Sunday, October 10, 2010
Background of the Week: Kane's Celey
The background for this week is in honor of one of the filthiest celey's performed in the last two years in the NHL. This was his celebration after scored his second goal against Vancouver in the quarter-final series-clinching game in 2009. Kaner did go on to get the hatty. Just gross.
Madtown Musings Moves to Blogger.com
Hello all, welcome to the new Madtown Musings blog at pjsucksatblogging.blogspot.com.
I chose to move the site here because of the different layouts, features, and overall ease of operation. I tend to like Blogger's layouts better, so I decided to try this out for a bit.
If you want to access old posts they are on here, but they might not be all formatted correctly because I had to import all of the posts from Wordpress.
I am doing a little bit of an experiment here, so I am going to keep both blogs up and running, with additions to both.
Enjoy the new layout!
PJ
I chose to move the site here because of the different layouts, features, and overall ease of operation. I tend to like Blogger's layouts better, so I decided to try this out for a bit.
If you want to access old posts they are on here, but they might not be all formatted correctly because I had to import all of the posts from Wordpress.
I am doing a little bit of an experiment here, so I am going to keep both blogs up and running, with additions to both.
Enjoy the new layout!
PJ
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Teach Me How to Bucky
From the people who brought you The Coastie Song:
Here's the new song from Zooniversity Music that played at the homecoming game on the big screen. Fun fact: Clif, the guy towards the end, is in my Spanish class. Imagine that.
Enjoy!
I thought it was very well done. Hope to see some more from these guys!
Here's the new song from Zooniversity Music that played at the homecoming game on the big screen. Fun fact: Clif, the guy towards the end, is in my Spanish class. Imagine that.
Enjoy!
I thought it was very well done. Hope to see some more from these guys!
Friday, October 8, 2010
Weekend Special: This Blog Blows Hard
Guest Writer: The Original Broomdock Saint
-A compilation of laughs and other stuff by Sam Abrahms
1) I’ll start y’all off with something to one-up your college buds with when that inevitable, once-a-month exchange of YouTube videos takes place. Check diz shit…
............
I would instantly wet my pants if this came out.
2) PJ Connolly
This brief interruption is a tribute to the fortitude of the creator of the Musings, PJ C.
Sooooo we all are good friends with this PJ Connolly kid, and it seems like A LOT of people enjoy giving him shit for who he is/what he says. I am here to tell you continue doing your thing. I know you probably thought I would tell you all to stop, but we all know that the laughs are never-ending when it comes to PJ jokes. The constant jabs at his attempts at making a funny seem to deflect right off him. So, you Webby Jons and Burb Lyfes of the universe, continue doing your jobs. Fight the good fight. Live virtuously by choosing your pointed words wisely. Most importantly, live it up.
3) Stuck on the 'vator
20 college kids. 1 hour and 15 minutes. Some 15 seconds into this shit, after traveling up 2 floors, we come to a halt and slowly start sinking back down until we thump past the bottom level…fuck is right.
Meanwhile inside the elevator, the joke making commences. Kid #13 mentions he just got back from seeing “Devil” in theaters that night. More joke telling. Girl #44 asks if it was a recommendable movie. #13 says that it was “alright.” Then my buddy Lou (not his real name) looks down and remembers he still has a Forman grill he stole from a tailgate earlier. #6 has to go ahead and summarize the night every 10 seconds—“dude I cant believe im stuck here its like crazy man, like what a waste of alcohol.”
…sooo 22 college kids, 78-79% of them under the influence of something (quiet kid in the back looked like he was going to eat someone… seemed kinda messed up). Anyways, it’s hot as shit and I sit down and pass out. Few minutes later I wake up and resume flipping the fuck out. Anyways, the door ends up opening and I get out of that shithole.
That night I sent a pretty hilarious email to the PRESIDENT of IOWA STATE….yeah I know. Here it is-
As I'm sure you are aware, an elevator stalled between floors and fell to the ground floor tonight in the Larch dormitory. I am currently a freshman here at Iowa State and was on this overcrowded elevator. As a result, I am very shaken by this incident. I was just hoping to speak to you about possibly installing some form of warning sign in front of the elevators, warning students of the dangers of overcrowding. I know that it won't do much, but hopefully it will have a greater impact that the little standard "occupancy limit" sign inside the elevator.
Thanks,
Sam Abrahms
The President’s response—
Sam,
I am sorry to learn about this very unfortunate situation and have been provided briefings on what occurred. My calendar is packed this week with travel and other meetings, but I will ask VP Tom Hill who has responsibility for the residence system to meet with you asap to discuss what can be done to prevent such situations again.
I hope you are doing OK now after what must have been a very frightening experience.
....Greg
Boom
Evidence
IV. Webby Jon's Baby Pic
Born with a full head of hair, Webby is destined to be an intramural champion.Last) T-Woods
I bet most of you haven’t seen the greatest golf picture ever taken, it is literally..…nevermind just look at it.
Not photo-shopped people…that guy on the right with the cigar and moustache is a real person.
Well, that’s all the time I have here. Keep an eye out for my next guest post on the Musings.
--Brooms
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Every Chicago Blackhawk Fan Can Relate
As I sit here awaiting the drop of the puck for the Blackhawks’ season opener in Colorado, I cannot help but feel an overwhelming blanket of emotion tucking me in for the start of the game. I believe any life-long/long-time Hawks fan who participated and witnessed last year can attest to the same feelings. The overwhelming sense of anticipation couples with reminiscence to recall vivid memories of last year’s glory road. God,what a great year. Seabs’ overtime winner against Calgary, Hossa’s debut as a Hawk, Huet’s ball-sucking performances, Niemi coming up huge in the post-season, Kaner’s :34 left season-saver. Hossa’s epic OT backdoor goal to steal the momentum from Nashville, another consecutive year Kane shat on Luongo, the absolute destruction of the Sharks, Bollie’s world-class penalty-killing, Toews’ hatty, Byfuglien’s dominance, the countless nail-biting moments against Phillie, Buff’s tossing of Pronger, and finally, Kaner’s Cup-Winner.
So many celeys. So many joyous moments. So much flow. I can’t even describe the feelings.
Part of me feels sad, because the whole crew is not back this year, lest half of it. I feel like part of the team is lost with the trades made. I feel like it could be a while until I feel an attachment that rivals the attachment I had to the team of the previous few years. I watched them grow and develop as a team. I watched them through the hard times, through the good times. I felt a connection with every player. I felt like I knew them personally, and I know my friends and family felt the same way. We will miss you Burish. We will miss you Byfuglien. We will miss you Ladd, Versteeg, Sopel, Madden, Eager, Fraser, and Niemi. You will always be remembered in our hearts as true Hawks.
I remember watching the playoffs as if it was yesterday and I remember the parade as if I’m still recovering from that glorious day. I feel proud that I can truly call myself a faithful, life-long Hawk’s fan, not one of the posers or fair-weather fans.
Despite all the nostalgic feelings, many of which I cannot begin to express in words, I feel a sense of wholeness, a sense of warmth seep into my body as puck returns to the mainstage. Yes, we broke up a family, got rid of some players, but we also gained a new core of young players. Skille. Dowell. Pisani. Leddy, who I watched play his final High School game. There is light at the end of the offseason tunnel. Yes, we got rid of Niemi, but we gained an all-star in the process: Turco. No matter what Niemi goes through, he will always think of himself as a Hawk.
So, to the glorious times in the past, to the great times in the future. To the tear-jerking moments in SRO, to lighting up the parking lot after a playoff win. To the long-time fans, to the new-comers. To the sick celeys, to the sick dangles. To the snipes, to the hits. To “Detroit Sucks!”, to “Fuck the Canucks!” To the young, to the old. To the Winter Classic, to the time we were the only people who cared about the Boys. To streaking after Kaner’s Winner, to screaming till we were hoarse. To the Drought, to the Cup. To everything we love about puck. The Boys are back, life now has a purpose again.
If you flunked a test, messed up an interview, or broke up with your GF, there’s no need to worry. The Hawks are back.
So grab your sticks, grab your sweaters, grab your gloves. Grab a seat, grab the boys. Blast Chelsea Dagger. It’s time.
Strap in, buckle up, get jacked.
It’s a brand new season.
The Hawks.
Are back.
LETS GO HAWKS!!
So many celeys. So many joyous moments. So much flow. I can’t even describe the feelings.
Part of me feels sad, because the whole crew is not back this year, lest half of it. I feel like part of the team is lost with the trades made. I feel like it could be a while until I feel an attachment that rivals the attachment I had to the team of the previous few years. I watched them grow and develop as a team. I watched them through the hard times, through the good times. I felt a connection with every player. I felt like I knew them personally, and I know my friends and family felt the same way. We will miss you Burish. We will miss you Byfuglien. We will miss you Ladd, Versteeg, Sopel, Madden, Eager, Fraser, and Niemi. You will always be remembered in our hearts as true Hawks.
I remember watching the playoffs as if it was yesterday and I remember the parade as if I’m still recovering from that glorious day. I feel proud that I can truly call myself a faithful, life-long Hawk’s fan, not one of the posers or fair-weather fans.
Despite all the nostalgic feelings, many of which I cannot begin to express in words, I feel a sense of wholeness, a sense of warmth seep into my body as puck returns to the mainstage. Yes, we broke up a family, got rid of some players, but we also gained a new core of young players. Skille. Dowell. Pisani. Leddy, who I watched play his final High School game. There is light at the end of the offseason tunnel. Yes, we got rid of Niemi, but we gained an all-star in the process: Turco. No matter what Niemi goes through, he will always think of himself as a Hawk.
So, to the glorious times in the past, to the great times in the future. To the tear-jerking moments in SRO, to lighting up the parking lot after a playoff win. To the long-time fans, to the new-comers. To the sick celeys, to the sick dangles. To the snipes, to the hits. To “Detroit Sucks!”, to “Fuck the Canucks!” To the young, to the old. To the Winter Classic, to the time we were the only people who cared about the Boys. To streaking after Kaner’s Winner, to screaming till we were hoarse. To the Drought, to the Cup. To everything we love about puck. The Boys are back, life now has a purpose again.
If you flunked a test, messed up an interview, or broke up with your GF, there’s no need to worry. The Hawks are back.
So grab your sticks, grab your sweaters, grab your gloves. Grab a seat, grab the boys. Blast Chelsea Dagger. It’s time.
Strap in, buckle up, get jacked.
It’s a brand new season.
The Hawks.
Are back.
LETS GO HAWKS!!
Related Articles
- Chicago Blackhawks: Remembering the Departed Champions (bleacherreport.com)
- A new season, a new blogmeister, but same old championship run for Blackhawks (chicagonow.com)
Most Awkward Situation. Ever.
It’s 12:30 and it’s time. My body is telling me I have to relieve myself. Naturally, I head into the bathroom. There are three stalls in the bathroom and the two outside are occupied. I know it might be awkward, but despite that I nonchalantly stroll into the middle stall and sit down. Now, you can’t take time contemplating taking the middle one: you can’t go halfway then decide the middle stall isn’t for you. You do it or you don’t. You can’t hesitate. You don’t wanna be “that guy”.
That guy, there’s one in every dorm, every floor. The guy who, when the asian food calls, won’t crap unless there is nobody in the bathroom. He likes peace and solidarity. He’s the guy who walks in head-down, and if there’s someone on the john, looks at stalls out of the corner of his eye, does a stutter step, and proceeds to wash his hands. Like “God, I really have to wash my hands after that huge, sloppy burrito.” “Good thing there’s a sink open.” You know he’s “that guy” because he then uses the air dryer. Everybody knows dorm bathroom air dryers never seem to actually work, to actually dry. They just push the water around on your hands, its like a mass migration of water droplets. Like the buffalo herd migration on Discovery Channel, Planet Earth shit. On your hands. Anyway, he uses the dryer then takes another look around the bathroom like “maybe he’s finishing up so I can pop in before he sees me” or “Ah, I’ll just come back in five minutes, I can squeeze in a few more games of kitten cannon anyways.”
The key is to let this guy do what he does, don’t agitate him. You don’t want to know where that will lead you. If you taunt him, pressure him, or remotely hint at the fact you know the real reason he came into the bathroom, well, it’s anyone’s guess to what will happen next. Maybe a freakin’ ninja battle in the bathroom. Because somehow you’re both ninjas..... yea..... I don’t know, but you just don’t wanna be “that guy”.
That’s why you don’t hesitate. Walk straight in, close the door, and sit down.
That’s when you realize awkward the situation really is. Especially if you’re in a dorm bathroom.
Airport bathrooms at least are more spacious in terms of stall-room, it’s rarely ever awkward in an airport bathroom. Hell, all twenty stalls could be filled in a row in the terminal bathroom, but it’s still not awkward. Logic: there’s always that old chinese dude hawking a loogie the size of a fetus in one, or all, of the sinks. Always. And it’s always the same guy. Every airport you go to. You could go to the bathroom in LA, get on your flight
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="240" caption="Image by Corey Holms via Flickr"]
[/caption]
to Tokyo, stroll into the bathroom in Narita International, and the same guy will be there. Still hawking the same loogie. No matter where you go. You could be on vacation in Costa Rica in fifty years, walk into the Concourse C bathroom and the same fucking guy is there. And you thought he was dead. 122 years old and still hawking loogies that could drown a dolphin. Gross.
Also, it’s always loud enough to cover up any awkward noises, like nervous throat clearing, the kind usually given to warn everyone they might want to exit the restroom ASAP. That’s why its never awkward going in airport bathrooms. Except for the one dude who always thinks eating Panda Express’s #3 combo before getting on a six hour plane ride to Tokyo is a good idea.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="240" caption=" No. Not a good idea. Image via Flickr"]
[/caption]
On the other hand, dorm room bathrooms. So you sit down, look at the graffiti on the door that says, “Jed’s a tard” and there’s the response just below, “Yea he likes dick.” If that has any correlation. After thinking about why Jed might be into penis, you let out a little cough of surprise. Because you can see the shoes of the dudes sandwiching you in the middle stall. Not the two dudes sandwiching you in the middle stall; the other guys in the stalls to the left and right of you. This is where the awkwardness really sets in.
You think the shoes on the left might be Mike’s shoes, but you can’t really tell. I’ll play it safe, won’t say anything. This compounds the matter though. The awkwardness grows exponentially by the second. You are dripping in uneasy nervousness. You don’t want to awake the sleeping giant that is the fact that all three of you are in a row; all three of you are listening to what the other is doing; all three of you are thinking the same thing. And all three of you are shitting. You want to relieve the tension, the tension in the air, and the tension in your sphincter. You want be the one to point out the elephant in the room. But you don’t. The awkwardness continues to blossom, then you realize why you came into the bathroom in the first place: to crap.
Now, this is a risk. You risk-takers out there will be good at this, as well as those who take laxatives. You guys will actually need to let it out, for your health. You pray, you think about it, then you commence, all the while muttering, “I hope I drank enough water.”
So there I was, at this point in the crossroads, and luckily, for my self-esteem and overall composure, I had drank enough and continued to relieve myself, everything going well. This is the turning point in the awkwardness. The guys in the stalls next to you start to rustle, do what they do, etc.... Dude on the left gets up, flushes and washes his hands. You obviously use this break to let out any gasps, or tension you may have built up during the whole ordeal. Then the finished guy uses the hand dryer. The only one. The one that doesn’t work. That one.
The tactic here is more of a favor to the you and the guy to your right because it severely cuts the awkwardness. Almost in half, if not in half again. This is when, if you had not had enough to drink or were afraid of unforseen commotion, you would use the droning chain-saw ruckus to your advantage.
Meanwhile, sloppy burrito Joe comes back in, “Shit, my hands are still sticky from that burrito.” Walks out again.
Then the dude to the right gets up, flushes, washes his hands, gives you the dryer favor, even though you’re the only one in there. Common courtesy.
Now, you take your time, do whatever you do, reflect on the most awkward experience of your life, tweet about it, etc . . .
Then you finish up, wash your hands, and use the dryer, to prevent any awkward, silent encounters on your way out. Plus, it’s like a way of punching out. I’m officially done here. On your way out, you bump into burrito Joe.
“God, that burrito is not sitting well.”
No shit man.
That guy, there’s one in every dorm, every floor. The guy who, when the asian food calls, won’t crap unless there is nobody in the bathroom. He likes peace and solidarity. He’s the guy who walks in head-down, and if there’s someone on the john, looks at stalls out of the corner of his eye, does a stutter step, and proceeds to wash his hands. Like “God, I really have to wash my hands after that huge, sloppy burrito.” “Good thing there’s a sink open.” You know he’s “that guy” because he then uses the air dryer. Everybody knows dorm bathroom air dryers never seem to actually work, to actually dry. They just push the water around on your hands, its like a mass migration of water droplets. Like the buffalo herd migration on Discovery Channel, Planet Earth shit. On your hands. Anyway, he uses the dryer then takes another look around the bathroom like “maybe he’s finishing up so I can pop in before he sees me” or “Ah, I’ll just come back in five minutes, I can squeeze in a few more games of kitten cannon anyways.”
The key is to let this guy do what he does, don’t agitate him. You don’t want to know where that will lead you. If you taunt him, pressure him, or remotely hint at the fact you know the real reason he came into the bathroom, well, it’s anyone’s guess to what will happen next. Maybe a freakin’ ninja battle in the bathroom. Because somehow you’re both ninjas..... yea..... I don’t know, but you just don’t wanna be “that guy”.
That’s why you don’t hesitate. Walk straight in, close the door, and sit down.
That’s when you realize awkward the situation really is. Especially if you’re in a dorm bathroom.
Airport bathrooms at least are more spacious in terms of stall-room, it’s rarely ever awkward in an airport bathroom. Hell, all twenty stalls could be filled in a row in the terminal bathroom, but it’s still not awkward. Logic: there’s always that old chinese dude hawking a loogie the size of a fetus in one, or all, of the sinks. Always. And it’s always the same guy. Every airport you go to. You could go to the bathroom in LA, get on your flight
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="240" caption="Image by Corey Holms via Flickr"]
[/caption]to Tokyo, stroll into the bathroom in Narita International, and the same guy will be there. Still hawking the same loogie. No matter where you go. You could be on vacation in Costa Rica in fifty years, walk into the Concourse C bathroom and the same fucking guy is there. And you thought he was dead. 122 years old and still hawking loogies that could drown a dolphin. Gross.
Also, it’s always loud enough to cover up any awkward noises, like nervous throat clearing, the kind usually given to warn everyone they might want to exit the restroom ASAP. That’s why its never awkward going in airport bathrooms. Except for the one dude who always thinks eating Panda Express’s #3 combo before getting on a six hour plane ride to Tokyo is a good idea.
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="240" caption=" No. Not a good idea. Image via Flickr"]
[/caption]On the other hand, dorm room bathrooms. So you sit down, look at the graffiti on the door that says, “Jed’s a tard” and there’s the response just below, “Yea he likes dick.” If that has any correlation. After thinking about why Jed might be into penis, you let out a little cough of surprise. Because you can see the shoes of the dudes sandwiching you in the middle stall. Not the two dudes sandwiching you in the middle stall; the other guys in the stalls to the left and right of you. This is where the awkwardness really sets in.
You think the shoes on the left might be Mike’s shoes, but you can’t really tell. I’ll play it safe, won’t say anything. This compounds the matter though. The awkwardness grows exponentially by the second. You are dripping in uneasy nervousness. You don’t want to awake the sleeping giant that is the fact that all three of you are in a row; all three of you are listening to what the other is doing; all three of you are thinking the same thing. And all three of you are shitting. You want to relieve the tension, the tension in the air, and the tension in your sphincter. You want be the one to point out the elephant in the room. But you don’t. The awkwardness continues to blossom, then you realize why you came into the bathroom in the first place: to crap.
Now, this is a risk. You risk-takers out there will be good at this, as well as those who take laxatives. You guys will actually need to let it out, for your health. You pray, you think about it, then you commence, all the while muttering, “I hope I drank enough water.”
So there I was, at this point in the crossroads, and luckily, for my self-esteem and overall composure, I had drank enough and continued to relieve myself, everything going well. This is the turning point in the awkwardness. The guys in the stalls next to you start to rustle, do what they do, etc.... Dude on the left gets up, flushes and washes his hands. You obviously use this break to let out any gasps, or tension you may have built up during the whole ordeal. Then the finished guy uses the hand dryer. The only one. The one that doesn’t work. That one.
The tactic here is more of a favor to the you and the guy to your right because it severely cuts the awkwardness. Almost in half, if not in half again. This is when, if you had not had enough to drink or were afraid of unforseen commotion, you would use the droning chain-saw ruckus to your advantage.
Meanwhile, sloppy burrito Joe comes back in, “Shit, my hands are still sticky from that burrito.” Walks out again.
Then the dude to the right gets up, flushes, washes his hands, gives you the dryer favor, even though you’re the only one in there. Common courtesy.
Now, you take your time, do whatever you do, reflect on the most awkward experience of your life, tweet about it, etc . . .
Then you finish up, wash your hands, and use the dryer, to prevent any awkward, silent encounters on your way out. Plus, it’s like a way of punching out. I’m officially done here. On your way out, you bump into burrito Joe.
“God, that burrito is not sitting well.”
No shit man.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Mexican Drug Smugglers Resort to Floo Powder
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="250" caption="US Border Patrol on the lookout for hidden fireplaces."]
[/caption]Nogales, Ariz.–– The U.S. covers it all: the air, the water, the ground, and, recently, underground. But, still, smugglers are finding a way through U.S. border patrol and into the other side where they reap large profits from exploiting marijuana, cocaine, and heroin addicts all over the US.
Recent cement plugging of underground tunnels under the US-Mexico border incited authorities to wonder just how the hell smugglers are getting past the Border Patrol.
After several months of intensive research, former President George W. Bush thinks he may have figured it out. “Easy. Floo powder.”
Floo powder, as defined by allwords.com, is “Harry Potter stuff”. Wikipedia defines the mysterious substance as “a glittering powder used by wizards to travel and communicate using fireplaces. It was invented by Ignatia Wildsmith (1227-1320) and named after the flue, which is the passageway that leads from a fireplace to the chimney so hot gases can escape”.
The former President explained his motives for tackling the hefty project, “After hearing about how nothing was working to stop the immigration, sorry, drug smuggling into the country, I thought I would take matters into my own hands. You can never trust the media for answers like that.”
According to Laura Bush, George’s wife, George had been “working diligently, almost obsessively on the topic.”
“He only stops periodically to feed and play with his Tomagotchi, or maybe do some light coloring if he’s particularly stuck on an issue.”
[caption id="" align="alignright" width="300" caption=""Could somebody please get me a pair of sunglasses." Via Wikipedia"]
[/caption]Laura explained how George W had spent countless hours this past summer searching deep into new methods of travel, as well as drug trade progression throughout recent years. Also, weapons of mass destruction.
“I came across one collection of material by a certain J.K. Rowling. New to me, Rowling presented some revolutionary ideas, one of which, floo powder, really grabbed my attention. I just hope Ron doesn’t die in the next book.”
Prominent democratic leader and speaker of the house, Nancy Pelosi, finds flaw in Bush’s reasoning, “Rowling would never kill Ron, it would not be good for overall plot development, and, therefore, sale of her books.”
As for the Nogales police department, they are in a stalemate, according to Police Chief Jeff K. They will continue to search for boats, tunnels, and maybe, ultimately, hidden fireplaces.
“We aren’t ruling it out as a possibility,” Jeff stated.
Some, however, aren’t so sure of future operations on the Border.
“Fuck it,” replied Kevin H, Border Patrol agent, when asked what might be going on in the smuggling conflict, “If I had a choice, the government would just charge a fee for smugglers wanting to bring narcotics or marijuana into the US. It’s a free country.”
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