ring.....ring..."Please hold for the next availa...
Bernie: "Shit! YGTBFKM!"
(29 minutes 54 seconds later...) Hello! Who do I have the PLEASURE of speaking with today?
Please hold while I finish surfing.
Bernie: Itsmedamnit! STFU and listen! You've had my whole damn yard marked for digging. If you break my dog's invisible fence, his first unyielded stop will be in the very close vicinity of your ass!
"So you're saying you'd rather us not F--- up the underground pet fence you've just spent hours and hours re-installing to protect your cherished family pet from wandering outside of your yard. Is that right?"
Bernie: Of course dip$hit! What the hell else would I have held the line for 30 frackin' minutes for? Just to hear your dumba$$ voice tell me the same damn thing I just told your sorry, minimum waged, oversized double Whopper and a super-sized order of onion rings eating ass tell me?
...2 weeks 3 days later..."Hello! Who do I have the PLEASURE of speaking with today?"
Bernie: IT'S ME DOG$HIT FOR BRAINS! I'M THE ONE THAT WARNED YOU TWO WEEKS AGO NOT TO EFF UP MY DOG'S FENCE AND YOU JUST EFF'D IT UP SOMETHING GLORIOUS, DUG THE $HIT OUT OF MY FRONT YARD...AND DIDN'T EVEN BURY THE GODDAMN CABLE YOU CAME TO BURY IN THE FIRST PLACE!!! W...T...F!?!?!?Someone please tell me the logic in digging up a yard in order to bury a cable...then!...leaving the aforementioned cable in the exact same damned spot it has been in for over two frickin' weeks (hint..in the middle of the street) before replacing the patches of sod hap-eff'n-hazardly and then re-sticking one's index finger up their butthole?
I'll hang up and listen...
- Florida State making headlines, but are they making a move?
- ecdawg looks at who will be the better pro QB, Murray or USCs Matt Barkley.
- Meanwhile Groo found Jarvis Jones on the cover of Phil Steele.
- Kyle wraps up the weekend action as usual.
- The men's tennis team barely broke a sweat over the weekend in getting to the round of 16.
- Kimberley finds Orson Charles still hating the gators, just in a different zip code.
- Blutarsky reminds us that if the first rule of coaching is to win, a very close second is don't piss off the boosters.
- Lastly, this was my first car. If you want to find yours, click here. (h/t Mac)
Where the hell are we going? I feel like we're a lost ship whose rudder is steering us in circles. It's mid May and football is not only barely visible on the horizon, it's a speck of an island on a map that is three folds over from our compass rose. We're doomed. I give it two weeks before we resort to all out cannibalism. Chaos is opening her welcoming arms. Feel her chilling embrace and eye your neighbor as if he'd been basted in a butter cream sauce.
There's no way we make it to September. Every man for himself. If you can get onto a dinghy then you might catch a glimpse of an albatross, or get taken as a lunch by a great white shark. Your flare gun is useless here in the dog days of May. Shoot one off and no one within two days and 2000 nautical miles (whatever the hell that is) will see it. You'd have just as much luck at getting some attention by dropping your shorts and giving the relentless Sun the full monty.
No one's coming anyway. You're like a drunk Dana Holgerson, at a craps table without a come out roll. We're lost. Desperate. Doomed. College football is the only satiating antidote, both thirst quenching and sinewy satisfying, that can save our souls from a salty, desperate eternal death. You might as well take a second helping of meatloaf. It's not like we'll ever see a college football kickoff again.