[NSFW] I never answer my phone from unknown numbers, and yesterday I’m glad I didn’t. I received two of the best voicemails ever, which I believe were meant to be delivered to this fine fireworks establishment on the TN/AL line.
Almost everyone who reads this blog loves a good rasslin’ promo.
Since I’m pretty much the only one who reads it, it’s easy to get a majority.
I’m probably stirring up a hornets’ nest here, because the last promo I cut motivated Big Ben to perform at levels no one ever thought was possible.
But Vitamin A must have his revenge. And the Vols will destroy the Wolverines in the Sweet 16.
I’m not much of a sports fan anymore. I like to play sports, but I’m not that big on watching. I had an epiphany about sports as I celebrated Tennessee’s 1998 National Championship win and realized that I still had to go to work the next day.
I decided then and there that I would not get emotionally invested in something I have no control over.
But…I LOVE sports radio. Especially when Tennessee is getting ready to axe one of their coaches a question. There’s nothing like a coaching change to rile up the fan base and drive some high quality entertainment on the Knoxville ariwaves. Thankfully, I can still hear Tony Basilio over the internet.
With that, I give you the latest creation inspired by the trials and tribulations of the 2013-2014 basketball team.
Her: I bet all those girls had crushes on you.
Me: Are you serious? Every one of those girls haaaated me.
Her: Well, yeah…after they got to know you. But I bet they had crushes on you before that.
Because, let’s face it…
Aren’t most runners also really big fans of 1980s style professional wrestling promotional videos?
Not sure what horrible calamities may have fallen upon me had I not received this important message:
The Oscar 2 kids talk right buffets Mark, hey. It’s doctor Yeah, so I, the, but. The paper picture tourists developer. If you are out of Defense supply. Did you watch. I don’t know, after work but I have put it back to prepare shipper. We’ll talk to you You. Paris. Slash to your it Andrew party. 32 right prospects, but want to alright. Bye. I thought that that are This, probably there push this live site, ohh switch okay. Perhaps drive to pick up big big. Please do keep trying to make sure you can sleep. I don’t care how to be so talk to me. Bye. Thank you. Center City, hey pat You know. So, The, The, hey, bye. Ciao, ohh. The they’re all ohh spa right back pick up. Thanks. Bye. Thanks. Walked you later, okay there, buddy. I was Well, I think that for Porsche. Okay bye. I have the the past. Thanks to asked her site okay, I Yeah, Thank You. 4. There’s just thank you bye. Just tire, excited to talk to you later. Hello hello.
In fairness, I listened to this message, and the transcription is actually pretty accurate.
I love getting run-drunk. Also known as run-dumb.
Run-drunk is what happens when you’ve been running for so long and/or are so tired that you can’t do simple math. It’s that point where you run 3 or 4 miles without realizing it because you are trying to figure out simple pace calculations in your head.
Here’s an example from just the other night. I left the house carrying a bicycle bottle full of water and dropped it off about a half mile from the house at a spot I’d planned to loop through a couple of times. When I threw it over into the grass I actually took note of how heavy it had been to carry and felt instant relief letting it go.
During the course of my run I decided to go a different route with a bigger loop that has water spots built in. No problem–I’d just pick up the bottle on the way back to the house. I was already pretty tired from my bike ride the night before; so tired that I got a little run-buzzed and missed a couple of turns in my newly planned route. Basically I was wandering around the neighborhood like an idiot. People probably would have been alarmed if it weren’t for the fact that I’m so slow. If I was up to no good, they’d have no trouble running me down.
Nine miles later, I found my bearings and headed back home. I stopped to pick up my water bottle and thought I’d have one last little pit stop before the final .5 home. I probably drank 1/3 of the water from the bottle and was on my way.
Now, how far do you think I went before I realized I was carrying around a bottle full of water (weight) that I was going to take into the house and empty into the sink? I’m actually proud of myself for figuring it out before I got home, but embarrassed that I didn’t think of pouring it all out immediately.
I recommend getting run-drunk to everyone. Also, know that unlike drunk-drunk, it’s ok to get run-drunk alone.
But know going into it that run-drunk isn’t as fun as drunk-drunk. It just doesn’t hurt as badly the next day.
Received this email from a friend who’s coming to do Rocketman 70.3.
He isn’t training…he’s just going to show up and do the race.
I am in full taper and playing with a very cutting edge technique….I imagine my full workouts and “trick” my body into feeling as though it has properly trained. This takes a very strong mind to be effective and an even stronger imagination. Real JEDI shit, not for beginners! I fully expect to be in top form come race day….my results will talk for me.Good luck, Suckuz!
As I explained to him, when he can only beat me by 30-45 minutes, he’s going to wish he’d taken this more seriously.
I know it’s Hitler and all, but he makes some good points here. (Not safe to read at work).
I don’t care that it’s Photoshopped. Best. Tattoo. Ever.
As seen on SlowTwitch.
ImpPatience (noun) – the feeling you get when you finish a chapter in the Game of Thrones series, and knowing you won’t be able to read again for a few hours, you peek at the next chapter and see that it is titled “Tyrion”.
Also, am I the only person worried that this series won’t be finished, and that we’ll never get to read another word from the perspective of Cersei?
We are all just ants
Waiting to repair downed hills
Playing damned Ingress
You never hear these kinds of allegations against Jazzercise.
Investigators allege Wright ran a prostitution operation out of her Zumba studio in Kennebunk and taped her encounters on video equipment set up by Mark Strong, an insurance agent from Thomaston.
As an insurance agent, Mr. Strong clearly has a firm grasp on the concept of risk management.
Hookers–they aren’t just for rugby any more.
I saw two men keenly interested in the Presidency have a lively discussion about the roles and responsibilities of the job.
Still, I can’t bring myself to vote for Jim Lehrer.
A booksmart/streetdumb professional basketball player studying to get his master’s degree in economics secretly pines for his sports agent’s sister–a police detective with a tough-as-nails exterior and a heart of gold. Of course, the ditzy-but-smart athlete messes up every case the object of his affection works and thereby ruins his chances of ever wooing her.
Luckily, the agent always has his client’s back and is able to repair the damage caused, at the same time discovering that the suspect the police were pursuing was innocent and the person you least expected was responsible. This makes his sister look brilliant.
In Season 2 we learn that the agent secretly has a crush on the basketball player, and in the season finale he bursts into the guy’s mansion to express his feelings, where he finds his client making out with his sister.
A song by The Fray plays as we see scenes from the dialog-free aftermath this event caused, including the player missing a series of free throws at the end of a game and costing his team the league championship and resulting in a potential trade.
Who will represent him in the trade negotiations now that the agent has moved to Vancouver to find his spirituality?
What will happen at the police station now that she doesn’t have her brother to help her solve cases?
How will the distance affect their relationship if he really does get traded to Dallas?
Season 3 is gonna be awsum!