Feast".  Or maybe even, "The Feast of Consumers."  Either one works.  And either one would work more than this whole feigning of "spirituality."

Go on...

En Route: Punkin' Out

 

As in punkin' out.

Not in the way that I will be with Ted Leo and the Pharmacists this weekend, but more along the lines of, "Hey Jables, you doing THE SHEET® this week?  Or, are you punkin' out?"

Jables?

God damn you, Jables...

Go on...

En Route: Workin'

Few ways we could proceed after posting a lead photo such as that... But I'm just going to let that picture speak for itself rather than embarassing myself or tarnishing nearly 150 years of slave-free society.  The point is, my ass is at work today, and I'm sweating as if I were in the fields pre-cotton gin thanks to skunky 4th of July beer than ma and pa made sure to hang onto just for my visit on this special occasion.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that skunky 4th of July beer was actually Thanksgiving beer from the year before, so I guess it was fitting after all.

And as a matter of fact, I'm not sure if the beer is the problem, or if I'm still reeling from those sorry excuses for football game yesterday.  Holy balls.  There was not one second of drama, let alone entertainment provided by any of those games yesterday.  3 blowouts, 2 meaningful fantasy performances, and 1 pretty awesome bomb of a completion just does not cut it.  The good news?  The average margin of victory is now only 23.  So although Greg Jennings and Steve Smith didn't do shit for you fantasy teams yesterday, a full 2 point drop in average Thanksgiving blowout occurred, so you can always hang your (en route) non-playoff bound hat on that development.

And while you are all sleeping, eating, and mainly, NOT WORKING, feel free to enjoy the following:

• If a curse is uttered on the NFL Network, does it make a sound? (Sports by Brooks)
• If you happen to be making your Christmas list and also love hockey, well, here you go (World Hockey Blog)
• Still hungry?  Well here's a low-carb alternative to the Baby Bird* (Basketball Jones)
• What this segment probably should look like (Sportress of Blogitude)

Happy super duper long weekend y'all.  Fuckers.

*Baby Bird = Turkey, stuffing, cranberry stuff... and maybe mayo if you're into that.  Go ahead, it's a better name than whatever you've not been calling it. 

En Route: Dashin'

In many ways, it is actually better to be a fan of the Browns or the Lions, than compared to say, the Jets or Broncos.  You see, fans of the Lions and Browns had no hope in the first place.  Sure, they cheered and supported their team regardless and at varying levels of consistency, but there were never any delusions.  For Jets or Broncos fans, fans fully believe that their teams had a shot at making the playoffs.  They still do to an extent, but we all know that it isn't going to happen.

Go on...

En Route: Apocalypsin'

So, it's a nice calm day outside.  You're dealing with your usual routine, your shitty neighbor is yelling at her shitty kid, and you're trying not to spill coffee on your pants on the way out to the car.  When all of a sudden, birds just start falling from the sky.  Then, the grounds begins to slowly vibrate.  You hear a dull rumble that slowly builds into a staggering roar.  You look across the valley toward the southern hills when you see vast amounts of water cascading over the hills until they are completely engulfed by the waves.  The camera then cuts to a token African American male that says something along the lines of, "Aw, hell naw!"

What?  It's not a Jerry Bruckheimer movie?  But it looks so much like one.  Are you telling me that there's no flash cut cinematography and obvious, racist comic relief forced into the rapidly rising action sequences that never end until the credits roll until our overwhelmed attentions and infiltrated senses snap back into their appropriate levels?  Well, I just hope young Roland learned a few things from the master before signing onto this project.

Go on...

En Route: Re-Animatin'

Yeah, I got a rash, man...

You ever have one of those weeks when you just feel zombified?  Everything feels a little more distant, maybe even less meaningful.  But when something has the audacity to get in your face, it annoys you just a little more than usual?  I mean, you're not quite ready to start snacking on the still-beating heart of your annoying-ass cube-mate, but crazier things have passed through your head.  You want to run away, but well, your creaky knees and ankles make you fear that your de-calcified bones might not support the effort.  So you slowly stumble into the future, unsure of what lies ahead, but desperately hoping the weekend will represent some kind of finish line, or at the very least a refreshment station of some kind, steadily moaning all the while.  In fact, typing these words is somehow putting undue stress on various upper body joints.

The funny thing about zombie movies, is that they never really delve into "curing" the zombies.  I guess Romero dove into it a little bit during the Day of the Dead to an extent.  But that begs the question: is there actually a cure?  I mean, if the dead were re-animated, then how can you cure them?  If the goal of modern medicine is to make people better, in that they are more capable of living, then is the only cure for zombies to simply make them more capable of dying since they were dead to begin with?  And just how the hell does it spread so quickly?

My head hurts.

Either way, I'm trying out my own cure tonight.  It involves beverages high in alcohol content, women short on clothing content, followed by some activities heavy in adult content.  I'll let you know how that works out on Monday.  Whether I ruin every zombie movie-to-be in the process or not. 

Other potential remedies:

• They say laughter cures everything (Jock and Balls)
• Maybe you just gotta cry it out (Awful Announcing) 
• Little weed never hurt nobody... Well almost nobody (With Leather)
  
• Or, perhaps just read a bunch of garbage written by a bunch of assholes, until you realize that things could always be worse (Barstool)
  

 Bottoms up, gang.

En Route: Trippin'

Treats:

• So how did OKC end up with the worst team name in professional sports? (Mental Floss) 
• Mike Dunleavy's Coach of the Year award is in the goodie bag... Until he blows it, of course (Basketbawful)
  
• The hazards of lax gun control laws (Sports Pickle)
  
• CSI: Maimi suddenly needs a serious nose job (Awful Announcing)
  

Now let me tell you a story about the last time I went trick-or-treating.

Go on...