Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Courtesy of my brilliant sidekick Scott Linn, who swears he came up with this term in the flow of the show on Tuesday.
Brett Favre isn't coming back from anything. He never left. When he plays for the Vikings this fall, you will see his career stat grid show an uninterrupted string of seasons in Green Bay, followed by “NYJ” and “MIN” without any gaps.
So it will take old dudes with memories like us, to tell the young whippersnappers: “Well, you know, he DID 'retire' twice on his way to playing those 4 extra seasons with 4 extra teams.”
And that's no “retirement.” It's a “re-liar-ment.”
If you don't go away, you can't “come back” from anything. So stop calling this a “comeback” ye talking heads in the sports media.
And because I felt left out of the Sniglets party of making up terms, try this one on for size.
This when somebody refuses to apologize directly, but instead does so in a blog.
Ahem. Cough... cough... Mark Cuban.
I got a catalog in the mail from some outfit called “Boston Proper.”
The company, is a bunch of assholes, in my opinion.
This chick was on the cover.
Yeah. Sure. Okay. Supermodel, wearing kicky summer clothes, marketed to middle aged married women with kids. Go fuck yourself, Boston Proper.
I mean, look at this smokeshow! Christ! And there's about 6 other equally hot models of all flavors inside the catalog.
Just stop sending this shit to my house, okay? It torments me, and makes my wife cry. And while we're at it, J Crew can go suck a hose too. Because they have a bunch of impossibly great looking 39 year old triathalete former models. With artificially induced gray hair to make them look middle aged studly.
Those catalogs torment the missus, and make ME cry.
We're married with kids. We go to the beach. But we don't look anything like these models, and we aren't going to buy a “beaded fringe tank” with a “crinkle-gauze skirt.”
Even if we DID have looks and bods this good, we don't have 3 seconds to strike a carefree and relaxed pose like your models. We're pulling sand out of our kids bathing suits crotches, smearing on sunscreen, and constantly worrying that a riptide is going to suck the lil' nippers right out to the Atlantic.