Roto Recall gets the feeling that a Hannah Montana concert would bring the same flow to town as the women's NCAA tourney... except it would be waaaaay easier to nab a ticket for the basketball game.
In return, the Bengals expect to receive a player with a pending class 2 felony and/or bricks of heroin currently hidden in his girlfriend's leather couch.
Is a side-effect from microfracture surgery rapid aging? Darius played a high school student only four years ago in "The Perfect Score." Now dude looks like he could play Tisha Campell's husband who together oversee a house full of adorably snarky kids in a ABC Family sitcom.
While there is a fevered excitement about Becks being involved, a quarter of the way through the ceremony everybody will realize that it doesn't make a difference if he's there or not and that they probably would've gotten similar results without him there in the first place. Right LA Galaxy?
Mike Cook needs to look at the bright side of all of this: He's just added an extra year of eligibility of him drifting from random D-League team to random Greek League team to random Serbian League team.
Plus, he doesn't have to live in Pittsburgh anymore.
Luckily the broken hernia was discovered during coach Andy Reid's daily hernia check of the team. Donovan McNabb all the way down to the dude in the Eagles mascot costume has to turn and cough for Coach Reid.
The man can't help it if he's an amateur hernia enthusiast.
Steeplechase. This track and field event mainly involves running around in circles and jumping over random shit, including a puddle. It is so inconsequential that Konami did not even include it in it's hit 1988 Nintendo game "Track and Field."
Currently, the athletes run around 3000 meters. I say we quadruple that number.
They also run outside. Let's have them do it inside, with the heat really blaring. Say 103 degrees or so.
Then, instead of hurdles and puddles, we add somewhat jumpable electrified fences and a creek filled with piranhas and those tiny Amazon fish that swim up into urethras.
BAM! Now we've got an athletic event and/or a Japanese game show. Either way, the steeplechase has just become way more fun.
For all you Bush haters, suck on it. Exporting America works.
Before we were in Afghanistan they had ZERO Olympic medals. Now they have ONE Olympic medals. ONE OLYMPIC MEDALS! It's called math, you liberal pansies. Wiki it, pour some BBQ sauce on it and slurp it down your big old lie holes. Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm.
Now just watch as the medals start pouring into Iraq.
Oh... those aren't medals pouring into Iraq? They're insurgents?
Wow. Michael Phelps sure is the greatest Olympian ever, right...
This is a common ailment in New England -- Boston sports fans have been jacking off too hard to the Pats, BoSox and Celtics that somebody was bound to get hurt.
This is clearly a case of cultural misunderstanding. You see, native Tajiks like to eat people of Kazakhstan descent. They prefer them prepared raw and sweaty, so you can really sympathize with Mr. Kurbanov on this one.
Vanessa Langly, a third-year Indiana economics major who's working two campus jobs and has taken out a loan to pay for tuition, was unavailable for comment on the signing, as she was working at one of her two jobs.
The following letter was slipped under Roto Recall's bathroom door last night (We need to invest in a security system):
Dear Bud:
Enough of this instant replay crap. Baseball needs something else instituted immediately.
More innings. Nine innings isn't enough baseball for me. Last night I got 27 people out on 130 pitches. Do you know what my arm feels like this morning? Think about the most marvelous boobie you've ever touched. Now double it, both in cup size and girth, and you've got my arm.
Let's give this game some cojones and up it to 14 innings, with five outs per inning. I figure then I can finally get the 260-pitch workout my body needs.
Truth be told, that's why I'm so fat. So if you think about it, I might die of diabetes or heart disease or a lamb shank if you don't super size baseball.
Yeah... Super size... I'm gonna go eat 27 of those McDonald's southern style chicken sandwiches now.
Fine, you got me. I've already eaten them and on my way to get more.
There's only one way New York will be able to make it through the post-season -- train all of their starters to pitch ambidextrously. I would much rather see lefty John Maine come in for relief of righty John Maine than witness Duaner Sanchez, Scott Schoenweis or Eddie Kunz throw one more third-of-an-inning of "work."
Maybe now he can finally get some. Chicks do not like dudes who are not numero uno. And if the dude wears capri pants too, well, that can't help much either. There's no way that Nadal could ever find a hot chick if Roger Fede...
... Oh... Wait... I guess it doesn't really matter what he's ranked then. Why does he even play tennis anyway? He's got an orange floaty device and a hot-body senorita who wears white bikinis. I'm going just going to assume this is what Nadal does every day he's not playing tennis.
Baseball. Current international baseball rules state that if a game goes to the 11th inning then from that point forward runners are placed at first and second base and the teams can start batting at any place in the order.
How about they just play the game as it's intended to be played -- last team standing, no holds barred, amphetamines brewed in the coffee, and plenty of defecting Cubans who claim to be in their early 20's even though they wear dentures.
Ironically enough, immediately after placing the letter in his corner mailbox, Pacman decided he wanted it back. Moments later, several gunshots were fired at the mailbox. Police have no suspects in the case.
Manny continued to show what a stand up kinda guy he is by donating the fallen locks to the Street Urchin Extension Fund, a non-profit organization that pairs extensions with needy children.
This is exactly why he deserves $25 million a year, folks! Pay up, Colletti!
A lot of baseball purists are unhappy about this -- they think it will take the "human" element out of the game.
But not Roto Recall... we believe this is the first step towards the inevitable: U.M.P.S. (aka Ultimate Moderating Professional System)
Imagine Lou Pinella kicking dirt onto the shins of a 25-foot tall metal beast. Now imagine Lou Pinella getting eviscerated via the U.M.P.S.'s built in laser-saw module.
Imagine some drunken Yankee fans using sailor-talk while discussing the home plate U.M.P.S.'s mother. Now imagine those same drunken Yankee fans being drawn and quartered during the seventh inning stretch by the first base U.M.P.S.'s pinpoint machete arm. (Because the first base U.M.P.S. will always have the home plate U.M.P.S. bulletproof back)
Imagine a fat lazy umpire. Now imagine if a T-X had sex with a ED-209... Ooooh yeeeeah... That's nice... Go slower ED-209... There ain't no rush... Yeah...