Friday, May 2, 2014

Friday Misery stops by the woods on a snowy evening

Official off season update: miles and miles of weeks and days and months and hours and sunrises to go before Robert Frost shows his Pulitzers to Chris Fowler on the Gameday set. Sigh.

And miles to go before I sleep....Seriously, today is the second day of May. But in my mind we are still ever bundled up in the throes of mid February without a single stadium's bank of lights in sight. Perpetually in some epically slow motion, one like Penn Wagers' victims have never seen before...we plod along an inch at a time as we constantly check our watch. Each day the calendar changes, yet we only move further and further away from the next Clempsoning The clang of the Starkville bells are soundless. We yell and scream noiselessly.
As seen here: Robert Frost's pee
wee football coach. 

We'll never get there. Never. Ever.

Never. So just go back to your village Bobby Frost. Your horse ain't about to see a Texas A&M sans Manziel on this day. It ain't gonna see Gurley truck no Tiger either. Another Auburn miracle? Bitch please. Time to move on son. We're like a sled stuck in an embankment of ice that will not melt until Hoover's Wynfrey Hotel is empty of the 25,000 media members for every one SEC coach this July.


His house is in the village though...Boy has it been a week for assholes and douchebags, no? Just last Friday I thought the Clippers were a Los Angeles based hair cutting chain, like SportsClips in Pacific Daylight Time. A dude rolls out of the surf and decides to get his dreads trimmed and boom! Walks back out half his original body weight.

But no, the LA Clippers are actually a professional basketball team that harbors a billionaire troglodyte and Marge Schott wannabe. I mean if you're going to be a racist, Schott set the bar for sports franchise owners making offensive comments later leaked to the public, then offending people even more during an apology. Sterling on the other hand will let this dispute drag on through court, insisting his only mistake was mixing that last gin and tonic.

Mr. Frost, your village must be missing its idiot.

To ask if there is some mistake...Oh God, actually, make that two idiots. Because then there was the arthropod on arthropod crime in Tallahassee. Seriously, who had Crab Legs in the office pool as having a tougher exoskeleton than Jameis L. Winston? This guy makes Teflon Don look like poor old Roy Sullivan. He's as slippery as an octopus, which come to think of it prey on crab legs too. So maybe Winston isn't an arthropod after all. Hmmmmm...
(via BassinDawg)

Hell, I don't know what the guy is, except yet another Heisman wielding douchebag. So there may definitely be a Heisman curse, but this guy is making Manziel look like a cute little Disney'd hermit crab. We've had BB gun battles, Burger King soda fountains, [redacted by Tallahassee Police Department], and now absconding with crab legs from a supermarket.

But let's cut Winston a little slack. I'll admit that I have left a store before without paying for an item. Granted, said item was in my toddler's coat pocket, unbeknownst to me. But that's basically the same thing right?

Let's play it out and see:
My scenario: "Wait. Where'd that pack of gum come from sweetheart? ... Oh shit. You just made Daddy a thief!"
Jammy Jam's scenario: Walks into apartment with bag of crab legs while roommate is sitting on a rusted out lawn chair eating pork n beans from a can. "Hey Jammy Jam, how much you pay for that?!!?" ... "Time. Just time eventually. And only about 20 hours at the mall giving away smiles for free. Ha! Hashtag Manzieling!!"
Yeh, that's about the same. And at least the crab legs didn't ingest any rohypnol. That we know of.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep...Lastly, there's me. Yes yes yes. It's true. I have been inconsiderate as well. Inconsiderate of your needs as one who reads junk that drifts around through the cyberspace inside your wifi connectivity. The byline up there clearly says a daily look and it hasn't been as such here lately.

Now, I could lazily point to the calendar and tell you to get over it. Or I could just change said byline to whenever I damn well please. Or I could secretly record crustaceanic racist conversations about lobsters and post them here as if they were blogworthy.

But that's just not how we roll now is it? No, I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep.

And miles to go beFORE IT'S TIME TO MAKE SOME SANFORD STADIUM NOISSSSSEEEEEE!!!!!11!!!!111!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Have a great Friday Reader. And maybe it will serve up some poetic justice. I don't know, like seeing Donald Sterling and Jameis Winston being forced to sit at a Publix promotional stand together dishing out itty bitty dixie cups of imitation crab dip and Ritz crackers for hours on end. If so, send me a video. That counts as May.