Write your own caption, you want one so damn much.

We’re watching football, so this is what you get.

We Dey, so STAY DOWN.

Write your own caption, or we’re sending Troy Polamalu after you. And he’s cranky.

Blood Makes The Grass Grow

I have a kind of tunnel vision when it comes to sports, and I wear it proudly. I have mountains to fling myself down in the spring and tennis to occupy me in the summer, but there’s nothing gets my blood going like the divine brutality that is football season. (What? Our god is a vengeful one. Look it up.)

During the offseason I spent an inordinate amount of time composing lists of ways to make baseball more compelling (“Article I: Infielders can tackle baserunners. Article II: But that’s fine and dandy, since the baserunners can take their bats with them.”), but not even Bacon Pants could ease the pain of the waiting game for me. Maybe if he’d taken a swing at the catcher’s dome.

So welcome back, fall. Welcome back, sunburn and frostbite and concussion hits. Welcome back, tailgating and GameDay and Coach O. Welcome back, blood season. Welcome back, football.

And, because this is Ladies…, after all, in honor of tonight’s SEC kickoff, look after the jump for some current and former LSU hotties in those tight yellow pants we so adore. Oh, and there’s a tiger. Rrrrrowwwr.

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

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.

AsshatWatch: The Big Lead Returns

The boys of TBL respond. They link here and here at the end; both are good reads (don’t skip the lists of post titles), as is EDSBS’ reaction.

Welcome back, boys.

“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.