Internet Zillionaire

One fish… netted.

They should call you the Angler instead of the Centaur.

Thinking of names, when I am going to change my name? It’s horrible.

But you can bet your salami I’ll have the laptop with me on Sunday. A suggestion for this weekend’s game post, however. This time don’t endorse every product that has a football related commercial. That last post had more product placements than a Steven Speilberg movie. True, the Super Bowl commercials are often more entertaining than the game so I’ll cut you some slack here and there.

After all, what are friends for if they can’t cut each other some slack here and there. And dude, if you saw my place, you would see that I’ve cut a huge pile of slack that is just sitting, waiting here all bundled up in the corner ready for you whenever you want it. Heck, I’ll even just pluck little bits of slack off whenever ever you need ‘em. Kinda like slack layaway or something… In fact, can you cut too much slack? I think I probably have because things are getting a little taught around here. Quick question: Once you’ve cut someone some slack and then you need it back, do all you have to do is ask?

As for the game, there are only two questions that need to be asked:

1. How does one successfully operate a laptop computer and eat buffalo wings? I’ve walked out of a wings place wearing nothing but my underwear and shoes (sans socks) because every other item of clothing I was wearing was absolutely drenched with wing sauce. I mean ring it out, sloppy-joe style, sopping wet. And that was nothing compared to what my face, teeth, and fingernails looked like. Centaur, with your hooves, how do you manage?

2. Why the hell would anyone eat such a thing? I don’t usually take all my fries, dunk them by the handfull into a vat of ketchup and then shove them into my mouth. Is there some reason wing sauce can’t be applied with a least a modest amount of concern for what someone might be doing later in the evening? Not everyone has two hours to kill after a meal to thoroughly bath and scrub every pore on their body. Sure, I do, but not everybody. And while we are at it, can we make a hot sauce that isn’t inherently attracted to the eyeball. Call me crazy, but I like to spice my food, not my inner tear ducts. It’s like there is some magnetic force in the universe that makes the two draw together against all that is rational. Believe it or not, no other foods consistently burn holes in my retinas. I don’t think it’s operator error, but I am a moron so that can never be completely ruled out.

Alas, we wait for the epic battle of the gridiron titans. Oh wait, they aren’t in it this year…

Allow me to quickly mediate:

Ryan is referring to a Rick Reilly piece in Sports Illustrated that made fun of Seattle’s perennially sucky sports teams, incessant rain and low expectations.

Sometimes, the truth hurts.

I’m glad Ryan is putting on the war paint and frothing with rage three days in advance though. The Seahawks need this passion. He should be ready to punch through a TV screen by Sunday.

The greatest thing about this super bowl is that I can finally be a fan (it’s the one upside of not getting an AP paid trip to Detroit).

Instead, the wife and I will be going to Southern California to watch the game with a bunch of Steelers fans.

Yes, I’ll be going into enemy territory, but the mission will be worth it when Josh Brown makes like Adam Vinatieri.

Seahawks 26, Steelers 23.

Great commentary on this post…

First, a little background: The Captive Lion has been contemplating a name change almost since Day 1. Unfortunately, he’s already embroidered “CL” on his underwear and luggage and even had monogrammed stationary made. It would be too wasteful and time-consuming to fix all of this. If anything, expect a name change like “The Cleaning Lady” or “The Clumsy Lover”… just to keep the initials intact.

Also, your comments on wings are right on point. I can’t think of a food that is more labor-intensive to eat and has a higher degree of messiness for such a small amount of meat.

Fresh seafood, that you have to crack and clean before eating is the only other close comparison. I suppose, anytime they give you wet-wipes with your meal at a restaurant, you pretty much know what you’re in for.

I have a feeling already the commentary on Sunday will be fantastic.

I direct you to the following. Please, no laughing at the stupidity of the picutre.

http://asap.ap.org/stories/340690.s

Go Hawks!

Booth-Nice piece. So cool that it’s featured on the site as well. How did it come about? It’s not your average piece so I’m curious. My favorite lines:

It’s probably gonna rain Sunday (what else is new), but the beer will be dark and locally brewed, and flowing out of taps and kegs from Boise to Bellingham.

The jerseys, from old-school with Largent’s No. 80 to brand-new with Shaun Alexander’s 37, will be blue and white and trimmed in green.

That fierce, beady-eyed bird will be everywhere.

But, seriously, how can this moment possible vindicate all those Dave Krieg years? You can’t just have 10 years of your life back you know! Just kidding. Loved it all around.

Wrinkleheimer! Wrinkleheimer! Get in my office!

Look, Wrinkleheimer, you better have a good excuse as to why this blog isn’t updated yet with a Superbowl prediction. I want a new column posted asap, you hear me! There are plenty of other slack-jawed heiny-ho’s that can work a typewriter. You are replaceable Wrinkleheimer!

A morning rant from Wrinkleheimer’s boss, the angry Mr. Rumpleforeskin.