Happy Wednesday, Spursland! At some point this summer, I don't know which point, but at some point it has to become legally OK for me to put Dan Levy in the figure-four leg-lock until he either does something or tells me his plan. It has to be. Nothing else makes sense. Maybe all of us could line up outside of his house and take turns trying different things out on him. Brixton slaps him in the sharpshooter, Cry gives him the old Vonn Erich claw, And then Maybe D. Stern could just talk out loud. (Editor's Note: Mechanick could then talk about the USMNT for hours to really finish Levy off.)
And now the "news"
This is exactly like when I vacuum or dust before my girlfriend comes over and think that is the thing that is going to put me over the top and it is guaranteed sex time. That stuff has no influence over the situation. My girlfriend is either there for the sex or she isn't and it really doesn't matter whether there is a smattering of particles on the top of my TV.
Thank you, guy who can do basic math.
That is a guy that feels comfortable no matter his surroundings. Just letting whatever pops into his mind out there into the world "what could go wrong" is a question that he has never taken a moment to answer when he decides to say something.
Coming soon a new blog We Ain't Got No Reason To Go Anywhere Else of Vacation.
You know you watched this show. On Comedy Central for no real reason, they shoehorned in a struggling stand-up guy into the announce team to make it look like it fit. It was weird and you liked it. You felt like you were in the future when the announcer was putting over Toro (yeah, I know the names still) like he was Hulk Hogan in his prime. I spent an evening last summer watching old fights from this on Youtube. An entire night I saw in my underwear slamming Rolling Rock after Rolling Rock watching machines kill each other. It was fantastic.