Wabi-Sabi

I could watch monkeys eat Jell-O all damn day. Cute little furry bastards.

While out to lunch today, a family with three chilfren came into the restaruant. Two girls and a boy, looked like they ranged from 5-8 years old.

The oldest girl said something mean and pinched the boy, who appeared to be the middle child. He made a high-pitched squeal then started crying and said “That hurt”. Then she continued to pinch him and tease him. He kept on squirming and crying while the parents ignored them. Eventually she grew bored and left him alone.

 I see many successful relationships with women in his future.

[caption id=”attachment_1378” align=”alignnone” width=”400” caption=”The coolest motherfuckin’ Santa ever.”]

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I’m crabby today. I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I woke up late. I had to spend time with my family. The roads are all icy and terrible so I couldn’t go anywhere I wanted to today.

Now I am stuck home alone. So the only things I have to occupy myself with are a case of beer, a bottle of apple pie, and some video games. Actually, that’s not so bad.

Merry fucking Christmas to you.

You may have noticed that I stopped doing Touchdown Tuesdays about 3 weeks or so ago. I have some legitimate excuses- week 12 I went to a Vikings game and wasn’t able to watch any other football that week. And then the last weeks have been hellishly busy as the end of the semester loomed.

But part of the reason is also that I am an incredibly lazy person, and it was hard to muster up the enthusiasm to put up a football post every week. Making it something I “had” to do every week turned it into something I didn’t “want” to do. I’m just that type of person- responsibility instantly makes me apathetic to any task.

So rather than doing that, I am just going to post about football when and if I feel like it. Honestly, who wants to read a football post that I didn’t feel like doing and slapped together at the last second? If ya’ll wanted to read stuff like that, you would read Peter King’s shitacular column at SI.com.

In summary:

• I saw Brett Favre play live against the Bears. He looked good. Jay Cutler looked bad. But Favre is still an asshole and I am glad he is in his typical late season form and causing issues for his team.
• Chris Henry died. I found it amusing.
• The Colts are still undefeated. The Saints lost to the Cowboys, who are supposed to be incapable of winning in December.
• The Cowboys’ win and the Packers’ loss to the Steelers means that the Packers still don’t have a playoff spot clinched. That is annoying.
• I had this text exchange with Hambone today:

Hambone: Guy on espn first take “I don’t know if minnesota still has to play for the number two seed, too much math and calculus, I’m not good with that”

DeScepter: :(

Hambone: It is complicated though.

DeScepter: They have to…win?

Hambone: No, no. It involves calculus and what not. Can’t be that simple.

DeScepter: He is forgetting to carry the 2 and multiply by X.

Hambone: Ohhh…makes since to me (next message)  Sense I meant…NNNNNNOOOOOO

DeScepter: Fail.

Chris Henry died after getting his shit busted open on a road about a half mile from his house.

A lot of people want to criticize Henry for his lifestyle and his death. I’ve heard people say that this wasn’t too surprising, considering the amount of legal trouble Henry has had in the past. That makes sense. Thats why the only people to ever get in accidents are criminal assholes.

Then there was the guy on the local sports radio station that said Chris Henry’s life isn’t important because he is not a white QB. That is good to know. I can’t wait for wisdom like that to propel that commentator to a spot of prominence in the national media.

What I don’t understand is why people find his death so amusing. I mean, whenever I get into domestic disputes with my girlfriend, the first thing I do is rip my shirt off. And when she tries to drive away from the situation, I jump in the back of the vehicle, then threaten to jump off and kill myself if she doesn’t pull over. Who doesn’t do that? And usually the bitch pulls over. It just so happens that in Chris Henry’s case, she didn’t. So he had to make good on his threat. Nothing worse than looking like a chump when you are disputin’ with the ol’ lady.

I think the lesson to be learned here is that athletes with troubled pasts should not make an effort to turn their lives around.

Look at Sean Taylor- he was a dude with a troubled past and some criminal history. Then he pledged to turn his life around. He refocused on his career, and kept his nose clean for a while. What happened? He suffered a football injury and then died tragically while trying to rehab. Now the same thing has happened to Chris Henry.

Meanwhile, the TO’s and Pacman’s of the world are alive and well. Sure, Pacman may be out of the league. And TO’s career may be on its last legs while he is stuck playing in the Siberia of the NFL. But the point is that they don’t give a fuck about what people think of them, have made no efforts to reform their image, and the result is that they are rich and still breathing.

Following this logic, seeing as Michael Vick is not injured or dead yet, I have to assume his pregame ritual still includes his tradition of drowning a bag full of puppies in boiling water before warm-ups.

I guess people will finally stop bitching about Randy Moss being the most lifeless wide reciever in the NFL lately. At least Chris Henry died doing what he loved- breaking the law and fighting with women.

By the way, you’d think that the idea of actually finding humor in the sudden and tragic death of a 26 year old father of three would prevent people from cracking jokes about it. It doesn’t.

I like Samuel L. Jackson. And I enjoyed Black Snack Moan.

I’m not sure where the hell I got this from, but I found it saved in a random plac on my computer. So here you go.

Fucking weasels.

You’re sitting out there on a camping trip, trying to become one with nature, soaking your naked body in a slow-moving river. Then, suddenly, a pack of vicious weasels swim up to you and start ripping at your flesh. Then you get all pissed off because those little assholes have needle sharp teeth, so you grab one of them by the tail and use it as a club to beat the other weasels away. After a half hour of clubbing weasels to death, you are bloodied and tired. Then you need to get out of the water because all that blood and weasel carcasses will attract piranhas, and those little fuckers are worse than the weasels. Seriously, why the hell are there piranhas in a North American river?!

Then there are those times when you are just walking down the street, minding your own business, when weasels jump out from behind a dumpster in an alley and crawl up your pant legs and start biting you in the balls. Then you look like a fucking idiot running around in the street, screaming like a school girl and punching your crotch. No one helps you. They all think you are crazy, and don’t believe that there are weasels in your pants trying to give you a haphazard vasectomy.

All in all, weasels will pretty much ruin your day. Fucking weasels.

[caption id=”attachment_1355” align=”alignnone” width=”510” caption=”stylin looking sexy as fuck!”]

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Words fail me. http://twitpic.com/scm4k

“Someone told me the delightful story of the crusader who put a chastity belt on his wife and gave the key to his best friend for safekeeping, in case of his death. He had ridden only a few miles away when his friend, riding hard, caught up with him, saying ‘You gave me the wrong key!’ “
 

— Anaïs Nin

I was at my father’s house last Wednesday, spending time with my family since I wasn’t going to see them on Thanksgiving. I had a pretty good time. We mostly sat around talking, since I haven’t seen them in 2 months. My Father told me how he accidently flipped his wheelchair trying to drive up the ramp into the van the day before. Luckily he wasn’t hurt or anything, but apparently it sucks being a quadriplegic and having a 200+ pound wheelchair land on top of you. He also complimented me on my new hat. He said it makes me look like I have “talent”. As opposed to my usual appearance of a talentless asshole.

Later on we watched some MMA on TV. I’m not a huge fan of it, but if spending time with my father means I have to watch two half-naked men wrestle around on a mat and beat the shit out if each other, well…I am willing to make that sacrifice.

For dinner we had “rodundas” (also known as gorditas), which are kind of like fat little pancakes made from corn flour. You put a slice in the side, fill the bottom with meat and vegetables, put some lime-lettuce in there, put in some salsa, and then a spoonful of crema (like sour cream but less nausea inducing). They were damned delicious. I ate seven of them, because I am a fatty.

While we were eating, my little sister and a friend were talking; they’re in Middle School, so it was pretty typical teenage banter. Suddenly my sister starts talking about some girl that farted loudly in one of her classes. Apparently the whole class was quietly working on something when the silence was shattered by a huge fart from this girl. The girl apologized and that was that. Me and my little brother gave each other a puzzled look.

Me: “So… that’s it? You didn’t laugh at her or anything?”

Little Sister: “No, we didn’t want to be mean.”

Me: “I don’t think you know how Middle School works. When someone farts, you are supposed to tease them mercilessly and give them a cruel nickname.”

Little Brother: “Yeah, you guys should call her Farticus.”

My little brother has epic comedic timing.