Thursday, October 27, 2005

Bring me my Pooh blanket

  • Holy bejeezus, I feel awful today. The Pooh blanket has been in full effect today. Being this ill makes it difficult to fight cancer, but I'm doing my best.
    I worked from home so I could stay in close contact with my toilet for supermodel sit-ups. During my lunch break, I took a nap and had a dream that the dudes who live in the house next door were standing out on their lawn with a massive, poorly handwritten sign that said: "Give us Steelers tickets." I tried to point out to them how stupid they were being. They refused to listen.

  • The Jacksonville Jaguars have become a load of ranting psychopaths. "These are dark days in Jacksonville's history. It's playing with fire; a different kind of fire than the one that burnt the town to the ground a century ago, but fire nonetheless."
    "Do you wanna know what this franchise would be worth in Los Angeles? A billion dollars, at the minimum, that's what it would be worth."
    The hell? The above are quotes from the team's official website. It's as if the team has decided to let an angry teenage boy head up public relations. I suspect their next move will be to issue this as a press release.
    My favorite part of this is when the author invokes memory of Art Modell -- a man who is universally despised not only in Cleveland but by NFL fans everywhere. The Jaguars are apparently aspiring to become the biggest pricks in the league.

  • Perhaps the organization is being run by monkeys.
  • 3 comments:

    Afe said...

    It's amazing the bad dreams you have when you're sick. It's like thinking of the most whacked out shit imaginable and then doubling it.

    heatherfeather said...

    i have a problem with the number of diapers sold with pooh printed on it.

    we get it, already... knock it off, huggies!

    oops, i broke out in zitgip!

    Crystal said...

    you should get with my fiancé and give him a tutorial on sweet things to say to your partner. that article made my heart melt. although her running her hands through your hair and making everything better while you lay miserable on the floor wrapped in a children's - er, grown man's - blanket probably wasn't so romantic.