Thursday, May 29, 2014

Aw Dammit! Now Where Did I Park That Bandwagon?

The Stanley Cup is still the best frikkin' show in professional sports, even sans Beez.  But alas, it is time to turn our attention to the turd pie that is the 2014 Red Sawx.  The bandwagon was last seen in Tampa, parked outside the Trop, up on blocks with Clay Buchholz' tampon hanging from the bumpah!  

But hold on... the boys have just taken three straight from the Braves.  The 2004 Idiots were at the ball yahd last night and John Muthafukkin Lackey is now the ace!!  Someone put the wheels back on that bandwagon and ship it up to Boston.  Cuz Lil Dusty has shaved his face and the boys are on a roll!  But let's leave the frontrunnin' bullshit for another day.  We gotta spend today celebrating the Idiots and dumpin' on the Ugly Duckling.

I've come to the point where I could give a bag of shit if Silly Putty Buchholz ever returns to the mound - just get da fuk outta here, girl!  This sumbitch is about the sorriest excuse for a professional athlete that I have seen.  The fukkin' guy pitched three in 84 degrees and lost SEVEN POUNDS???  He claimed he got winded running to first base after a single in the third inning and used THAT as an excuse for giving up 3 runs in the third and 3 more in the fourth before gettin' the hook.  He walked EIGHT batters in three innings.  And he blamed the heat.  This fukker grew up in Texas, fahchrissake!  The Lone Star State ought to revoke his fukkin' birth certificate and exile his bitch ass to the Isle of Vajayjay.  And now he's on the 15 day DL, which in Clay-speak means he may be back by the 2015 All Star break.  Whatevah... just stay away lady!  

On the opposite end of the pussy to manbeast scale from Buchholz sits Lackey with a set of balls that makes Clay's nads look like they should be hanging between a gnat's legs.  The dude is just friggin' bringing it every gawdam night and has done so since last summah!  Last night, JMFL hiked up his drawers, stared at the likes of Pedro and Schill and DLowe and dealed a pissa performance.  "Idiot this, bitches!"  In his 12 starts so far, JMFL has given up two runs or LESS in 8 of them.  

I missed the start of last night's game... kinda pissed that I forgot to tune in.  The Sawx welcomed back 30 members of the 2004 Idiots...  the team that dug up the damn Bambino and drilled him in the ass... to celebrate the 10th anniversary of that championship.  And fuk if we were not reminded that this was the most fun gawdam group of guys we had ever seen.  Shit, they make the beards look like child's play.  Long hair, bloody socks, bathroom breaks and shots of Jack... this team will forever be my favorite group of rose hosers.  And does anyone think that Kevin Millar has ever come down from that high?  I don't!  Loved his booth conversation with Pyscho and DO...  dude's just havin' a ball and callin' his buddies fat!  Awesome!!  And now it seems Manny has found God and Varitek has found the buffet.  And Papi is still raking!    

Monday, May 26, 2014

So Ya Wanna Make A Country Record? Better Get A Truck!

These days, if yer a dude and yer dream is to kiss those sellout asses on Music Row and open up for country music legends like Dirks Bentley or Carrie Underwood, then all ya gotta do is follow a certain formula.  It makes no difference if you rap, croon or twang - if ya sing about jacked up trucks, ice cold beer and painted on jeans, then you, my Rascal Flatts wannabe buddy, will be famous.  Don't forget the ballcap, wallet chain and the aviators too.....   fukkers.

Where is all the gawdam creativity?  The lonesome whipporwhills?  The cheatin' women?  The midnight trains?  The hell mama raised?  Is it all gone?  YUP!  Seems so.  It's not like it's a bad thing to sing about trucks, beers and fine country asses.  Don't get me wrong... the overall theme is pretty pissa!  Cuz there IS something about a truck in a field with girl in a red sundress with an ice cold beer to her lips beggin' for another kiss.  It's just that EVERY FUKKIN HIT in 2013 had the same fukkin' ingredients.  Dropped tailgates, dirt roads and moonlit skinny dippin'.  

I long for the days when country music was deep, poignant, meaningful.  Songs delivered messages like "never name your boy Sue" and "wooden Indians never get a kiss" and "hey good lookin', whatcha got cookin'?"   I'm talkin steel guitar, stand up bass, paint brush snare and lyrics that shaped a generation.  If it were not for country music, would we ever know that the only two things in life that make it worth living are guitars tuned good and firm feeling women?  And I don't think I ever would have heard of places like Butcher Holler or Wolverton Mountain or Folsom Prison.  

Country music critic Grady Smith took the time to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that every country music hit last year was exactly the same... one part truck, one part girl, 12 parts beer mixed together in a crick bed off a dirt road.   YAWN...

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Myrtle Beach Spring Rally, 2014: More Fukked Up Than A ... never mind.

Podunk, Bubba Squared, Cletus and Opie
Seafood Bob walked up to us outside the Causeway Grill and Raw Bar at about midnight on the last night of bike week and immediately recognized us as "yankees."  He said he was from Baltimore and started yakkin' on about muscle cars, sea scallops and flip phones.  We had no idea why he chose us or what the fuk he was talking about.  Ya see, Seafood Bob was kinda tall, loud and completely fukkin' shitfaced.  I knew this because of my unique knack for the obvious.  It was not only by the slur in his speech or the sway in his stance, but by the piss stain on his jeans, that, by the way, ol' Seafood insisted was Crown Royal his friend dumped all over his balls.  Ya see, that is the beauty of bike week, and the Spring Rally held south of Myrtle Beach every May in particular... ya meet the durndest of people.  And it's always fun.  Seafood Bob was not just a shadoobied biker with a lame phone and a weak bladder - naw, he was a wise man quick to offer insight like he was some kinda drunken Confucius - he enlightened this group of Granite Staters that choppers were like afros - First they're in, then they're out, then they're in and then they're out again.

The Spring Rally is alive and well, muthafukkas!  The crowds are returning to the numbers of years gone by.  The beers are still a couple o' bucks and the weather is still just about fahkin' perfect!  Laconia sucks balls compared to Myrtle Beach!  While every other day was sunny and 80, we did get pissed on for most of the day Thursday.  But the skies cleared in time for the Kentucky Headhunters to take the stage at Spokes and Bones later that night.  Not many places in this world can one stand under a tin roof at a free concert, drinking $2 beers while a Grammy award winning band plays Dumas Walker and a nearly nekkid blonde swings upside down from a hoop suspended from the roof, all the while Local Red & White shows up lookin' for some sorry ass who must have done somebody wrong!  I FUKKIN LOVE THIS WEEK!

The week stahted off with a 16 hour pull from the 603 southbound on 95 to South Cackalacky with Opie and me splittin' the drivin'/sleepin' doodies while fukkin' Cletus took a 2 hour plane ride the next day.  Yeah, we trailered.  I ain't ever gonna get one of them "I RODE MINE" stickers.  Cuz it turns out, ya don't really get extra credit at the rally for any of that bullshit.  Oooh, wow... real bikers ride theirs.  FUK THAT!  I'm riding when I get there.  I ain't spending the week dusting my cornhole with Gold Bond and nursing a sore back.  It's kinda like those moms who insist on natural child birth because it's something they can say that they did.  Good for you, ya dummies.  I say take the gawdam drugs!  It's not like you're gonna get a bonus when it's over or anything like that.  No gold seal certificate.  No nothing.  Just a wikkid sore cooch and a colicky baby, ya know, like all the other moms.  Oh, but you're special because you went all natural.  Whatevah!  Soooo, back to bidness at hand.....

First, there was the ridin' - logged about 800 miles in the Carolina sun, up and down 17, 31 and 501.  Up to North Caroline to stop in at Beach House Harley in Shalotte (pronounced Shah-Loat according to a local  and south to Charleston for some Guinness and Jameson at Molly Darcy's Irish Bar (thanks for the tip, K-Rae) where we had the fortune to shoot the shit with the owner, Tommy Snee, who was as welcoming as all get out and treated three Irish yankees to a round of Jameson shots.  One of our first stops of the week was to see a fellow MassHole at her new place on the intercoastal waterway:  K-Rae's Waterway Bar & Grille, located at ICW Channel Marker 57.  Kerri let us in before they opened like we were old friends and her place is fahkin' pissa!  She loves her New Englandahs and still holds MassHole Night every Wednesday of Bike Week.

And then there were the beer stops.  Let's see if I can remember them all....   K-Rae's, Suck Bang Blow, Little Beaver Bar, Big Beaver Bar, Rockin' Hard Saloon, Wildhorse Saloon, The Bowery, Spokes and Bones, Harley's Roadhouse, Neil and Pam's, Sundown Cafe, Milardos, Molly Darcy's, The Bar, Garden City Beach Bar, House of Blues, Ricky's Dockside -   Cletus, have I forgotten any?   We ate fukkin' shrimp burgers at Fibbers in Little River and pissa fried chicken at Hog Heaven in Pawley's Island (TWICE).  Country fried steak at Chelsea Jo's and 2 am pizzas at the Causeway.  Got screwed on price and portion at Bubba's Love Shak in the Inlet but then made up for it with a gi-fahkin'-normous stromboli at Milardos.  Had lunch at the Tilted Kilt where we got the only server NOT WEARING A FUKKIN KILT!!!  A lovely lady this Jo, 7 months pregnant in a long sleeve top with yoga pants pulled over the baby belly.  Listen up, Jo... if ya wanna run with the big dogs, ya gotta go hard all the time.  Lose the yoga pants... throw on that kilt and that push up bra.  Rock that belly!!!  Just don't hit me with that big ass belly button of yours.

But the best part of this rally is simply the people ya meet along the way.  There is Lisa at the Causeway who never slowed the fuk down but always was quick with the beers for us.  There were our neighbors who were in from Pittsburgh (sorry ass Penguin fans who were joined in misery a night later by sorry ass Bruin fans) who gladly shared a beer and a story with us whenever we darkened their party.  Of course, there was Ron and Deb, nightly regulars at Milardos.  Ron is a retired Jersey cop and just the nicest guy ya'd meet anywhere.  Chelsea and Missy at Milardos helped out these Bruins fans and turned their sports bar into Boston South for games 5, 6 and 7.  By the way, ya don't wanna fuk with Chelsea:  she's the 8 on her womens rugby team and will tackle your ass if you cross her.  And that's kinda hot, actually.  There was Fire Annie, Seafood Bob and Captain BillyBob who was parking cars at Suck Bang Blow.  Tim and Jim from Canada and Weasel Bob from Philly who retired to Garden City the bastid!

Seeya soon, Garden City!  Gotta go trade in my liver for a newer model.  But thanks for the memories!

Dude named Chris Adams has a Youtube page and he posted this video of one afternoon at Suck Bang Blow.   Thanks Chris, whoever the fuk you are!!   Awesome job!


Friday, May 9, 2014

Beez Recap: Matty Sportsgasm an Overtime Hero

Happy Paycheck Friday, ya assholes!!  Time for yours truly to make like a pair of old lady tits and head south.  Our annual pilgrimage to the Holy Mecca of $2 Beers, Bikes and Boobs begins this afternoon.... Grand Strand, here we fahkin' come!!!  But before I leave these offices empty for a week, I must talk about last night and Matt Thanks For The Sportsgasm Fraser!!!

After game 3, the media around this took turns washing Michel Therrien's balls because he fahkin' tweaked his 3rd and 4th lines, as if no coach in the Enn Aych Ell has ever tried such a, ahem, brilliant move.  Last night, it was Claude's turn to adjust his roster and skate off with a vicktwah.  Jordan "He Was Playing?" Caron was given the night off and Julien brought up some kid Matt Fraser from Providence for his playoff debut.  Fraser kicked the Canadiens square in the vagine at 1:20 of overtime and became an instant hero in Bostontown.  If the Beez go on to win this series, Fraser's game winnah will be looked at in Boston as the signature moment, much like Dave Roberts' steal off Maryann Rivera in 2004.

By many accounts, game 4 was boring.  Too much shit being bogged down between the blue lines and featured more icing than the face of a fat kid in a cake factory.  But I gotta tell you... I was not in the least bit bored.  What the Beez did was smother the speed of Montreal - pretty much what they have done all season.  And they finally hit again.  Not as much as they should, but much more than last game.  Iggy destroyed Max Paciofuckface in the first period with a clean hit against the glass and Big Zee was knocking Canadiens around like a bull in a china shop.  The third line was once again the best line for the Broonz with Sody, Loui and Fraser delivering high fukkin' energy and continuous possessions.  Tuukka and Price played even, so it all came down to who would get the break in OT.  And the hard work of that third line paid off heeyooge when Fraser just kept battlin' behind the net and found the puck.  BOOM, shut up Canadien fans!

On the neg side, Kraych and Marchy continue to completely suck balls.  These guys cannot get out of their own way, cannot keep the puck on the blade and cannot score in a women's prison.  These fukkers had better step up!!

I'll check back in after I get my tired motorcycle ridin' ass back from Myrtle Beach in a week to see how things went.  In the meantime, I owe you a victory dance...

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Beez Recrap! Fukkin' Subban!

The global readership of this blog requires that I nut up and face the music when things are not going well.  Hey, fuk you - this page has gotten hits in Indonesia and Malaysia this week (which really just means that boobs is a universal language).  Anyhooz, it's easy to brag about wins and put up videos of dancing bears and pictures of diving assholes.  The trick to reputable journalism (oh, fuk you again) is to own the bad shit too.  So here I am this morning, still a proud passengah on the black and gold bandwagon, to talk about that gawdam kick in the nutz last night, courtesy of les sacs le douche in blu, blanc e rouge and PK Subbitch in puhticulah!

Let's start with Tuukka, whose teammates treated him like wet jeans... hung out to fahkin' dry!  The Thin Fin had no chance on any of those three goals, all of which were the result of defensive breakdowns by his sleepy eyed mates.  What the fuk was Kevan Miller doing hip to hip with Boychuk on that first goal, leaving the back side completely exposed.  While Miller fell over himself trying to get back into position, Iggy just could not sag fast enough, giving Plekanic a rise in his CCMs and a wide open net.  The PK goal out of the penalty box can be attributed to bad timing... but I say that one's on the defense as well as the bench for not recognizing the time left on the penalty and not having anyone back.  Great fukkin' move by Subban, btw, that douche!  The third goal was the worst one, IMO.  I had just finished saying to a buddy that the Beez are coming alive and carrying the play completely.  They possessed the puck for an eternity in the Montreal zone before Mezsaros and Boychuk decided to ignore the basket hanging pussy Dale Weise.  Just like that, another breakaway on Tuukka and it was three fukkin' nothing!!  

The Broons are a physical bunch of sumbitches.  Always have been.  It's what separates them from the rest.  They took a lot of shit for taking stupid penalties in game 2 and that must have been a teaching point for Claude.  Because they couldn't hit a fukkin' stepchild with a belt last night.  Jeezus, was Boychuk the only one willing to deal the pain?  They only had one penalty the entire gawdam game and that was a bullshit goalie interference call on the One Eyed Swede.  Listen fellas... ya gotta knock the fukkin' stink off them.  If they embellish, that's fine.  Kill the penalty.  But last night, you were playing like the Sedins.  And ya remember how THAT turned out for them.  (By the way, P.K., you came up with your elbow.  You meant to do it.  It was a cheap shot attempt that happily dinged up your teammate instead.  Take your penalty like the bitch that you are.)

While I am talking about the lack of penalties called (each team only had one call go against them), can I also talk about the horseshit non-calls that burned our asses?  Like when Montreal iced the puck twice in the first period but were not called for unknown reasons.  Or when Desharnais (pronounced DayYarNay and French for I'm A Quebecian Asshole Who Also Thinks Roy is pronounced WAH) leg whipped Marchy at center ice.

But the biggest bone of contention was when that big fukkin' Subbitch knocked the net off in the closing seconds and no delay of game was called.  The refs attributed it to an accident.  Right... the same guy who dangled and deeked Rask in the first period and who can spin on a dime to avoid a hit (cuz he's a pussy) "accidentally" skated into the post with nobody near him and we are supposed to believe that?  Sorry... should have at least been a penalty and perhaps, I'm reading, even a penalty shot.  But that would never be called in the Belle Center and I don't blame the refs one bit for that.  Those assholes in Keybeck are fukkin' nuts!  They will burn their mother's tits if they thought she impacted the Canadiens negatively.

Bottom line is this... if the Beez want to make it to the next round, they had better come out of the locker room for the first period from here on out.

ASIDE:  Just cuz this has been bugging me since the Detroit series.... Can we stop putting Krejci on the face-off dot?  Last night, he only won 4 of 14 faceoffs.  Just put Looch there for the rest of the series.  Dude has not lost a face-off in the three games (he has won all 5 that he has taken).  Give the beast a chance!