Sheepish Tuesday

Saturday's fuckery is almost 3 days history and I'm still licking my wounds. No, I'm not talking about the Vols loss, I expected them to get their arses kicked. I'm talking about my inability to walk down the street without running face-first into a concrete light pole and scarring my handsome visage. I have a recent history of this behavior. The strawberry on my cheek looks something like that brown growth thing on Drew Brees' face. And I should point out that this occurred on the way to the game, not well into the evening after consuming way too many cocktails. I can't even remember most of that night and from what I've been told I don't want to. I'm down, but not out. Maimed, not broken. I'll be back.

Fire Phillip Fulmer

The authors endorse this heavy act. It's time to piss some old people off.

Don't Drink and Dive

So much fun stuff happened this past holiday weekend that I can hardly keep up with it all. We drank a lot. We ate a lot. We laughed a lot. However one event stands out on its own, and that would be my idiotic ass diving into a 3' pool and taking half the skin off my nose, lip and chin. Adding insult to my injuries is the fact I knew it was only 3' - 4' deep and I did it anyway. The scars really aren't that bad and have mostly healed already. My damaged reputation may never heal, especially around our group of arseholes. I guess I possiby deserve this after all the recent talk of Joe Leduc's "blood oath".