At some point, the article needs to be written pointing out that NBA refs are an actual problem and not just a, “well, that’ll happen!” part of the game.

NBA = WWE

I vote governor dildochugger, in the spirit of today's posts.

I was the there for a story like Jamie Parks’...

If you’re in the Spokane area, I know a guy who keeps a tank of BCO in his car, and sells baloons of it in an Olive Garden parking lot. You have to go up to him and say, “Can you tell me how to get to the Arbor of Breadsticks?” and he’ll hook you up.

Tucked-in polo guy is a true friend ... a help-you-hide-the-body kind of true friend. Those are good ones to hold onto.

It’s Governor Douchebag. Get it straight. And luckily for us, he’ll never be elected president.

His tweet shortly after Blatter stepped down.

(Editor’s Note: If you think she deserved to have her life ruined on account of some weed, do us all a favor and go fuck yourself)

Hooray for birthday BCO!

A week straight of Irish music, Guinness, rubens, and corned beef and cabbage dinners.

*looks down at baggie of Ritz Bitz Peanut Butter, hates life*

I want to share a funny story from something I observed this weekend. It made me laugh out loud because I hated people like these customers when I worked in restaurants, and I wish that I handled them the way this server did.

Kind of like him?

I had a boss, who was also one of the restaurant owners who definitely did not play the “customer is always right” rule.

This is the first case I can think of where a page image for BCO actually put me off my lunch, thanks in large part to awful memories of my mother’s cooking. It was like a WW1 trench in her kitchen with the cabbage fumes.

BCO is like a whippet: It’s awesome when it starts but it’s over MUCH too quickly. I WANT DOUBLEWIDE EDITIONS OF BCO, PINKHAM.

Faux-Carjacking Boss is Best Boss.

(Editor’s Note: If you think she deserved to have her life ruined on account of some weed, do us all a favor and go fuck yourself)