Archive for June 18th, 2008


OK, I’ll Pay Attention for a Minute…

Remember when Max Mosely, the president of F1 got busted after having sex orgies with hookers where he dressed up as a Nazi? Well that was very embarrassing for F1 and so they have come up with something positive to counter.

Meet Gemma Garrett, the current Ms. Great Britain who was recently been named to be the face of the British Grand Prix. I still don’t care whatsoever about racing, but much like the Funny Cars circuit found, adding a hot chick gets people to pay attention. Also, get your Fandango fingers ready, she’s due to have a movie come out later this year co-starring noted thespian Dolph Lundgren entitled Direct Contact.

[Bitten and Bound]

Continue reading ‘OK, I’ll Pay Attention for a Minute…’


At What Point Does Becoming Glue Make More Sense?

After 162 races, Japanese racehorse Elizabeth Queen raced her way on Tuesday to the record for horse-racing ineptitude. That’s because the 7 year old horse has yet to come away with a single win. You read that right, after having run the equivalent of an entire baseball schedule of races, Elizabeth Queen remains winless; even the Mariners aren’t that bad!

Elizabeth Queen, which usually finished in the bottom group in each race, has recently improved her performance, in 11 consecutive races she has finished second four times, third six times and fifth once. “I feel she’s going to run faster than ever. I’d like to help her stop the consecutive losses,” said jockey Hisashi Itano the day before she finished second in her record-setting race.

“Finishing races safely is a condition for a good horse. She’ll surely win if she keeps racing,” said Tetsuharu Kuribayashi, a trainer of the horse. I’m not so sure about that. You’d think after 162 tries that she’d have done it once…

I’m guessing she won’t be making the big bucks as a female stud (brood mare?) There may be only one real solution…


[Daily Yomiuri]


The Dutch Get Ovened

I don’t know when this blog became a soccer blog but there are simply too many hilarious stories coming out of the beautiful game recently. For instance, take this video of the Dutch team playing Romania during the Euro Cup. Something stinks on the bench and it seems to be most likely caused by Rafael van der Vaart, (pronounced Van der Fart.) Is it still called a Dutch oven if it’s done by a Dutchman? Or is it just an oven?

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Mr. Met is Omar Minaya’s Executioner

Jon Stewart loves the Mets, and so he opened up yesterday’s Daily Show with a great bit regrading the firing of Willie Randolph and just who it was that made the final call.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

“You want to meet the Mets? Why don’t you meet Mr. Met? I’ll meet you in the fucking parking lot!”


That’s One Way to Honor a Teammate

Marlins pitcher Justin Miller has an incredible amount of tattoos on his body. Miller has so many that he is required to wear a long sleeve shirt every time he pitches so as not to distract batters, the rule is even referred to as “the Justin Miller rule.” Even better, Miller has quite the sense of humor regarding his tattoos, take one of the tattoos he has on his ass that reads, “I (heart) Billy Koch” because of a bet he had lost against Koch, who gave him $2000 and paid for the tattoo in exchange. Koch even ended up giving $500 to Miller’s wife as an apology.

“It was a silly bet. Honestly, at the time I was getting a lot of tattoos. [Koch and I] got traded for each other a couple of years before. I have fun telling that story, and we’re boys to this day. He’ll definitely never let me forget about it,” Miller says in an interview with Inked magazine. “I think [my teammates] wait until the shower just so they can peek instead of asking to see my ass.”

Of course, you know how baseball players get, once you get one of your teammates’ names tattooed on your posterior you need to get EVERYONE’S name tattooed there.

Fellow Marlins pitcher/troublemaker  Scott Olsen, always one to commemorate nights where things go wrong by using the ass of another man, has approached Miller with a proposition of his own, “He wants me to get his mug shot (left) tattooed on my ass. I don’t think that’s going to work,” says Miller. “I don’t think my wife wants to see Olsen’s picture there. So we’re not going to go with that.”

Miller’s tattoos have caused other difficulties, besides his friends trying to have their faces forever next to his anus. Last year, while pitching in Japan, “he was banned from the Disneyland amusement park in Tokyo because of his tattoos. He ignored that rule, walking right through the park entrance turnstiles without missing a beat.”

He’s not done yet either, but he is running out of blank space, “my wife won’t let me get my neck tattooed. I’ve wanted to get one on my head, and my wife sort of put her foot down on that,” he says. “People give me crap. [They say,] ‘Hey, you’d be out [on the pitching mound] in a turtleneck and a beanie.’ That’s something I think I’ll end up doing after baseball.”


City of Champions

I remember being a little kid falling asleep as Johnny Most’s raspy voice called the game. I remember watching games on TV and emulating Most’s voice as I called the game myself. I remember my first Celtics game when my Dad offered to buy me a shirt of any player I wanted. “I was going to get a Larry Bird one, but then I remembered that Dee Brown is my favorite player,” I told my family later. (That shirt was dope though, it was black and had Dee with his no-look dunk for the slam-dunk competition, plus I had the same Reebok Pumps!) I remember getting Reggie Lewis’ autograph because I won a readathon for MS. I remember Chris Ford’s hair. I remember Reggie Lewis’ death. I remember the Celtics drafting Acie Earl. I remember when ML Carr did an excellent job of tanking so we could get Tim Duncan. I remember the shock of the Spurs winning the lottery. I choose to not remember the Rick Pitino era. I refuse to remember Vitaly Potapenko, Kenny Anderson, Ron Mercer, Andrew DeClerq, Tyrus Edney, Pervis Ellison and Zan Tabak. I remember Antoine’s wiggle. I remember Paul Pierce shooting jumpers yelling out the names of the 9 players drafted ahead of him. I remember Paul Pierce getting stabbed in the stomach and playing two weeks later. I remember that without Tony Battie last night couldn’t have happened. I remember not being able to watch anymore because the team was so hapless. I remember hoping for a resurgence with Greg Oden. I remember trying to convince myself that Yi Jianlian might be the next Yao.

I’ll remember 17.

I watched every game, fell asleep as a little kid to the Celtics, the Bruins, the Red Sox and woke up every Sunday to the Patriots. I remember when the Bruins playoff streak ended, when the Red Sox suffered through the Butch Hobson era and when the Patriots went 1-15. The only thing that upsets me is that I spent my first 18 years of life in Boston and no team ever won a championship. For the last 8 years I have lived in New York state, since that time, Boston has won 3 Superbowls, 2 World Series and an NBA Championship. Hell even the Revolution have been in the finals in 2002, 2005, 2006, 2007–although they seem to be the Buffalo Bills of soccer. I’m not sure I can ever move back, I don’t want to ruin this streak of excellence.

Boston once more is the City of Champions. And I couldn’t be happier to be forever a Bostonian.


This Guy Loves Only One Thing More than America


“Hey man, wanna go to the Yankees game against the Padres with me?”

“Definitely! Hey you know what will make us totally awesome and show everyone how much we care about baseball?”

“Bring an American flag to aimlessly hold when they do ‘God Bless America’!”

“You read my mind! Lemme just change into my lucky pot leaf shirt and I’ll be good to go.”

“I love weed!”

“Where are we going again?”


Of course, this isn’t the first time weed and sports have overlapped…

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June 2008