winning

8 posts

Johnny “JFF” Manziel’s Slow Descent into Madness

Johnny Manziel is a legend and he’s 20 years old. In his opening season with Texas A&M last year, he lead the team to an epic win over Alabama during the season, demolished Oklahoma in the Cotton Bowl, and capped off the season as the first freshman Heisman trophy winner.

Manziel is a hero around Aggieland and all over the country, but just being an athlete isn’t what makes you a legend. The guy rolls around town with multiple fake IDs in case one gets taken up. He could have spent the offseason training and working in his game, but fuck that noise, then he’d just be another quarterback. Manziel is anything but just another quarterback, he’s Johnny F’n Football. Continue reading

Lord of the Geeks: How I Fixed My HDTV

My one year old HDTV recently bit the big one about a month out of warranty. This sucks for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that it’s a one year old TV that’s the second most expensive thing I own after my car, and it crapped out after slightly over a year, the exact length of the manufacturer warranty.

Now, I’m an industrious fellow, and I prefer to fix something rather than either replace it or throw it away. Considering my TV was out of warranty, and having it professionally fixed was going to cost $500-$800, which isn’t far from what I paid for it to begin with, I figured I’d see if I could fix it myself.

This is the story of how I fixed my TV.

Continue reading

Meet the Little Flockers

My life has been rather crazed as of late, so I apologize for the absence of chicken updates. This has been a rather inopportune time to have new babies in my charge, but it has also been a welcome distraction.

Chicken Mailer
This box is smaller than 8x11

The twelve chickens arrived via the United States Postal system in this box:

Yes, they were all jammed in there the day of their hatching and then shipped out. They had plenty of wiggle room, but I am sure they huddled together for warmth. Immediately upon getting them home I had to teach them how to eat and drink by shoving their heads into the water and food dispensers under the warm glow of the infrared brooder box I made with a Trader Joe’s Box and a red infrared light to keep them a toasty 95F.

 

The stress of the travel and new home gave the chickens a bad case of pasty butt, which is very Pasty Buttcommon. For those not in the know, pasty butt is when the poop of the chickies blocks their vent — the place from which they both poop and eventually lay eggs.

Sort of goes against the whole idea of don’t shit where you eat, but that is Mother Nature for you.

This is life threatening so you must remove the pasty butt. The babies hated it as I needed to dunk their rear ends in warm water to soften the poop up and then remove it; usually with some feathers or down. Lots of struggling went on, but when a baby weighs about 4 oz, I was able to show that poop who was boss.

After curing the pasty butt and preventing further occurrences by giving them ground-up golden flax seed, life on the farm proceeded as it does during spring time — noisily. I had to move the babies to a bigger brooder box because they outgrew the initial one. Each week I will raise the infrared lamp up a touch to lower the brooder box temp. The chickens no longer need it to be 95 F because they are growing feathers at a rapid rate. They will head outdoors once they are fully-feathered which should be in the next two weeks or so.

We had a naming contest a while back. Frankly they all looked the same,  so it was useless to assign a name at that time. Now that they are getting feathers, it is easy to tell them apart. Below are the winners. Meet the new flock!  

 

Elizabird Taylor is a Salmon Faverolle (MotherGooch).

Elizabird is beautiful, gentle, loving and supports AIDS research. On the down side, she is likely to steal her best friend’s cock.  

Mushpickle is a Speckled Sussex (BBQCornuts’ son).

Mushpickle loves to snuggle. It is fun to say “Mushpickle is a Speckled Sussex.” Go on, say it like 10 times, really fast.

Margaret Hatcher is an Silver Cuckoo Maran (TackyTick).

Margaret is stoic and supports Trickle Down economic theory. She also misses The Gipper. She is one of my faves.

Henifer Lopez is a Buff Orphington (DogsofWar).

Henifer is needy and will get a big rear end.

Maude is a Naked Neck (Homoviper).

Maude is noisy.  

Nuggets is Buff Orphington (Dahl and The_Obvious).

Nugget loves to sit in my hand. I bet she’d like honey mustard.  

Foxy is a Silver Cuckoo Maran (DidacticTactics).

Foxy is going to be a pretty bird, but I found it distressing to name a bird Foxy given we lost north of 12 birds last year to a fox.

Cadbury is an Easter Egger (Dancing Queen).

Cannot wait for Cadbury’s blue or green eggs. She also tends to hop about.

General Tso is one of the wildcards and I haven’t figured out which breed she is yet (The_Obvious via Dahl).

I am looking forward to figuring out what General Tso is. I wonder if, once I find out what she is, if I will become hungry again.  

Camilla is a Salmon Faverolle (Six Thirty).

Camilla is sweet-natured and gets bullied by Maude constantly. Where is Gonzo when you need him? Men.

Mavis is a Speckled Sussex. (EDIT: I forgot to credit Cornflowerbleume)

She has a fondness for cocks with big chins.

Gayle is a Speckled Sussex (Dancing Queen).

Her best friend will be a Black Orphington named Oprah.

Other notable names that didn’t make the cut:

From BaldwinP a very long list of chicken dishes including A la King, Kiev, Tikka and Vindaloo. BaldwinP had lots of Fonzes (yes, I think the Fonz should be a proper noun), but I couldn’t figure out for which name. So sorry BaldwinP, you lose. DidacticTactics thought Dix (as in Dixie Chicks) would be a great name so we could have lots of dick jokes. I have to agree and my husband thought it was a most excellent idea — maybe the next batch of birds.  Someone who clearly doesn’t know me well suggested Justice Ginsberg; aside from the fact she physically resembles a bird, that name would never do at chez momof3.

I say Boy
Boy, I say Boy!

Of course, if I ever get a rooster it will be named DearBrutus as he has a big cock as he proudly told us all. However in my experience, those who crow the most about their size tend to have {ahem} performance issues.

*A special thank you goes to my 10-year old daughter Megan who snagged most of the chicks for me before school today so I could photograph them. Although she will never read this post and thank you due to all the cock references.

 

Top image via Fishboy

Wanna Work For Charlie Sheen? We’ve Got the Best Applicant

Charlie Sheen, our new social media overlord, has opened the door for veritable millions, or tens of dozens of applicants to sign on to be his very own intern.

We’re still not totally sure what that means exactly. We can only suggest that if he asks you to taste something or inhale something, you should think twice. Barring any scary incidents that involve sharing a sweat lodge and writing Haikus using the blood of a fruit bat, we think you’ll be okay!

After our little contest yesterday to find the absolute best person for the job, one such person stood out and indicated in a sincere and heartfelt manner all that they would do to make the incredibly difficult life of a spoiled and certifiable maniac go easier.

Here’s what our winner Thunderclees had to say:

Dear Mr. Sheen,

I recently learned of your need for a #TigerBlood intern. I believe that my unique combination of outstanding social media skills, tenacious work-ethic, and above-normal tolerance for narcotics would make me a strong addition to your team.

I believe that we have just ascended into the foothills surrounding the peak of Mount Sheen. Atop Mount Sheen, gilded eagles—not golden eagles, those pedestrian birds that anyone can see at some crummy zoo somewhere, but rather gilded eagles, bald eagles painstakingly covered by hand with gold leaf—gilded eagles soar freely, only for the pleasure of feeling the wind beneath their wings and seeing the sun glint off their metallic feathers. Ordinary Sherpas, hardy as they may be, will not bring you to the top of Mount Sheen; no, you, Mr. Sheen, will need a social media expert uniquely attuned to the needs of an extraterrestrial celebrity (I refuse to use the Earthly word “rockstar,” but to properly pronounce the correct word, I’d first have to rip out your tongue). I am that social media expert, and I will cover myself in any and all tattoos you deem necessary to demonstrate my commitment to Winning with Team Sheen.

I am sorry to hear about the recent departure of Miss Olson, and while I know I can never fill her shoes, I’ve been told that I’m quite comely when the viewer is properly intoxicated.

Thank you for your consideration, and I look forward to your response.

Warm regards,

Thunderclees

We think you’ll be fantastic! You have our full support. Remember, wash your hands regularly, make sure no one tries to put anything into your food or beverages, and most importantly check Sheen’s breathing every 46 minutes.

You’ve won our adoration, copious bragging rights, and this awesome picture of an egg sammich:

We’ve also drawn up a letter of recommendation that exalts your work ethic to set you on your way.

Mr. Sheen!

I have nothing but great things to say about Thunderclees. You couldn’t find a better intern. Not only will you gain someone who will go to the ends of the earth to find you the most obscure potions and elixirs to keep your virile synapses flowing, but you’ll get someone who can look intimately into your very soul and see all the westernized tumors that could take root in your essence. Thunderclees will pluck them out using nothing but the best miracle-based blessed daggers — after all, that’s what you’ll pay for.

Thunderclees is not just a person who can enhance your social media image, but someone who can brave the veritable bowels of hell, and erase any evil stains that lie within by fighting every be-sworn demon or demigod that could threaten your lair of wanton prostitutes, powdered substances, and genius thought-bubbles of enlightenment and ecclesiastic joy.

I recommend Thunderclees highly!

There is no better bearer of Bastille benevolence.

It will be a great loss to us to see Thunderclees go. But you, sir, truly deserve this treat.

Sincerely,

Spirit Fingers
President and CEO, FALcore Industries

Sheen It: A Retrospective

Sue me. I can’t stop watching Charlie Sheen clips. I can’t help myself from clicking on clip after clip of Sheen’s now-infamous interviews with ABC’s Good Morning America. Like this. And this. And, oh heaven help me, this, from 20/20.

Watching a celebrity self-destruct in real time has become a bit of blood sport in our tabloid-frenzied culture. Even WebMD is in on the action. We are transfixed by the train wreck, by the tragedy of witnessing potential unfulfilled, opportunity squandered, and the pitfalls of privilege.

Sheen’s various interviews to media outlets (ABC, CNN, Radar Online, among others) have generated a lot of buzz, but people have been talking about Charlie Sheen’s bad behavior for a long time. Sheen’s drug, gambling, and sex addictions have been high-larious fodder for more than a decade. Here’s a flashback to a November 2000 episode of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire,” featuring a chubby Drew Carey, a thin Alec Baldwin, and knowing laughter with Reg over Sheen’s troubles.

Many celebs, world-weary and drug-wise themselves, take the “he’s an adult, it’s his life” stance, including recovering addict (and Mel Gibson defender) Robert Downey, Jr.

As I was looking at clips of Sheen’s media blitzkrieg, I couldn’t help remembering the early days of Charlie Sheen, when he was the youngest addition to a roster of hot young Hollywood stars including Johnny Depp, Rob Lowe, and the Coreys. Too young to belong to the Brat Pack with his brother, Emilio Estevez, Sheen stepped out of the shadows of his famous acting family in iconic roles in “Lucas,” “Platoon,” and “Wall Street.” My girlhood crush on Charlie Sheen evaporated sometime around 1990, long before his current troubles, but about the time his film career took an unfortunate turn. I’m guessing “Hot Shots” happened when his need for hookers and blow took over as his primary vocation. This little primer on the glory days of Charlie Sheen is for the young readers who’ve only known the cranked up, Hawaiian shirt wearing, wife beating, piece of shite we see before us now.

Early in his career, Sheen racked up a series of strong roles in great films (and if you say 1984’s “Red Dawn” isn’t a great film, we’re fighting).

Here’s how I’d like to remember Sheen (and Corey Haim, for that matter, on the banana seat bike). In 1986’s “Lucas,” he plays a classic clean-cut jock with a soft side. Part of Sheen’s charm in those heady early days was his apparent effortlessness on film.

He won acclaim for his role in Oliver Stone’s “Platoon” (1986) and worked with Stone again in a lead role as Bud Fox, a wanna-be player striving for the finer things in life in “Wall Street” (1987).

Sheen continued work in 80s classics, including “Young Guns,” “Eight Men Out,” and “Navy Seals,” churning out over 20 movies before the end of the decade. The 1990s marked a turn in his career, from dramas to comedies.

So was Sheen ever funny? If you’ve somehow watched his television show (let’s pretend you haven’t), that is a legitimate question. He told CNN’s Piers Morgan that he is able to make Two and a Half Men so damn funny because he lives such a crazed lifestyle. Everyone on it says knows coke makes you funnier. Here’s a clip from “Major League II.” Decide for yourself.

Perhaps you like your comedy a little less subtle, in which case I recommend the 1993 vintage “Hot Shots! Part Deux.”

His appearance in “Loaded Weapon” (also 1993) was mercifully brief.

It only gets worse from there, except for a small cameo in “Being John Malkovich” (1999).

By this time, Sheen’s film career was essentially over as he transitioned to television, starring in Spin City in the early 2000s as a replacement for the ailing Michael J. Fox. For me, his best and most prophetic work was in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” with Jennifer Grey’s old nose.

And now you’ve Sheen It. Go work on winning.