“John from Cincinnati” is a complete and utter mess. An hour of television has never dragged on quite like one Rickey spent last night watching this disjointed show about surfers and someone who appears to be Jesus Christ. Or an alien. However, Rickey loves what David Milch did with “Deadwood,” so based primarily on stubborn loyalty, he’s sticking with this show for now.
Tongue sandwiches totally rock. They’re like the Mick Jagger of the sandwich world—classic, daring, and still uncompromising after all these years. Suck it haters.
Judging by these photos, Batman will be playing the Joker in a lacrosse tournament in summer, 2008. Fan-freaking-tastic. Rickey's officially concerned.
It’s becoming very hot these days. We’re quickly approaching what can only be described as Gold Bond weather (the extra medicated variety).
FF2 is a study in how to make an exceedingly poor film. Go in with low expectations, or better yet, save your money for Transformers.
Willie Randolph is officially living in fantasy land. A closed door conversation within the Mets organization needs to occur, and pronto. Chairs need to be thrown. Heated language needs to be employed. Anyone named Carlos needs to be screamed at. Enough of this “steady-handed cool captain at the helm” bullshit. This team needs a yelling at—top to bottom—in order to snap out of their funk.
Bacardi 151 and mango nectar on the rocks causes Rickey to develop a powerful hunger for Mexican food. And provide in depth advice on proper canoeing procedures—whether the recipient wants it or not.
Today is apparently Rickey and Ms. Henderson’s two year anniversary. Yes, Rickey was oblivious enough to need to be reminded of this. Well-wishes, “atta-boys”, and “sweet fancy Moses, you wrangled a lady friend?”s should be left in the comments section below.
A Samoyed with all it’s fur shaved off (except for the hair on his tail and head) just looks absurd. Completely ridiculous. Dogs don’t suffer from low self esteem when something like this is done to them, right?