That’s Mary Shelley’s Oliver Kahn to you, buddy.
That’s Mary Shelley’s Oliver Kahn to you, buddy.
Coming soon, Paul LePage’s new favorite show: D-Money Love-Howser, MD.
Got to meet and have a chat with him at a party last fall. We could have been talking about the most minor inanities and I would have been aware of his towering intellect. Plus, he’s a helluva nice guy.
“Calm mystery” is a fucking great phrase, and I shall now use it every chance I get. Except for in the john.
Dad and Grandpa both used “suck back and remuster” and “son of a seacook.” That said, I knew I was a man (13) when Grandpa said to me “For fuck’s sake. Hand me the fuckin’ wrench” while I was helping him fix his truck.
Why does it have to be a binary choice?
You need a dog, because when your kids get older (mine are 19 and 17), you will want one of those “children” to still give a shit about you and want to be around you and be willing to stand for your embarassing behavior. Just sayin’.
In the meantime, if Carl had listened to Ralphie’s mom, he’d still have his damn eye.
I was going to ask the same thing, albeit with different cities:
Run out and find Sewer, Gas and Electric by Ruff. Fabu.
If we have to lose to somebody (and clearly, this year we have to lose to lots of somebodies), I’m happy to lose to the Foxes. Especially when brought about goals like that. Christ, even I was yelling in wonder at the TV.
And the height difference between he and his kids is almost the same as the difference in this pic. The ethical and intelligence differences, though, as extreme.
Currently my only disappointment is the camera didn’t go to Bettman both times John Scott scored.
How ‘Lo can you go?
I agree. The Pato move might be accompanied by an “Oh my god what have I done?” moment, though, so let’s wait and see.
Liverpool - and I’m speaking as a fan here - haven’t so much collapsed as settled back into the Zone of Comfort here. Chelsea? Yeah, that was a collapse.
I though the headline referred to the rumor fucking Chelsea was trying to get their dirty stinking paws on Vardy. And that Remy might go to Newcastle. That sort of shit could turn things into a real funhouse.
Neither is the line of thinking that kicked out that stinker.
Me too. You could take pictures AND hammer nails with it.
When my boys were younger I had an opportunity to teach them how to make themselves as non-threatening as possible when passing a woman in an enclosed space (a narrow path, happily for the woman in the middle of the day) and to tell them why. They were still too young to get it, I think, but I have noted as they have…