I’m sorry I haven’t posted anything this week, but unfortunately there’s a reason for this:

Last Friday I got a voicemail from my mom on the way home from work.  My Aunt Gretchen (her sister) had her heart stop.  She was rushed to the hospital where her heart stopped again.  Thankfully doctors were able to get it started again and she has been in deep sedation ever since.

Tests were performed to see what was the problem, but ruled out heart attack or stroke.  She is in too fragile of a state to do any in-depth testing on the brain to see what damage caused this or what damage has been done.  This is especially scary considering two family members (Uncle Jackie and my mom’s dad who I never met) both died under the same mysterious circumstances and everyone on my mom’s side was asked to get a cardiac work-up to see if there’s some genetic disorder causing these unfortunate events.  I hope for the best regarding these tests and I know that I can’t change my genetics so I’m prepared for whatever these tests reveal.

Her prognosis is still too risky to call right now.  I’m admittedly not a praying person and I don’t want to be someone who only prays when bad things are happening, but if you do pray my family and I would greatly appreciate you keeping her in your thoughts.

I bring this to light a week after it originally occurred because I was in denial all week about how serious it was.  I kept saying that she will turn positive and start recovering day-by-day until she was fine in a week…but that’s not what happened.

Today is when it all got to me.  I received texts of support from cousins on my dad’s side of the family and that’s when reality came crashing down…this is serious.  She’s not going to have the happy recovery seen in movies and television.  This isn’t going to be a brief scare that was caused by something minor and easily fixed…this is touch-and-go second-by-second followed by an extended period of rehab before life has any semblance of normalcy to it.

Aunt Gretchen’s crisis got me thinking about Uncle Jackie and about how I grieve over death depending on age.  Every death is sad, but how old someone is dictates the main emotion I feel.  If a kid tragically dies I get angry…why did someone who hasn’t lived life deserve to have their life taken away?  If an elderly person dies I have a sense of calm…this person lived a long and fulfilling life and we should reflect on everything they’ve done in this world.  If someone my own age I’m too dumbfounded to be emotional…this person is my age and they’re dead?…I don’t understand!…one minute I’m in class with them and now they’re gone?…how?!?!?

The death that gets to me is the middle aged person (30-55).  This age puts me in Life’s Too Short mode.  This age range I can’t shake that life is too short.  They started a family, got into a career, have plans for the future…and it’s all taken away before they can see through everything.  That’s what gets to me the most.

And so I deal with middle aged deaths going into LTS mode.  I end up doing things because I don’t want to let an opportunity slip by me do to fear of failing.  I don’t do crazy things like stick my head in a shark’s mouth to feel alive or get a face tattoo a la Mike Tyson because I want to see what it’s like.  I do things that are out of my comfort zone.  This time I asked a girl on a date.  Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have done it because the situation didn’t warrant to ask because the timing wasn’t right, but I told myself “LTS” and did it anyway.  I want to not have something because I tried and failed…not failed to try.

If I had my choice I would live my life by LTS 24/7.  I’m normally paralyzed by fear of failure, but LTS mode helps me get through that self-erected wall.  Life is all about experiences.  Positive experiences are what make life worth living and negative experiences teach you life lessons and become tougher as an individual.  Telling myself that failure is ok is something that is hard to come by, but LTS helps me through that.

Not only do I get angry, dumbfounded, calm or LTS mode during grieving, but I also do something else no matter what emotional state I’m in…I drink.  It’s how I calm my nerves, relax and celebrate life. 

Usually the first few drinks have a somber tone to them over as I reflect on whatever life crisis I’m dealing with.  The next few I become accepting of what has happened.  The last stage I become happy as I remember all the positives there were before the crisis and how life should be about happiness and joy.

So here’s to you Aunt Gretchen: I raise this glass to you.  Not for thinking we will lose you, but to the future memories our family will have with you still in our lives because with the thoughts and prayers of your family and friends you will face this crisis head-on, fight your way through it and return stronger than ever.

Cheers.

Dream House Blueprint #2: The Man Cave.

Give this man a week’s worth of breaks at work…he’ll give you a Man-sterpiece!

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I just went to the dentist’s office for the first time yesterday since I was an innocent high school student looking to get A’s, apply to colleges and not drool on myself when a girl talked to me.  Now it’s seven years later.  I’m a depraved 25 year-old man who enjoys C’s and D’s, graduated college and doesn’t drool on himself anymore when girls talk to him…he giggles like a little girl.

Anyway during my appointment I came to realize that the doctor’s office is a really awkward place once you hit high school.  When you’re a kid the doctor’s office was a mix of heaven and hell.  The hell consisted of getting pried out of your comfy bed when you’re sick to go get painful shots from an old man smelling of moth balls and who won’t stop pinching your face even if it’s covered in snot. 

The heaven is universally one thing: lollipops.  The worst thing a doctor could do: replace lollipops with stickers.  Who the hell wants a sticker?  You can’t eat a sticker!  You just stuck a Popsicle stick down my throat…you have to have Popsicles somewhere!!!

Where the doctor’s office starts to become awkward is as a freshman in high school.  When you’re a 15 year-old boy you have so much to worry about as is.  You’re in a new school, puberty is in the middle of ravaging your body into a hairy, pimply, voice-cracking pile of sweaty, stinky bones; girls smell and look prettier and you find whenever you stare at their socially acceptable lumps on their chest you get a socially unacceptable lump in the front of your pants…that’s a double standard!  Anyway the awkwardness starts right when the doctor utters this phrase:

“Turn your head and cough.” 

As soon as that is said…you hate the doctor’s office!  No amount of lollipops can change that…ok, maybe a truck-full…but they have to be Tootsie or Blow Pops!…no crappy purple ones with the stupid twisty handle on them!

Side note: I had a great physical experience once and it coincides with the first item on the list below.  I was a sophomore and needed a physical again.  I was not looking forward to the awkward conversation that happens while your jewels are being cradled: “So…you like peanut butter M&M’s?”…”Um, yeAAAAAHHHHHHHHH COLD HANDS!!!”

I sat in the waiting room waiting to get this over with and when the door opened…my pediatricians hot female coworker stepped in!  My original doctor was out and she was seeing his patients.  She did all the other stuff and when it came to the turn and cough maneuver she asked if I wanted her to get a male doctor. I calmly replied something like: “No, that’s ok madam.  I’m sure you have all the proper knowledge of the techniques needed for this.  You may proceed.”  But in my head I was thinking “A FEMALE IS TOUCHING ME DOWN THERE…uh-oh…NO BONER!  NO BONER!  NO BONER!  NO BONER!  NO BONER!”

After the first physical you only go to doctor’s routinely for two things: whenever blood is coming out of an orifice or there’s something wrong with your balls (you gotta watch out for your boys!)  I know you should have preemptive visits every year…but society made you voluntarily have another man touch your private area!  I don’t want that to happen again!…until I’m 40 and I get turned into a life-size finger puppet.

Having said all that…there are some pleasant surprises you can get during doctor’s visits:

Attractive women working.  Very prevalent in dental assistants.  This is a huge perk because the assistants do most of the work.  The dentist comes in for the assessment and any major work.  The assistants get to do the cleaning and easy work…which means more time with her.  Sure, you don’t talk because your mouth is open, but for people with no game like me it’s a godsend. 

A thing of beauty happened yesterday as well.  I had my face facing directly up, the dental assistant had to bend over to see the work needing to be done and the next thing you know…side boob on the cheek!  Yes it’s pitiful!  Yes it’s sad!  Yes it’s incredibly weird and pathetic!…but it’s nice nonetheless.

This point works for men…for women?…I don’t know.  I don’t know what happens if the OBGYN is an attractive man.  I mean do you?…no I don’t wanna know!…I mean does he?…no, leave it alone, me!…is it like washing a car where you can order a deluxe “buffing” serv…AHHHHHHHHHHHH  STOP IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Negative STD test.  Obviously there are millions of other tests that are matters of life and death, but for college students…this is huge! 

It doesn’t matter if you’re doing tests because you just want to know or if you’re there because you went raw with a girl who popped a Valtrex pill in the shot you bought her.  I once got an HIV test not because I was afraid, but because I was so broke I couldn’t afford condoms and they gave away free condoms afterward (a penny saved means safe sex with Penny…hi-oh!) 

As expected the results came back negative, but even with the results being what I thought (I’m negative, ladies…STD-free since 1993…kindergarten was tough, though…just a blur of shooting up melted Lucky Charm marshmallows and walking the streets behind the sandbox) I still did a mini-fist pump for the good news.

Accompanying someone with a funny ailment.  You’re the one who’s safe.  You’re the one who’s completely healthy.  You’re the one there for moral support.  They’re the one with a keg tap stuck in their butt.  Priceless.

Seeing a specialist with a funny name.  Very rare, but a source of mini-enjoyment and proof that we can be pigeon-holed by our parents into occupations.  Proctologist Seymour Butts.  OBGYN I.C. Beaver…and those are just two examples from the mind of an immature adult!

Thank you doctors for helping us feel better, but also thank you for giving us awkward moments with our pants down!

Now before you start yelling, screaming and spitting on me for such an outlandish second as a result of last night’s snorefest known as Alabama v. LSU II just breathe slowly.

Those were the two best teams in the nation.  It just so happened that each defense was incredibly fast and athletic while each offense not named Trent Richardson was allergic to the endzone.  Alabama put a definitive stamp on the season with the 21-0 domination and laid claim once and for all that…the BCS works.

Yes, yes I’m aware that LSU beat Alabama earlier in the season and that Alabama didn’t even win its division of the SEC, let alone the conference.  Those are true, but the BCS still found the rightful champion it vies for every year.

Here’s the reason why the BCS works (every other reason works, but isn’t close to the top):

Every game matters.  In every other sport you lose one game…it’s ok, get ‘em next week, kid.  In college football…it could knock you out of the national championship race.  Forces every team to be on it’s toes every week whether it’s a rivalry game or 11 nuns they found on a bus.  The true champion knows how to win while not on their A-game.

It’s also not just your team’s games that matter…people care about other teams they otherwise wouldn’t.  Every team that is above yours in the rankings takes center stage when there’s a chance of an upset.  This makes every Saturday worth watching and leaves you with a vested interest.

Not only does every little game matter, but teams are encouraged to take on huge non-conference games so that if they win they will jump up the polls and increase their odds of making the championship game.  With a playoff system big non-conference games will go away.  What’s the incentive to take on a team you could lose to when all you have to do is schedule creampuffs non-conference and take care of your conference schedule?  Losing bad to a non-conference foe could derail your whole season…playing Atlanta State College University of Farmers won’t.

The BCS has gotten it right every time, but in 2004 when there were three undefeated teams and Auburn got screwed.  In other years there have been controversy at times, but here’s the key…WIN YOUR GAMES AND YOU’RE IN!  In the end you may think the system is against you, but you’re the one who lost on the road to the mediocre team…it’s on you…unless you’re 2004 Auburn…the system did f*** you.

I agree the BCS hasn’t been perfect, but the system is constantly tweaked to become better and more precise to find the two best teams.  In the end the BCS has worked over 90% of the time.  That’s Dean’s List material; better than Trident gum with dentists; and marriages.  People will counter with saying a playoff system is 100%…but is it?

Playoffs in other sports aren’t perfect, either.  Last year in the NFL the Seattle Seahawks went 7-9 and not only made the playoffs, but hosted a playoff game.  In MLB the NL West routinely has teams barely getting over .500 into the playoffs, but an AL East team winning over 90 games gets to watch the postseason from home.  Even the Holy Grail of college playoffs isn’t fool-proof.  March Madness is great to watch and 68 teams get in, but there is no way those teams are the best teams in America.  The Big Sky winner who went 15-17 is better than a major school who went 20-12?  HA!

Let’s say an eight team playoff happened in college football next year…how would it be decided?  Will it be the top eight teams in the rankings?  You’ll have all sorts of controversy if there is one spot left and seven major teams with two losses.  Will it be conference champions?  If this is the case why even bother with non-conference games as mentioned earlier?

You’ll have controversy no matter what method is chosen, but that’s the beauty of college football…it’s imperfect.  I know this shouldn’t be something to celebrate, but it’s part of the charm.  It keeps the sport in the front of the Sportscenter and newspapers…and that’s why the BCS is the best option.  Oh, yeah…one more thing…

GO BUCKS!!!

It’s the New Year!  Let’s get to our resolutions!

What is it?  Cutting out caffeine?  Pumping the brakes with alcohol?  Promising to always wear pants going to church (yeah!  Good luck with that one!…you can’t spell mass without ass!)  I’m betting yours is the same as everyone else’s…losing weight.

Everyone has used this resolution at one point in their adult lives.  No one has dieting as a resolution before college.  The only thing you knew about diet when you were 10 was that it was written on cans of pop that tasted like somebody farted in muddy water and put it in a can.

As soon as the Freshmen 15 gets put on 80% of people have resolutions to lose said 15.  The reasons for losing the weight differ from everyone, too.  People want to be healthier.  People want to look better towards the opposite sex in order to get, how the young people say, “laid”.  People want to become a better cross dresser so they won’t get last place again this year in the Beyonce look-a-like contest…I swear I they can do better if I they only get less love handles and if I they had 10% less chest hair and if I they invert my their penis like their turning a sock inside out and if………….scratch that last sentence.

Anyway I didn’t make a New Year’s Resolution this year.  That would just be adding on to the list of things I resolved to do with my life that I feel short on: bubble gum tester when I was five; cootie shot inventor when I was eight; becoming the 47th most popular Bryan in school when I was 13; statue in the girls’ locker room showers when I was 18; becoming the Surgeon General of the United States and saying that women shouldn’t have sex with men whose penis is > 4” or they’ll die when I was 23…a resolution would just make things worse.

I do want to start exercising though.  My body has seen better days.  Right now I get winded going up a flight of stairs.  When I turn the steering wheel my gut somehow puts the emergency brake on.  Every time I take of my shirt in public I get shot with a tranquilizer dart and put in the Columbus Zoo’s gorilla exhibit.  I used to be able bench press 225 lb. regularly…now I’d be lucky to bend down and put weight on the lifting bar without splitting my pants.

The problem with exercising is I have no time for it.  I work 40 hours a week and I’m busy doing something everyday of the week.  Monday is Lings and Wings night where I drink cheap Yeunglings and eat at least 15 cheap chicken wings.  Tuesday is Nap Day where I nap for three hours then rent a Redbox movie and overpay for Chinese food.  Wednesday is “Make fun of people for working out while gently petting my beer gut day and feel the cholesterol from the burrito I ate pulse through my heart” day.  Thursday is when I spend my time making sure the couch doesn’t float away by laying on it.  Friday and Saturday is when I make my social rounds with friends by drinking social rounds with friends.  And Sunday is when I make sure my bedsheets still keep me warm and I do my civic duty and make sure that various porn sites are up and running so other people don’t have to (you’re welcome, America!)………………where is time for exercise?

I’ve tried various ways to exercise, too, but with disastrous results.  I tried jogging on a treadmill at work last month, but I after 45 minutes I just couldn’t do it…I couldn’t tie my shoes symmetrically so I went home.  I tried P90X a few years ago and the first week went great…then I did half of what I was told to do (P45X)…then 1/3 (P30X)…then I looked at the disc (Peek-0X)…then I watched Jack Bauer and had Dominos while surfing the net (Pizza24XXX).

The furthest I got in exercising was my freshman year of college at Ohio University.  I got in decent shape, gained a lot of muscle and only had four restraining orders when I took my shirt off at the beach for spring break instead of the usual citation of indecent exposure for my man-cans.  However: I also watched five hours of ABC Family programming from 12-5 pm everyday, played Pokemon on my computer for weeks on end and got caught cranking one out by one of my roommates and speaking Strokenese (the language every guy speaks when he tries to talk after someone catches him self-medicating.  It’s a bunch of gibberish followed by a question that has nothing to do with anything: “AAAAAAAHHHHHHH…mmm…uh…ahem!…uh…so…how do you like pottery?”)  In other words…I was in shape physically, but not socially.

I still exercise now every so often.  I occasionally pick up some dumbbells and do a couple…I mean a lot…I mean SUPERDUPERAWESOMEI’MSEXYWANNADATEMENODON’TRUNAWAY…amount of weight.  I’ve jogged…I mean I’ve almost gone jogging…I mean I’ve thought about jogging…I mean I remember what a treadmill looks like (that’s the machine where you put a lap band around your waist and giggle the fat away, right?).

Here’s the bottom line: I’m going to get in a shape that doesn’t resemble 6’ of Flubber inside a skin suit.  I’m looking to drop a few pounds, look a bit thinner and to have digital scales start giving me a number when I weigh myself instead of “FAT”.  I know I can do it.  All I have to do is stop eating unhealthy foods…and cut out drinking alcohol…and exercise everyday…and stop watching so much TV…

I can make that my 2013 resolution.

One hour.

That’s 60 minutes.  3,600 seconds.  Two 30 minute TV shows.  Four quarters of football play.  59 1/2 minutes of crying after premature ej…what?

However you slice the pie it totals one hour; and later tonight, starting at 11 pm, will be the most harrowing, scary, pressure filled hour ever created by man since having to watch The Bachelor…finding a kiss at midnight.

Being a single man has its perks.  You don’t have to clean your room for anyone, your diet can consist of nothing remotely close to a vegetable and you can leave schoolgirlswhoneedspanked.com up without ridicule.  However midnight on New Year’s Eve is a positive because you don’t have to deal with the hour from Hell.

Now I’ve never had to disarm a bomb, but I have a general idea of what the pressure is like.  You have a limited amount of time as a timer keeps getting smaller and smaller while you have to put all your focus and energy into something bad happening…kinda like the NYE kiss.

The timeline for finding someone to kiss at midnight goes the same way year in and year out to every single male on the planet who isn’t a male model, loaded with cash or packing a small dog in his pants.  It all begins at 11:

11:00 pm…12/31/Year…at a party.  You’re having a great time at this party.  A lot of people have come out dressed in fantastic outfits (except for the one guy in a baby diaper with a hole cut out in the front for women to “shake his rattle”) and looking to start another year with a clean slate.  The alcohol is flowing, the conversation is engaging, but one thing is on your mind…a kiss at midnight.

11:15 pm.  A quick look around the room will help gauge the situation.  You can easily weed out the women in relationships, any parents if they’re there and anyone with a cold sore (EWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).  Once you spot some possible options you have to come up with a game plan.

11:20 pm.  Time to execute!  The first move for everyone on this night is to bump into someone at the food table: it’s an easy way to start up a convo, you get to unravel your awesome food pun (“Wow…this cheese isn’t just delicious…it’s Gouda!”) and you gain some insight into whether she’ll be open to a kiss.  Does she, in Beyonce’s words, have a ring on it?  Does she smile when making eye contact?  Does she have a set of lips?  This is what’s going on in your head and you think everything is going great…but in reality she hated your joke, doesn’t make eye contact whatsoever and was two seconds away from pepper spraying you until you looked away giving her a chance to sprint in the opposite direction.

11:25 pm.  Ok, so the first try didn’t go so well.  It’s ok.  The Wright brothers went through tons of prototypes before they achieved flight.  Actors routinely need to have multiple takes in order to get everything perfect.  Lingerie places went through all sorts of research and development to cut costs before inventing crotchless panties to save on material.  Just refocus and get in the game.  You can’t go back to the food table, but there is another place where you can drum up conversation…

11:30 pm.  The bathroom line!  Every girl there has to wait for something and would love to talk if not just to keep their mind off their full bladder.  You saunter over to the line and drum up a conversation with a good looking girl leaning against the wall.  She seems into you, but she’s not doing a lot of talking and is just bobbing her head up and down.  What’s wrong with this chick?  Doesn’t she know human interaction is a two way street?  It’s looks like she needs to…

11:34 pm.  And she vomits on you.  Guess that’s why she was in line.  Great.

11:37 pm.  You throw away the puke-infused shirt and root around in the nearest bedroom for a suitable replacement.  Unfortunately this party is at a female apartment so instead of finding a polo shirt that fits you you’re stuck with either a sundress or the oversized T-shirt she wears to bed that has a picture of a kitten wearing overalls.

11:40 pm.  With your new buddy Farm Kitty firmly planted on your chest you come to the realization that you aren’t going to find a girl to kiss and you’re stuck with another year of loneliness, eating whole frozen pizzas for breakfast and arguing with your credit card company that your subscription to Trailer Park Hussies should be for $15.99 and not $16.17.  There’s no point in trying to make an effort anymore.  You might as well just start throwing shots back and get drunk enough to make awkward comments involving Ryan Seacrest and what he likes to do with a roll of frozen cookie dough and a portly Asian man named Fukamana.

11:53 pm.  After downing seven shots with a man wearing a lampshade you decide something…this kiss can still happen!  You’re determined!  You’re confident!  You’re barely able to stand up!  It’s time to be the man no guy wants to be on New Year’s…Captain Desperation.

11:56 pm.  Captain Desperation is on the prowl.  He’s frantically running around the apartment making eye contact with every woman possible trying to find someone who doesn’t quickly look away in disgust so he can lock lips.  He’s using every line he can think of: “You’re pretty…wanna make out?”, “My lips are cold…can you warm them up with yours?”, “I lost my keys…can I search for them in your mouth with my tongue?”  As expected Captain Desperation strikes out once again.

11:59 pm.  The champagne is poured.  All eyes are on the TV for the ball drop…except for yours which are alternating between rolling in the back of your head and staring at the ass of a girl whose boyfriend is giving you the death stare.  The one goal you had for the night is out the window.

30 seconds to midnight.  It’s so simple!

25 seconds.  Just kiss a girl!

20 seconds.  You’ve done it eight times before!  You’re like a young Ron Jeremy with that many kisses.

15 seconds.  You’ve failed and you’re by yourself.

10 seconds.  It’s just you…

9.  And the dog…

8.  Who is a female…

7.  No!…

6.  You wouldn’t…

5.  But it’s for good luck…

4.  Their mouths are cleaner than ours…

3.  But it’s not a human…

2.  Better not do it…

1.  It’s not worth it…

12:00 am of the new year.  And now you know what Alpo tastes like.

Happy New Year everybody!

Greetings to everyone out there who follow this blog regularly, tune in occasionally while their porn is buffering and those who are waiting for me to finally do some upskirt pics of myself to help them suppress their appetite as a form of diet.

I know it has been awhile since my last post.  I had things get in the way like holiday shopping, being sick a week, continuing unsuccessfully in my quest to perfect a way to deep fry Sailor Jerry’s and attempting to start jogging only to hurt my lower back like a 50 year-old man…just peachy.

Anywho I now have another issue in my life that is getting in the way, but in a really, really good way: my father has bought me seasons 1-5 of Dexter on DVD for Christmas.  I’ve only seen seasons six and seven on Showtime.  Needless to say in the time I’m not spending at work, writing here, sleeping jacking i…helping nuns cross the street…yeah…I am mesmerized by a fantastic show.  I just changed discs so I figured this is the best chance for me to get a post in while the hypnotic trance is off, so here it goes:

Being a man is awesome.  You get to watch sports in your own filth, eat deep fried cheese while chugging beer, pee in public without fear of soiling your undies or having to be in the most vulnerable position of squatting (seriously…I can whip this humongous…ok, superb…ok, average…ok, presentable…ok, my infantile member out anywhere…it’s great) and as soon as you turn 50 once a year you get a doctor to put a finger up your…ok that’s not so great…anywho, being a man rocks.

The beauty of a man’s mind is that it is constantly working.  Granted the work that’s being done between the ears isn’t going to change the world 99.999993% of the time (I don’t think we can cure cancer by imagining Eva Mendes and Jennie Finch making out during a pillowfight…but it couldn’t hurt, damnit!), but there’s something always happening.  I also know with 100% certainty of something that every man is thinking of 100% of the time…and I’m going to share it with you right now.

There are three lists that men keep track of in their head in every social situation: The 3 “F***!” Lists: “F*** yeah!” for women, “F*** you!” for men and “Oh, f***!” for disasters.  Allow me to provide some basics for the lists:

These lists are when men are by themselves in a setting when they don’t know other men.  If other men are with them these three lists get talked about vocally as a sign of camaraderie and friendship.  Places like in line at the bank, at work in a cubicle or sitting on a bus or in class is where it works best.

These lists never are used during family functions with family members, however the man in question may make some lists based on people a certain family member knows like a cousin, sister or in rare cases grandma who knows a certain GILF you saw in water aerobics bending down to get her noseplug and let you see down her one piece to her glorious boo…um…ignore that…anyway….

These lists are also never used on friends, except “Oh, f***!”.  You know the people in the room, like them and know their status in terms of relationships and where they fit into your life.  If you involve friends in the “F*** yeah!” or “F*** you!”…you have issues that may/may not require attaching two cattle prods to your nipples while your ass is put in honey and sat on a hill of fire ants…it’s the only way I learn things.

Another point for the girlfriends reading this: it’s only single guys who think this.  Don’t get mad at your boyfriend because you think he’s doing this…he’s not.  He loves you very much and would never do anything so vile or disgusting inside his head because your his #1 princess…………is….is she gone?….did she buy it?…….YESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!  (High fives all around)….IT WORKED!!!!!!…uh-oh…that wasn’t supposed to be typed…………….oops…….

The most important part is that there is an infinite number of sub-lists under one of the main three lists.  It’s all about creativity, how much time you have and what your current mood is.  Also it is not uncommon to merge all lists into one amazing event.  That hat trick, albeit rare due to the amount of time needed, is an accomplishment huge enough at huge moments like in wedding vows or gravestones.

Now that I’ve laid out the base…let’s get f***ing!…oh, and ladies…feel free to do this, too if you already don’t…

#1 “F*** yeah!”

The “F*** yeah!” list is simple…it’s about making sweet, sweet (and on most occasions dirty, unspeakable) love to women in the room.  However it goes much deeper than that.

The most common sub-list is “Who do I want to do the most?”  It’s the simplest one…whoever the man in question deems to be the hottest is the answer.  He then ranks #2, 3…and so on and so forth. 

The most practical one question is “Who would be most likely to do me?”  This one takes into account looks, any glances you may have shared and whether or not she’s in your league.  The hottest girl rarely wins this distinction unless the man in question is at a female prison and the only good looking one there has a conjugal visit set up for whoever’s in her eyesight first. 

Another sub-list is “Who wants to do me?”  In theory it’s essentially the hottest girl list upside down.  Of course that’s not the truth…but this is in our head, damnit!

From these three sub-lists comes the creativity portion.  Where’s the safest place to have sex and not get caught?  What kind of sex would each girl be willing to do?  Who would be willing to have a threesome?  Who is a fan of role playing?  What type of role playing?  Who wants to be spanked?…and so on and so forth.

As you can see a man can spend hours upon hours staring into space debating which woman would do him with everyone watching: the brunette from accounting or the blond secretary near the window?  The thing is…this is just one of the three lists.

#2 “F*** you!”

This list is all about fighting other men in the area.  I’m not saying we’re trying to pick a fight or anything, but if something were to go down at least you’d have an idea of what to expect.  One more thing: this list is for when they attack first.  Whether it be they said something or started swinging…it’s always their fault.  Nobody wants to be the instigator…that’s not cool.

The common sub-list is “Who can I beat up?”  It’s a quick ego boost because you can easily spot the people who are the scrawniest of the setting and you get a good lark from imagining the nerd with a Superman backpack at age 35 to run at you at full speed wanting to punch you with his toothpick of an arm and you exhaling on him sending him flying across the room.

The next thing that needs to be done is “Who can beat me up?”  This is another thing that can be sized up quick because inside most males heads…no one can touch them.  We’re invincible and can kick anyone’s ass!!!!!…not me, though.  I see a guy who works out three hours a day and is one arm flex from ripping through is shirt and imagine him running at me and I always pee a little when I think it…yeah, that guy can kick my ass.

Here’s where the creativity sets in: “What can I use to even the playing field against the guy who’s bigger than me?”  Whether it be tactics (I always think either swift kick to his groin or hurling feces at his face…it all depends on what I had for dinner last night) or objects laying around (coffee mugs, lamps, your own teeth after he punches you…whatever works) you just want to have a fighting chance.

We’ve covered women and men…but what about something that’s neither?

#3 “Oh, f***!”

This list has the most amount of sub-lists because it’s all about disasters.  It’s everything that happens out of nowhere.  Anything and everything a man can’t control is here and his goal for this list…survival (ok, that was cheezy, but…you want to live, don’t you?)

The most common is obvious…zombie attacks.  Every man is always thinking about what to do if zombies became the walking undead and started eating the flesh of the living.  Most plans involve the same idea: arm yourself with a blunt/sharp instrument to bash their heads in, get the top of your hottest girl list to come for sexy procreation, convince the guy most likely to kick your ass to follow you or die so you have more manpower and be sure of all windows, stairwells and exit points so you know where to go when it hits the fan…and it will.

Another example would be terrorist attack.  This is the most entertaining one because every guy imagining a terrorist attack scenario thinks of the same thing…Die Hard.  Just do what John McClain did and you’ll be fine.  It’s just a matter of rewatching the whole movie in your head scene for scene (if you’re a true American male this is possible)…duh!

Sure there are practical scenarios that should be thought of like fires, tornadoes or if someone rips a deadly fart that creates an acid cloud that burns skin…but those aren’t as fun as zombies and Die Hard!  Everyone should know what to do during these scenarios: for fire run outside as fast as you can, for tornadoes get in a basement or stairwell and for deadly acid cloud farts rip a vinegar cloud fart so the vinegar can neutralize the acid…it’s simple science, people!

So ladies next time you see a guy spacing out with an sexual/intense/thoughtful look on his face you’ll know he wasn’t thinking about nothing…he could be saving your life!…or wanting to punch the busboy…or mounting the cougar to his left and covering her in marinara sauce. 

Whatever it is be sure to know he is always thinking about one of these lists…or maybe it’s just me…yeah it’s probably just me…man I’m weird…oh, well…

Good night!

“It’s just sports.”

This is a line that has been uttered throughout time by parents, girlfriends and misguided men.  The target for this line is the fan whose team just lost a game.  And not just losing the game, but it was how the loss happened.  The team lost a game they should have won, the team got blown out of the water or the team got bounced out of the playoffs.

The fan in question does one of three things when hearing this line:

1. Ignore the statement completely, stares straight ahead and wishes whoever caused the loss fall into a pit of lava and dirty syringes.
2. Yell something in response like “F*** you!”, “Shut the f*** up!” or “I politely disagree with your opinion and respond by hoping you be violated by a humpback whale in your eye socket…f***!”
3. Vomit on their chest and move the puke around like a sick form of finger painting.

What we sports fans want you non-sports people to know is that we will be fine.  Our mood is a result of the gut punch game.  We will be sour for two to three days until the depression wears off and we get back to normal.  The thing is…you shouldn’t be judging us!  Gut punches are a part of everyone’s life at some point or another.  We just request the same treatment as the other gut punches people run across.

Here are other gut punches that happen in life to humans (or some animals):

Women who have a late period.  Now I’m not talking about the time from when the period should happen and when it finally comes.  That has to be pure terror being faced with the prospect of having a baby when you’re not ready is horrible.  I’m talking about the time after the period happens.  Once the period hits and you know you aren’t in real trouble…that’s when the gut punch kicks in. 

It becomes a few days of reflection and asking questions about where life is for you that you almost were impregnated by a one night stand who called himself “The Grand Poobah” and his penis “The Grandest Poobah” even though in bed he was “The 15-Second Pooblah”.  Women who deal with this have to be walking around in a haze that only time will heal.  It’s just as bad as losing a sports game…right?…ok, even I can’t talk myself into this one…this is way worse…but losing sports still sucks, ok!?!?

Men who can’t get it up.  It’s something you’ve been doing since you were 13.  You got a chubby every time a girl got near it. You could a stiff plank by walking by a Victoria’s Secret.  Hell, you get a hot rod just by waking up…and now you can’t get one!?!?  AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is definitely a gut punch.  Essentially you aren’t a man if you can’t get a beefy frank.  This gut punch lasts for days upon days…until the Viagra gets sent…then it’s all hands on dick…I mean deck.

Sleeping with an unattractive person.  For those of you who haven’t had to deal with this…you’re lucky.  This gut punch can have ramifications well beyond the healing is over.

The original gut punch is waking up the next morning to see this supposed female in the bed next to you.  After the bout of dry heaving and taking a shower in acid to rid yourself of what just happened you go into a haze for a few days.  Why did I do that?  Did anyone I know see me do this?  How did I get a key to the zoo so I could sleep with this ostrich?

Where you keep reopening the scab is if you see this person over and over.  Maybe it’s a friend of a friend who comes around on the weekends.  Maybe it’s a family members roommate and your family member will constantly mock you for it.  Maybe it’s the toothless woman who stands near your dumpster waiting for someone drunk and stupid like you to come by and give her a warm place to do her crack.

The point is this gut punch sucks…or so I’ve heard…I’ve never…dealt…with…thi…thi…moving on…

Bad haircut.  Everyone’s had one.  You sit down, feel a little frisky and let the stylist decide what haircut they think would make you look the best.  Their eyes light up and say “I have just the look for you!”  During the cut you get a little freaked out by how much hair is being loped off and why she’s using a blowtorch at a barbershop, but you still trust her because it’s what they do for a living.  She says “Voila!” and spins you around.  When you look in the mirror and see what looks exactly like curled up pile of s*** on your head…the gut punch starts and won’t go away until you can find a hat to wear or a competent barber will help you with the monstrosity that sits on your head.  Most likely though…you’re going into a funk for two weeks until that bad boy grows out.

Catching your parents in the act.  That’s one good thing when parents divorce when you’re 10…less time to see this abomination of fornication.  To those of you who have seen it…you have my never-ending sympathy and frankly I’m surprised you can still be aroused about anything and that you aren’t blind.  Hats off to you.

Speeding tickets.  The first reaction is anger at the cop because you weren’t the only one speeding, how come they aren’t fixing real crime and why didn’t he rip up the ticket even though I let him stare directly at my cleavage for 15 minutes.  The gut punch happens when you first get home until you finally pay the ticket.  You become sad you get points on your record, sad you have to pay $175 and sad that your cleavage didn’t faze the cop one bit.

All around just bad times.

Kid under the age of eight being told there’s no Santa Claus.  I can safely assume that no kid under eight is reading this blog because if he is I’m not paying for his therapy.  Anyway I know kids are happy-go-lucky most of the time, but if you let a five year-old know there’s no Santa…they will be crushed.  That’s the biggest gut punch a kid can get other than a wedgie or peeing their pants in class.  To know that something you believed in for years upon years of life was a fraud and your parents lied to you…you can’t shake that gut punch easy.

Luckily I avoided this.  My parents let me believe Santa was real until I was 16…that’s healthy, right?

Dog put in kennel.  Even man’s best friend can get in on the act.  Have you ever gone on vacation and didn’t have anyone to watch your dog so you put them in a kennel?  When you get back from vacation and pick them up, the dog is pissed at you.  Why would you leave them like that?  Don’t you love them at all?  WHY????…and then you give them a doggy treat and all is forgiven.

As I have just laid out there are plenty of equivalent gut punches in real life that mirror having your sports team lose.  Now if you excuse me I’m going to get in the bath, listen to emo rock, drink a bottle of Cabernet and cry myself to sleep over yesterday’s Chicago Bears game….WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The outside of my Super Happy Fun Awesome Dreamhouse!!!

Gluttony, lust, envy, sloth, pride, greed and wrath.  When put together what do they mean?  A bitching weekend?  A Tuesday night in Amsterdam?  What happens behind the scenes at church potlucks after the casseroles and pickled beets are eaten?

Of course these are the seven deadly sins.  Many people only know these from the movie Se7en where a guy everybody with genitalia wants to sleep with named Brad Pitt and a lovely elderly lady named Morgan Freeman play detectives that try and catch a serial killer who murders people who perform one of the seven deadly sins.

This got me to thinking…what about loopholes for each “sin”?  There are loopholes for everything in life.  Corporations have loopholes to not pay taxes.  Lawyers find loopholes to get their client’s innocence.  Elementary schoolers have “circle, circle, dot, dot” as a loophole to avoid cooties.  Where are the loopholes for sinning?

Before I become smote by God and sent to Hell where I’ll endure my Levels of Hell for all eternity here are the loopholes I found that makes any of the seven sins ok:

Gluttony

• Free Olive Garden.  At my work people were recently promoted to a senior level position.  I could have gotten it, but meant I had to use more than 1/10 of my ass and that wasn’t happening.  After their congratulatory free catered Olive Garden lunch was over they left a whole pan of fettuccine alfredo sitting in the break room.  I’m sure common decency is to eat one plate and move on, but I took five plates of this deliciousness, fought through the heartburn brought on after plate two and stuffed myself so full of premium Italian food I swear I farted a whole clove of garlic.  The point here: free food=115% full belly.
• Edible underwear.  Not necessarily for the flavor, but because you have to.  It doesn’t matter if you ate 18” of hoagie; if your girlfriend/friend with benefits/GILF comes out wearing nothing but a cherry lingerie number…you gotta eat it.  Just pray it doesn’t come in a thong.
• Leftover steakhouse.  As a true red-blooded American who’s sure to die at 27 from a massive heart attack from four clogged arteries and a mouthful of beef jerky…no steak should EVER go uneaten.  It doesn’t matter if you’re with two people or 20 people; if someone doesn’t finish their steak it is your duty to demolish the rest of it.  You may not have a bowel movement for 18 days…but damnit it was delicious!
• College.  You’re broke.  You’re drunk.  You’re hungry.  24 packets of Ramen noodles in an empty beer case to avoid the three month old dirty dishes is totally acceptable (bonus points if you just slurp the noodles down without utensils).  Other facets of college to be an acceptable glutton are dining halls, free pizza at a stupid club you’ll never join, popcorn at a bar and the apartment of your one night stand.
• Thanksgiving.  If you don’t unbutton your pants, take a nap or gag your family members the oddly intoxicating smell you left in the bathroom…you’re not doing Thanksgiving right.
• Hot dog eating contests.  Nothing says acceptable gluttony like putting 50 wieners in your mouth.  Just ask Joey Chestnut, Kobayashi and Jenna Jameson.
• Buffets.  There is endless food.  I repeat…THERE’S ENDLESS F***ING FOOD!!! 

Lust

• Booty calls.  The reason God rested on the seventh day of creating Earth was because he was up until 5 am trying to get women over for them to, in his words, “part your pink sea”.
• Friends with benefits.  The extended version of the booty call.  This is the dream of every male in college.  “You mean I get to hang out and get drunk with my friends until the bars close then I text you to come over and have sex then you leave in the morning without me spending any time, money or emotion on you?  AWESOME!!!”
• College.  See above.
• Celebrity nudity.  It’s something we don’t think about on a daily basis, but it’s something inside all of us.  I don’t think about it, for sure, but if there was a movie that just came out that had Jessica Biel doing a full-frontal scene…I would push a sick orphan out of the way to see it…ok not a sick orphan…a normal orphan…ok not an orphan period…how about an elderly nun?…no, too fragile…my own mother?…nah…she cooks me food…well I’d push something out of the way that’s between a sick orphan and a one legged fat man tying his shoe.
• Threesomes.  It’s Man Law: If a chance for threesome be…try your best for manage a three.  It could be Woman Law, too…I just know Col. Clink isn’t a fan of other soldiers diving in the foxhole with him.
• Retirement home.  Why not?  You’re nearing the end of your life.  Go out with a bang!…then another bang….and another…and another…HI-OH!

Envy

• Millionaires.  I want to be one!
• Billionaires.  I REALLY want to be one!
• Athletes and rock stars.  I REALLY REALLY want to be one!
• Aqua car owners.  I want one!
• Cartwheelers.  I want to be able to do one!
• Flo (The Progressive Woman)’s husband.  I want to do her once!
• Playboy photographer.  I want to trick ditzy, slutty girls I am one!
• Whittlers……………I just want to know how.

Sloth

• Hangovers.  Have you ever had one of these?  They’re just awful!  I guess that’s the price you pay to get really drunk and run around the bar naked with a road cone on your head while everyone serenades you with “It’s A Small World After All” as they point at your unit that has been Sharpied to look like it’s winking at everyone.  (Note to parents: This never happened to me…kinda sad I have to mention this…oh well.)
• Football Sundays.  I’m sorry, but when there’s 11 hours of NFL action on my television involving my stocks (i.e. fantasy teams) you bet your ass I’m plopping on the couch in my sweatpants and not leaving until Al Michaels gives me a farewell soul-sucking stare that makes me wet the bed.
• Weather.   If it’s raining/snowing/scorching outside…I’m staying indoors.  Essentially the only temperature that is acceptable for me to play outside is between 68-72 degrees, partly cloudy, a 5-10 MPH breeze and a promise that I will see a hot girl in a bikini at some point.  Otherwise…no dice!
• No pants.  It’s Newton’s 3rd Law applied to a real life situation.  For every action (taking off pants) there’s an equal and opposite reaction (laying down with hand in underwear).  It’s just science.
• College.  Let’s breakdown the 24 hours of a day.  Eight hours of sleep.  Two hours of class (can be skipped to gain time).  Four hours of work.  That leaves 10 hours of…something.  This is where great minds do their real work…drinking beer and finding new ways to ingest it!  WOO!!!
• After gluttony and lust.  After you eat and skeet you gotta have sleep!…I’m like a dirty Dr. Seuss.

Pride

• Men with long penises.  You have a long penis…brag about it!  If this was me I would refuse to wear pants.  I’d be walking down the street naked, a cop would see me, start screaming “HEY!  You better have a good reason to be nak…oh, wow…I understand, sir…carry on!”  In job interviews I wouldn’t have a resume.  I’d just have a blank sheet of paper, put it on the desk and flop my penis on the paper.  Sadly for everyone out there I am not well endowed…I’m slighly, maybe, fully undowed.
• Whatever is the female equivalent to the above.  I don’t know and I don’t want to guess because I just admitted in the last point I’m not hung so if I want to find a wife I can’t anger any women by picking something that doesn’t go over well.
• Drinking games.  You win: you can boast about it until the next game starts and you’re getting drunk.  You lose: you get drunk faster.  You can take pride in both outcomes!
• Quitting a crappy job.  You can take all the pride in the world if you get to quit a job you hate for a better one.  On your last day you do anything you want to do.  Flip off your boss.  Yell obscenities at people you don’t like.  Fart in the coffee maker.  Set your HR rep’s hair on fire.  Throw your computer off the roof on top of the CEO’s car.  Anything goes on your last day!…huh?…what?…laws still apply?…you could be sued?…really?…are you sure?…I thought it was like an amnesty or someone yelling “Sanctuary!” in a church sort of thing and you can’t be touched…it’s not?…I’m an idiot?…fair enough.
• Oregon Trail.  If you get the highest score ever in the computer game Oregon Trail you can brag about it to ANYONE and they can’t do a thing.  In my book you’re the King of the World.
• College.  You’re in college!  WOO!!!

Greed

• College?  Hmmm…not a chance to go overboard with money in college…I’m sure it’s there somewhere…you can do whatever you want in college!  YEAH!!!!!!!!!
• Monopoly.  The mascot of the game is Rich Uncle Moneybags, the goal is to bankrupt every one of your opponents and getting second place in a beauty contest gets you $10!  Hell yeah greed is good!
• Gambling.   I don’t know about you guys, but when I play poker I want everything on the table.  The chips, the cards, the hearts of other players…I want it all!
• Open bars.  If you don’t double fist at an open bar before it closes you’re not doing it right.  If there’s five minutes before the bar closes and I only have one rum and diet in front of me, you’re damn right I’m sprinting to the bar and throwing ‘bows at every man, woman, child, dog and coat racks that are in my way until I get two more, drink them, then wonder in the morning what happened and why there’s a pair of dentures stuck to my elbow.
• Free stuff.  What beats paying anything for something?  Not paying anything for anything!  It doesn’t matter if they’re giving out free tampons…they’re free!  I’m sure I can find a use for it like using it as a towel, dangling it in front of a kitten or simply using it in my vag…uh…vag…vag…us nerve…yeah!…my vagus nerve!…the longest of the cranial nerves…duh!…tampons are great for that…whew!…thanks, Google for that save…uh-oh…probably should stop typing my thoughts………………

Wrath

• Dickface Brady.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• State up north.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• A stuck car door.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• Trying to understand art.  AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• Samsung cell phones.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• Playing paintball.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• Stubbed toes.  AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• Old Speckled Hen.  AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• Losing the remote.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• Constipation.  AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• Diarrhea.  AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And finally…

• Getting hit by a lightning bolt from God for trying to find exceptions to every deadly sin.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know I didn’t write anything after the Penn State and the state up north (I’mstupidandmakeoutwithfamilymembers) games, but I just couldn’t bring myself to write either post.  Both were close losses and I just ran out of excitement for reliving football misery.  I will, however, write a season in review after the bowl game (come on Little Caesar’s bowl!  Getting shanked in Detroit while attending a bowl sponsored by a $5 large pizza chain is exactly what I want on my tombstone!)  There are two other Ohio State happenings that I need to chime in about…

1. Urban Meyer

Ohio State trying to tell everyone that we weren’t hiring Urban Meyer was the biggest lie since any time a girlfriend asks her boyfriend if he thinks one of her friends is cute (you want us to be honest with you…yet you ask us about your friend…if I say yes I’m leering at other women and I’m in the doghouse…if I say no I’m insulting her friend and I’m in the doghouse…I’ll take a swift kick in the balls, please.)  Having said that…

I CAN’T BE MORE EXCITED FOR THE MEYER DYNASTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I need a word to describe the excitement I have for the hire.  Urboner?  Nah.  Meyerection?  Sounds like I’m just talking about myself.  It’s an UrbanMeyerIsOhioState’sHeadCoachHardOn (or UMIOSHCHO for semi-short).  Anyway my UMIOSHCHO is at full staff right now.

Listening to and watching highlights of the press conference made me unbelievably jacked up for at least (hopefully) the next 10 years.  Meyer’s intensity and accomplishments should get any Ohio State fan with a pulse thrilled.  Born in Ohio.  Went to school in Ohio.  Made Bowling Green viable.  Undefeated at Utah.  Two BCS championships in six years at Florida.  And now…home.

I know there could be some hesitation to go all-in with the hire because of Meyer’s health issues, but there was a huge thing in the press conference that should relieve some of that: he mentioned bringing in excellent coaches.  Having a year off to relax and reflect Meyer realized he didn’t want to be the coach who never sees his family or enjoys life.  He needed to step away and learn to find the balance…hence getting excellent coaches to surround him at all times so he won’t need to micro-manage every minute detail of the program.

I do have one reservation for the hire and it doesn’t have to do with Meyer himself.  We need to learn from the past and not build Meyer as a God.  It’s where Joe Paterno became and, closer to home, Jim Tressel was before he was fired.  I don’t believe Meyer will become that himself.  He’s a man who’s driven to making Ohio State the best program in the nation…but my guard is up and I don’t want people anointing him The Chosen One and putting him above the university.

That being said…get ready I’mstupidandmakeoutwithfamilymembers University up north.  Savor your one win in the last eight years.  You barely beat us with your best shot.  Now we have Urban Meyer.  Get ready for a hellstorm for the next decade.

My UMIOSHCHO is ready.

2. Men’s Basketball

On to the second piece of OSU business: the men’s basketball team.

THEY ARE REALLY F***ING GOOD!!!

I went to the Valparaiso game on Friday for a blast from the college past: a basketball game, getting hammered at Thirsty Scholar and ordering drunk food at PJ’s (nostalgia was through the roof…or maybe through the bottom of my glass…that’s more appropriate).  Anyway after the game I saw a couple things that were problems come March Madness if not improved on:

Free throw shooting.  It was pretty bad Friday, but that will come.  Thad “Birdman” Matta doesn’t subscribe to the John “It’s not cheating if you don’t get caught over 14 times” Calipari school of thought (free throws are meaningless)A consistent three-point threat.  With Jon Diebler gone we will need someone to step up and become the deep option come crunch time.  The great equalizer in March Madness is the three point line.  It’s the same length for mid-majors as it is for the big boys.  This hasn’t been an issue thus far, but just a concern.Team defense.  Individually Ohio State has the quickest hands (led by Aaron “Trust me I’m 20, not 12” Craft) I’ve seen, but the few times zone was thrown out it was rusty. 

Granted I don’t know that much about the team…or basketball…or women…but those three things were what I think I saw in a trap game the night before the football game and Duke.  Then Duke happened and proved one thing:

I know nothing.

It was a thorough beat down last night.  Ohio State scored every which way possible at ease, frustrated the Duke players on the defensive end and gave the rowdy fans in attendance a dominant performance that we will not soon forget.

Craft is a beast.  Jared Sullinger is a beast.  William Buford is a beast.  Deshaun “Chucker” Thomas has talent.  While previous Ohio State teams had great individual players had individual talent…this team seems like the best team in terms of on floor chemisty.  It’s like everyone is in sync with each other, knows where everyone will be and what they like and execute perfection.

A big thing that Ohio State did last night was make the extra pass.  The ability to pass up a semi-open shot for a wide open look for a teammate is huge when you play great teams.  Great teams will force you to move the ball around and earn every point.  Being able to make the extra pass successfully is needed to win grind-out wins and Ohio State is able to do that.

I’m excited for this season.  When the stars were out, the atmosphere was rocking and the lights were brightest…OSU shined the brightest.  No stage will be too big for this team and with the combination of offensive chemisty and suffocating man-to-man defense this team is a force to be reckon with.

It’s great to be a Buckeye.

 Dear William Grant & Sons:

There are three things I love in this world:

1. Sports
2. Boobies
3. Sailor Jerry’s

Sure there are things like family that should be in my list, but honestly I enjoy mixing everything I love to have a great time and if family and boobies were in the same night there’s not enough therapy or battery acid in the world to undo seeing Aunt Milly starring in “Octogenarians Gone Wild”.

Anyway I wanted to write something explaining just how much I love Sailor Jerry’s.  When people come over to my place and see me enjoying this interesting looking bottle they always ask the same thing: “Bryan for the love of God put some pants on.”  And once I reluctantly do there’s always a follow-up: “Bryan what is that rum you’re drinking?”  This is when I get to weave them the tale of how awesome Sailor Jerry’s rum is.

It all started at a Kroger’s liquor aisle in 2008.  I was a handsome…ok, dashing…ok, mildly attractive…ok, presentable…ok, lesbian-creating 21-year-old Ohio State University junior and the weekend was at hand.  I was perusing the rum aisle for something new.  I had just gotten a big paycheck from work ($48!) and wanted to step up in class because drinking fermented dog urine (Admiral Nelson),  and his younger inbred cousin/lover (Lady Bligh) just wouldn’t cut it.  I was browsing the options when…

“Looking for something in particular?”

I instantly grabbed my rape whistle and was about to start bitch slapping someone until I whirred around to see a Kroger’s employee standing there.  He had this radiant glow about him.  Something told me this man was special.  That this man was a leader…nay…a God.  That’s right…

He had a sweet mustache.

I stammered upon seeing him: “Uh…um…I like booze!”

Mustache laughed at me: “Ha!  I see.  You know what you should try?”

“What?” I asked, my knees quivering in fear and a bit of odd arousal.

“Sailor Jerry’s.”  The words flowed from Mustache like a whimsical symphony that weaved a web of laughter with friends, spectacular times and college girls yearning to be with me instead of throwing up in their mouths…and just like that he was gone…to the adjacent aisle so he wouldn’t have to stare at the awkward erection I was having as I daydreamed in the afternoon of a grocery store booze section.

I gathered my thoughts, tucked my 4” of man away, bought a handle of Sailor Jerry’s and drove back to campus with hopes of an amazing night ahead of me.

Later that night I was standing in my kitchen getting ready to pour the first Sailor Jerry’s cocktail of the night.  I’m a simple man with simple desires so I made a simple cocktail:  Cup.  Ice.  Sailor Jerry’s.  Cola.  Super bendy straw.  Two parasols.  Latest edition of Teen People.  After I applied some cocoa butter on the stretch marks on my lovehandles I sat down to have the first sip of this new rum.  I took a drink and…

Magic happened.  The first wave of flavor hit my taste buds and sent them dancing with delight.  My throat sung its praises of Sailor Jerry’s by emoting a tender, window-rattling belch out.  My liver was thinking “F***ing sh#&!  GIVE ME A BREAK, MAN!  WHAT THE F*** IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!?!  I’M A VITAL ORGAN!!!  STOP MAKING ME PURIFY YOUR SH@$&% ALCO…whoa!  This is good!  MORE MORE MORE!!!”

And from that point on…a love was born.

This love lasted all senior year including the Michigan game, my birthday, Let’s Get Drunk Tuesdays, Class Is For Stupids! Wednesdays, I Don’t Have Class Tomorrow Thursdays, Why Do I Keep Doing This To Myself Friday mornings, Oh That’s Right It’s College Friday nights, Who’s This Ugly Chick Saturdays and finally No, Really, Why Is There Another Ugly Chick And Now A Homeless Man In My Bed Sundays…great times.

Now it’s three years later and this love is still strong.  It has lasted longer than any romantic relationship I’ve ever had.  I bet I’ve kissed the hula girl on the bottle more times than a real live female…wait, what?…why would I kiss a fake hula girl on a rum bottle…whose hips won’t stop…that come hither look…the fact she has rum inside her…(MUAH!)…oops…I did it again.

Anyway everyone who knows me knows I love Sailor Jerry’s rum.  People send picture messages to me of Sailor Jerry ads they see in liquor stores.  I’ve had bartenders save a special bottle of Sailor Jerry’s for me after they ran out of their stock.  My dad even buys me a handle of Sailor Jerry’s every Christmas.  When he asks me in April “is your handle done yet?” I reply “Nope…barely touched,” and secretly think “since I killed it December 29th.”

I have spread the gospel to my friends.  Whenever someone tells me about what they like to drink I impatiently cut them off, slap them in the face and yell “DRINK SAILOR JERRY’S IT’S AWESOME!!!”  After I settle their lawsuit for assault we sign over my next ten paychecks to them over a glass and they always say “Mmm…you’re right, this is good.”

It’s not just the rum that has me in love with Sailor Jerry’s…it’s Sailor Jerry himself.  The story of Norman Collins on the bottle made me want to learn more about this Navy man who tattooed thousands of military men at his tattoo shop with his unique artwork.  After learning more about this American hero and what he believed in I knew I picked the right rum.  I’m not a tattoo guy, but if I ever do get one, a Norman Collins specialty is third on my list behind a bear eating a gyro on my lower back and Betty White making out with Mr. Met on my inner left thigh.

The love for Sailor Jerry’s was strong in the beginning, is going strong now and I know will still be strong in the future.  I don’t know if I will ever be married, but if I find a girl desperate enough to find me husband material there will be two requests that must be honored for me and the rest will is between her and the bobblehead known as me agreeing with everything she says: 1. Sailor Jerry’s will be fully stocked as the only rum at the bar.  2. “Thong Song” by Sisqo is our first dance.

In conclusion I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoy your rum like a giddy 12 year old boy writing a love note to a girl: right a long, rambling letter that would lead to her showing her friends and him peeing his pants in math class from embarrassment. 

I thoroughly enjoy your product and look forward to many future memorable, forgettable and kinda-sorta-don’t-remember..able nights ahead.

Cheers,
Bryan Fraker

It’s official. 2011 Ohio State football is like my golf game: there’s always something wrong every time out.  It’s never same thing either.  One time it’s the offensive line.  The next it’s late game defense.  And now we come to this…a critical special teams mistake.  The difference for football is that you can’t just throw you clubs in the water, quit the game and get wasted at the 19th hole.  The season goes on whether or not you want it to.

Winners

• Braxton Miller’s closing.  Say what you will about his quarterbacking in general right now, but when he needs to be great…he is.  Throwing the touchdown to tie the game at 20-20 on fourth down in the last minute of the game at Purdue was amazing.  Miller had to scramble around, hurdle a defender, slip on the painted yard line and float a ball that seemed destined to suck, but landed right in the arms of Jordan Hall.  I can deal with 59 minutes of garbage if the final minute leads to a victory.  It’s kind of like Tim Tebow…only Miller can play quarterback.
• West Lafayette.  I don’t know what the hell it is with this town, but Ohio State gets their talent sapped as soon as they step off the bus.  2011, 2009, 2005…all losses.  It’s like the Bermuda Triangle for football.  I can understand why.  You have to drive through Indiana to get there, there’s one major intersection, it’s a long walk from the parking lot to the field…it sucks.  I don’t get it.  Maybe we should flood the damn town.
• Closeout liquor.  I walked into the liquor store near my house looking to get my one and only love Sailor Jerry’s, but got distracted by this grocery cart.  It had bottles of liquor on discount.  They had a bottle of rum for $10!  WOO!!!  Sign me up for two!  There’s nothing better than closeout liquor.  You pay less for more stuff and I have no ill effects yet…other than the blackening of my liver and the potential poisoning of my brain with cleaning chemicals known as closeout liquor.
• Marine blues.  The Marine Corps ball was last week…and my God they were breathtaking.  If I weren’t so heterosexual and afraid I’d get my ass kicked I would have made out with anyone in uniform….wow that’s weird…moving on.

Losers

• Ohio State.  In general the team gets this.  Fickell’s coaching chances for 2012, the offensive line not supporting the run or pass much, Braxton’s deep ball…it all didn’t work.

S*** List: Boiler Up!  Dumbest thing in the f***ing world.

My apologies to everyone for again taking until Friday to get this post out.  I had to comment on Penn State’s situation on Tuesday, took a six hour nap until 11 pm on Wednesday, went to the Blue Jackets game on Thursday and just now can get to writing the post.  As I penalty I will take off my pants and give myself 40 lashes with a two week old loaf of Jimmy John’s bread.

Winners

• Zen followers.  I never though the game was out of hand.  Down 10-0 in the first quarter.  Tied late in the third quarter at 20-20.  Indiana driving to tie the score at 27 in the 4th.  I found a special center for the game.  It was like I was in my happy place…except I was hungover from Friday night and not swimming in a pool of boobies wearing a diamond crusted Speedo while wearing a beer helmet.  Having a relaxed attitude is something that will definitely help people get through this season.
• Braxton Miller’s legs.  Willis McGahee had his knee insured.  Troy Polamalu has his hair insured.  Ron Jeremy had his penis insured…maybe.  We need to get Miller’s legs insured pronto.  However, since he won’t be able to collect money as an NCAA athlete, I figure if (God forbid) he gets hurt Progressive should give us 21 points for every game he’s not out…or one no holds barred night with Flo…I’m good either way (Hey!  Don’t judge me!  Someone finds the way she takes insurance head on and bright red, pouty lips that she’s like a sexy rodeo clown…shut up!)
• Buckeye Guy.  Every time I see this guy on TV or at a home game…I smile.  The guy just looks like an awesome guy to hang out with.  The cowboy hat.  The white cape.  The OSU flair all over his clothes.  The convertible painted like a Buckeye helmet.  The finger guns he gives the TV camera.  I’m not gay, but if I were and I were looking for an interracial nude frolic through a meadow with a guy who looks like a pro wrestler…he’s #2 on that list behind Booker T.
• Bar Crawls.  Last Saturday a group of friends and I took part in a golf related bar crawl.  It was Golf Pros and Tennis Hoes.  Guys dressed like douchy golf pros while the women dressed up as sexy tennis players.  We started at 5:45 pm.  It ended when I woke up the next morning in a daze wondering what happened.  Here’s the card we used.  It’s supposed to be full:

Front

Back (Rules)

If you’ve never done one I HIGHLY recommend it.  It will be an absolute blurst (a blast that’s a blur).

• Flip cup with adults.  Something else I did last Friday was play flip cup with adults for the first time ever.  And let me tell you…it’s a riot.  They get into it as much as the younger crowd does and you can just see in their eyes reminiscing about the days of yore when they would play drinking games with their friends.  At first their clueless how to play and flip the cups, but eventually they get the hang of it.  Nothing says fun quite like a balding, gray haired man scream out loud in victory.  Priceless.

Losers

• Offensive line.  Giving up six sacks to a team that’s 1-8?  What?!?!?  I know it’s kinda tough when Braxton has the ability to run and you’re never sure where he’ll be…but six sacks to Indiana?  That’s not gonna cut it.
• “Failure to monitor”.  F**********************K!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• Big Ten Network audio.  I don’t know if other people had this problem, but for the entire first half the audio was half a second behind the video for our apartment TV.  It wasn’t a big deal during the football action, but whenever they showed the announcer’s booth, someone kicked the ball or a coach swore on the sidelines…it never sounded right.
• Indiana’s band attractiveness.  I wasn’t sure if that was a human playing an instrument in their band or if Gollum infiltrated their ranks because his precious was buried under the 50 yard line.  On a scale of 1-10 they were throw acid in my eyes.  I know this sounds mean, but…it’s just true!  I’m sorry!  I can’t help that whenever they spanned the band I fought back vomit and yelled an audible “Oh God!”  It’s good to see that IU is getting extra cash by hiring circus freaks for their woodwind section.  I’ve heard of people’s faces being able to cut rock, but these faces could stop bullets.  I think my penis actually tried to hang itself…luckily there wasn’t enough slack to tie the knot………..um……ignore that.

And here we are…the S*** List.  This week’s winner would be Girls Who Don’t Kiss Cheeks.  On the bar crawl your team would get -3 every time a stranger kissed a member of your team.  It’s very simple…just a peck on the cheek works.  That’s all!  They do it in Europe to say hello!  The girls had no problem having guys plant a fresh one on their cheek…but girls can be so uptight.  At one bar in particular I got shot down by a group of three bartenders…AND A FOURTH ONE THEY BROUGHT OVER JUST SO SHE COULD SAY NO TO MY FACE!!!  “Am I that hideous?” I’d ask myself.

Maybe I should join the IU band.

Joe Paterno must be fired.

I’m gonna be honest…this post is going to be a little emotional because of the subject matter, the legal process is still going and everyone should be presumed innocent until proven guilty…but this is the court of Bryan Fraker.  I dictate the rules.

Everyone knows about the issue at hand, but in case you for some reason have yet to hear about the situation at College Station, here are the Cliff Notes:

Jerry Sandusky was arrested Saturday after a three year investigation led to 40 charges of various sexual assaults involving eight boys and spanning 15 years starting in 1994.  Sandusky was a Penn State assistant coach/defensive coordinator from 1969-1999.  At one time he was considered to be the heir apparent to the head coaching job if Paterno ever stepped down.

Sandusky used a foundation he created in 1977 called Second Mile to meet the boys.  According to their website Second Mile is “for children who need additional support and who would benefit from positive human contact.”  Sandusky would get the boys gifts, take them to Penn State practices and have them spend the night at his house where he would sexually abuse them.

Where Joe Paterno comes under fire is from one of these incidents that happened in 2002. 

Mike McQueary, a graduate assistant at the time and current wide receivers coach, walked in on Sandusky performing anal intercourse on a boy in the Penn State football showers.  McQueary ran out, told his dad about it and they both told Joe Paterno. 

Paterno, as is required by law, then told Athletic Director Tim Curley.  Curley is legally bound to tell the police about incidents involving child abuse, but he never did.  He only banned Sandusky from bringing children around the football building.  Not only did Curley not tell police about it…he lied to a grand jury about what he did.  As a result Curley has been charged with perjury and is currently on administrative leave.  Additionally the man who oversaw the Penn State police department, senior vice president of finance and business Gary Schultz, was indicted on perjury as well and he has resigned.

Let me make this perfectly clear: everyone in this chain is to blame.  Every single person who knew about this and didn’t tell police.  I don’t care if the book says to tell your superior about illegal activity and that’s all you have to do.  The book is for NCAA issues…this is a legal issue.  If you see a superior sexually abusing a child your duty is no longer to the university and its chain of command…it’s to society. 

You have to tell the police immediately.  I hear people saying there’s fear of a lawsuit and that a graduate assistant won’t have much say…bullshit.  If you saw what you saw you report it because it will be taken seriously.  This is a horrible crime that should never go unreported to the cops.

Now let’s breakdown everyone in this scenario one-by-one, starting with McQueary: No sane person should ever allow another man to abuse a child.  Ever.  McQueary walked in on Sandusky and the boy…then walked out!  How can you live with yourself after that?  I don’t care if the man’s bigger than you.  You find something to stop the heinous act of a man violating a child.

If I saw this happening anywhere you’re damn right I’m going to give everything I have to stop it.  I may lose, but I will try until I can’t try anymore.  I can defend myself against another man…a child cannot.

McQueary screwed up by not stopping what he saw and then not reporting it, but at least he told someone.  Curley didn’t even do that.  He felt that not allowing Sandusky to bring kids in the football building was good enough.  That’s just saying “Hey, I don’t like you having sexual contact with kids in my football shower…do it somewhere else.”  Getting it away from you does not mean it will stop.  How is that not flawed logic?

At least Curley will get hit with the perjury charge and hopefully thrown in jail for his erroneous actions from the 2002 incident; Paterno doesn’t have that.  He’s clean according to the law…but he still needs to be punished.

Not only did Paterno not file with police, but Sandusky was allowed to come to campus after the 2002 incident happened.  There was even talk of Sandusky being at a practice in 2007…with a kid!  What?!?!?  He should have had his Penn State privileges revoked for life and never allowed to step on campus again.  Paterno is the big man on Penn State’s campus and could easily have had this done. 

I know we are seeing everything now nine years after the incident and after Sandusky was arrested, but even if we take the emotions out and  Paterno should have acted based on the seriousness of the charge.  The negatives that come out of telling the police about a man molesting a child and being wrong far outweigh the negatives that come of hearing a story, not telling police and that story being true.

For those people who say Paterno is just old and couldn’t handle all that was happening…shut up.  He was the head coach of Penn State football.  It doesn’t matter if you’re 25 or 85…you have the same responsibilities and standards as every other coach.  You still get the wins.  You still get the fame.  You still get the money.  That means you still get the blame when the shit hits the fan.  Age is not an excuse.

This isn’t meant to be a rail on Joe Paterno post.  The man was a great coach.  He was at Penn State for over 60 years with 46 of them as the head coach.  He made that program what it is today.  He has donated to Penn State and helped out in the community in other ways.  He is a revered man…but this is the end.

Paterno’s son has said that his dad is in this for the long run and isn’t going to resign.  That’s fine.  In this case it might be better to be fired.  If Paterno resigns right now the public may see that as an admission of guilt on his part and that he knows more than he’s letting on.

This vile scandal is more depraved than the recent Baylor basketball scandal in 2003 when a player (Claude Dotson) killed a teammate (Patrick Dennehy) and the head coach (Dave Bliss) tried to cover up illegal money he gave Dennehy before he died by telling his team to lie and say Dennehy was a drug dealer to cops after Dennehy died.  Bliss was caught on tape, fired and placed on a 10 year “show-cause” penalty, essentially being blackballed from coaching again…Sandusky was allowed to continue molesting boys for seven more years after the 2002 incident…but his day will come.

Say what you will about the prison system in America, but there are two people who don’t do well in prison: pedophiles and rapists.  If Sandusky is found guilty of these crimes he’ll get what’s coming to him.  He will get real close to Bubba and when he passes on, if there’s a Hell, I’m sure there will be some special treatment waiting for him.

As for the Penn State football team itself there should be no sanctions on the program.  The kids already in the program didn’t know about this and there’s no reason to punish them.  It wasn’t an attempt to get a leg up on competition.  Although the players should be safe there needs to be a complete gutting of the coaching staff and administration who oversaw this will need to be done. 

These men will face the consequences for their actions, or inactions, in this scandal.  What we don’t know is how or when everything will wrap up, but there’s one thing that is for certain needs to be done:

Joe Paterno must be fired.