It is cool finally outside. It has been warm for easily the past week, so warm that I’ll decide to go out into the city and psych myself into thinking that at some point arctic temperatures will dive bomb me in the middle of my night out and I’ll need to be prepared. Instead, I end up sweating my ass off lugging around my dead weight jacket and maybe even a knit hat. Times they are a changing.

If I had to choose my favorite weather it would be “Kevin Smith”-weather. It is cool enough to wear a sweatshirt, but not frigid enough to wear shorts. Although, no matter what age a man is – wearing shorts and a sweatshirt makes him look pretty juvenile. Sometimes, you have to admit those kids get it – and that “it” is comfort. Shorts and a hooded sweatshirt may be what I consider the most comfortable outfit. But it won’t get you a ton of respect wearing it around all the time and at some point you need to grow up and start eating wheat instead of white and Kevin Smith needs to dress like a normal person and not a second semester Freshman in college.

Speaking of movies… were we talking about movies?… I am watching the NFL channel’s “Top 100 NFL Players of All Time” from last night… does this have to do with movies?… They have been counting down from 100 to 1 in hourly installments revealing 10 at a time. I am in the middle of the 20-11 bracket right now and next week on Thursday at 9pm on the NFL Network they will reveal 10-1… great… I absolutely love the program. They put together highlight packages for each player as well as a personal account of the player’s greatness from either another football player, coach, writer, or celebrity. It is all over the map. Like Billy Dee Williams (Lando from Star Wars aka the black guy who gets to drive the Millennium Falcon) introduces Gale Sayers. Reason being, Billy Dee Williams played Gale Sayers in the classic film Brian’s Song that James Caan was also in. That movie will make you cry if you have a soul in your body. If you don’t cry then you are already among the damned and are trying to destroy all of humanity from palm of the Dark One’s hand.

Movies!?! … RIGHT! So, they just did a profile for #19 – Bronko Nagurski. There are a lot of movies made about former athletes or random events that happen in the world. Most of those stories I don’t believe should ever be made into a movie. Meanwhile, somehow Bronko Nagurski’s life story doesn’t seem to have been told on the big screen and IT SHOULD BE!

– 6’3″ 250+ – he was a beast of a man

– Played for the Chicago Bears as a fullback prior to WWII

– Was one of the best players in the NFL during that period of time

– Because NFL players got paid almost nothing and it was during The Great Depression so he takes on another job – Professional Wrestler

– As a professional wrestler, he becomes the Heavyweight Champion 3 years in a row (I think)

– Ends up in WWII

– The Chicago Bears re-sign Nagurski

– Older, heavier and slower – they put Nagurski in as a Tackle

– In his final game (which was a championship game), with a lack of fullbacks because they were all drafted into WWII – they put Nagurski in as fullback six years removed from his last time playing fullback

– Leads 2 touchdown drives to win that game as a bruising old man

– His name is BRONKO NAGURSKI

It’s FUCKING question TIME!

What did you do with the unnamed commenters earlier this week? Were they like you pictured them?

Drank. We drank alcohol. Isn’t that what you do with people? We also chit-chatted like the bitches we are. HAHAHAHAHAH… hahah… hooo… They were very nice. Not bitches. They are/were nice ladies.

“Were they like you pictured them?” – Short answer: yes.

But long answer: … a long answer that has nothing to do with the question kind of…

I have joked that people are so much bigger in person than they are on the internet. That is the difference. I am always shocked at how big people are in real life. Think about it like this, before you meet the person in real life, most likely you will have seen a picture of them online or many pictures. All those pictures are infinitely smaller than the person standing in front of you. My computer monitor is 15 or 17 inches and *fingers crossed* the full scale person is bigger than 17 inches*. So generally, I’m seeing this person as a 5 inches tall. Their whole existence is no bigger than my… ahem… finger. But when you see them in person, they are full size! They’re not some miniature key chain version of themselves – they are themselves! It is very interesting. It’s the reverse for movie stars because you see them on a huge movie screen. Their head is 20 feet tall, so in real life they look smaller.

The funnier thing to me is that I’m a big guy. So no matter how “big” the person is in real life, I’m usually bigger than they are. So so, when I met these ladies – my first reaction is they’re so much more than a 3×5 picture and then I’m like I’m a lot bigger than they are, so if this turns into a street fight I can take them. I’m just kidding about the last part. It’s just funny to think about that they seem so real in person because I find the internet wildly fake to begin with.

Will someone PLEASE make a series out of KSWIG & His CommenTater Wives? Please???

Not much of a question, but yes! Someone should make it. I’ll sign away my likeness rights, so please make it. SOMEONE!

So you are a tour guide now? Because I’ll go to New York again in December. Or are you doing the tour guide thing for just some of the commontators?

I would imagine I could act as a tour guide for most of the regular commenting staff. I’m not sure about some of these other people who randomly comment like “DICKS”. I’m on the fence about being a tour guide for “DICKS”. But the rest of you? Sure, why not. I have enjoyed greatly meeting those who I have met, so sure.

Also, why can’t I see your okcupid profile?

I put a curse on your computer… or…

I’ve been told that you might need to copy and paste the url into the url and not click on the link.

I read your OKCupid profile and I want to know who the fuck is calling you a “bad boy”? Or did you use the quotation marks around “bad boy” to indicate that, by “bad boy,” you mean “decent, straight-up, easily-manipulated-through-guilt young man”?


Well… I’ll let one of the other comments explain first…

I think the bad boy thing is an ironic acknowledgment that some girls want the bad boy but won’t admit it. By pointing it out he effectively called them on their bullshit, but they can’t be mad, because supposedly they don’t want the bad boy anyway so it doesn’t apply to them. Or something. I don’t know, I just had a Four Loko and my BAC is like .27.

Minus the last troubling bit about the Four Loko drinking, I would agree with this. It is partly why I did it. It does seem like a lot of girls/women want a “bad boy” type, but I’m not much of one. I don’t think I look like a bad boy at all. I try to make people laugh, I’m generally pretty nice to people especially when I’m with other people, and I don’t “brood” in public. Also, I don’t own a leather jacket. So, yeah, it is a little jab at chicks for liking d-bags because they are “bad boys”. Who the fuck is a “bad boy”? I’m 6’3″ at least and I’ll strangle some “bad boy” with my bear hands and just the rage I have in my body over the second Star Wars trilogy. That’s all it will take. And yes, my hands become the hands of a “bear” when I am provoked. It is an odd super power, but at least it is a super power.

I also did it for the “yucks”. Clearly, it is a joke. I put it in quotes and so forth.

I wasn’t aware you engaged in threesomes with your commenters. Is this open for everyone? Is there an application process? What are your hard limits?

My “hard limits”? I don’t like being slapped or bound if that is what you mean. I would say all applications can be emailed to me. Just fill in whatever details you believe are necessary – physical dimensions, IQ, allergies, et cetera.

I hope everyone has a great weekend. I hope everyone has a great Halloween. If everyone wants to talk about what they’re dressing up as for Halloween then that would be cool. Including visual evidence would be cool too.

I think I am being a “flag football player”. Why? Because I’m in the middle of moving right now and because I don’t like dressing up.

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

… New Jersey. So, the Jersey Shore. But not that Jersey Shore, but a decent proximity to it. Closer than you are to there at least. Unless you are a member of the Jersey Shore who is reading this. Basically, if you are not Snooki then I’ll be closer to the Jersey Shore than you are. Or Vinny. Or Ronnie. If you do not walk around calling yourself the Situation because of your abs and have not been a cast member of Dancing with the Stars then I will be closer to the Jersey Shore than you are. Or J-Woww. If you are DJ Pauly D and you are reading this then I am honored, but if you are not DJ Pauly D then I will be nearer to the Jersey Shore than you are. And fuck Sammi – her only purpose is to make Ronnie boring and that is not a worthy purpose to pursue in life.

I’m in the middle of moving/packing/throwing shit away. So, I will have you entertained today with videos from a previous version of myself and my former roommate Dawgz. But first, I will say thanks for all the feedback on Tuesday’s post. I will answer any and all questions for Friday’s post regardless of the moving issue. So, please feel free to ask more questions for Friday. Without further ado…

These are two videos that should have been on Asylum.com, but weren’t for whatever reasons. They are both videos of Kyle challenging people at the Arnold Schwarzenegger Fitness Expo in odd ways.

The first: Toe Touch Challenge

The second: Pose Down

You’re welcome, America.

First and foremost, blame one of your own for my non-posting yesterday. You can also blame me because I’m not getting much sleep lately and I’m lazy. But I did escort one of your fellow commenters around New York City and this was morning following a night of getting drunk with that commenter and another commenter. So blame your own. And then, I guess blame me because you all take each others’ side instead of mine. Also, are people still reading this site? Either way, I’m a cheap tour guide if that is needed in your life.

A few friends came over to my place Saturday night for the UFC fights. Before the fights started and while we were casual sipping on beers like gentlemen, we decided to go through our OkCupid profiles tearing each other apart for how terrible we sound. We looked up our own profiles and that of our friends. I have been meaning to write a post bemoaning about OkCupid, but haven’t. I think I’ll write the post if I get some solid feedback from this one about my own profile, so without further ado:

www.okcupid.com/profile/avatarwasmeh

Feel free to look at the profile, laugh at it, scoff at it, and then prepare some “constructive criticism” or “outright mean spiritedness” and send that my way.

I won’t give any preface to my profile. I do hate it, but this is what I came up with. I started a profile on OkCupid near the beginning of this year. I made an edit or two on the profile at the start of the Summer and this is what it has been running as since.

Either way, I am truly interested in hearing your alls thoughts and/or demeaning critique of it.

Yes, I will answer your questions.

Uh-huh… Hmmmm… Ok. Basically, your question is “What is it that I want?”

This is a tough one. It is just so hard to choose what I “want” specifically. It is really hurting my brain because I want so much that now I want answer to your question as well and that want is now on the inside of my skull attacking my own mind.

How can I put this into words? I want your face. I want the wind. I want the moon. I want peace. I want a peanut butter cup to eat. I want another million peanut butter cups to fill in a pool and then I want to swim in that sea of chocolate and peanut butter candies. I want a horse that speak Portuguese and a dog that speaks German. I want to sing a lullaby to the Dalai Lama. I want to kiss away the depression on the lips of the people of this world. I want a grappling hook to be my primary means of transportation. I don’t think I’m answering this correctly.

I want everything. Yes, that’s better. I want everything. I want IT.

Isn’t it just adorable when I talk with my hands by my face like this and my eyes are so big and bright? I want IT.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday

October 22, 2010

I was out last night and missed all the television shows ever. But guess who didn’t?

MY DVR!

I love you DVR. I love you so much I would serve you breakfast in bed. Not just when it is your birthday, but like 2-3 times a week on average just because. I love DVR so much that whenever you want ice cream I would scoop it for you. Even if it means that I just asked you 20 minutes ago if you wanted ice cream and you said no then I scoop the ice cream and then put it back in the freezer and you all of a sudden want ice cream while I’m in the middle of eating my ice cream and you cannot wait until I finish my ice cream for you to have your ice cream, so I have to get back up and scoop this newly frozen ice cream with a regular spoon because I already put the ice cream scoop specially designed to scoop ice cream into the dishwasher, but I scoop it anyway and give you your ice cream meanwhile my ice cream has been melting and now I’m eating semi-soupy ice cream, which you know I hate. I love you that much DVR that I would allow all of this to transpire and do so with any begrudging sighs.

Just finished watching “Community” which was excellent.

I have left –

30 Rock

The Office

Jersey Shore

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

The League

Top 100 Greatest Football Players #30 – 21

Night of Too Many Stars Charity Show on Comedy Central

After that is all said and done it will probably be Saturday and on Saturday I have one and only one focus and that is UFC’s pay-per-view featuring Brock Lesnar, Brock Lesnar’s beard, Cain Velasquez and Cain Velasquez’s Mexican heritage will be fighting. So I will probably watch a lot of college football and fighting to prepare myself.

Then Sunday, PROFESSIONAL TACKLE FOOTBALL ALL DAY AND NIGHT!

So there is a chance that I will burn my retinas out this weekend watching my television and, of course, my ADD will kick in every so often making me look at the internet a billion times because my attention is always divided.

Hopefully, I’m not blind come Monday.

I hope you all have a great weekend.

Editor’s note: Today, we have a very special guest post concerning one of my favorite topics: the UFC. A good friend of the website is a famous renowned writer and, apparently, a big fan of The Ultimate Fighter. He wanted to try his hand at writing about this passion by recapping last night’s episode.

Episode 6

By Raymond Carver

I know how he is going to win, said Georges. He will win by guillotine.

This happened a few weeks ago, before Cody’s first fight. He did win by guillotine.

Georges pronounced it ‘geeloteen.’ This was a surprise, with him being French and all. You’d think if anyone would say it ‘geeyoteen’, it’d be the people who invented the thing. I didn’t say anything around the house, though, even when we all took turns doing Georges’ accent. I was afraid if I seemed too bookish, I’d wind up with Alex trying to bond with me over The Prophet or something.

Alex made us call him Bruce Leeroy around the house. Jeff said that he’d seen Alex’ intake paperwork and Alex’ real real name is something LA like Ken Levine. I didn’t give it too much credence, since Jeff is mostly full of shit, though one PA in particular was always leaving paperwork and notes around the house where we could find them.

By the time Cody’s fight announcement came, we’d all seen his guillotine. It was impressive, but not the kind of thing any of us would climb to 11-0 on. Most of us figured it was because his fights were up in Alaska, where he was from.

Cody used to work on a fishing boat, which made us call him The Deadliest Catch. I think they left that off the show, because of course you can’t have one reality show refer to a reality show on another network. It would be too meta, or too synergistic.

Cody told us that spending all that time on a stinky freezing boat is why he was so calm around the house. Most of us were stir crazy with no TV and no friends to talk to. The highlight of our day was if that PA happened to leave the sports section out. But Cody would just sit there, calm as could be, doing his terrible sketches and looking like a yoga teacher.

It also made him fearless, apparently. Cody would always make fun of Josh. No one in the house liked Josh, including a lot of his own team, but we all knew enough about him that we’d rather stay off his radar.

Everyone snickered when Josh picked Cody to fight Marc. We all thought Cody would get Sevak. We figured Sevak would still win, and Marc could pick off a bigger threat, like Jonathan. But Cody just grinned, his long hair flopping into his eyes during the staredown. Jesus hair, Alex called it.

After the staredown, Cody reached over and flicked Josh on the face. A few of us winced, but Sevak reacted more than Josh. Josh’s eyes just got big, and then relaxed, like he knew that he was going to have his revenge the next day anyway.

When we analyzed it later by the hot tub, we couldn’t decide who was the biggest loser in the matchup. Some guys said it was Josh, for being so reactionary and wasting his best fighter on a non-threat. Other guys said it was Cody, who was going to get his just desserts for being so rude to Koscheck.

The day of the fight, Cody stalked in, looking determined in that awkward way that tall people have when they try to get serious. Marc looked confident and ready. The rest of us sat around the cage. The room felt tense, probably because we all knew Cody was going to get destroyed. We were all excited to see that, which made us feel uncomfortable.

Josh put on his chapstick, which is what he always did when he was nervous.

“Watch the guillotine” someone yelled.

No need for an alarm clock this morning. The elementary school across the street is having a charity walk around the school, which includes a stereo system blasting pop music so loud you can hear it for a 6 block radius starting at right across the street from my apartment. It also includes the school principal blasting out my ear drums screaming over her bullhorn about the kids winning an ice cream party and making money for the school. Oh yeah, and the entire Kindergarten through 5th grade is now loose on the streets hopped up on unexplained excitement and dance music (Katy Perry, Black Eyed Peas, The Jackson 5, back to the Black Eyed Peas). I fucking hate school. How is it possible that I can hate school when I’m not even going to it? Because it is terrorist attacking my ear drums! In my whole apartment!

Also, how are they “making money” by walking around the school? Because some group of assholes thought it would be fun to have the kids do a charity walk (instead of learning in a classroom) and not just donate the money like a normal person. That’s an idea where I could sleep in the morning, but currently I’m tired and praying for this to end and Bieber’s “Baby” is BLARING in Jersey City.

Fuck school.

*more developments later… depending if I get sleep

Still haven’t slept. They keep letting these jackals back on the street. And by “jackals”, I mean children. Of all days for it not to rain in New Jersey, why today? Get those stupid kids back in those stupid classrooms to teach them something instead of having them just running around lawlessly. Don’t they have enough time to run around screaming after school? As I wrote that, they started playing the music again outside. There was an interval of time when they weren’t blowing up the streets with “Dynamite” by Taio Cruz. During that period of time, it was simply the pleasant soothing sounds of an entire elementary school screaming. Now, it is kids screaming plus a pounding bass beat. That’s exactly what the random shrieking of children was missing: a catchy hook to harmonize with.

Kids are the worst.

So is school.

It is almost inconceivable that “school” is legal. What’s the worst part of prison? “General Population”. That’s what school is through and through. Although, I did go to public schools my whole life, so I may be biased.

Not that High School wasn’t insane because it was, but really “middle school” was too wild for its own good. From 6th to 8th grade, teachers should have been equipped with stun guns. Why? Because my class was arming themselves.

A fascination started in middle school with brandishing a weapon in school. What weapon? A bic pen turned into a crossbow. Take a bic pen, remove the butt of the pen, pull the top off the pen and remove the ink cartridge/ball point, put the top back on, load the ink cartridge/ball point backwards, lastly – use a rubberband as the ‘drawstring’ and fire the ink cartridge/ball point like a harpoon at a person of relative age with no regard for the consequences.

That was the most sophisticated of weapons. The long range missile or smart bomb of weapons.

There was always just shooting a paper clip at someone with a rubberband like a slingshot. That was the cheap and most effective medium range weapon. Of course, for close combat – shoulder tackle a kid into a locker or literally try your hand at throwing a punch. Kids were fully equipped to fight in some low budget rendition of Lord of the Flies at all times. Not only that, kids were stock piling on the weapons too. Parents would buy their maybe not even into puberty yet child a box of pens, but the kid wouldn’t have anything to write with in class because they had converted the whole box of writing instruments into weapons of death for some unknown reason. It was like a Cold War missile silo in some kids’ backpacks.

I remember once being in English class. In the middle of a lesson – with our hippie teacher who didn’t shave her legs or armpits and regularly told us she wanted to get married in the rain forest naked – a fellow classmate of mine fired one of these contraptions at landed a direct hit on our 30 year old teacher. Luckily for her, she wore glasses because that pen capsule hit her right in the eye. In all honesty, the kid who fired it wasn’t aiming for her. He wasn’t some crackshot sniper. He was mindlessly firing it into his three ring binder which changed the arc of the projectile’s flight path north towards the Heavens and almost into the eye of our teacher. It would have blinded her in that eye.

And I went to a good school! Thank God there were no real guns and just had to deal with the ink zip guns.

Any innovative weapon construction in your schools?

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