Hello Blog! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Well here is some news: We’ve got a new website! Same address, just a different look. It’s at www.teamsubmarine.net. And the site has a new blog that we will probably be updating. So go to that! We may still put stuff here, but will probably put it on the new one. Who knows? I’m having trouble committing/saying goodbye. We’ll see. Whatever. It’s early!
“I own three Superbowl rings god damn it!” Those are probably the last words that I will ever utter on national television. It’s true, I won a couple rings in my 14 year NFL career. I wear a different one every day, except on Sundays (that’s the day I wear my wedding ring). And the answer is “yes” I have tried to wear the rings on my penis but they wouldn’t fit. Not because my penis is too big though. I actually have a very small penis. No, my problem is shape. Back in 1991 a prostitute in Cambodia broke my penis in three different places. As you can imagine, it’s a little bit more difficult getting a championship ring on it now. Are you imagining?
Anyways, ten years after retiring, CBS Sports asks me if I’d like to try guest commentating. Within a week I was sitting in the box chatting it up with Greg and Phil. It started off fine, I complimented the teams but also mentioned things I thought they could work on. I predicted why flags were thrown and even tried out my own catch phrase (“You just can’t do that!”). It all started going down hill in the middle of the 3rd Quarter when Gumbel goes out of his way to mention my fumble in the ’87 AFC Championship. After watching the tape, I can see now that he was actually trying to pay me a compliment. That’s why I feel so bad about saying “Well, what the hell have you done with your life, Gumbel?” I don’t know why I said that. Or why I tried to push him out of his chair. Or why I yelled “Stay out of this Phil, this knife isn’t meant for you!” Which reminds me, I don’t know why I brought that knife. When I leave the house with a knife, sometimes I’m just like “Why are you taking this knife with you? You know if you take it you’re just going to spend all day looking for an excuse to use it.” That’s right about the time when security tackled me and I yelled the thing about the rings. I tried to get in one last “You just can’t do that!” but they’d already turned my microphone off.
Despite all that, I still think the Jets played a thinking man’s football game against the Chiefs on Sunday and I’m excited to see what their defense has in store for the rest of the season.
I hate to be the one to tell you this but heaven sucks. I spent my whole life being good so I could get in here. I went to church every week, only hung out with other good people, and hated anything I didn’t understand. Now I’m in heaven and it blows. For one, we’re constantly singing. Constantly. I can’t take it anymore. There are way too many of us to figure out any type of harmonies so it ends up just sounding terrifying. And the light! Have you ever hung out in a white room with the lights turned on as bright as can be? I feel like I’m in a music video. I can’t see anything. I’ve always got those weird worm things flying across my eyes because of all the light. Plus, this place is mostly just babies. That might sound nice to some but I’m not a big fan of kids and being surrounded by them all the time can be a little creepy. We get more and more babies everyday and they don’t age so they just keep piling up. The worst part is that this is going to go on forever. There is no end in sight. I feel like I have been here for a million years already and it’s probably only been a day. I’m just hoping there’s a cooler section of heaven somewhere that I haven’t found yet. I daydream about finding a door that leads to another room covered in christmas lights with a huge leather couch in the center with all my friends sitting on it. There’s a big frosted mug of root beer waiting for me and the Beach Boys are there playing with Bill Murray doing some guest vocals. But none of that is real. Maybe someday, if I’m really, really good, I’ll get to go there. Until then I’m stuck in heaven.
Last week we were interviewed on The Comedy Nerds podcast. We talked about being in a two-man ground, FX (the movie), and dry humping. INTRIGUED? Find it on iTunes, or just go here:
And thanks to Dustin and Dan for having us on and for officially making us the Kings of Podcasting. Seriously, has anybody been on more podcasts than us? You wish.
No one thought the post apocalyptic world would look like this. Films and books had always portrayed a world ruled by martial law where survivors live in fear of barbarians. Fire barrels. Deserted highways. Lots of leather for some reason. No one could have predicted the fate that really came to be: A WORLD RUN BY CATS! No one expected that these cuddly little creatures would turn on us so violently. They tore down our monuments, imprisoned those who defied them and burned all of our art and literature to the ground. They took our dignity and destroyed our history. I live a very humble life with my female companion here on the island of what was once known as manhattan (I have no idea if I’m pronouncing that correctly). But we are not alone. Two felines occupy our living quarters with an iron fist. We are forced to clean up their excrement from a small rectangle of sand. We must feed them whenever they beckon. They dictate where my feet should be as I sleep. But the most terrifying part is this: On most evenings they just lay strewn across the floor in a most erotic way, just glaring at us. It’s as if, just by living, we have somehow disappointed them. Perhaps they are just amused by how easy it was to domesticate us.
If this message is successful in making it backwards in time, then remember this one thing: Spay and neuter your cats. Please, the human race is depending on you. This is not a joke. This is our future.
Living in the city, sometimes it’s hard to fall asleep at night. What with all the noise, the stress and the constant threat of panty-raids. But here are some exercises that may help put you to sleep.
Don’t count imaginary sheep – that’s stupid. And boring (total snorefest). Instead, count real sheep. Being in a city, I’ve got to walk at least fifty miles just to see one sheep (and that’s if I’m lucky). By the time you’ve counted 100 sheep, you’ll have walked thousands of miles and will literally collapse into a state of unconsciousness due to physical exhaustion.
Try taking a glass of warm milk and pouring it onto the floor. Use sleep as an excuse not to clean it up.
Don’t actually swallow any pills. That’d be dangerous, illegal and cool. Instead, try physically taking pills from someone. In general, pills are expensive – and people who have them are usually very protective of them (AND/OR ADDICTED TO THEM). If you try taking their pills from them, they’ll undoubtedly erupt in a fit of rage and smash you over the head with something – rendering you unconscious for up to twelve hours.
It’s been scientifically proven that after masturbating, you’ll feel so hollow and gross that the only way to escape judgment from yourself is by going to sleep.
This is what you look like when you sleep, IDIOT.
“Cool Runnings is hot, hot, hot!”
“You’ll be Runnings back to the theater to see this one again!”
“Jamaican me wanna see this movie again!”
“‘Run‘ for the whole family!”
“One Cool film!”
“These are some hilarious Fastafarians!”
“Cool Runnings is Cool Funnings!”
“This film bobsledded its way into my heart.”
“I Want (John) Candy!”
“Cool Runnings will cure any case of the ‘Mon’ days.”
“A Home Runnings!”