According to ESPN blogger Tim Graham.
ESPN also reported that Jauron didn't sign off on this.
Oh good.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
To Put Things in Some Context
Many of you are probably wondering why we're so upset around here.
To put things in context, here is an email I sent to Sailor Jacket after learning that Jabari Greer signed elsewhere. (Warning, gentle .govs, it gets a bit salty toward the end):
No, I'm not happy. I'm more fucking irate than ever.
TO is not what we need. We have Lee Evans. We have Josh Reed. We have plenty of receivers. We also have a fucking fragile situation in Buffalo right now, with a young quarterback, a gentle but not controlling coach, and general lack of talent on the line. And we didn't sign TO, awesome receiver. We signed old, chip on the shoulder TO, who, I'm sure, wanted to go ANYWHERE but Buffalo. He has no reason to humble himself now. Just make a fucking mess, collect his money and get out of town. Don't take my word for it-- listen to the talking heads on ESPN right now.
We needed anything BUT TO.
Fuck, I hate writing "TO." His name is Terrell. People who are named Terrell should be remind of that fact as often from possible. From now on, we will never again say "TO" on this blog.
I have a lot more to say, but I'm too irate. And too hungry. I have chicken nuggets in the toaster oven awaiting country sweet sauce.
But I digress.
This is not going to go well. I'm not just saying that because I'm a Bills fan, and, as such, I'm generally down on life. I'm saying that because I spend most of my time thinking about football, and thinking that, whatever else you can say about the Bills, at least we don't have a fucking TO (fuck I did it again) on our team. We got rid of Travis Henry, for fuck sake, just because he had too many kids. And we got rid of Willis McGahee because he said he liked Toronto more than Buffalo, and dissed Applebee's. Applebee's, for fuck sake.
Do you know what Canadians call Toronto? T.O.
We're fucked.
To put things in context, here is an email I sent to Sailor Jacket after learning that Jabari Greer signed elsewhere. (Warning, gentle .govs, it gets a bit salty toward the end):
Get used to the idea of the toronto bills. I'm serious. This is not a team that is trying. This is a team wading in shark infested waters. I'm serious. This is a team that has no one driving it. I'm absolutely digusted. Its not about greer. Its about all of the imcompetence. Why not get SOMETHING for dockery?? What is plan excactly at tight end?? Look at the jets, who we play twice a year. They are a new york team, amd they hustled to get bart. See peter king's article. The bill's front office is fucking all of us. And they know it. And they don't care. I'm fucking pissed.Now, you might read that and think-- "hey, they did what you wanted and signed a big name player, aren't you happy?"
No, I'm not happy. I'm more fucking irate than ever.
TO is not what we need. We have Lee Evans. We have Josh Reed. We have plenty of receivers. We also have a fucking fragile situation in Buffalo right now, with a young quarterback, a gentle but not controlling coach, and general lack of talent on the line. And we didn't sign TO, awesome receiver. We signed old, chip on the shoulder TO, who, I'm sure, wanted to go ANYWHERE but Buffalo. He has no reason to humble himself now. Just make a fucking mess, collect his money and get out of town. Don't take my word for it-- listen to the talking heads on ESPN right now.
We needed anything BUT TO.
Fuck, I hate writing "TO." His name is Terrell. People who are named Terrell should be remind of that fact as often from possible. From now on, we will never again say "TO" on this blog.
I have a lot more to say, but I'm too irate. And too hungry. I have chicken nuggets in the toaster oven awaiting country sweet sauce.
But I digress.
This is not going to go well. I'm not just saying that because I'm a Bills fan, and, as such, I'm generally down on life. I'm saying that because I spend most of my time thinking about football, and thinking that, whatever else you can say about the Bills, at least we don't have a fucking TO (fuck I did it again) on our team. We got rid of Travis Henry, for fuck sake, just because he had too many kids. And we got rid of Willis McGahee because he said he liked Toronto more than Buffalo, and dissed Applebee's. Applebee's, for fuck sake.
Do you know what Canadians call Toronto? T.O.
We're fucked.
Fuckingfuckfuckfarts
Sorry .govs, but we are having some serious issues here at weddingfarts HQ.
Our beloved just signed one of the most disruptive players in NFL history, so pardon our language for the next couple of days. Things could be a little heated around here.
I'm sure that this is all going to work out just fine... Fuckingfucketyfuck.
Oh Shitfarts
This is not what I thought I would be seeing when I sat down to check websites this afteroon.
I need a nap... and a beer... and then another nap... and then a sedative...
I need a nap... and a beer... and then another nap... and then a sedative...
Bracketfarts I
Well. I know who I'm going to pick to go very far in the NCAA tournament. Oakenshields for life!
Friday, March 06, 2009
Eat This
"Hey man boobs, I have something for you to try" says one of my Chinese co-workers as I stride towards my cubical this morning with my standard level of swag (arms up in the air like I just won a boxing match).
"What is this?" I demand as I examine the package laden with Chinese characters. Inside I can see strips of dried white flesh stuffed tightly together. Jerk turkey is my first thought, but I can not find a single image or translation to confirm my suspicions.
"Just eat it," she replies and shoots me a look of disappointment. I can tell that she is surprised that I would even hesitate trying one of her favorite snacks.
(Everything around me freezes as I turn to the audience and explain the following) If you know me personally, or you have ever read this this blog (I'm talking about you .govs), you know that there is no way I am going to walk away from this situation without eating this mystery meat. In moments like these, I feel empowered. I feel like I can blast through the stereotypes of picky Americans who would no less put a new taste experience into their mouth than they would buy season tickets to to their local MLS team or enroll in a Mechanical Aeorospace Engineering program for the love of fluid mechanics. I will eat this food.
"Bring it!" I exclaim as I dive my hand into the bag and grab onto the dry, crumbly substance. As my fingers approach my mouth, the distinct smell of a seafood market drifts past my nose. Dried fish? Perhaps shark? I shove the meat into my mouth and the salt is evident immediately. I bite down and am surprised to find how chewey this food is. The taste is slightly fishy and very chewey. I know that I have tasted this before...
"Dried squid!" announces my co-worker as I swallow hard. "You like it?"
Perhaps it is the fact that it is 9 in the morning and I still have a lingering banana taste in my mouth. Or maybe my brain could not switch fast enough from expecting to taste a land animal but instead chewing endlessly on the shreaded squid. Whatever the reason, I can not hide the look of distaste on my face. I quietly remark that I think the squid is "good" but I can tell that she does not buy it.
I walk the rest of the way to my desk with my arms down at my sides, shoulders hunched, eyes staring straight at the ground, badly in need of a hug...
"What is this?" I demand as I examine the package laden with Chinese characters. Inside I can see strips of dried white flesh stuffed tightly together. Jerk turkey is my first thought, but I can not find a single image or translation to confirm my suspicions.
"Just eat it," she replies and shoots me a look of disappointment. I can tell that she is surprised that I would even hesitate trying one of her favorite snacks.
(Everything around me freezes as I turn to the audience and explain the following) If you know me personally, or you have ever read this this blog (I'm talking about you .govs), you know that there is no way I am going to walk away from this situation without eating this mystery meat. In moments like these, I feel empowered. I feel like I can blast through the stereotypes of picky Americans who would no less put a new taste experience into their mouth than they would buy season tickets to to their local MLS team or enroll in a Mechanical Aeorospace Engineering program for the love of fluid mechanics. I will eat this food.
"Bring it!" I exclaim as I dive my hand into the bag and grab onto the dry, crumbly substance. As my fingers approach my mouth, the distinct smell of a seafood market drifts past my nose. Dried fish? Perhaps shark? I shove the meat into my mouth and the salt is evident immediately. I bite down and am surprised to find how chewey this food is. The taste is slightly fishy and very chewey. I know that I have tasted this before...
"Dried squid!" announces my co-worker as I swallow hard. "You like it?"
Perhaps it is the fact that it is 9 in the morning and I still have a lingering banana taste in my mouth. Or maybe my brain could not switch fast enough from expecting to taste a land animal but instead chewing endlessly on the shreaded squid. Whatever the reason, I can not hide the look of distaste on my face. I quietly remark that I think the squid is "good" but I can tell that she does not buy it.
I walk the rest of the way to my desk with my arms down at my sides, shoulders hunched, eyes staring straight at the ground, badly in need of a hug...
I have awful tastefarts
Everyone knows that I have terrible taste in just about everything I watch on TV. For example, I am entirely up to date on everything that has ever happened on Prison Break. I'll let you in on a little secret .govs:
I loved wrestling when I was a kid, and then I loved it again when I was around 22. I was at Wrestlemania 18 when Hogan and the Rock went toe to toe. I have to admit I got a little emotional during the match. I was especially emotional when friend of weddingfarts, TL, got a free sausage on the streets of Toronto (there is nothing sketchier than free street meat). I thought that the Wrestler was the 2nd best movie I saw this year. I have a WWE cookbook.
I digress... I don't know who the people in this video are, but they look like wrestlers and therefore I want to see the movie.
I loved wrestling when I was a kid, and then I loved it again when I was around 22. I was at Wrestlemania 18 when Hogan and the Rock went toe to toe. I have to admit I got a little emotional during the match. I was especially emotional when friend of weddingfarts, TL, got a free sausage on the streets of Toronto (there is nothing sketchier than free street meat). I thought that the Wrestler was the 2nd best movie I saw this year. I have a WWE cookbook.
I digress... I don't know who the people in this video are, but they look like wrestlers and therefore I want to see the movie.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Twitterfarts II: The Ultimate Betrayal
Hi all, and welcome back to our blog. If you are one of the many in search of obama boobs, you'll going to be disappointed this week.
Because we're talking about Twitter.
Sailor Jacket and I have been having some extra-curricular (i.e., non-posted) conversations about Twitter. That happens from time to time. Like most of the past year.
For those of you not in the know, Twitter became a really big deal this week on the internets. It's the new thing that everyone is doing, like friendster in 2002, napster in 1998, and aol in 1996. Politicians are doing it, and now people are blogging about what politicians twitter.
What is it exactly?
I'm not sure. I refuse to find out. The gist, I take it, is that you are constantly telling the world inane shit about yourself, like what you had for lunch, and what is going on with your favorite football team, what happened on your commute to work on the metro, burgers you may someday want to eat.
Seriously, who has time for that?
I, for one, don't. Except that maybe I do. On a purely research oriented websearch-- don't say I never did anything for you, .govs-- I went to the Twitter website. And I found something horrible there:
I've already signed up for twitter.
How did this happen? I'll explain, or try to. If everyone remembers back a year ago, sailor jacket and I got ourselves into a bit of a tizzy over the wii. The problem was, you couldn't find one anywhere. As always, the internets tried to solve anything, and it was possible-- so I was told by Deep Fried Bacon-- to have the internets CALL YOUR PHONE when a wii became available online. Too good to be true? Well, yeah, in the end I think so. And somehow the calling involved Twitter, which, at that time, was not the next big thing. It was a messy period of time, and I tried lots of things, apparently even Twitter.
I'm not so much ashamed as confused.
But fear not, .govs. You will not need to search for twitter to find me, just as you do not need to waste your parents' minutes trying to chat with me on AOL. I will be nowhere but here, the everlasting weddingfarts, until, well, we stop writing once again.
Because we're talking about Twitter.
Sailor Jacket and I have been having some extra-curricular (i.e., non-posted) conversations about Twitter. That happens from time to time. Like most of the past year.
For those of you not in the know, Twitter became a really big deal this week on the internets. It's the new thing that everyone is doing, like friendster in 2002, napster in 1998, and aol in 1996. Politicians are doing it, and now people are blogging about what politicians twitter.
What is it exactly?
I'm not sure. I refuse to find out. The gist, I take it, is that you are constantly telling the world inane shit about yourself, like what you had for lunch, and what is going on with your favorite football team, what happened on your commute to work on the metro, burgers you may someday want to eat.
Seriously, who has time for that?
I, for one, don't. Except that maybe I do. On a purely research oriented websearch-- don't say I never did anything for you, .govs-- I went to the Twitter website. And I found something horrible there:
I've already signed up for twitter.
How did this happen? I'll explain, or try to. If everyone remembers back a year ago, sailor jacket and I got ourselves into a bit of a tizzy over the wii. The problem was, you couldn't find one anywhere. As always, the internets tried to solve anything, and it was possible-- so I was told by Deep Fried Bacon-- to have the internets CALL YOUR PHONE when a wii became available online. Too good to be true? Well, yeah, in the end I think so. And somehow the calling involved Twitter, which, at that time, was not the next big thing. It was a messy period of time, and I tried lots of things, apparently even Twitter.
I'm not so much ashamed as confused.
But fear not, .govs. You will not need to search for twitter to find me, just as you do not need to waste your parents' minutes trying to chat with me on AOL. I will be nowhere but here, the everlasting weddingfarts, until, well, we stop writing once again.
Twitterfarts
I don't understand twitter. It is like a Facebook status update but more hardcore. However, I do check the twitter account of someone that weddingfarts and I know from summer camp. It is depraved and degenerate and consistently amusing.
Disclaimer: you probably should be careful about checking that website at work. Use your fancy .gov phone instead.
Realworldfarts
I know I'm too old to watch the Real World, but I do it anyway.
I am finding that I have never hated someone on tv more than I hate Chet. What a douche.
.govs I know that you are watching his season of the Real World. What are your very important thoughts on the matter?
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
I know what I'm having for lunch tomorrow
Man boobs can keep the chicken feet all for himself.
I'm going to Burger King.
For these:
I don't really like Burger King, but I'm a sucker for blog posts like this.
I'm going to Burger King.
For these:
I don't really like Burger King, but I'm a sucker for blog posts like this.
Monday, March 02, 2009
I am Not a Chicken
But I did eat chicken feet for lunch today. It was my first time eating chicken feet. You bite off the fingers, suck off the skin, and spit out the bones. On lucky bites, a nice glob of gelatin squeezes out of the foot. It was kind of soggy, kind of sweet, and kind of amazing. I also enjoyed shark fin dumplings, steam buns stuffed with pork and bean paste, lotus leaf rice, and taro dumplings.
Dim sum, why can't every lunch be as interesting as you?
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Foodpicturefarts
.govs we are back. Who knows for how long, but know that your lunchtime is about to become more exciting than it has been in monthes.
Here are some things to consider and to give us feedback on:
Taking pictures of your own food in restaurants and then immediately emailing to friends. Okay or not okay?
How do you regain your mojo in mariocart wii? I used to dominate and now I'm a shell of my former self.
Personal training: does it work? Do I care?
Talk to us .govs
Friday, February 27, 2009
Tekiah, Tekiah, Tekiah, Tekiah-Gedolah
Eating a curry chicken salad on wheat from the sandwich shop downstairs. They put raisins in the chicken salad. Next to the sandwich is a salad with ginger dressing. I think this is what the kids are calling fusion these days...
Sound the Shofar
I hereby revive this dormant blog for a moment to proclaim: the Robert Royal era in Buffalo is over! It is over!
Awake the .govs! Post links on facebook! Go eat a cobb salad!
Just don't get your hopes up yet-- either about our beloved, or this blog.
Awake the .govs! Post links on facebook! Go eat a cobb salad!
Just don't get your hopes up yet-- either about our beloved, or this blog.
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