You Say Cougar, I Say Blow Me
This is a piece by Audrey Irvine and she does not like being called a cougar. No, for reals. Don't call her a cougar. She'll smack you.
Nathan DeGraaf graduated fucking years ago with a BA in Creative Writing from the University of South Florida, which he still lives near because college chicks are the best. On weekday evenings, Nate can typically be found at any one of a number of North Tampa bars. On weekends, he typically cannot be found. When not drinking, fishing, watching sports, or having sex, Nathan likes to read, play the harmonica, and show up for work. Throughout the course of his life, he has been arrested six times because, as his father has often said, "the kid is fucking stupid."
This is a piece by Audrey Irvine and she does not like being called a cougar. No, for reals. Don't call her a cougar. She'll smack you.
<p>There's no doubt about it. Some songs just grab you by the lapels and drag your lapel-wearing ass into the cold pits of awesomeness where you shake and shiver to the beat as the snakes of mental progress hiss sweet nothings in your ears.</p><p>Jimi Hendrix could make those songs. </p><p>Pearl Jam can make those songs.</p><p>The Doors made some of them songs. </p>
<p>Mywoman: Are you gonna wear a suit to the wake?<br />Me: A suit? Hell no. Tom would rather die than make me wear a suit. <br />Mywoman: Honey, he is dead.<br />Me: And he still wouldn't dream of making me wear a suit. He's a great guy like that. </p>
<p>Apparently scarves are in style. Even if you live in Florida. And you're a male. And you're heterosexual. I'm not wearing one. And you can't make me.</p>
<p>Mark McGwire used steroids and is now coaching St. Louis Cardinal hitters. Bryan Burwell has a problem with this; he's just not that sure what this is.</p><p>His words are in bold. Mine are upset with his words in bold. </p>
<p>I've got a busy weekend planned and because no one else wants to listen to my gripes about my life, you get to. Remember: you can stop reading at any time.</p>
Hundreds of thousands of sports bloggers complain about the same thing every day. That's all they do: complain. They don't offer solutions to the problems. That (and the extra large jar of ink flavored warming jelly that sits on my nightstand) is what separates me from the pack. I'm here to help. Anyone can bitch. And everyone does. <p>Anywhodiddleyo, I hate all of the major network
<p>A guy I barely know and whose name I cannot remember once told me that he didn't workout because he hated math. I think that's the best excuse for not working out.</p>
<p>Both weekends of NFL playoffs thus far have featured two good games. And both of them were the last games on the docket. Which means that if you watched those games, you should have been more sober. Seriously, you would have enjoyed the games more. Lush.</p>
<p>I'm in a serious relationship. I can say that honestly and with uncrossed fingers because in the last four months I have a) taken the Woman home to meet the parents and b) missed many a football game.</p>
My sound and well developed reasoning why we must refer to this year as Twenty Ten and not Two Thousand Ten, as my girlfriend likes to say.
The bachelor party night was all about Doug, the groom-to-be. He got all the meals, strippers, drinks and gambling he wanted.