March Madness with the KSK Mafia: The calm before the takedown.

id4.gif Once upon a time, we made a friendly little wager with the lads of KSK. We stumbled, sobbed incoherently, giggled hysterically, and bit our nails in a most unattractive manner for three weeks. In a juju Hail Mary, we even aligned our fortunes with Buckeye Nation.

And Basketball Jesus (there’s a separate one for basketball), in his infinite wisdom, bestowed victory on the worthier party.

And there was much rejoicing.

[I'm going to try my best to get through the rest of this post without referencing Bill Pullman's speech to the pilots in the American cinema classic Independence Day, but it is absolutely killing me. --Ed.]

Tomorrow is zero hour, where “zero” implies “vajayjay”. As agreed, the Ladies… will have the run of Kissing Suzy Kolber for one glorious day. A day of bunnies. A day of Bedazzlers. A day of kittens and puppies and rainbow sunsets and unicorns fucking in grassy fields. The KSK Mafia are doing their best to put on brave faces. Fear not, boyos. Our mission statement promises we don’t kiss nice, but we won’t leave any marks on your back that aren’t purely recreational.

“I’m a reacher, not a teacher.”

So I broke my iTrip in the parking lot this morning as I was leaving for work. Turning to the radio, I started surfing my presets and stopped when I hard the word “goth” on the AM dial. It was a show I’d heard horror stories about but never experienced for myself.

As best as I can recall, Things That Happened On Ten Minutes Of Colin Cowherd’s Radio Show This Morning:

  • Colin bragged about his “goth” t-shirt he was wearing, and talked about all the “rock and roll” shops he frequented when in Hollywood. The shirt came from a Lucky Brand store.
  • Mel Kiper Jr. wandered in and Colin asked him to guess how much he weighed. This went on for several minutes.
  • During which Colin uttered the phrase, “I will bet you a week’s supply of pumpkin, which you eat”, in a perfectly matter-of-fact tone.
  • Colin called Jamarcus Russell “Marcus” repeatedly, and mistook Gaines Adams for a Facts of Life character.
  • And then, this. The usual suspects are up in arms, and rightly so.

Right before I dialed away in disgust, he graciously dispensed the following bon mot: “I’m an entertainer. I’m not a journalist. And I’m proud of that fact”. You’re half right, friend.

The Masters – Hottie Skins Style

With all the hotties on the PGA Tour, there was no way we were going to let the Masters slip by unnoticed. But we’re not going to bring you dry leaderboard recitations, or boring capsule summaries- which would put you to sleep faster than listening to Jim Nantz talk in hushed tones on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Instead we’re doing the Masters… hottie skins style.

Each of the Ladies… picked one hottie golfer to back in the tournament. We’re pitting our hotties against each other on the course, but instead of just giving the highest finishing hottie the win, we thought- let’s make it more interesting. Why go the simple route? So we’ll be scoring our PGA hotties in a modified skins-style format. Each hole equals one skin- and the hottie who shoots the best score on a hole (over the course of the whole tournament) will win that hole, and that skin. So it’s to each hottie’s advantage to make the cut, because that means he’ll get more shots at a better score on each hole. In the event of a tie, we will use any arbitrary means at our disposal to break the tie. Them’s the breaks.

Some Ladies… selected based on looks alone, some based on a little sentiment, some based on skills, some based on spitting accuracy. But combined, we’ve put together the hottest Leaderboard around.

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Live from New York, it’s Laser Rocket Arm!

manningsnl.jpeg Holly’s Manning Disclaimer: I’m a Tennessee alum from a family of Colts fans. I love Peyton Manning. Love him. I have a Peyton Fathead on my bedroom wall. When he shows up in Knoxville for a charity event or a game, it’s like Elvis, Oprah, and Jesus Christ are in town. That’s just how I was raised, and there’s no deterring me. You’ve been warned. There’s still time to turn back before the jump.

Saturday Night Live airs way past my bedtime (my mind and heart apparently still belong to the East Coast), and I had to get up early this morning to watch our girls make mincemeat out of Marist. This is all by way of saying I’m unable to form any more complete sentences this morning, so please enjoy my notes from last night’s SNL, drunk typos intact, in convenient backwards livebloggy form:

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Would you…listen to what she’s saying Part IV: Suzy Kolber and Rachel Nichols

As we noted earlier in our “Would you do Chris Berman” post, over at The Big Picture they’re having a nice little bracket seeding the female broadcasters against each other in a “Would you…” tourney. Their “Would you…” usually ends with comments that would make Red Buttons Andrew Dice ClayBob Saget blush. Now while we Ladies are far from shrinking violets, we were better off not knowing what “DSL” meant.

So for the rest of “Would you…” tournament, we’re going to give you the reasons why we like these women. Today we’ll see J-Money profile Suzy Kolber and Holly take on (oh, behave) Rachel Nichols. Join us, won’t you?

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Point / Counterpoint – David Beckham

“Point / Counterpoint – David Beckham” is our first in a series of debates over controversial hotties. TheStarterWife will be taking the point position on Beckham. Since none of the Ladies were willing to defend Becks, we’ve fired up the Fanfic Autobot 3000* to take the pro-Becks counterpoint.

(*Fanfic Autobot 3000 = a brave, brave Holly trolling fanfic sites.) [I swear, these are all lifted verbatim. All [sic]s implied. Can I get a medal?–H]

Point – Beckham isn’t scheduled to start play in America for another five months, but if you open up the current Rolling Stone magazine, there is a special insert ad and sample of his cologne, Instinct. (It smells very similar to Ralph Lauren’s Polo, which is already the official scent of suburban malls everywhere.) How can he be considered a “brand” here in the States when the greatest accomplishment Americans know him for is marrying a Spice Girl?

Counterpoint -Him and me… is it love? Sometimes it feels like it. When he finds me with a perfect cross, knowing exactly where I’ll be as though he’s reading my mind, and I just have to touch the ball it to make it fly effortlessly into the back of the net, and I run across the pitch, arms spread wide, and it feels like I’m flying, and he flings his arms around me, and the crowd goes wild… then it feels like love.

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(Five-Day) Hangover: Southeastern Conference

peekaboo.pngWho remembers their AP Psych? You know how if you show a toy or something to a really young kid and cover it up, they’ll think it’s actually gone? They lack the grasp of something called “object permanence”, and it’s why games like peek-a-boo have such an effect up to a certain age. Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, my leaving for vacation on the eve of the SEC tourney means that none of what followed was real. Tennessee did not make another ignominious first-round exit; Florida did not cruise to another title, and Noah was not an unmitigated asshat about it. World without end, amen.

West Coast Conference HangovYAAAAAAWN

dreamland.jpegWhat’s that? The WCC Tournament ended on Monday? Pardon me…I must have dozed off. The top two teams, both with double byes, played for the championship and the higher-seeded team won? Criminy, I really need to invest in a Tivo setup.

Now, do you really want to see my rearranging and rehashing of the many fine wire stories covering the West Coast Conference Championship? Or would you rather read one story actually written by a journalist and then look at pictures of yawning animals?

Thought so.

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SEC Panty Raid: *hic*

shine.jpg The Southeastern Conference Tourney kicks off tomorrow night at the Georgia Dome in Atlanta. If it weren’t my home conference, I might not even watch this year. The teams are big, slow, and mean, with the exceptions of Tennessee and Florida, the only two schools to crack the Top 25. Not what you’d call electrifying court presences.

So rather than discuss actual basketball, I thought I’d leave it up to the collective juju of each university to make my predictions. Let the games begin:

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West Coast Conference Panty Raid

Except for San Diego, the institutions of the WCC don’t play football, so I can’t say I have much use for the conference in general, but being of Catholic extraction, I do feel obligated to dispense a few facts before commencing the sexytime stare-down.

  • The 2007 WCC tournament begins on March 1 at the Chiles Center in Portland.
  • Gonzaga holds the regular-season conference title after last night’s win over San Diego.
  • However, several pundits (aww, the WCC has pundits! How droll!) point to Santa Clara’s margins of victory throughout the season and predict the Broncos will take the tournament trophy.
  • San Francisco’s entire team has been disqualified from All-Conference Hottie Team contention due to the background in their roster headshots.
  • Saint Mary’s roster boasts a player named Tron. Outstanding.

On with the meat parade:

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twoeightnine is a captain of industry and a king amongst men.

Step 1 [Nine days ago.]: HOLLY: “You know what I want? One of these, but with Ned.”
Step 2:
Step 3 [Tonight]: Presents!

We request that you buy as many of these as you can reasonably afford, that this darling boy might continue to make pretty things for us at our every whim. The Ladies… would like to take this moment to officially endorse the work of twoeightnine, who is all kinds of genius and also smells nice.

Call us!

When we saw the photo of Captain Caveman at the Super Bowl, our first thought was, “THE DAYSTAR! IT BURNS! AVERT YOUR EYES!” Our second thought: “How did the Cryptkeeper get a press pass?” But once our eyes adjusted to the brilliance, we realized that it wasn’t white light searing our skin, but white heat.

Meet our particular notion of What A Man Should Be, a standard to which all men we meet will be held against and found wanting. Service to his country? Check. Sports acumen? Check. Way with words? Check, and how. Don’t be fooled by his clean, non-threatening good looks, either. We hear he’s a hellcat in the sack.

It all comes back around to Namath sooner or later, doesn’t it? He’s the Kevin Bacon of the sports blogosphere. Does this make CC our Suzy Kolber? We suppose. Only hotter. Captain Caveman, we salute you.