Your Friday I-REALLY-need-a-distraction-from-the-news conundrum: Would you rather have a kitten in your own pocket, or be the kitten in Nadal’s pocket?
Yeah yeah, so I might be a little stuck on Australian rugby players. But can you blame me? After being introduced to Kayne Lawton, I ended up on a two hour long tangent that led me to several other um, delightful looking young fellows, and given that it’s almost Christmas, I can’t not share this. Meet Daniel Conn – model and second row forward for the Sydney Roosters. NSFW warning, though I’m hoping you’re all on holiday break by now…
It’s been a head-spinning 24 hours of breaking news: Forsberg’s retirement (*sniff!*), pitchers and catchers reporting (YES!) and Arcade Fire‘s tremendous Grammy win (OUI!). So dizzying that one needs to sit down, take stock, maybe do a little knitting to calm down.
While one of us Ladies… checks on Games Mistress to she how she’s faring through this Pujols drama (CAN’T YOU SEE YOU’RE KILLING HER, ALBERT?!), let me tell you how I made out in our Craft Like A Champion Challenge.
I really suck at April Fools’ Day jokes. Besides, the way this NCAA tournament is playing out, we all look like big enough fools right now, no? I must say I’ve never been in a bracket pool where everyone’s champion lost before the final weekend of play, but that’s exactly what has happened to us Ladies and our dear readers. Perhaps we should have taken Butler more seriously.
Yes, your writer is that lame and punny today. But I just got back from the Caribbean and am feeling all warm and fuzzy and have a desire to look at more sea creatures (explained in a mere moment). And with the Pro Bowl behind us and the Super Bowl (and Puppy Bowl!) ahead, I felt the need to interject before draft hype gets too out of hand and remind everyone just how awesome Ndamukong Suh is on all levels. Best photo EVER after the jump. Continue reading
The Mets’ recent losing streak is taking a toll on D-Wright. Can no one think of D-Wright?!
Enough is enough! My sources tell me that Willie Randolph called a team meeting after that dreadful game last night and really gave it to the Mets. My sources also provided photographs of what went down. They’re after the jump. Continue reading
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.