Let me tell you a little story. Last night after coming home all sad and depressed from a sad, sad Eagles loss, I parked my car on Christian Street. I got out of my car to see a white cat with black spots eating from some plate that someone had placed outside for her. Now, usually when I see stray cats and I try to get them to come to me for petting or whatnot they run away and fast. Not this one, I called to her and she came right up to me, let me pet her and was rubbing her head against my legs and purring. I’m a sucker for friendly cats. I began walking down 18th Street and she followed me. In fact, she followed me right up to my door. Now, I don’t have cats, but I do have a bag of cat treats at our place (not sure why). So, when I went in, she followed and I gave her a ton of cat treats. She was in heaven. And then it happened.
I heard a rumble from up above. It sounded as if the landlord was awake. I called to him, to see the wonder I had found. He came downstairs, slowly, deliberately. He was all groggy eyed and full of pure evil. He looked at the cat, the cat looked at him. He began to speak. “Get that fuckin’ cat out of my house.” But, landlord, it’s a good cat, very friendly. She doesn’t bite, can’t she stay? “Get that fuckin’ cat out of my house.” But … “No, buts, you shithole, get that fuckin’ cat out of my house.” He went back up to his lair and shut the door forcefully. I sat back on the couch, I tried my hardest to hold back my tears. It was useless. Why did I have to give something back that I could love and care for? WHY? And then I heard it again from upstairs, “GET THAT FUCKIN’ CAT OUT OF MY HOUSE.” I opened the front door and threw some treats out there. She left. I shut the door and went to bed. I left my window open from my room, just in case. Just in case she would cry for me.
Life has its ups and downs, but some people just are so full of hate and anger with the world they don’t care about other’s feelings, or emotional levels. Love and kindness needs to be practiced more often, or the world just may forget how to do it.
“And then my landlord came downstairs, and with his violent angry eyes staring into my soul, he forced me to kick my new found cat back out onto the streets. These are indeed hard times.”— Hamish, in remembrance
Yeah, blow me. Sorry for no posts this week, but I will always guarantee you a Hamish update weekend post. So, here we go.
Welly, welly, welly, well. Up only one game on the Mets as we move into a 3 game series with the Nats. If we don’t win all these games, and we end up having to play a fuckin’ make-up game I’m gonna be pissed as shit. I can only promise you we will win Saturday with Jamie Moyer. Everything else is up in the air. But, if you believe with me, we will win all 3 and fight like champions in the playoffs. GO YOU FUCKIN’ PHILLIES, GO!
Well the Eagles continue to have huge game times. Sunday night versus Chicago. And I thought I was supposed to be a cubs fan for the rest of the season, I must say fuck you to Chicago once the Brew-Cubs game ends Sunday and try my best to penetrate the horrible Chicago Bears. The Bears are pure shit and Kyle Orton is a pile of strained bloody hemroid poo. Eagles defense will rape them and Eagles win 66-3.
"Look at me, I’m drunk and the quarterback for the Bears. I’m the man now, dog."
Going to see Weezer Saturday night with King Kong at the E-Center (refuse to call it whatever it is really called now, always, always E-Center). Going to be a shitfest of drunken Weezer watching and stealing hippie girl’s hemp purses. Good times to the sweet rhythms of the Weezer. “No weezin’ the juice”
#4: Fantasy Baseball/Football
Well, we only got 3 days left in Fantasy Baseball and it’s me vs. Barry in the finals. The winner to receive 9 bottles of alcohol and I’m currently up 7-2. This is getting me so freakin’ hyped. I want the win bad.
Also on football side of things, I’m also playing Barry. And we’re both a miserable 1-2. Should be a fun day of yelling at each other and then fighting each other in sumo gear. You’re my fantasy.
Seems like every Friday I need to post something about this upcoming weekend. And it’s only like that because weekends have been starting to kick some major ass. It’s been chock full of nuts and goodness. Let it get started.
#1: Friday Night Party Town
Tonight there is a huge bash for 6 combined celebrated birthdays. It’s got over 100 Facebook confirmed guests. I think that’s a lot, but it’s bullshit. Nobody really likes these 6, I know because I personally hate all of them. But, I will still go, because there’s been mention of free Miller High Life. And that’s like gold to me. Pure gold. Your name is pronounced Algar, right?
#2: Flag Football
Even though we got our chodes handed to us last weekend, I still look forward to playing some smash mouth flag football. It’s a reason to wake up Saturday morning, and God knows I need one. Now if I can only find someone who can sew my jersey back together …
#3: The Phillies
7 in a row? Sweeped the Brew-crew and the Braves? Jesus. I can’t handle this kind of streak. Let’s see if they can keep their dynamite power going through fishtown. I want to see Dan Uggla bleeding out of his rectum by the end of the next series. BLOOD OUT OF THE RECTUM!
#4: The Eagles
Oh, boy. A 4:15 game? That means a 10 hour tailgate! This could be dangerously awesome. A big grill filled with hot dogs and chocolate milk will be served. There will be beer. There will be corn hole. There will be a bunch of drunk dudes screaming obscenities at everyone. Exciting, exciting times.
Well, there’s a lot going on this weekend. And in my head it all comes together in one beautiful orgy of fun and excitement. But, I want you all to know that I practice in caution. There are a lot of ways a man can hurt himself in this world. Especially when alcohol, football and women come into play. So, I want everyone to be careful who will be joining me on any of my excursions this weekend. Because my balls are on the wall, and I’m ready for some MOTHERFUCKIN’ ACTION!
“Because days come and go, but my feelings for you are forever.”— Hamish, finally realizing what listening to WMMR at work does to him, he wakes up in the morning singing these horrible modern rock songs that he doesn’t even know. Shit WMMR, why you trying to get crazy with me man, don’t you know I’m loco?
You ever been sitting around and your alone and you are constantly turning around and to the sides because you think someone is there? I do that all the time. It’s not paranoia. There is someone there, and you better be fuckin’ careful man. Cause if you don’t keep turning around looking for him, he will know. Then he will attack, like a banshee. He will come at you with so much ass kick you won’t know if you just had a heart attack, a stroke, or you if you just gasmed in your pants. Things will get blurry and your eyes will tear up. Blood will rush out of your armpits, and your ears will squirt out brain fluid. Then just when you think all hope is loss and you are about to die, you look up and see this man:
Johan “Satan” Santana.
Believe in the Phillies, and hate the Mets folks. The Phillies are always more righteous, and the Mets are devil worshippers. Your only hope is that Jimmy “Christ” Rollins will slay Satan Santana with his over sized Rollins’ Dong™.
“I can’t take the kind of excitement from that MNF game last night. I shit my pants 3 times, peed twice, and lactated until my McNabb jersey curdled.”— Hamish, a lot of stuff comes out when we play Dallas, and I don’t really lactate
I had something very interesting to talk about and discuss, but I totally forgot what it was. Sucks for you. I’ll just talk about something random. How about the weekend?
So, at work our MRI scanner has been down since Tuesday evening, and I’ve been coming in and having to leave early. Which sounds great, but I wouldn’t get paid for those hours I don’t work. So, I’ve been forced to using vacation time and that sucks. I don’t have a lot of vacation time built up yet, and now I have less. Thanks a lot Siemens.
#2 Flag Football:
Looks like we will actually play this week after getting rained out last week. And I’m pumped. So pumped, it’s got me to shit my pants multiple times out of extreme pumpiness.
Do it. Do it. Like I say all the time, I will not give up on the Phillies. Especially not when Jamie Moyer’s pitching. I feel like he’s my Dad, and he’s doing it all for me. I want to hug him, I want him to tuck me in, I want him to tell me bedtime stories, and I want him to beat me when I do bad things. Oh, Jamie, take me away.
There’s been an overflow of slugs in our backyard. But, I don’t want you to be scared, I’ve been chucking them into the neighbor’s yards. It’s been about two a night, and I’m getting sick and tired of these fuckin’ slugs. They better watch out, I’m pissed.
They’re gonna kick the Cowboy’s ass. Cause the Cowboys suck, and yep, they suck.
“Me and Donovan we’d have Monday nights where I was the bartender or he was the bartender.”— T.O. apparently got crunked with McNabb a lot, when asked if he did the same with Romo, he laughed and said, “I’m afraid he might grab my nutsac, he’s a girl drink drunk.”
Last night after everyone went to bed, I went outside to smoke a cigarette and I saw the craziest shit I’ll probably ever get to see in the nature world. I saw two slugs having sex. Yes I did. I couldn’t help it but to just sit there and watch it in awe. It was disgusting and revolting, but at the same time it was beautiful. I caught them creating a mucous string and just circling around each other going down from a perch. Around and around, so sexually, so beautiful. Then at the end, I saw it. They both emitted this white object from their bodies, I thought they might be giving birth. It turns out that was their nasties. And I was the only one who got to see these two slugs have sex for me. This isn’t any kind of joke folks, I watched two slugs fuck for about 15 minutes. Slug fucking is beautiful and disgusting, just like Adam Eaton licking your asshole.
Well another weekend is upon us, so soon. And this one is big, bigger than shit. And I’m so excited my nipples could cut holes through human skulls. Seriously, I’ve been practicing on pigeons. I’ll start off light.
Yes, the glorious tradition of flag football season starts tomorrow for me & my team the Steamy Poo Pilers. I love getting out there and pushing giant out of shape guys around and then winding up with bruises all over my body. So sexy. Hopefully we will win and Skip will buy us all ice cream afterwards. Barry? Can you point us in the direction of the ice cream shoppe?
Yes, NFL season is upon us. And if last night’s game is any indication, this year is going to blow chunks. Ugh, that game sucked ass. Probably because I was rooting for Clinton Portis the whole time and could give 2 shits about the Giants and Eli Manning’s woes. Fuck him. I hope he trips and falls on his vagina and sucks his offense line up it. But, Sunday morning will be a glorious morning, with a 7AM tailgate at the Eagles lot, and a stomping of the Rams afterwards. I can’t wait to see Jon Runyan, Michigan, fist fuck the puny Ram’s assholes.
Yes, before Sunday morning comes Saturday night with a UFC card that looks and feels amazing. Liddell vs. Evans will be a blood bath. Then for some reason Rich Franklin will be shitting on deaf Matt Hamill. Poor guy. He can’t hear a lick and then Rich Franklin is going to pretend like the ref stopped the fight and then proceed to rip his nose off to make Hamill lose another sense. And as usual a bunch of men bumping uglies off of mesh shorts gets everyone real hot for action!
Yes, the Phillies have a 3 game series with the Mets. If they can pull gold from their assholes one more time and sweep the Mets here. BAM! We are tied a top the D-Squash ladder. Eradicator!
But seriously folks, how often does a weekend come around like this with so much promise and hope? Too bad tonight’s gonna suck. Some shitty band is going to play at some shitty bar and I’m forced to go with a bunch of fish assholes. Well, soup’s on!
So, it’s the first week of regular season football and you better be ready for some Eagles shit to fly into your mouth. I hope everyone else is feelin’ as funky as I am, all geared up for Eagles to kick some Ram ass. But, what can we expect this year? And who can we trust? This is why I’m here, and I did a little research for all of us to know which Eagle we should root for.
The number one key in trusting an Eagles’ cheerleader is her answer to the question: Pat’s or Geno’s. Ashley is the first to answer Pat’s (instead of the horribly shitty answer both, or the horribly gay answer of Geno’s). Also to note is her favorite Eagle pick of Tony Hunt, also a great fantasy football draft choice. Negatives is her love of Mariah Carey and she likes to crank her knuckles. Crank? I’m guessing she injects meth into her knuckles for fun, too much for me.
Dana has also correctly chose Pat’s as the cheesesteak of choice. But sadly that might be the only good thing about her besides that she likes Billie Jean by Jacko. Things to worry about: Well, she owns 153 pairs of shoes, and knows she owns exactly 153 pairs of shoes. Ok … And her first concert ever seen was Aaron Carter. Hmmm … And she uses the word “like” in every sentence. Uh oh … And her dream job would be to teaching disabled children. Wait. Stop. That’s her dream job? Shit Dana, you can go out there and teach them. It’s not that hard, you can make your dreams a reality. It’s not that hard to become a disabled child teacher. But, here you are flaunting your body with your 153 pairs of shoes. I hate you. But, you like Pat’s, so you can be trusted.
Jamie is also kind of scary looking and rather eat a Pat’s. She’s a snowboarder, which is cool, and she likes Evanescence, which is not cool. Besides that Jamie is all around awesome. She wants sushi as her last meal, her dog’s name is Halo, she was once a cranberry farmer, and she wants to go to Peru to study the enigma of the Nazca Lines. Also her major in college was kinesiology. Jamie blows my mind and I want her to come over tonight.
Janelle is a vegetarian, but chose Pat’s due to their cheese fries being better. That still counts. Trust me. She is a self proclaimed huge video game nerd and her first band seen was Steve Miller. Then she goes on and on about boring stuff and family shit. Ok, Janelle, we get it, your favorite Eagle is Westbrook and favorite place in Philly is the Art Museum. How original … (these dots represent I’m trailing off and beginning to drift into sleep).
Nikki is after my heart saying she wants a Pat’s, wiz with. Bam! Her favorite player? Jon Runyan, Michigan. Favorite food includes calamari and sushi. She has bad road rage and wants to kill people. One issue is the mentioning of the boyfriend. Yes, I know it’s great that he’s hardworking and kind. But people don’t want to read about this asshole, we want to read about your asshole.
Rachel likes Pat’s and she might be able to beat me up. Her ideal job would be being a spy with a hot jumpsuit and a matching motorcycle. Alright Rachel! Worst fear? “I’m fearless.” Rachel would kick a hole through a school. Last meal? Chicken fried steak, white gravy mash potatoes, green beans and a chocolate milkshake. Wow. Favorite song? Beyond the Sea by Frank Sinatra? Frank Sinatra? You dumb bastard, poor Bobby Darin, they even make a movie about him starring Kevin Spacey and no one knows who he is.
Well there you have it. 13 out of 38 Eagles cheerleaders that can be trusted and you can root for this year. Due to the fact that they all chose Pat’s cheesesteaks over Geno’s. And now I have to go do something less mind numbing for I have this overwhelming feeling like I need to go out and buy a bunch of pairs of shoes.
Let’s get one thing straight, right off the back, I’m not having sex. Not right now. Actually I’m at the computer now, typing away another shit storm of insanity. But, I’ve been intrigued by something I saw in a movie awhile ago. Now, I’m not sure what it’s called, probably a back bridge, but it looks like this:
It’s a move that only some people can perform and actually after challenging many of my friends I’ve only found one other guy who can perform it, unfortunately he is the one who had seizures yesterday from Camel Crush cigarettes, but that’s a different story all together. So, being a flexible human myself and able to perform a back bridge, I’ve wanted to go out there and perform the move I saw in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which is a back bridge, whilst someone rides you from above.
I have dubbed this the “Artemis,” after the Greek goddess of archery. Notice the bow like manner that the back bridge creates, and the woman is like the arrow. Get it?
Now I have yet to perform the Artemis for one of the reasons listed below:
I’ve been in a relationship with a 350 lb. girl who I can’t support her weight in that position.
I’m too drunk to remember to perform the Artemis.
It’s hard to get the full extension when you’re handcuffed to the bed.
I refuse to have sex until my wedding night.
I’m abstaining from sex for fear that my Johnson might fall off.
Now whatever the reason may be, I have yet to perform the Artemis. But, I want everyone who reads this blog (all 6.5 of you) to go out and spread the word of the Artemis. Tell your co-workers, tell your friends and family, tell homeless men on the street. Because if I can’t do it, I want everyone else out there to be having awesome sex.
“Warning to all: Camel’s new Crush cigarette can cause seizures.”—
- Hamish, really warning everyone, I saw it happen
For all who don’t know, Camel’s Crush cigarette is a regular camel cigarette with this blue ball in the filter. Whenever you want while smoking it you can squeeze and pop that blue ball. From then on you are smoking a menthol. I bought a pack out of curiosity. It’s insane and fun. But, again, it may give seizures, so be careful.