Shut the fuck up.

Did they not understand what the scalper meant by nosebleeds? Or what the I95 sign meant by Philadelphia?

Don't go to the game wearing the away teams gear anywhere but especially in Philly but if you must don't be so pissed when their lovely citizens greet you as they only know how.

I used to work with Matt at that station. He told me that, shortly after he arrived at the station, he timed out how many seconds it took him to run from the weather wall to the station's basement so that he could stay on the air until the last possible second. Really dedicated guy.

This was her way of announcing that she's now dating a member of Daft Punk.

These are the new leads. These are the Glengarry leads. And to you they're gold, and you don't get them. Why? Because to give them to you is just throwing them away. They're for closers. I'd wish you good luck but you wouldn't know what to do with it if you got it. And to answer you question, pal, why am I here? I…

LISTEN HERE, MY FRIEND, THIS SLAMMIN JAMMIN FLAVOR FIESTA DOESN'T STOP WITH SOME PISSY LITTLE SANDWICH. FOR ROUND TWO, PREPARE YOUR FACEHOLE FOR THE POUNDING IT DESERVES. WE'VE GOT SATAN'S OWN YOU-DAHO POTATOES, AN INCREDIBALLER DISH WHERE WE'VE DUMPED AN ENTIRE BAG OF SPUDS AND THREE POUNDS OF CIGARETTE BUTTS INTO A…

RING THE BELL IN FLAVORTOWN SQUARE BECAUSE GUY REVERE IS RIDING HIS 4-COURSE FLAVOR HORSE THROUGH THE STREETS TO WARN YOU ABOUT HIS BRAND NEW CASH MONEY DELI BRO-GIE JAM PACKED WITH MORE MEAT THAN A DRUNK SORORITY GIRL ON A SATURDAY NIGHT. AND THIS AIN'T NO GAY-OLI MY FRIENDS, OUR STRAIGHT GANGSTER VOLCANO AIOLI SAUCE…

I played lacrosse (poorly) in high school for a couple of years. Our team wasn't good, but what we lacked in skill we made up for with jock-strap related pranks.

I guess he wasn't aware you can have a tie in a mug shot.

I was raised by a slightly-overprotective single mother who was convinced that the sports I liked, baseball, football and hockey, were too dangerous for a child of my size. A series of childhood illnesses kept me rather undersized for years - I weighed 40 pounds entering the 3rd grade and left the 5th grade weighing…

The tragicomdey of freshman lacrosse: I was small, uncoordinated, unable to grasp positioning and other offensive necessities, and generally bad at all of it, except for winning the draw on faceoffs. I was unusually good at it, but due to the other aforementioned factors, I only saw the field in blowouts. A blowout…

A friend of mine was born without his right hand. He has a small "nub" instead. When he was young, he used a prosthetic hand that he didn't like very much. We were on a soccer team for 6 and 7 year olds, and during one game he was using his prosthetic hand (and had had it on all day) when it became uncomfortable. So…

Wow, this is some of the most authentic writing I've ever read. No puffing-up, no name drops — this is an amazing piece of work that provides incredible insight into the world of boxing (and dare I say the whole world as well?).

I need to stop reading this column. It's a weekly reminder that I live in filth, and unnecessarily.

"Excuse me, could you show me how to use this?"

From what I've heard, you probably don't want DeSean Jackson around that many weapons.

We are the world police.

Tom, I'm afraid you've been hoodwinked: this is viral marketing for Bud Light Lime Straw-Ber-Rita.

He's a pompous, disrespectful blowhard who countenances spying and bullies guests. She a racist shit-stirrer who thinks she's advancing feminism by trolling and throwing other women she doesn't like under the bus, and then asking for dudebro points for being so "edgy" and "an equal opportunity offender". So I come…