Super Sexist Bowl? STFU

When this year’s Super Bowl matchup was announced, Saints vs Colts, I renamed it to the Super Snooze. I felt it would lack that action packed, hard-nosed, 60 minutes of thrilling NFL football I was accustom to watching. I’m happy to report that I was wrong. The game was actually competitive and pretty exciting! And the commercials weren’t too shabby either...or at least that was my personal opinion when I went into work on Monday morning. I figured there would be Peyton Manning fans whining, but what I didn't expect were women to be shouting sexism! Sexism, really? I’m sorry, the ads are only seen as sexist if you twist the humor out of them. So lighten up. They aren’t sexist. They are geared toward men! So if you’re not a man, there is a good chance you wouldn’t enjoy something geared to men. Correct? That’s why women subscribe to Cosmo and not Maxim. So what makes you think the Super Bowl should be the exception to that rule? I wouldn’t tune into the Oxygen channel or the Lifetime Movie Network and expect the commercials there to be geared toward me.

Let me make something clear to everyone. Football, just like any other televised event/show, has a target audience. The NFL marketing demographic is aimed at males ages 18-34. That is their target audience, who is tuning into the games. So it's only smart business for advertisers to create commercials that appeal to the vast majority of NFL fans, males ages 18-34. Needless to say, young adult males are into beer, tits, technology, cars, and potty humor. This is why when you watch football, and especially the Super Bowl, you see ads for Bud, big breasted GoDaddy.com girls and muscle cars. Sexist? No. Smart!

The cost for a 30-second commercial during this year's Super Bowl was $2.6 million! Do you really think any company would waste that kind of cash on a commercial that doesn't grab the attention of males ages 18-34, their target audience? If you were selling Tampax tampons, you would air your ad during "Oprah." If you were selling Viagra, you would air your ad during re-runs of "Murder She Wrote." And if you were selling Zhu-Zhu Pets you would air your ad during "Dora The Explorer." Women, you’re more than welcome to watch the game with men. Although you will never see any man scream "SEXIST" if a woman makes a remark about how tight the QB’s butt looks or how you live in Florida, but you’re rooting for the NY Jet’s simply because Mark Sanchez is cute.

Football is a game filled with testosterone, blood and sweat. Men behaving like beasts! Wrestling and roughing each other up in a battle of strength and strategy. So don’t be surprised (or complain) that watching football makes me want to eat meat, drink beer and burp. It brings out the animal in us. Personally, I think it’s healthy to hang with the boys and yell "FUCK" during bad ref calls. I also think it’s perfectly normal for me to drool over two hot chicks in lingerie making out. And it’s perfectly normal that I want to jump up and cheer when I see a man taking a stand for himself instead of being emasculated by an over controlling woman. If that makes me a caveman or a sexist pig, so be it.

FloTV (watch here) takes a regular Joe Schmoe and states that his girlfriend removed his spine, made him go shopping instead of "letting him" stay home to watch the game. They then encourage him to change out of his skirt and get a FloTV so he can watch sports on the go, AKA in the mall. In another ad, Dockers (watch here) incorporates a slogan that is as old as the day is long when it comes to relationships. They’re calling all men and instructing them that "it’s time to wear the pants." We all know what that means! But it was Dodge Chrysler's Super Bowl spot (watch here) that got feminists fired up the most! Titled "Man's Last Stand," the narrator is as bold as they come, saying...

I will get up and walk the dog at 6:30AM. I will eat some fruit as part of my breakfast. I will shave. I will clean the sink after I shave. I will be at work by 8am. I will sit through two hour meetings. I will say yes when you want me to say yes. I will be quiet when you don't want to hear me say no. I will take your call. I will listen to your opinion of my friends. I will listen to your friends' opinions of my friends. I will be civil to your mother. I will put the seat down. I will separate the recycling. I will carry your lip balm. I will watch your vampire TV shows with you. I will take my socks off before getting into bed. I will put my underwear in the basket. And because I do this, I will drive the car I want to drive.

Know why this is funny? Because ALL men have felt this way before! If you haven't, then you must not be married, haven't talked to married men, or haven't been in any type of relationship long enough to experience this robot-like lifestyle. It's like being a shell of a man where you lose the balls to say no or disagree. You simply do as you're told because thinking on your own and doing what you want causes too much drama in your relationship. And you hate drama! Therefore you rather just say "yes dear" and go with whatever she says like a zombie. You do this because you love her and want to make her happy, even though living this way makes you miserable! Then finally something comes along, in this case the car you've always wanted, that makes you finally put your foot down. You realize you take enough shit and do enough for her. So it's time to do something for yourself. I WILL DRIVE THE CAR I WANT TO DRIVE!

I can't say I like Dodge Chargers, but I love this commercial because I've always said I will refuse marriage or get divorced before any woman forces me to buy a car I don't want. I will NEVER own a minivan! There are lots of things I will compromise on, but my car is just not one of them. And I don’t care if any women thinks my Ducati is impractical either. My sportbike is like my Bulldog. Both will stay and you will go.

I am man. Hear me roar.



PS (I secretly loved the Google commercial best of all! It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I guess that makes me a sexist pig with a soft center?)

Life Is Good

Sometimes all it takes is one good day, one good girl, or even just one good moment to bring you to an epiphany - life is good. I wish I could romanticize this with poetry. I wish I could interlace all these wonderful words of wisdom with sentiments so deep they would make the strongest man weep. I wish to take that concoction, blend it well and serve it up nice and thick. Words would fall from my lips, touch your heart and inspire your soul. As a wannabe writer, I want to move you. But alas, I come up short. The above scenario plays thru my head accompanied by several fairies, a magical wand and a handful of pixie dust. However, that is fantasy and not real life. Real life is reality. My reality is there wasn’t a single moment where the sun and the moon collided. There wasn’t a single moment where the earth shook and the stars fell from the sky. Water didn’t turn into wine and any other unexplained miracle did not occur. Life was simply kind to me, a rarity of late. I’ve been sort of stuck in this funk for awhile now and these last couple of days has helped shed that dark cloud. I can see a little clearer. I can breathe a little deeper. I can (hopefully) get back to being me.

It’s often the simplest things that make me happy. I’m thankful I’m still able to appreciate those tiny moments that many overlook and take for granted every day. Small fragments of life that normally pass you by on some idle Tuesday, you need to embrace those. Like last week when fresh fallen snow blanketed everything in sight, I smiled at Mother Nature’s beauty while others bitched about their personal inconveniences. Last night while riding in the car with my dog, I sang Jason Mraz’s "Lucky" to him. He gazed over at me with his sad saggy puppy dog eyes and let out a tiring sigh, as if to say he is embarrassed for me. I’m not ashamed to sing it though. I’m lucky I’m in love with my best friend.

So why the sudden happy heart? Well let me break it down for you...

My MMA Debut Ends In A KO!
Saturday night, after just a few months of training, I entered my first competitive MMA fight! I’ll admit, I had a lot of pre-fight jitters. The nerves were really starting to get to me, but that’s normal because before a basketball game or a boxing match, I would always get like that. Plus, I know I’m not the best fighter out there since I’ve only been training for a few short months. I wasn’t cocky, but I was confident. I predicted a win and a win via KO. I’m happy to report that BOTH of my predictions came true!

My opponent, with 7 fights and 2 years of experience under his belt, was brazenly arrogant and thought he was better than he really was. Apparently, he believed he was the second coming of the Karate Kid when he tried some fancy spinning leg kick. I caught his ankle, knocked him off balance and took him to the ground. Then he was pretty much helpless because his ground game sucks. With his back flat on the mat, I pinned his arms down with my knees and just pounded him bloody with multiple straight punches to the face. He couldn't defend himself and the fight was stopped before it became more brutal, a little over a minute into the first round. However, perhaps the ref didn't step in fast enough because on one of the last punches I threw, he was knocked cold. Even if he hadn't gone unconscious, it would have still been ruled a technical knockout simply because they had to stop the fight. I did not come out unscathed though. He had caught me with a few good shots earlier in the round. So my left eye is a little beat up. Although it was fun and I would do it again, I didn't feel my best the next day. I was soar and had a massive headache, but that is expected. Other than that, I would say my debut went well. I’m going to upload the video of the fight for those of you who have an insatiable thirst for violence.

Sixburgh
(I hate cutesy cliché names and writing that made me cringe.)

Sunday night, I threw a kickass Super Bowl party that would have made Martha Stewart proud. I celebrated with 25 friends as our beloved Pittsburgh Steelers won their 6th championship. Almost as exciting, I won $200 in my office football poll in the process! Suck on that Arizona! And yes, Diesel madeout with every single girl that came to my party. No shocker there. Seriously though, Bruce Springsteen? Who in their right mind wants to see someone older than their Dad rocking out? The dude is 60! Other than "Born In The USA", can anyone even name another song of his? I can’t, but if you can, then you should be ashamed of yourself. That is why you invite girls to your party who end up kissing each other when they drink too much. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the girl-on-girl halftime show in my living room. It was a great replacement for The Boss. And I’m sooo thankful that this year’s Super Bowl party was nothing like last year's tortuous episode of the giant double D boobs that simply would not shut up! (2/5/08 - The Clueless Never Score)

15 Minutes Of Virtual Fame
Monday morning, I awoke to learn that I made the #9 spot on the "Top 10 Gen Y Blogs" list from RyanStephensMarketing.com

9.) The Rest is Still Unwritten - Tech News and Random Ramblings from a 20-something year old bachelor.

And yet that description doesn’t even begin to encapsulate what David’s blog is about, which for me, his words (always completely transparent) embody his raw journey through life. I’ve recently become acquainted with David’s work as we have seemed to travel in different circles, and I’m glad I have. He discusses stuff other people are scared to put on paper, and makes ambiguity enthralling. This post is one of my favorites that resonates in so many ways.

In addition to that, I was also pleased to discover that my "First Kiss" post was featured on 20SB. What was a little odd was that I was happier for Marissa’s post to be featured than my own. If you’re not reading her already, you should because you don’t know what you’re missing out on. You just want to squeeze the adorableness out of her, take it, stuff it in your pocket and carry it around with you the rest of the day.

Read the "First Kiss" posts from Marissa, me and a few other talented bloggers on 20SB.

I’m A Hot Mess
Just before Christmas, I had caught the flu. By New Year’s, that had turned into bronchitis. And now, I’m happy to report (not the sarcasm) that bronchitis has turned into phenomena. Basically, I’m a hot mess, once again.

Ok, that last one shouldn’t count because being a hot mess is nothing to be happy about. Still, despite my boy germs, I’m determined to carry on and do the things that make me happy, like beating another man’s face in until he is helpless and lying in a pool of his own blood. Oh fun!

I Love The Olympics Like A Fat Kid Loves Cake! (Part 2)

If you’ve already read I Love The Olympics Like A Fat Kid Loves Cake! (Part 1) from earlier this week, then this is the continued post, Part 2. As of right now, I’m thinking there will not be another installment, a Part 3. So that means you need to suck in and savor every single word of this Part 2 post before the Olympic torch is extinguished! And if you haven’t already read Part 1, shame on you and do it now! Yes, you, do it. Now if you are a girl and you’re saying "I don’t like sports so I don’t want to read about the Olympics", let me assure you that Part 1 had little to do with sports and much to do with dancing dicks and bouncing balls. You like those, don’t you? If you answer no, you aren’t into male genitalia, then chances are you’re a lesbian. If that is the case, then duh, you like sports! All lesbians like sports. And if you are a guy who doesn’t like sports, then chances are you are gay and that means you like dicks and balls. So you see, everyone can be happy, no matter what your sexual preferences are or your like/dislike of athletics. (Don’t send me hate mail on this. I stereotyped homosexuality purely for the silliness of this post. If you are offended by this, then I apologize and advise you not to read my blog because I’m a silly kind of guy and I may get your panties in a bind from time to time. And the only time I’m serious is when I’m seriously joking.)

LoLo, we should makeout.
It will make you feel better after falling in the 100-meter hurdles.
Seriously, let's give it a try. It can't hurt.

Phelps, Phelps, Phelps. Hey, I like the guy too. He’s an amazing swimmer, seems like a kind sole and he has an English Bulldog. What’s not to love? But can we please just shut up about Phelps now? I hate saying that because it sounds so rude and cold considering he just won 8 gold medals for our country, but I can only take so many interviews with Phelps’s Mom. I feel like I know more about Michael Phelps’s upbringing, body stats and daily routine than I know about my own upbringing, body stats and daily routine. I can tell you what Phelps’s ate for breakfast last Wednesday, but I can’t tell you what I ate for breakfast today! There’s something very wrong with that. It’s like I’m his creepy #1 obsessed fan without even stalking him or friending him on Facebook. Thanks to Bob Costas and the media’s relentless coverage on fishboy, I now feel like I know entirely too many personal details on Phelps. So many details it’s as if we have been intimate! That’s simply not a happy place I want to be in my mind right now. Yuck.

If you can ever manage to tune into the Olympics when they aren’t talking about Michael Phelps, you’ll find there are over 10,000 other great athletes competing in 28 other events, other than swimming. But can I just ask, when did frat house activities turn into full fledge Olympic events? I’m talking about ping pong, or the official fancy name or it, Table Tennis. Honestly, I can’t stop laughing when I see a Chinese dude shaking out his muscles during a heated ping pong game. If you strain a muscle playing ping pong, you have issues. It may be laughable here in the States, but I know they take ping pong very serious in China. So serious in fact they sequestered their players for 2 years to train! Apparently it was very hush-hush and they didn’t want other countries seeing them hone their skills for fear it would give a competitive edge to an opponent. Geez! You couldn’t even sequester me for 2 days for a mafia trial! So I can’t even imagine being held captive for 2 solid years! I’m thinking I’ll call up my old fraternity brothers so we can form a beer pong team for the 2012 Olympics. I’m totally taking home gold in that!

There are other Olympic events that I have to question if they are a sport or not, like Speed Walking. Speed Walking? What the...? If we are going to accept speed walkers into the games now, then let’s get my 88-year-old Grandma signed up so she can smoke everyone’s ass. Put her in a pair of Hush Puppies and off she goes! And what is this Trampoline event all about? Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s cool as fuck! If I got on that trampoline, you would never get me off, ever! It looks sooo fun and I desperately want to bounce from one trampoline to the next. What can I say? In a previous life I may have been a circus freak or a monkey. Same difference, right? There is also Handball. Now Handball to me looks like a game that is made-up as you go along. It’s very similar to the game we play at work when everyone is mentally drained and falling asleep at their desk due to a 60+ hour work week. It’s when you take a crumbled wad of paper and wail it at your co-worker, just between his face and his computer screen. If you succeed in getting it past him successfully without hitting his face or the computer screen, you score! Try it. It’s kinda fun.

One of the things I like best about the Olympics is the little heartwarming stories tied to the athletes. Nicknames like "6 Feet Of Sunshine". The 15-year-old swimmer who accidentally fell into the water during the Sydney Olympics, was disqualified and ran into the bathroom humiliated...only to return 4 years later in Beijing and take home gold. Or the Sudan track star who fled a prison camp at age 6 and never stopped running. You can’t help but get choked up as a German weightlifter shows off his gold medal in one hand and a photo of his late wife in the other. He stood there before a packed crowd with tears in his eyes during one of the happiest and saddest moments in his life. And don’t forget about hotties LoLo Jones (U.S. hurdler) and Alicia Sacramone (U.S. gymnast) who literally fell on the big stage. I wanted to hug both of these girls and let them cry a soggy mess on my shirt chest.

Of course the 2008 Olympics also brings us some ugly moments as well, things we would like to forget about. Like the weight lifting elbow snap, the Chinese lip-syncing fiasco and women’s wrestling. Those are like dudes with ovaries – scary! So as the games wind down, I surf my way on over to the official Beijing Olympic website and every time I see "Modern Pentathlon" listed as an event, I think it says "Modern Penetration" and I get all excited for a second. Then I click on the link and realize it’s some stupid horse riding thing. What a letdown! But wouldn’t "Modern Penetration" be a great sport? It could be judged like gymnastics. If people will watch ping pong, they are definitely going to watch people having sex as an Olympic event. I know I would tune in! I’ll request it for 2012 and you can thank me later.

I Love The Olympics Like A Fat Kid Loves Cake! (Part 1)

***WARNING!***
This post has more to do with genitals than the 2008 Olympics. Surprise!

I love the Olympics! Love, love, LOVE them! Did I mention I love the Olympics? I love the Olympics like a fat kid loves cake. I love the Olympics so much that when they end, I may throw a temper tantrum, just like a fat kid does when he is told he can’t have anymore cake. On August 24th, don’t be shocked if I throw my body on the floor, kick, scream and carry on. I don’t want to see the closing ceremonies because it means the Olympics are over and I have to return to my normal, boring gold medal-less life. In other words, it means I can’t have anymore cake. I don’t want that day to come! Someone please tell me how to make the Olympic games last forever! Only 2 weeks every 4 years just simply isn’t enough. I want more, damn it. More I say. More! However, there are some parts of the Olympics I can do without. Specifically, men free balling in white spandex shorts that are drenched in sweat to the point where it becomes obscenely see-thru. It’s totally different if it was a hot chick with some nice, firm C-cups in a wet t-shirt contest. Now that I would love to see! A German dude’s sweaty junk flopping and flailing about as he finishes up the final heat of a triathlon, not so much. I’m just glad he isn’t from Jamaica! (And that isn’t a racial insult to black men. It was a compliment. Everyone knows you guys are hung like horses! Lucky bastards.)

Believe me, it’s no coincidence that EVERY photo of Germany’s Jan Frodeno winning the Men’s Triatholon is a shot of him cropped off at the crotch. You don’t want to see the horror my bleeding eyes had to endure.

Usually I refer to tight pants on men as "ball huggers", but in this case, his balls were definitely not being hugged! If anything, they were being violently expelled from his prostrate! I mean, come-on now. I understand why Olympic athletes wear insanely tight shimmery outfits. They do so for speed, so their body won’t be caught up in any loose clothing to distract them from performing at their absolute peak. Although some of it is so tight that I question if cutting off one’s blood circulation is just the price you have to pay to keep your muscles warm? Still, I understand the science behind it all, but can’t we get this German athlete a jock strap? Can’t someone spot the man a couple bucks so he can hit up Beijing’s version of Target? Shed a little love. This is the Olympics for God sake! We are supposed to come together and help our fellow country man out. So please, someone, anyone? If we can’t get him a jockstrap, then can we at least get him a darker colored leotard to compete in? Preferably black so even if his ball sweat reaches epic proportions, the viewers at home will experience "trick eye" - the human eye just sees a blur thanks to the color black, detail is lost.

Hey, I mountain bike. So I know what it’s like. Your shit shakes, it shuffles. It bounces and bangs from side to side. And even though I am anti-spandex (which I think every man should be), I did buy some compression shorts to wear while mountain biking. But the thing is, I don’t just wear that tight little number. I slip on some cargo shorts or mesh basketball shorts ontop. I do so because nobody wants to see a man in tight ass shorts, even if the only eyes that are going to see me while biking thru the woods are the eyes of Peter Cotton Tail, Bambi and Bigfoot. Still, I show them some respect and have the decency to dress accordingly. And ladies, just because you don’t have a twig and a couple berries doesn’t mean you are exempt here. If you dress your hot pocket in spandex, then you very well may run into a little problem called camel toe. Let me just say, that even on a hot chick, camel toe isn’t sexy. So please people, think before you pull out the spandex from your dresser drawer. It’s not an outfit one can just throw on without giving much thought to.

So in closing, let me first say congratulations to the gold medal winner of the Men’s Triathlon Final, Germany’s Jan Frodeno. And second, bro, just say no to white spandex. I beg of you!

***NOTE***
This is Part 1 of...? I’m not quite sure yet, but I’m thinking this will be a 2 or 3 part series. So stay tuned! More Olympic coverage and my personal take on it is to follow shortly! I know you’re excited, but try to contain yourself.

Watch My Ducati 999r Beat a Lambo!

It’s an Italian showdown - Superbike vs Supercar. To many, the winner is surprising. To me, I'm not really surprised. Ok, so this isn’t "my actual bike" in the video, but it’s the same bike I have and ride/race on a regular basis. And most likely will be the very bike I one day kill myself on. (Sorry, I know, bad joke.) My friends refer to it as "sex on 2 wheels" and yes it is a damn sexy bike, but unleashing the beast's full power is what really gives you that orgasimic-like rush! They don't call them "crotch rockets" for nothing, right?

Now if I can only get the attention of the guy that drives by my house every weekend in his black Lamborghini Gallardo. I am DYING to race him!

Oh and Mom, if you are reading this...you didn’t just hear that.

Pretty And Not So Pretty

This weekend we learned a few things. Pittsburgh Penguin hockey fans won't go down without a fight...or at least won't go down without thousands of fans cheering so loudly that they lose their voices the next day. With my team down 3-1 in the Stanley Cup Finals, we head back to Detroit tonight in a must-win situation against the Red Wings. I hate to say it, but it doesn't look good if you are a Pens fan. I'm going to keep hope alive, but I'm also going to prepare my boo-hoo hanky just in case.

This weekend we also learned that it doesn't tickle to fall off your sportbike. Well, I already found that out a couple years ago when I totalled my Ninja after being struck by a drunk driver. But for my buddy Rob, he got an unwelcome reminder about how unforgiving asphalt really is. (And no Mom, that is NOT my back. So you can relax now.)

I give you road rash...or what I have nicknamed "Rob rash".

Just Do It Already!

God damn it. Sell me those Pens vs Rangers playoff tickets now or the kitty gets it!

Sorry. I'm feeling a teeny bit hostile today. Scoring tickets to a sold out playoff game is never exactly easy, but I never thought it would be this f-ing difficult. What's wrong with this dude? I've offered him $300 OVER actual ticket price and STILL no sale! I think he's just being spiteful now.

Comeon man, help a guy out. If you were trying to impress a girl, I would help you out. Not that I think Pens playoff tickets are going to impress her, but I suppose it doesn't really matter if they do or if they don't because it doesn't look like this guy is going to sell no matter what I offer him. And no, I am NOT resorting to giving him sexual favors. I want the tickets, but I have to draw the line somewhere.

I've been pestering this guy about the tickets all week, trying to give him excuses as to why he DOESN'T want to go. It seems the plan has backfired though. At the last minute, the very day of the game, he is holding onto his seats for dear life...like a chubby kid holds on to his king-sized Hershey's bar.

I'm just going to say it - rich people suck.

You Weren’t Cursed, You Just Sucked For 86 Years

You don’t have to be a baseball fan, or even a sports fan for that matter, to be aware of the long bitter rivalry between the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox. However, if you are unfamiliar with "The Curse", then let me explain. The Curse of the Bambino was a superstition cited, often jokingly, as a reason for the failure of the Boston Red Sox baseball team to win the World Series in the 86-year period from 1918 until 2004. While some fans took The Curse seriously, most used the expression in a tongue-in-cheek manner. The Curse was said to have begun after the Red Sox sold Babe Ruth, sometimes called "The Bambino", to the New York Yankees in 1920. Before that year, the Boston Red Sox had been one of the most successful professional baseball franchises, amassing five World Series titles. After the sale, the once-lackluster Yankees became one of the most successful franchises in North American professional sports. Now were the Sox cursed or did they just plain out suck for 86 years? I tend to believe the latter.

Let’s be rational. Babe Ruth was an amazing player, perhaps the best there ever was to play the game, but he was only with the Red Sox for 5 years. So even if they lost their star player to the Yankees and let’s pretend for a minute that losing Babe Ruth was the sole reason for the Sox’s downfall...how do you explain the other 81 consecutive losing seasons? Cursed? No, "suckyness" is more likely the answer. Sorry. I’m not a Yankees fan. I’m not a Red Sox fan. I’m not even a baseball fan for that matter. But you do the math and be reasonable. "The Curse" is just a silly superstition which was most likely fabricated by some jaded Boston fan as a means to calming/explaining his frustrations with his home team being losers and watching his most hated team rise up. I suppose if I witnessed my favorite team losing for nearly a century, I too may start believing in witchcraft.

Now with that said, I have to hand it to one Boston Red Sox fan for his devious and rather humorous antics. It was his attempt of "getting even" and reversing The Curse...

A Red Sox-rooting construction worker, Gino Castignoli, bid to curse the New York Yankees by planting a Boston Red Sox jersey in their new stadium (currently being built) along the 3rd base line. The plan was foiled after the shirt was located in a service corridor behind what will be a restaurant in the new Yankee Stadium. Construction workers spent 5 hours jackhammering through 2 feet of concrete on Sunday to remove the offending shirt from its burial spot. In shreds from the jackhammers, the shirt still bore the letters "Red Sox" on the front. It was a David Ortiz jersey, No. 34.

Castignoli did a little bragging of his good/evil deed to co-workers and friends. And when question about it, he said..."It's not like I snuck in there. It didn't do any structural damage. I didn't put anyone in harm's way. It was worth it." It’s not likely any criminal charges will take place, although this has definitely left some Yankee fans extremely angry. Steinbrenner himself was quoted as saying..."I hope his co-workers kick the shit out of him." Priceless.

Rumor has it that the jersey will be auctioned off and all proceeds, along with the $2,000 the NY Post paid Castignoli for the story, will be donated to a Boston charity. Personally, I would have found it hilarious if Castignoli would use the money to buy Boston Red Sox season tickets, box seats preferably. However, seeing that is he already is a diehard Sox fan, chances are he is already a season ticket holder. And I suppose givnig the money to a Boston charity is the kinder thing to do. It’s nice to know that some good can come out of loathing the Yankees. Well done Castignoli! This will go down as one of the my favorite sports stories ever.

Old People Suck

I once read that the NFL is targeted to men ages 21-35. So can anyone tell me why Tom Petty was the Super Bowl halftime show? The dude is like 60! When were his songs even popular? I’ll tell you when, when I was playing with Hot Wheels and Matchbox cars. It was like watching my Dad rock. I was almost hoping for Janet Jackson’s 40-year-old pierced tittie to pop out again. As horrifying as it was to watch some old boobie blast onto my TV screen, it still would have been more appealing than seeing "Free Falling" being performed.

I know, next year we can really dig up the dead! How about The Grateful Dead and that parrot fairy, Jimmy Buffet? That way all the senior citizens who don’t even watch the Super Bowl can do the jitterbug at halftime. And since we are catering the halftime show to people outside the NFL’s target market, why not gear all the advertising accordingly? They could have 30 second ads with a mother and daughter walking along the beach discussing that "not so fresh feeling" or some sorry bastard who relies on Viagra to get laid. Here are the facts - guys under the age of 35 don’t need douche and don’t have trouble getting it up.

They did a fine job with the commercials, keeping it to 3 of my favorite things – beer, sports cars and Victoria’s Secret. It targeted young bachelors perfectly. So I can’t fault them there, but when it came to the halftime show, they totally dropped the ball.

My point is this, if I were in charge of the Super Bowl, I would keep my target audience in mind and adjust the half time show accordingly. That means musical entertainment should be from the current decade, that’s 2000 - 2008 people. I suppose all is well that ends well and having the Giants win Super Bowl XLII was a good enough ending for me. Technically though, they should be called the New Jersey Giants because they don’t even play in New York.

Redefining - "Beating The Sh*t Out Someone"

What are your feelings on dirty underwear? You’re probably not cool with it, right? And I’m not talking about your own dirty laundry. I’m talking about other people’s soiled briefs, boxers, panties, bras, gym socks, jock straps and more. Skid marks belonging to total strangers. Grossed out yet? Now imagine stinky, sweaty, filthy undergarments shoved in a bag and sold to you for top dollar! No, this is not some type of weird fetish specialty shop. This is Costco.

Rumor has it that the wholesale warehouse, Costco, is selling a punching bag that is filled with dirty underwear! Slice one of these bags open and what pours out will amaze you! Once this news gained media attention, Costco had to take a stance. Apparently, they’re not cool with underwear-filled punching bags either. This statement was taken from Costco’s website …

“We are issuing this voluntary recall notice for the TKO Sports Heavy Punching Bag with Speed Bag Combination, manufactured by TKO Sports, of Houston, TX. We have learned that the fill material in the heavy punching bag does not meet our high quality standards.”

Yeah, that's quite the understatement. If Costco's records reflect that you've purchased this bag, they're sending a box and UPS shipping label out to you right away. They're also sending you an Everlast punching bag (which in my boxing opinion is a far superior company) to replace the TKO one that is filled with used underwear.

Is there anything that would make this post any less gross? Maybe if it was not-so-used underwear punching bags? And who did they hire to pack the bags? Where did they get the underwear? Do these drawers belong to Texans, and if so, are there buttless chaps shoved in the bags as well? These are the unanswerable questions, or rather, I'd just prefer that they were not answered. If nothing else, this will make you think twice about the store where you can purchase ground beef and just two isles over you can pick up a new set of truck tires. Something just doesn’t seem right when you look at it that way.

Furthermore, it’s been brought to my attention that this recall is from June 23, 2005 and Costco has been on top of the dirty underwear punching bag epidemic for years! However, they’ve failed to do anything about it until now. Disgusting, in every sense of the word.

RunForRuby.wordpress.com

On November 19th, Jessica from SassySuspect.com will running the Philadelphia Marathon. Completing a full 26.2 mile marathon is a goal in itself, but it's not just about crossing the finish line. The goal here is raising money for a little girl nicknamed "Ruby" (Jessica's niece) thru the MAGIC Foundation. Ruby was born with a chronic, life-threatening disorder called panhypopituitarism. If you've never heard of panhypopituitarism, then you aren't alone. Since panhypopituitarism is rare, it is often a struggle to find information about it...and especially to find adequate, informed medical care. That is where the MAGIC Foundation steps in. The MAGIC Foundation has had a dramatic and life-saving impact on Ruby's life. Now, Jessica is asking for your help to continue the ongoing support and care for Ruby and other kids like her from the MAGIC Foundation. To learn more about Ruby, the RunForRuby, panhypopituitarism and of course the MAGIC Foundation, check out www.runforruby.wordpress.com And while you're there, be a love and donate to the cause. If I still haven't convinced you, then take this into consideration...

If a heart warming tale doesn't move you emotionally, then perhaps I can move you visually. Yes, Jess is easy on the eyes. So you can donate a lil cash to help a good cause and in the process watch a cute girl run a marathon! It's a win-win situation all the way around. So you can't lose and neither will Ruby, even if Jess doesn't win the marathon.

Best of luck to you in Philly Jess. May your kind heart fuel your ruby red slippers/running shoes and carry you thru the 26.2 miles. You're a better man than me. I say that because I've never run a marathon and I should be running with you or at least running in this weeks NYC marathon. One of these days I'll do it. Like I told my sister when she ran the LA marathon...just remember, pain is only temporary and there's nothing you can't overcome.