Friday, April 28, 2006
Draft #91
Freestyle Fridays (Anything Goes)
-At lunch the other day I ate an apple. After finishing the apple I was tempted to turnaround, hold up the remains of the apple, and say to the person I didn't know sitting behind me, "Growing up I used to think that if you ate one of the seeds from an apple, that a tree would start growing in your stomach, but luckily for me I stopped eating paint."
I wonder what that person's reaction would have been. I'm thinking it would have ranged from a slight chuckle to a cockeyed stare that would have led to an awkward silence. It probably would have led to a promotion in all actuality.
-When I was in school, nothing topped the feeling of knowing that you were going on a field trip. I think corporate america needs to institute more field trips into their annual schedule. I can feel the walls of this office slowly collapsing in on me, taunting me with every evil cackle. I don't know what to make of all this, but I'm sure it's nothing a trip to the zoo couldn't fix. After all, nothing calms the mind or eases the nerves quite like an afternoon of watching monkies hurl feces at each other.
-The following show's theme songs would make great ring tones for my cell phone: MacGyver, Hawaii Five-O, Chips, Knight Rider, The A-Team, Dukes of Hazzard, Airwolf, and Magnum P.I.
-The following show's theme songs would NOT make for good ring tones: Punky Brewster, Golden Girls, Mash, Leave it to Beaver, Baywatch, Moon Lighting, Dynasty, and the Carol Burnett Show.
-If you think I'm not going to order an XLP from Domino's tonight for dinner, you are sadly mistaken. And if you think loneliness won't play a role in me trying to eat the whole thing in one sitting, then you are wrong again.
-Rumor has it that Steve Nash will be named the NBA league's MVP. Point me to the nearest Canadian please, I've got some spittin' to do. And if you are only going to watch one series of the opening round of the NBA playoffs, then may I suggest it be the Suns vs. the Lakers. There isn't one shot blocker on either roster, Kobe can do whatever he pleases, it's a pretty even 2 vs. 7 matchup, Luke Walton plays, both teams are young and like to run, and it's fun to watch Kobe try and act exactly like Michael Jordan. Case in point (Early on in game 2, Steve Nash and Sasha Vujacic got into a mini skirmish when Nash grabbed Sasha by the arm and pushed him during a dead ball. Kobe immediately got into Nash's face ala Jordan coming to the rescue for Scottie Pippen against the Knicks. The only difference between the two scenarios is that Jordan went nose-to-nose with a bad mother named Xavier McDaniel, and Kobe confronted a scrawny white Canadian who likes to play soccer).
Tune in tonight for game 3 from the Staples Center, if you have nothing better to do. Thus far Kobe has been trying to keep his teammates involved and his scoring average has been down a bit, but you never know when he'll just say fuck it, and take the game over himself. I've got a feeling tonight might be one of those nights, he's playing at home in his first playoff game as the Lakers unquestioned leader. Without Shaq, and with all the electricity in the air tonight, I say Kobe is almost a dead lock for 40 or more points. So if you are the type of person that likes to place prop bets (Adam I'm looking in your direction) then I'd put a sizeable amount on the over for Kobe's points scored. You'll be happy you did, I hope.
-And the answer is no. The rumors about me are simply untrue. I never appeared on the Ricki Lake Show and my mother is NOT an astronaut.
-Someday I'll learn to talk like Christopher Walken, and shortly after that I'll learn to do the robot.
-My parents are upset that Tumbleweed has an advertisement that features two cowboys kissing. I say gay cowboys are a marketing demographic that has been ignored for far too long.
-Terry Stotts needs to be fired. He's even more boring than Corey Koskie.
-A.J. Hawk better become a Packer tomorrow.
-According to Smut Magazine, Kewaskum, Wisconsin is only good for two things. Underaged girls with removable retainers, and their annual Inbreeders Festival. Or is that their 4th of July? Hard to tell.
-I once ran the 40 yard dash in 5.6 seconds.
-I once ran out of clean underwear.
-I haven't had Jolt cola in a really long time.
-My last caller didn't know how to spell Milwaukee.
-I'm one of the few people in town that don't like Starbursts or Skittles.
-Wouldn't it be funny if Jesus Christ really couldn't hit a curveball?
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Draft #90
Oh no he didn't.I was in the middle of taking a numero dos and I noticed something in the shower located directly in front of me. It was a bottle of Herbal Essence Shampoo, and it wasn't mine, I swear. This discovery led me to believe that the shampoo belonged to my roommate. Because as far as I know, there aren't any women currently residing in our apartment, and even if there was, there's no way any female would willingly bath in that shower, ain't no way, it's dirty, like "how did that get there?" dirty.
The label read as follows:
Revive your hair and yourself! This formula is infused with natural essences of mango, blackberry, and avocado and helps replenish moisture to the ends of dry or damaged hair. Work a thick lather into your hair and squeeze the shine and softness back. It rejuvenates lifeless tresses with softness and an irresistible tropical fragrance. Herbal Essence is also great for lubing up your "buddy's" backside and taking.... alright, that last sentence wasn't on there, but everything else was.
This description of the product should immediately have you seeing red flags (IF you are a man). If you are looking for a shampoo that not only revives your hair, but you yourself, as a person, then you may have problems that stem far beyond the repair capabilities of what a bottle of shampoo can provide. "I feel so worthless, like I'm so sad, if only there was something or someone out there to revive me, something shiny and in a bottle perhaps." And can anyone tell me what lifeless tresses are? Is there anything this product can't do? It revives, replenishes, rejuvenates, AND makes you orgasim in the shower? What's not to like?
Well for starters, Herbal Essences is made by Clairol, the very name alone should have one thinking that human contact with the product may cause you to grow a vagina. Secondly, the shampoo is purple and it is infused with the essence of mangos. No guy in his right mind should want his hair smelling like fruit. Now this isn't to say you should go out and find a shampoo called "Beef Jerky Clean", but fruit, come on, it's just plain fruity. I am ashamed to have a bottle of this garbage in my apartment, and I can only hope there is a reasonable explanation for all of this.
(Voice from afar) Hey Andy, what shampoo do you use to wash your hair? Andy answers, "Pantene Pro V of course." (Voice from afar muddles under their breath, "Yeah, that's not gay.") Andy replies, "It gives me the healthy look I crave, damn it!"
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Draft #89
Hucklebuck RemixDierks Bentley's "Lot a Leavin' Left To Do" becomes...
"Lot a Drinkin' Left To Do"
My friend Moose still has a lot of beer
He ain't discovered yet
There's at least another million cans
That will be crushed over his big head
So if you think he's gonna sober up
I got news for you
Moose still has a lot of drinkin' left to do
And as long as there's a beer
Left in his favorite bar
This boob won't have to leave
If blood's still pumping through his heart
So if Moose say's you're going out tonight
For a drink or two
Son, you still got a lot of drinking left to do
Yes the Lord made Moose an alcoholic
His condition is severe, and one day, will be chronic
So before you go and buy Moose a shot
Remember he don't touch the booze
Cause Moose still has a lot of drinkin' left to do
Girl, Moose says you kinda look like an angel
And Moose don't lie
He said he'll let you salute the colonel
If he don't pass out drunk tonight
Or you guys could do a kegstand, till your face turns blue
Cause you still got a lot of drinkin left to do
Yes the Lord made Moose an alcoholic
He prefers to be drunk, just not off gin and tonic
So before you call him a fat moron
Make sure that he ain't tanked and loose
Cause ain't nobody ever ever messes with the Moose
Especially when he still has a lot of drinkin' left to do
Monday, April 24, 2006
Draft #88
Sometimes there's angels in the outfield, other times you'll have women in the dugout.Over the weekend, former Mets first baseman and now television analyst caught a little flack for his recent comments about a female being in the Padres dugout.
"Who is the girl in the dugout, with the long hair?" Hernandez said. "What's going on here? You have got to be kidding me. Only player personnel in the dugout."
Hernandez found out later in the broadcast that Kelly Calabrese was part of the Padres training staff.
"I won't say that women belong in the kitchen, but they don't belong in the dugout," Hernandez said.
Later he laughed and said, "You know I am only teasing. I love you gals out there -- always have."
And there you have it folks, Keith Hernandez loves the ladies. So put down the torches and pitchforks and your ESPN polls asking whether or not Keith should be fired for his comments because none of it is necessary. The guy won eleven gold glove awards, a league MVP award, and a World Series title. If Keith Hernandez says that ladies shouldn't be in the dugout, then ladies shouldn't be in the dugout, end of story. He shouldn't have to make numerous apologies to cater to everyone's feelings. They call it the dugout for a reason people, Don't, Under any circumstances, Give women, Or flamboyantly gay men, Unauthorized or authorized access, To the bench area. Keith was just simply reading the guidlines straight from the baseball handbook. You know, the handbook that discusses why it's not OK to cry, why you should never talk to a pitcher when he's in the middle of a no-hitter, why the foul pole is called the foul pole and not the fair pole, and why it's necessary to nail a batter with a fastball the inning after somebody from your team just get plunked with a high and tight heater, stuff like that.
Bottom line is this. Keith has a sweet mustache and the guy is cool under pressure, so we should all just give him the benefit of the doubt. It's not like he killed somebody.
Here is a list of things that Keith should be able to say without getting fired:
-Oh this ump. This guy has been dicking batters since I was in the league. I've told the guy to go fuck himself at least a hundred times, but old Charlie, he just calls em like he sees em. Too bad the fucker is blind.
-(camera zoomed in on unattractive woman) I didn't know it was bring your dog to the park day?
-I don't know who's responsible for assembling the Kansas City Royals, but that team sucks more than a whore, vacuuming the floor at a candy store.
-Wow, the rare 6-9 double play, you won't see that everyday. Well Bob, you are married, aren't you?
-If Pete Rose taught us anything, it's that you never bet on baseball, but I'd be willing to bet you that the blonde in the 4th row will be coming back home with me tonight. She's getting a dirty Hernandez and she don't even know it.
-Hey Bob, what do ballplayers call the groupies that hang outside our hotels? Give up? We call em Billy Buckners, cuz almost anything gets through their legs. Hey oh!!
Friday, April 21, 2006
Draft #87
Freestyle Friday (anything goes)
-"The NBA has rebounded from its post-Michael Jordan blahs to become a dynamic, diverse, highly entertaining and unpredictable entity. If you are still among the many sports fans who claim the NBA is boring and unwatchable, you are either very boring yourself or you haven't been watching."
This statement was written by Dan Wetzel of Yahoo Sports, and I know of a handfull of people that would vehemently dispute his view of the NBA. Bold prediction- Bucks will win one game against the Pistons.
-John- the people around here want Brady Clark's head on a platter, I'm trying my best to hold off the masses, but they are really fired up. This isn't looking good.
-Did you know that Winnie Cooper and Becky Slater from the Wonder Years are sisters in real life? I guess Becky works for a law firm now, how scary is that?
-I've got the song "Smokey Mountain Rain" by Ronnie Milsap stuck in my head and I can't get it out. And the weirdest part, is that I don't mind it at all.
-I had a cheeseburger last night from a bar/restaurant called Wong's. Or was it Wang's? Either way it had cheddar on it, and it was tasty. After the burger, Stackhouse and I were whisked away to Miller Park in a large van driven by a real live Mexican who prefers to drive aggressively as opposed to cautiously. Having been in the service industry a few years myself, and I never had a go-to strategy for procuring a tip, but the authentic Mexican did and I can't believe I never thought of it. After providing the service, he merely turned around to the passengers and held out his hand, as if to say, that's where the money goes. Pure genious.
-If you've never seen Ben or Nate Filzen sing karaoke, you are definitely missing out on something. Something that could change your life significantly.
-Do you ever get the feeling that one of your hips is degenerative? Or that you're destined for kidney failure?
-If Steve Nash wins the MVP again this season, I will spit on the first Canadian I see. This season, the only way to spell MVP is K-o-b-e.
-Smokey Mountain rain keeps on fallin', I keep on callin'.....her name........(there you go again Ronnie)
-Someone in our office has a stash of candy in their cubicle with a money jar next to it, presumably for their kid's fundraiser. Rumor has it, one of the old guys in our department is stealing from the candy stash (he's not stealing money from the jar, just stealing the candy bars, not that I'm trying to rationalize his behavior). How low can you go? Somewhere out there this summer, there's going to be a kid running around the old ball diamond without stirups and that's just a damn shame.
-T-shirt slogan- "I AM the man from Nantuckett" and "I reside on the south side" (includes photo of stick figure with empty pockets hanging out the side)
-Nate- you still going out with your mom tonight?
-Haus and I will be going to the Brewer game tomorrow and Miller Park will be featuring one dollar hot dogs. What would you set the over/under at?
-Drinking expired milk is almost never a good idea.
-In case you missed it, last week Nate Filzen vomited out the window of a moving vehicle. And I was there to laugh.
-Caramel has no business being anywhere near a Reece's Peanut Butter Cup, let alone the inside of one.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Draft #86
Former Milwaukee Brewers Sideline Reporter Bob Brainerd Eaten to Death by Rare and Exotic Two-Headed CrocodileRecently, things were not going well for Bob Brainerd, he lost his job both as a sideline reporter for the Brewers, and then as a part-time sports donkey for Fox 6 News. The 1983 graduate from the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh was on top of the world as little as a year ago, and then before he could blink, he was out of his profession and was selling discount fruit on the side of the street just so he'd have enough money for food (although many wondered why he just didn't eat the fruit). Sure Bob could have made more money working as a janitor or a carwash attendant, but Bob still had his pride. Bob felt that those positions were beneath him, and that selling fruit allowed him to use his talents (ie annoying people). Even in his darkest moments, Bob could be found plugging away on the curb sides of Capital Dr., waiving bananas at passer bys, hoping to make a sale. If you'd watch long enough, you could witness 2 or 3 cars per hour that would recognize Bob and try to drive their vehicle onto the curb in an attempt to drive over him.
Bob knew that nobody in this city liked him, even a little bit, his welcome was well over stayed and it was time to move on. "The people in this state wouldn't know what talent was if it crawled up their shorts and bit them in that fleshy area between their genitalia and a-hole, I'm Bob Brainerd damn it!" The bitterness had reached its threshold and now was the time for Bob to execute plan B, a move to Florida. Bob always wanted to move there, the cold harsh Wisconsin winters were not to Bob's liking, and he heard a rumor that there was a vacancy for a reporting position with the Marlins. And since Bob never had a relationship with a real live female and consequently wasn't married, he packed up his cookie cutter suit and headed south.
Bob arrived in Florida with the confidence of knowing that his degree from Oshkosh would put him head and shoulders above the competition. Bob had a great feeling that his interview was going to be a complete success, and that feeling was soon put to rest a few minutes into the process. Aftering spilling coffee on himself in the waiting area, Bob put any doubt to rest in the mind of the interviewer, as to whether he may or may not be retarded, by announcing to the interviewer that he once caught a marlin on a chartered fishing trip back when he was a kid, thus making him qualified to work for the Marlins. Bob also stated that he is very proficient in the area of storm survival, in case another hurricane were to hit Florida, Bob assured the Marlins brass that he would be able to survive such a disaster since he saw the Perfect Storm (starring George Clooney) eight times.
The interview man merely laughed in Bob's face and told him that he's never even heard of a college in Oshkosh. They say Bob started sobbing and begging for any job with the team. He even went as far as lobbying for a janitor's assistant position, but the head janitor took one look at Bob and said he didn't want to work with no pansy asses. So with a broken spirit, Bob slowly exited Pro Player Stadium without any alternative plan of action. He thought for sure that this was his big ticket back to the bigtime, but alas, there he stood, lonely, and no plan C in sight.
Since Bob had spent most of the income he earned while in Wisconsin on Brett Favre memorabilia, and since he was 100% certain the Marlins would hire him, he had very little disposable income, if any, available to him. Bob spent his last twenty dollars that he was going to use for a post interview celebration at Applebee's, on a bottle of cheap whiskey and a ride to the Everglades. Luckily the ride to the Everglades came cheap since a one-toothed loner named Gus offered to give Bob a ride in his pickup truck. After forty minutes alone in a truck with Bob, old Gus made him do a tuck n' roll out the passenger side door while the car was still running, I guess Gus wasn't the only person on this earth that couldn't stand to hear another story about how Bob got his picture taken with Jeff Cirillo at the Brewer's Christmas party.
At this point, Bob was stranded, drunk, confused, hurt, and in the middle of nowhere. Bob took a pretty nasty spill and was out cold laying in the middle of a gravel road for about an hour. His vision was blurred, but up ahead in the distance he noticed a pickup truck heading in his direction, the very truck that Gus had given him a ride in earlier that day. Gus slowly approached Bob in the truck, did a Y-turn and then put the truck in park. Bob could vaguely notice that Gus had a large cage in the bed of his truck and in the inside appeared to be a creature of sorts. "Gus, you came to save me, I knew you'd come back" declared Bob. But Gus just stared at Bob in silence and continued unhatching the tailgate and opening the cage. Once the massive creature was unleashed and free to roam the grounds near Bob, old Gus tipped his cap and said, "See you in hell, Bob, see you in hell." The freakishly large, two-headed alligator, annoyed by the inferior scent given off by Bob, proceeded to tear him apart, limb to limb, using slow and painful bites. The alligator was quoted in a recent interview saying Bob is not a good eat, he whined the whole time, screamed like a girl, and just plain didn't taste good.
A memorial parade/celebration will be held in honor of the passing of Bob Brainerd before the Brewers/Twins game on May 20th. Refreshments will be served in parking lot G near the Sausage Haus.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Draft #85
What would YOU do for a Klondike bar?
I'd push a nun down a flight of stairs
Or nudge a kid into a pit full of bears
I'd slap your mother and not think twice
As we watched season two of Miami Vice
Oh, what would you do for a Klondike bar?
I'd shoot grandma's cat with a BB gun
Then participate in an automotive, hit and run
I wouldn't say sorry and I wouldn't leave a note
I'd tell ya to shut yo face and ta go fuck a goat
Oh, what would you do for a Klondike bar?
I'd eat an entire brick of moldy cheese
or whack my boss with a bat right across both knees
I'd trip a blind person walking through a park
Maybe even take a dump in the wavepool down at Noah's Ark
Oh, what would you do for a Klondike bar?
I'd run a marathon, well at least the first half mile
I'd wear zubas for a week and tell people "I have style"
I'd punch a stranger in the throat and watch them gasp for air
Then I'd ask if they felt lucky, as I set fire to their hair
Oh, what would you do for a Klondike bar?
I'd let a pirate do my taxes
And give a one-legged hooker front door access
I'd go one whole week without cable television
Actually, I'm lying, I'd immediately regret that decision
Only crazies don't have cable, but that's just my opinion
Oh what would you do for a Klondike bar?
I hope you wouldn't do, any of these things
Cuz you'd go straight to hell and you'd never get your wings
Now while ice cream is the tops, on that we can agree
Tripping blind people is complete horse hockey
Monday, April 17, 2006
Draft #84
Sick Day
Captain's log, I've just awoken from a long night's slumber only to notice that I've been sweating, profusely. The sheets are saturated and I've now begun to question possibly whether or not I've urinated in my own bed. After taking a mental tour through my personal track record for peeing my pants, I've come to the conclusion that I did not wet the bed. I feel quite dizzy and I must remove these sweat-soaked clothes, they are making things unpleasant for me. After ringing my assistance bell for five consecutive minutes, it appears that mother is either gone or has lost all interest in assisting her only son. I would fight a poisonous rattle snake right now to get my hands on a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice........well..........maybe not a snake, that would be too dangerous for someone in my condition and tax bracket, perhaps a gerbil would do. I would punt a gerbil straight across the Atlantic for the sweet, sweet relief that comes from vitamin C.
But who am I kidding? I am far too ill to be kicking rodents into large bodies of water. Mother will surely, be back soon, I will have to watch some television to help bridge the gap. Ah yes, Saved by the Bell. I used to view this program frequently a few years back. But I'm having difficulty figuring out why. This Jessie Spano is a complete rag, she's an absolute joy kill. She is angering me. And this Mr. Belding character, who would possibly put this guy incharge on anything, ever, let alone an entire school. I wouldn't entrust an ant farm to this buffoon! And would you look at this Screech kid, he's the gayest one of the bunch. I don't like how his parents allow him to have his own robot, a boy that gay will inevitably find a way to deface a perfectly good piece of machinery, it's the nature of the beast.
I am growing bored with this program, time to turn it off. As the sun beats through the window, I begin to curse it's very existence. It's otherwise soothing rays are causing me to sweat even more than before, thus leading to more discomfort. I could get up out of bed and pull the shades down, but I am far to ill to take on such a task. Luckily I have a spare pillow to help shield the bright light. (2 minutes later) Look what I've reduced myself to, lying on my back with a pillow over my face because I'm too weak to hold it up any longer. I can barely breath with this thing on my face, but if I take it off, then I'll be giving the sun a free pass to mock me once again, and I won't allow that. Damn, it is smoldering in here, orange juice may not be enough to fix my lowly disposition, my only hope now is a strawberry/banana Dannon Frusion.
The main character's father now enters the room.
Dad: What the hell are you still doing in bed? It's 10:00 am, don't you have to be at work?
Son: Shouldn't you be at work?
Dad: I retired, five years ago. We had a huge party, remember?
Son: That's right, the retirement party. I ate too many deviled eggs that day.
Dad: Yeah, a lot people get sick off of three deviled eggs. You've got to be the biggest 50-year old pussy I've ever seen in my entire life. Just a whole new breed of pathetic. So what's the ailment de jour?
Son: I believe I may be running a fever. I had the sweats last night.
Dad: And that's it?
Son: I'm a little dizzy.
Dad: Did you take any Advil?
Son: I tried ringing the bell, but nobody.......
Dad: Nobody what, Bobby? Nobody came running to wipe your ass. You can't keep calling in sick to work everytime you get a sniffle or a headache.
Son: Subway has very strict rules as far as health is concerned, dad! They can't have sick people handling the food, it's not hygenic!
Dad: Oh I'm so sorry Mr. sandwich artist, I forgot how delicate your craft was. Just do me a favor, and stop ringing that bell, the cable guy is stopping in and I don't want to explain to him what the hell that noise is.
Son: Can you get me a Dannon Frusion?
Dad: What the fuck is a frusion?
Son: Just tell mom to get up here when she gets home.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Draft #83
Blue Chips II, A City League Powerhouse is BornThe Up and Ups over at Paramount Pictures recently contacted yours truely with the idea of creating a sequel to the 1994 major motion picture, Blue Chips. My intitial reaction was, "Wow, the first movie sucked pretty bad, why try to compound the mistake by making another one?" But they assured me, that with the right angle, the sequel could be a major hit. So I told them I'd mull the idea over for a week or so and get back to them. Paramount thanked me for taking some time to help them, and assured me that they had complete faith in my work. I reminded them of my last cinematic project, Kazaam, and we all shared a good laugh and continued on with the day ahead.
A few days later, I was in the middle of watching a basketball game on ESPN Classic when the idea hit me. The game was a matchup from 1992 pitting the Orlando Magic and rookie center Shaquille O'Neal versus the Charlotte Hornets and their rookie center Alonzo Mourning. This game made me realize how good a ballplayer Larry Johnson used to be in his eariler days in the NBA. Sure, watching Shaq and Zo trade forearms and dropstep dunks was entertaining, but seeing Larry Johnson out there made me wonder how many other unforgotten NBA stars are currently floating in a sea of anonymity? Shaq and Zo are still in the league, but what about some of the stars that dazzled NBA audiences in the early 90's that seemed to taper off as the decade dragged on? A kid born in 1994 might not have ever heard of Derrick Coleman, Shawn Kemp, Glenn Robinson, or a Anfernee Hardaway, and that's a shame because these guys were huge. In those days if I would have said the following nicknames; DC, the Reign Man, Big Dog, Penny, and Grandma Ma, you'd know exactly who I was talking about. But If I'd say these nicknames to an eleven-year-old on the streets of today, they'd look at me like I had a string of boogies hanging from my nose. Big Dog? Who's Big Dog? Get away from me old man (cue the kid running away crying).
Here's how the sequel to Blue Chips will be constructed. Instead of college basketball, we'll direct our attention to the competitive world of city league basketball. And instead of using the Kobe Bryant's, LeBron James-aziz, or any of today's superstars, we'll used washed up NBA talent, guys who are currently out of the league, but could still use their names or faces to score a free 27'' TV from Sears or a free carwash from the neigborhood Bubbles Express. According to the plot, Kemp, LJ, Derrick, Penny, and Glenn all desperately want back in the league, but their agent Harry Weinstein has been informed through NBA brass that the washed-up quintet must first help out Graven's Drywalling, a city league basketball squad based in Wisconsin who's been out of their favorite bar league for 2 years, by becoming ringers and winning Graven's Drywalling a championship.
(It may be a bit of a stretch that these NBA castaway's are actually motivated to do more than just conceive children or sit on their money piles, and maybe an even bigger stretch that they would all currently have the same agent or any agent at all, but I figured if an alien named E.T. can help a kid fly a bike then anything in the world of cinema must be possible)
With the current plot setup, many question's need to be answered.
-Will team captain Troy Graven allow Glenn Robinson to take his spot in the starting lineup at shooting guard?
-Will the ringers follow the no dunking rule that is firmly established in the city league?
-And can any of them still dunk despite their current physical condition?
-How many friendships will Troy lose when he realizes that there is a strict 9 man roster limit, and he may have to cut some of his friends?
-Will the new additions to the team be able to adapt to the cold harsh weather conditions of Wisconsin?
-Is this new roster talented enough to de-throne perennial champs, Dick's Plumbing Services?
-Will Troy Graven adapt to his new personnel and institute a new offense to compliment their abilities, or will he stick with the motion A offense that brought them their one and only league championship back in 1987?
-Will Troy make Larry Johnson shave his beard?
-Will Pat Graven be accepting of his new teammates? (the new recruits would be Graven's Drywalling first African American players, and the tension could run high)
-Will Troy's sufficating fullcourt press, utilizing 5 guys who are 6'7'' and taller on a high school sized court, force many opponents to have a scheduled spat of Gravenitis when they see the dreaded name Graven's Drywalling on the schedule?
This is definitely a story about pulling together for a single cause. Both Graven's Drywalling and the former NBA superstars have been out of the winner's circle for years now, but with each other's help, could find themselves on top once again.
This movie will be rated R for excessive language and nudity. The NBA guys teach Troy a thing or two about their extracurricular nightlife activities while Troy exposes them to some old school country cussing none of da ringers ain't never heard befow, and some of them played a year or two in the league against Larry Bird, and that dude talks some serious shit.
The action will be headed into theaters on August 22nd, 2012.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Draft #82
Andy Landers- the long lost bastard child of Ann Landers
Suzzie from Idaho writes:
Dear Andy,
My dog Snuffles is not feeling well. He is an 11-year-old poodle and he makes poopies in the house. He's never had this problem before, and mommy says the doggy doctor will charge us $3,000 if we want to get his poopy problem fixed. What should we do?
Sincerely,
Not so Bowel-tastic in Boise
Andy: Well Suzzie, it appears that Snuffles best days are behind him. My advice, would be to avoid the vet bills at all costs, and invest in one shiny silver bullet. Take Snuffles out for a walk in the park within the next couple of days and have daddy shoot that miserable creature you call a pet in the back of the head. I'm assuming you are not a registered member of the National Rifle Association, or at the very least, are not licensed to operate a hand weapon, so it is very important to have your daddy do the shooting. There is absolutely no reason you and your family should have to live in a feces ridden home any longer. Besides, Snuffles is a poodle right? And poodles are one of the ugliest breed of dog known to man and I would recommend shooting it whether it had bowel problems or not. Get rid of the dog, and your family will be much happier.
Danny from New York writes:
Dear Andy,
My boss has been bustin my balls. He says I don't show up on time enough for work. I told him to mind his own fuckin business. He says the next time I show up late, I'm fired. He sure is a cock sucker, my boss. What should I do?
Sincerely,
Burning Mad in da Bronx
Andy: Well for starters, you can tone it down a couple notches with the profanity. You ain't no fuckin pirate, Danny. And as far as your question is concerned, my gut says that your boss was completely 100% right to have called you a lazy, useless, sack of shit. Oh what? Your boss never called you such a name? Well he should have, cuz that's whatch yooz is, useless, witch a capital U. If you were working for me, I'd a fired your ass weeks ago. You are the scum of the earth. My advice, shape up or ship out. You make me sick, and I'm done with you now.
Eric in Florida writes:
Dear Andy,
I think Poker, especially Texas Hold'em, is really stupid. Your thoughts.
Sincerely,
Ticked in Tallahassee
Andy: Eric, I couldn't agree more. Poker is so five years ago. I'd put its entertainment value right between playing Shoots and Ladders with a 3-year-old and having your toenails ripped off by a circus clown. It is simply the most overrated game since horseshoes made its way onto the scene back in 1805. Recent studies have indicated that individuals who are still enthralled with this prehistoric game were shown to also enjoy activities such as; dressing up in women's clothing, eating paste from an industrial sized jar, growing mullets, and sniffing a dog's ass. It's not me, it's research. The study also showed that individuals who've willingly watched more than 10 minutes of poker on television, are three times more likely to have intercourse with a wild moose since they've completely lost touch with anything that has to do with maintaining one's sanity. I hear creating your own Jello mold is quickly becoming the nation's most popular activity. Some of the bigger Jello enthusiasts bring their own case of iron moldings to parties to make different colored Jello's for their friends. They all sit around a table (while the Jello is in the fridge taking shape) and give each other handjobs, it's supposed to be a blast. And whoever "holds out" the longest, wins the pot. It's a lot like poker, just a little more gay, but not much more.
Sarah from Ohio writes:
Dear Andy,
Is there any way of distinguishing whether I'm glandular or just plain fat?
Sincerely,
Tubby in Toledo
Andy: Here are a few telltale signs that you've crossed the line from being glandular and are headed straight towards Obese Street. You accidentally caused an avalanche while doing jumping jacks in a neighboring state. You've eaten a stick of butter, on more than one occasion. You walk through most doorways, sideways. You scare most children. You become winded dialing a phone. You've accidently been harpooned by a whale fisherman. You naturally smell like bacon. You've asked a stranger whether you're glandular or fat. If any of these apply to you, you may be a fatty.
And finally, Timmy in New Jersey writes:
Dear Andy,
What's the deal with urinals? Have you ever fallen victim to some heavy reboundage?
Sincerely,
Peeing in Princeton
Andy: By heavy reboundage, I'm assuming you are referring to the scenario in which your urine stream is so strong that when it hits the back of the urinal, some of it comes spraying back at you, leaving wet marks on your trousers. If this is the case, then my answer would have to be yes, I have fallen victim to some heavy reboundage. It's the most embarrassing in formal situations when you are wearing light-colored khakis. You try to tell people you got a little crazy with washing your hands, but they know better. There's nothing worse than having to convince someone that you didn't actually pee your pants. Here's a few tips to avoid heavy reboundage. 1) urinate regularly- holding it in for long periods of time only makes the stream stronger. 2) Don't stand so close to the urinal. 3) Try to the work the angle- not every urinal is shaped the same, don't take a blind piss, evalute the situation first and use the angle that works best for you.
Well I hope my advice today was helpful. I know I'm not my mother, but I did my best.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Draft #81
Point-Couterpoint "Societal double standards for men and women"
From the perspective of point, will be Christina Aguilera using only excerpts from her hit single "Can't hold us down" featuring Lil' Kim.
From the perspective of counterpoint, will be rational thought.
Let the debate begin!
Christina: So what am I not supposed to have an opinion. Should I be quiet just because I'm a woman.
Rationale: I'm not exactly sure at what point in our nation's history that women were allowed to speak out of turn, but that date in time has brought our country nothing but considerable headache and drama that has since repressed our advances towards a functional society. And I for one, will not stand idly by and watch the inferior sex tear down, what took our forefathers years to build up. I just won't!
Christina: They call me a bitch because I speak what's on my mind. I guess it's easier for you to swallow if I sat and smiled.
Rationale: I didn't think we would come to an agreement this early in the debate, but Christina brings up a very valid point. Women who speak out against issues they feel are wrong are extremely huge-shut the hell up- don't make me slap you-kiss your mother with that mouth- type bitches. Instead of questioning every single thing male authorities legislate, why not try honing that energy towards refining cooking, cleaning, and knitting skills that the modern woman has abruptly abandoned over the last 50 years? Would it kill you to bake a pie every once in awhile to let your man know you still care?
Christina: When a female fires back, suddenly big-talker don't know how to act. So he does what any little boy would do, making up a few false rumors or two.
Rationale: I continue to stand by my previous statements. I definitely caught you servicing those two homeless gentlemen in the alley near Time Square. I specifically saw a blonde girl, dressed in slutty clothes, wearing an excessive amount of makeup, doing her best randition of a drunken cross-country skier. If that wasn't you, than please, tell me who that possibly could have been.
Christina: Sir, you are for sure, not a man to me, slanderin' names for popularity. It's sad you only get your fame through controversy. But now it's time for me to come and give you more to say.
Rationale: I'm not sure it could get more slutty than handing out HJ's in an alley to strangers? We'd almost prefer you don't give us more to say. For you and your family's sake.
Christina: (now straddling podium) This is for my girls all around the world, who've come across a man who don't respect your worth. Thinking all women should be seen not heard, so what do we do girls? Shout out loud!
Rationale: Through extensive research of the streets within a five mile radius of Time Square, our findings show that Miss Aguilera's "patrons" were charged $3 for an HJ, $10 for a BJ, and $20 for the whole thing. If you're as worried as you appear to be about men not respecting your worth, Miss Aguilera, may I suggest marking up your prices a tad bit higher.
Christina: Let'em know we're gonna stand our ground, lift your hands high and wave them proud. Take a deep breath and say it loud........Never can, never will, can't hold us down.
Rationale: What's with all the shouting?
Christina: If you look back in history, it's a common double standard of society. The guy gets all the glory, the more he can score. While the girl can do the same and yet you call her a whore.
Rationale: Have you ever thought of just not being a whore? It's probably a lot more simple than trying to convince everyone it is OK to be a whore, merely because you're not the only one doing it.
Christina: (with a blank stare that lets everyone know that she's never even given, not being a whore, a second thought) I don't understand why it's OK, the guy can get away with it and the girl gets named. All my ladies come together and make a change, start a new beginning for us everybody sing.
Rationale: Can somebody tell me why we're singing now? This is a debate! Not a ho-down. No pun intended.
Lil'Kim: Check it out, here's something I just can't understand, if a guy have three girls then he da man. He can either give us some head, or sex a roar. If the girl do the same, then she's a whore.
Rationale: I'm pretty sure that's the exact same thing Miss Aguilera has been trying to say for the last few minutes. Is there any point to you being here today?
Lil'Kim: I'm here for all my girls who got a man who be trying to mack. Do it right back to him and let that be that. You gotta let him know that his game is whack, and that Lil'Kim and Christina Aguilera got yo back.
Rationale: Well there you have it. It all started out when we let them have the right to vote and now wouldn't you know it, they want to have sex with whoever, whenever, and however they please. It's like a big whorish snowball that just keeps getting bigger and bigger with no end in sight.
Christina: Oh sir, you're just a little boy, think you're so cute, so coy. You must talk so big, to make up for smaller things.
Rationale: Wait just one second there, missy. My wife is perfectly pleased with........the size.........of a...........Well let's just say she's pleased. At least I think she's pleased. Actually, I hope she is. You don't think she'd lie just to make me feel good. Oh no, she's lying isn't she? I knew it, I'm no good. She's probably doing the mailman as I speak, damn it!
Christina: I am woman, hear me roar!
Rationale: You are a dirty, a dirty whore!
Christina: You just jealous, cuz you can't have this.
Rationale: That's OK, I don't want no syphilis.
Christina: I'm a good, good, girl and I'm as clean as a whistle.
Rationale: There's still no way I'm letting you near, my man-sized pistol.
Christina: I never said, I wanted you
Rationale: That must be a pretty short list, the list of guys Christina won't screw.
Christina: I quit, you win the debate. Just take back the part about women holding back the advancement of society.
Rationale: Deal!
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Draft #80
Happiness Where do we find it? Is it under a rock or floating in mid-air? Maybe it's on your dinner plate or underneath your chair? Some have said that happiness is just an illusion, filled with sadness and confusion. While others describe happiness as simply being a clam. So who are we to believe? I once saw a guy so happy he clapped his hands. He was happy AND and knew it too. But if you're really in a bind, and you desperately need some happiness, then may I suggest having a birthday. People will sing you a happy song, feed you cake, and lavish you with gifts. But I'm told this happiness only comes once a year, so make sure to have a birthday sparingly because people frown upon those who wish to have more than one birthday.
For one guy I know, walking through the park alone with a flower girl had made him happy. She had made him very happy and there were flowers in her hair and flowers were everywhere. But I'm pretty sure he was gay, and while gay, in a certain context, may mean that you are full of happiness or perhaps even joy, I have reason to believe that in this particular case, a person who finds happiness in the company of a flower girl may indeed be a hippie. And the only time a hippie is happy is when they are protesting against something or high on drugs. I personally don't like protesting at all because pretty much all authority figures know exactly what they are doing and what's best for me. So if the man wants me to pay $3.00 a gallon for gasoline, I say let's make it $4.00 Mr. President! But when I think about it, paying $4.00 a gallon for gas would not bring me happiness of any kind. So maybe these hippies know a thing or two about happiness. Then again, hippies smell bad, so certainly anybody who prefers smelling like shit can't be a very reliable source on where to find happiness.
So if being a hippie won't make me happy, then where should one turn? Maybe all I can do is imagine how the world could be, so very fine, so happy together. Who would I be together with? The flower girl already ran off with that damn hippie! I tried being together with somebody once but it turned out, the whole time she was just pretending and it was like poof, so much for MY happing ending. Here's some advice if you want a happy ending, go get a massage. Now while the massage may lead to temporary relaxation, it will not ultimately bring you happiness. This crazy Jamaican fellow once said that in every life we have some trouble, but when we worry, we just make it double. So don't worry....... be happy. Just be happy? This fellow was wearing the same kind of hat that the hippie was wearing, so naturally he smelled bad. So you mean to tell me if I lose a finger in an electric blender, I should say oh well and enjoy life's splender? And the Jamaican fellow said ya mon, don't worry, be happy. So I took that Jamaican there by the throat, picked him up and threw him off my boat and said don't worry.......... be happy. The Jamaican yelled out, hey mon, I can't swim! I looked at my friend and said "would you listen to him?" Don't worry, be happy "Hey mon! Won't you help me back in?!" I just raised up my glass and said, "Don't worry, yo just drownin"
So with one less hippie to worry about, I thought, I had it all figured out. Then along came this bus, and in it, was a traveling band. They all got out one by one and stared at me, and said, "Hello! We're the Partridge Family, so come on get happy, a whole lot of lovin, is what we'll be bringin, we'll make you happy" This pile of douchebags looked way too happy for my liking, so I asked them kindly if they would just leave me alone. But they just kept repeating the same thing over and over, "Come on get happy! We'll make you happy!" So I'm like, look, are you fucking stupid or something? I don't want to be happy, well I do, but not that kind of happy. Y'all smoke a lot a drugs, do ya? And when they answered yes, I knew I was surrounded by another batch of hippies. Just my luck, how many hippies can one person run into in a single afternoon? So I did what anybody in my shoes would have done. I reached back into my hippie prevention kit and pulled out a satchel filled with bars of soap. I told them if they didnt' back off, that I'd clean the shit out of them. Well when push comes to shove, no real hippie likes a bath and will do anything to avoid one. That family band got right back on the bus and sped off into the distance like they's was Dale Earnhardt. And I never saw them hippies again.
The End.
