What is the most exciting end to a sporting event?
My order is as follows
1) Hail Mary
2) Game-winning half-court shot
3) Walk-off home run
4) 50-foot birdie on final hole of tournament
5) Goal scored at very end of hockey game
I don't know if it's fair to compare a Hail Mary to a game-ending home run, since a Hail Mary happens once or twice during a season and that's about it. It's a lot rarer than a walk-off home run. It's better to compare a walk-off HR to something like a last-second field goal or short touchdown, in which case the home run wins out. It's hard to beat the dramatic value of home run. The second people hear the crack of the bat, they start going absolutely apeshit. Here's a video of David Freese's game-winner from Game 6 of the 2011 World Series:
That's pretty solid. The nice thing about home runs is that they're definitive. You don't need to wait for a ref to raise his arms. It's clear to everyone in the stadium, which means they all go nuts at the same time, which is nice! It's like timing mutual orgasms. So my list of common good sports endings would go:
1. Walk-off home run
2. Buzzer beater
3. Last-second TD
4. Sudden-death overtime goal (hockey)
6. Penalty kicks (soccer)
7. Photo finish (horsey racing)
8. Last-second field goal
9. Walk-off base hit
I left the longass putt off the list because, again, it's a pretty rare occurrence. Any time I watch a golf tourney, I always hope some dude will hole out a fairway shot for eagle for a miracle win and it never happens. Also, a long putt usually can't take you from losing to winning. It can only take you from losing to tying or tying to winning. Not that it won't stop Jim Nantz from skeeting himself and nominating you for a Congressional Medal of Honor.
If we're going with all rare but still possible endings, then my vote is a Hail Mary in the middle of a blizzard with a receiver who's playing on one broken leg wrestling the ball away from a defensive back who bragged about nailing the receiver's wife on Twitter just the day before WHILE another player pulls a gun and tries to assassinate Roger Goodell while he sits in the luxury box.
Can you take a shit and just use Purell? That ain't right.
It's not. You have to do the full lather and rinse after a shit. It's more of a gray area after pissing. I mean, you should probably wash your hands after every piss. But what if you're in a hurry? Or what if it's the middle of the night? Or what if you JUST pissed three minutes ago and this is just an appendix to that last piss because you didn't shake enough at the end? That hardly counts as a full piss. Using Purell after that non-piss is almost going the extra mile. I usually just go right back to eating chicken drumsticks because I'm awful.
In my experience, you really only use Purell if it happens to be around. Go to any hospital and there's a Purell dispenser every six feet, which alarms me because I always picture a surgeon taking a big shit and then only using Purell before removing a person's liver. Everyone in the hospital uses the Purell dispensers, so I follow suit because I'm a sheep. Same with kiddie birthday parties. Kiddie gyms have gallon containers of the stuff lying around, and I'll grab a squirt just because I have nothing better to do. I like to rub it in my hands and then smell my hands. Smells like I just juggled napalm. CHARLIE DON'T SURF!
What would the political/social/economic ramifications be if Osama bin Laden were to show up undeniably alive? Just for arguments sake, say he puts out a video that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not killed in Abbottabad. Would Obama be impeached? Would the stock market collapse? Would Goodell fine the military?
You can kiss Zero Dark Thirty's Oscar hopes goodbye, THAT'S FOR DAMN SURE.
Obviously, people would shit their pants. If they didn't impeach the president, they'd at least have so many committee meetings on the subject that you'd WANT him impeached just so that you'd never have to hear about it again. Obama lovers the world over would become bin Laden death truthers, marching out argument after argument about why bin Laden couldn't possibly be alive. The president's ruined credibility would make it virtually impossible for him to govern. "Oh, you want gun control? I DON'T THINK SO, GERONIMO." Al Qaeda and the Taliban would be reinvigorated. We'd have to re-invade Afghanistan, which is fun! Burke and Dickey would discover that a small Polynesian lady had played bin Laden in the videos the whole time, and that bin Laden never actually existed.
On a personal level, I would become depressed and hopeless. If bin Laden sprang back to life, I'd become fearful that the War on Terror will rage on forever, that bin Laden would never die, and that evil itself could never fully be vanquished from the globe (it can't anyway, but bin Laden would be a shitty daily reminder of it). The idea that we'd have to spend even more money and blood tracking him down and killing him AGAIN would be too much to bear. WILL THE ENDLESS CYCLE OF VIOLENCE NEVER CEASE?! Fucking bin Laden. Why couldn't he just go away like Paul Maguire eventually did?
What's the age limit to enjoying a delicious candy cane and having the urge to create a makeshift prison shank and start a jailhouse raid?
No age limit. A lick-sharpened candy cane is a lethal weapon in the wrong hands. I try to make imaginary weapons out of random household items all the time, just like Bullseye or Jason Bourne with the magazine that one time. Any time I hold a pizza cutter in my hands, I picture myself slashing a terrorist's neck with it and then tossing off a great one-liner like "SOMEONE ORDER A SLICE?!" I also have a meat tenderizer that I never use but is excellent as a makeshift pretend weapon. I am programmed to kill at all times.
If I were trapped in a Walmart fighting terrorists, I would superglue razor blades to a frisbee and decapitate them with it. I've given days of thought to it. I really want to do that one day.
Speaking of candy canes, I would like candy canes and lollipops to stop developing razor sharp slits after three minutes of suckage. I wanted a sweet treat. I didn't expect to have my tongue cut off.
My wife spotted this little gal hanging out about a foot away from me as I was working in my basement a couple of months ago. I had no idea they lived here, and now am scared every time I go to put my shoes on (as that is where they typically like to rest up). Naturally, I instantly ran away after taking this picture and made her kill the beast.
Have a good sleep.
Jesus. It looks like a spider wearing a supervillain costume.
What is the protocol for using your smartphone for emails/texts/alerts during those big group/departmental meetings where 90% of the subject matter has nothing to do with you and you wish you had those glasses Homer sports in the Jury Duty Episode of the Simpsons? I feel rude spending the entire meeting answering emails on my phone, but we already discussed this crap in last weeks' pointless finance meeting.
So where do you draw the line? Pay attention at all time? Only when someone is talking to you, or about something that concerns you?
I used to get up to "take a shit" whenever I wanted to leave a meeting and spend 20 minutes dicking around on my phone (or head back to my desk and surf the internet while everyone else was trapped inside). I used to do this eight times per meeting. Hell, my boss would do it because he had ADD. The worst part is that moment of hesitation right before you finally decide to get up and leave. Will anyone notice? If they do, will you be fired? It's doubly nerve-wracking if no one else has left the meeting yet. Sometimes, another person will get up first and that gives you your cue. HE WAS FIRST! THEY'LL NEVER SEE ME SLIPPING OUT UNDER COVER OF DARKNESS.
Same with phones. I feel much more free to whip mine out if someone nearby does it before me. That makes it half as likely that someone will see me using it, right? That's my logic. I'm just trying to do it whenever I think no one will see me, which results in me taking out my phone once every 10 minutes, scanning it, and then putting it away after freaking out that I've been on it too long and I've been made by my boss. I also go through this exact thought process when whipping the phone out in front of my wife. I always think, she won't notice me, right? And then, two minutes later, "WILL YOU PUT THAT FUCKING PHONE AWAY?"
When you're driving down a particularly steep hill, does your mind ever start to plan out the exact course of action you would take if you discovered your brakes were cut (specifically "cut"...in my mind SOMEBODY wants me out of the picture)?
I always do that shit. I try to pick out exactly where I would expertly swerve the car through traffic and hop an embankment, smoothly power sliding into someone's front yard. Of course, if this WERE to ever happen, all plans would fly out the window much like my own rag dolled body after I panic and slam into a school bus and roll my car 20 times.
This is the reason why all cars have a neutral option on the gear shift (also so you can be towed, but whatever). There are few things more exciting than putting the car in N and letting gravity push you down a steep hill. God, such danger. I feel like I'm piloting a glider when I do that. And I saved half a penny in gas, which makes me the most considerate man in the world.
The closest I've ever come to having brake failure was the time I tried inline skating in the parking lot of the National Cathedral. My wife sat on the lawn while I fucked around on the skates in a secluded satellite parking lot. But I got running downhill and couldn't stop because inline skates are DEATH TRAPS, so I aimed for a patch of grass nearby and, just before ramming into the curb, I leapt and did a commando roll on the grass. I suffered only minor bruises, saving what would have surely been countless lives if I had continued speeding down the hill at 85 mph.
Would you rather have corduroy skin or muffin hands? The muffin hands grow back after you eat them and can be any two flavors of your choosing. However, your hands will be shaped like muffins, NOT a human pair of hands made of muffins. The corduroy skin is, well, corduroy.
I'll take the corduroy. THE WAITING DROVE ME MAD...
You don't want muffin hands, even if we're talking great muffin flavors like chocolate chip or blueberry crumb. You'd be rendered disabled without working hands, AND you'd become a hopeless fatass with all that carb-loaded goodness available to you. And without hands, you'd be unable to butter your muffin stumps! OH THE TRAGIC IRONY.
Assuming it was somehow biologically viable, the corduroy skin would leave you fully functional. And think of all the people who would want to nuzzle against you.
There's a lady in my office who lost a noticeable amount of weight in recent weeks. Is there any acceptable way to compliment a female coworker on slimming down?
I think it's OK to do the whole "Have you lost weight? You look great!" thing with her. Take it from someone who has lost large amounts of weight in the past: You NEVER get offended when people tell you that you look good. No one is ever like, "How DARE you compliment me, sir!" If you keep it generic and friendly, I don't think it's rude to point that out. The key is to not be like, "Wow! You look great! I mean, I never gave you a second glance before. But now? HUBBA HUBBA. Let's give that new body of yours a test drive on my cotton sheets, YOU SEXY APE. I wanna CRUSH that poon before you gain it all back!" That would be going too far.
Do you wish your bedding gave off more of a rape-y vibe? Well have I found the product for you! Perfect for crushing chicks!
Holy shit. THOSE ARE JAY GLAZER'S SHEETS, GUYS! The "American Arrogant" text really sold it for me.
Speaking of Jay Glazer, why is does every terrible nightclub event have the exact same poster design? Whether it's Glazer's Super Bowl party or Kenny Britt throwing a special birthday party/donkey-punching ceremony, you always get an invite that has 87 different fonts (including a script font to make it look classy). The invite may as well say, "YOU ARE INVITED TO GET SHOT."
I live with three other guys. We're all mid-twenties, standard young professionals. And we like to play Halo. Unfortunately, one of the guys is TERRIBLE. Like, embarrassingly bad. To make things worse, when he plays, I have to go split screen. So not only is my team handicapped, but I don't even get to enjoy my gaming on the full screen. Is there any way we can just confront him and tell him to go play Mario in his room instead of ruining our gaming sessions? A man's gaming prime only lasts so long.
I'm surprised he hasn't given up out of pure shame yet. Usually, your disapproving glances and CLEAR lack of enthusiasm to be playing with someone of inferior skills is enough to drive the poor bastard away. I know this because when I was in college, one guy I knew had Madden '97 for his PlayStation. But I only had full training in Madden '96 for N64, so I needed reps to get better at the PlayStation version. But I was way too late. This guy and his roommates were already masters. They would play wild games that ended 49-47 with endless shit-talking and high-fiving, then I would get my turn and lose 50-7 in dead fucking silence. It's an awful feeling. It's one thing to have your ass handed to you, but this guy couldn't even get excited about beating the shit out of me. You don't wanna be the guy sucking the air out of the room. I'm sure, at some point, your roommate will take the hint and then go cry.
Why the hell is there a rule that requires seven men to be on the line of scrimmage on offense prior to the snap?
Safety. According to the folks at Sunday Morning QB (far preferable to the Monday and Tuesday morning varieties), the illegal-formation penalty exists to prevent offenses from running fling wedges and other formations that would result in 50 shattered fibulas per NFL game. Turns out the NFL actually DID care about safety way back when. Who knew?
A friend saved a tomato with about four grains of rice from dinner. Is this acceptable? I find it appalling. Unless I'm a third world malaria baby this seems useless. Would you point this out? I sure as fuck want to.
You have to point it out. That's just future garbage. There isn't any meat being saved in that container. No one likes raw tomatoes enough to preserve one stupid slice for future use.
My wife chastises me all the time for saving bits of food that need to be thrown away. I hate wasting food so much that I'll happily save two ounces of takeout rice in a Tupperware that's eight sizes too large.
HER: Why did you save this?
ME: The kids might like it.
HER: It's taking up space in the fridge.
ME: We could make Italian RISOTTO BALLS with it in a pinch if we have to.
HER: (throws the rice away, forces me to wash the Tupperware)
So do take care when saving your leftovers. I always think I'll want those two spoonfuls of tikka masala sauce the next day, but then the next day arrives and I end up turning up my nose at the idea of eating oldass food. If there's no meat left, toss that shit.
(By the way, those styrofoam containers are awful. They're always way too big, and they NEVER fit in the trash can properly. It's as if they've been specifically designed to be maximally wasteful.)
What are some things that get considerably better (or more enjoyable) as you get older? My top 3 has to be: 1.) really nice, hoity-toity dinners, 2.) alone time and 3.) liquor drinks.
Dinners, for sure. When I was a kid, my folks used to drag me out to restaurants to eat and they would sit there for fucking hours while I would hide under the table and play imaginary drums for Mötley Crüe with the flatware. Both my parents and my grandparents were the kind of people who would have coffee after dinner, and they'd get refill after refill of decaf, chatting away while I went to the bathroom for the 10th time. My grandma would be like, "Oh, I'd love another cup!" while I screamed NOOOOOOOOO. Ordering coffee after a meal should be illegal.
And when you're young and single, dinner parties sound like the lamest thing imaginable. You mean we're just gonna sit there? We're not even gonna drink from a funnel? Suit yourself, dipshits. I'M ALL ABOUT CRUSHING SOME ROLLIN' ROCKS AND CRUSHING SOME HEAVY PUSSY. Dinner was whatever shit I could throw on the Foreman grill in between drinking tall boys and playing Mario Golf before heading out to the bar at 11. FUCKING HARDCORE.
But now that I'm an old geezer, a nice dinner is pretty much the apex of my existence, especially if the kids aren't around to scream and bitch. I'll happily sit there for hours talking about stupid grownup shit with other people. No coffee though. I still don't know why people order coffee after dinner when there's alcohol to be had.
Some other things that get better as you get older:
• Reading. Whoa hey, I can understand this stuff now! Neat.
• Slow boat rides. Let's just cruise the lake, everyone! (steers boat while drunk)
• Work. Obviously, this is not universal. Plenty of old people still hate work. But if you're older, you likely have more experience and are therefore better (and often better-paid) than the cumheads fresh out of college. Plus, you get rest from taking care of the kids.
• Hifalutin, Gregggggg-approved magazines like The Atlantic
• Wine. I really DID detect hints of smoke in that malbec I drank the other night. So refined.
• Yelling at skateboarders. Because they're all pieces of shit.
• Watching football. Seriously, it's still lots of fun.
When do you think was the last time President Obama drove himself anywhere? Secret Service must drive him literally every place he goes. If he never drives, it's entirely possible that I am a much better driver than him, right? It makes me happy to know I probably do at least one thing better than the POTUS.
I'm sure he's driven a golf cart from time to time, plus he can probably drive around Camp David if he feels like it. I would do that if I were president. I would totally sneak out and get in mah pickup truck to go eat a meatball sub, just so that people knew I was REAL FOLK. Either way, good drivers usually stay good, and shitty drivers usually stay shitty, no matter much they drive or don't drive. Take it from someone who lives in Maryland. Everyone here drives a lot, and they aren't getting any better at it.
It would be nice to be better than the president at something, though. TEMPLE RUN! I'm way better than him at Temple Run. At least, I hope I am.
And now, I give you Paul from Boston, America's worst parent:
The other night I was grilling three burgers for me, my wife and four-year-old son. We all had cheeseburgers. It was dark, so I couldn't see them that well until I got inside.
Once inside I realized that there was a dead spider melted into the cheese on one of the burgers. I quickly brushed it off, but there may have been a leg or two stuck in the cheese. I realized that I had a few choices at this point.
1) Throw the burger away (although these were the last three burgers in the house and not a great alternative for dinner existed)
2) Take one for the team and eat it myself
3) Give it to my wife
4) Give it to my son
Option four is the best answer, right? One was out of the question and if I went with two I would be thinking about it all night. Three was my other option, but if she got sick, I was stuck taking care of her, so I went with Option four. Chances are he wouldn't eat the whole thing anyways and at least if he got sick my wife could deal with him. Had to be done, right?
You are history's greatest monster. Never feed your child a spiderburger.