Crotcho Libre
Damn, you guys came through with some real fine pornofied movie titles. When it comes down to it, who doesn't like coming up with pornofied movie titles? I am giving points for all of 'em (capping it at 100 pts.), but here are my faves (no order):
Bi-Curious George
Position: Impossible III
Submission: Impossible III
Little Miss Where the Sun Don't Shine
Wet Dreamgirls
Jack's-ass: Number II
Thank You For Smoking Poles
Lots of other good ones. Nice damn job.
I would add a few or my own but that's not what this is about. Still, if you are late to the party and want to squeeze a couple in, go right ahead (maximum 30 pts.).
I like to think about BA billing clients as he sat at his desk for an hour and a half coming up with pornofied movie titles. He had some major funnies, all while posting a positive tally in the working stiff's Stick It To The Man scoring column. Do lawyers count as working stiffs?
BA also told me that he was watching the Wisconsin basketball game the other day and became unable to tolerate Dick Vitale. He muted the TV, and then just as an experiment he and his wife would unmute it periodically to see who was talking. It was Vitale every time except one (approximately 8 tests).
Every once in awhile we dip into our Tony Robbins/Stuart Smalley mode here, so please forgive me for the following:
I was playing hoops the other day and I would go through periods of tiredness and lameness and wow-I-suckness and I'll-just-run-around-without-really-being-involvedness. You know, where like ten possessions go by and you don't even look to get the ball. And then I would do something that I've always done when I'm playing basketball and lulling out like that. I'd give myself a little internal pep talk, including the following sentiment: You are the best player here. Go get the ball and make something good happen. Don't be afraid to miss a shot. You are way better than all these guys and you know it. Show 'em.
Of course, to be honest I was probably only the third best player out there, but when I pumped myself up I honestly believed I was the best. And I would be successful, or at least aggressive, for a few moments. I've always done that. When I was 22, the pep talk might carry me through ten minutes, now it's about a minute and a half. But that minute and a half feels good.
It feels good because normally (not just in sports) I am crippled by insecurity and self-doubt. It happens to me at the job, it happens to me when I am hanging a bookshelf or posting a blog post or singing karaoke (1 time in my life, disaster). I kind of (usually accurately) suspect that my abilities for the task at hand are subpar in some critical way. But deep inside, I harbor an unjustified streak of wild confidence, of certainty that I am The Best. The Best at whatever it is and I will prove it if I need to. And when I am feeling particularly down, like when I screw up something at work or somebody insults me in a way that actually stings, I call upon it and it makes me feel euphoric for a brief period. I just rise and float, motherfucker. Long enough to move on with my day.
You should try that shit. Because don't you kind of suspect that you really are The Best? Hell, you might actually be The Best. As long as I'm not around. Because I am actually The Best.
I ate bad food and got a sick tummy today. 10 points for each component of the suspected tainted meal that you can name.
You know how some blogs put little keywords on the bottom of their posts (I'm sure there is a technical term for these keywords but I don't know it)? Like: file under: sports; Don Mattingly; moustaches. If I were to do that, I think there would only be like ten categories. My life is that simple.
Dazed and Confused
Fast Times
Basketball
Baseball
Music
Work
Drinking
Self-help
Gatorade
Facial Hair
Miscellaneous Lightweight Bullshit
Which category would you like the next post to be drawn from?
Bi-Curious George
Position: Impossible III
Submission: Impossible III
Little Miss Where the Sun Don't Shine
Wet Dreamgirls
Jack's-ass: Number II
Thank You For Smoking Poles
Lots of other good ones. Nice damn job.
I would add a few or my own but that's not what this is about. Still, if you are late to the party and want to squeeze a couple in, go right ahead (maximum 30 pts.).
I like to think about BA billing clients as he sat at his desk for an hour and a half coming up with pornofied movie titles. He had some major funnies, all while posting a positive tally in the working stiff's Stick It To The Man scoring column. Do lawyers count as working stiffs?
BA also told me that he was watching the Wisconsin basketball game the other day and became unable to tolerate Dick Vitale. He muted the TV, and then just as an experiment he and his wife would unmute it periodically to see who was talking. It was Vitale every time except one (approximately 8 tests).Every once in awhile we dip into our Tony Robbins/Stuart Smalley mode here, so please forgive me for the following:
I was playing hoops the other day and I would go through periods of tiredness and lameness and wow-I-suckness and I'll-just-run-around-without-really-being-involvedness. You know, where like ten possessions go by and you don't even look to get the ball. And then I would do something that I've always done when I'm playing basketball and lulling out like that. I'd give myself a little internal pep talk, including the following sentiment: You are the best player here. Go get the ball and make something good happen. Don't be afraid to miss a shot. You are way better than all these guys and you know it. Show 'em.
Of course, to be honest I was probably only the third best player out there, but when I pumped myself up I honestly believed I was the best. And I would be successful, or at least aggressive, for a few moments. I've always done that. When I was 22, the pep talk might carry me through ten minutes, now it's about a minute and a half. But that minute and a half feels good.
It feels good because normally (not just in sports) I am crippled by insecurity and self-doubt. It happens to me at the job, it happens to me when I am hanging a bookshelf or posting a blog post or singing karaoke (1 time in my life, disaster). I kind of (usually accurately) suspect that my abilities for the task at hand are subpar in some critical way. But deep inside, I harbor an unjustified streak of wild confidence, of certainty that I am The Best. The Best at whatever it is and I will prove it if I need to. And when I am feeling particularly down, like when I screw up something at work or somebody insults me in a way that actually stings, I call upon it and it makes me feel euphoric for a brief period. I just rise and float, motherfucker. Long enough to move on with my day.
You should try that shit. Because don't you kind of suspect that you really are The Best? Hell, you might actually be The Best. As long as I'm not around. Because I am actually The Best.
I ate bad food and got a sick tummy today. 10 points for each component of the suspected tainted meal that you can name.
You know how some blogs put little keywords on the bottom of their posts (I'm sure there is a technical term for these keywords but I don't know it)? Like: file under: sports; Don Mattingly; moustaches. If I were to do that, I think there would only be like ten categories. My life is that simple.
Dazed and Confused
Fast Times
Basketball
Baseball
Music
Work
Drinking
Self-help
Gatorade
Facial Hair
Miscellaneous Lightweight Bullshit
Which category would you like the next post to be drawn from?
posted by hans q. bungle at 02:11
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