The Wrong Hole aka My Friday Night

DJ Lubel sings about a situation that we've all been in at one time or another. Scott Baio knows what I'm talking about.

WRONG HOLE with DJ Lubel, Taryn Southern and Scott Baio from Scott Baio

Dividing Fractions or: Why Am I Retarded?

Is there anything more humbling than epically failing at something a middle school student can do with relative ease? I'm not talking about jerking off into a husband pillow. I'm talking about dividing and multiplying fractions. There's a reason why posts have been few and far between in the past couple of weeks and fractions/decimals are at the heart of it. Why can't we live in a world of integers? I thought this god forsaken country was going to change with Democrats in charge. Yet, I still must deal with (1/4)/(2/7). The numerals preceding this sentence are so flummoxing to me now that it is hard to believe that once upon a time, when Britney Spears was still singing about her virginity and the only pop star that was getting beat up was Whitney Houston, I was actually good to quite good at math. Thanks to beer, hard alcohol and the occasional memory wipe from Owen Lars, that knowledge has long since disappeared and now I am rendered mentally impotent (notice how I only said mentally, ladies) by the simplest of arithmetic.

Where does that leave things with CBSVG? For one thing, it means that the frequency of posting will remain sporadic, at best. To make up for that, I'm going to try a couple of new things on the site: podcasts, mainly, and also ritualistic blood letting to the rhythmic chanting of the Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos. Just waiting on the tarp to come in now before kicking off the latter of those two activities.

So I ask you, kind and gentle reader, to please bear with me as I attempt to better myself through erudition. Like plunging a syringe full of glorious primobolan into your buttcheek, this will all be over soon enough and soon the CBSVG you fell in love with, even though it gave you that terrible Hi-Five scare, will be back as good as new. Or as new as a tattered hyena carcass can be.

Live Blog - Top Chef Finale: Part One

At CBSVG we are always trying to give our reader the most engaging and rewarding interactive experience possible. With that in mind, an experiment in live blogging will commence tonight at 10pm ET to celebrate Padma Lakshmi's tits...er, the first half of the Top Chef New York finale. While you wait, here are a few pics of the aforementioned tits.









Make sure to be here at 10 so I'm not the only one commenting and won't feel like a complete loser. Like me! Pleeeeaaaaassssseeee, like me!

Betrayed

Here's a little tidbit about myself that reader might enjoy: I have a really hard time throwing things away. Be it an old ratty tee shirt, boxers with a giant rip in the ass or a tattered textbook there is almost nothing that can escape my grasp once I get my vice like hands on it. This includes stupid shit like old college essays or this Powerpoint slideshow called "Betrayed" that I made way back in 2001. I uncovered this forgotten gem while rummaging through my old porn..err, photo albums and decided that the creative genius displayed in this masterpiece should be more prominently on display. So after minor editing (please note that the custom animations were lost as I converted this to a movie file, so some of the panels will look/read someone out of order) and adding some footnotes to help move the story along, I present to you, Betrayed: A story of love and deception. If you have any trouble following the plot, then you might be retarded, or you might just have trouble reading the microscopic subtitles. Should the latter be the case, a summary is provided below the video.





Summary: Drosselmeyer and Maid Marion are having an affair. Robin Hood, the cuckold, finds out about a murderous plot hatched by the two lovers to eliminate him. Tipped by Scarecrow, he plans to ambush the lovers and kill Drosselmeyer. On his way to battle, he runs into Friar Tuck and warns him that he must flee. The Friar is too slow and is decapitated by the Oil Shiek, one of Drosselmeyer's goons. Robin is too strong for Drosselmeyer and his henchman and kills them both. Dismayed by the death of her lover, Marion rejects Robin's love, forcing him to kill her and move on to another slut of lore, Queen Guinevere.

Monday Morning QB - 2009 Preview

For many football fans, Peter King's Monday Morning QB is required reading. The comprehensive column examines what just happened the preceding day in the NFL with interesting anecdotes and a level of access to players, coaches and officials that is unparalleled throughout the league. But little do people know the amount of research and hard work that goes into each column. The finished result is always so polished that it's hard to comprehend the dedication it requires to publish original material each week. So it comes as no surprise that Mr. King has already gotten a head start on his 2009 season preview MMQB. Through some cosmic fluke CBSVG has acquired it. Expect to see something similar to this around the middle of training camp.

---
Patriots to rebound on rebuilt knee and confidence by Peter King

FOXBORO -- Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots.

**
Bill Belichick is a genius. Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots Patriots.

**
Jerry Jones and Wade Phillips can no longer co-exist, though Belichick could figure out a way to make this relationship work. And cure super-AIDS.

The Fine Fifteen
1. Patriots
2. Patriots
3. Patriots
4. Pats
5. Belichick
6. Colts
7. Patriots
8. 2004 Patriots
9. Amanda Belichick
10. Peyton Manning
11. Barack Obama
12. Pats
13. Giants
14. Steelers
15. Colts..er, Patriots

Quote of the Week I
"Peter, get the hell out of here, this is my honeymoon!"
--Patriots starting QB Tom Brady after finding me underneath the bed of his hotel room in St. Barts during his honeymoon.

Quote of the Week II
"Seriously, get out of here. I'm calling security. This is in direct violation of your restraining order and I really don't want to have to press charges this time."
--Patriots starting QB Tom Brady ushering me out of the honeymoon suite.

Quote of the Week III
"Tom is a winner. I don't think anyone can argue that at this point. But does he have the competitive desire to come back from a serious injury, rehab it and basically relearn all the footwork necessary to play QB at this level? We'll see."
--Patriots backup QB Matt Cassel to local Boston media on why there should be a QB competition in training camp. These were his last words as a violent fan stormed the press conference and decapitated Cassel with a machete.

Stat of the Week
Times that major news outlets have reported that Brett Favre has retired only to come back to prove he can still play THIS YEAR vs times that major news outlets have reportedthat Brett Favre has retired only to come back to prove he can still play LAST YEAR

What I Learned About Football This Week That I Didn't Know Last Week
Rehabbing a catastrophic knee injury is serious work. I know, because I spent every waking second of the offseason stalking...er speaking with Tom Brady about all the time and effort he was putting into making his surgically repaired knee right. There's stretching, weight lifting, pool workouts, intense sex sessions, conditioning, attending fashion shows, photo shoots. All of this and still no guarantee that the knee is fully healed. Who knew?

Factoid of the Week that May Only Interest Me
*Add asinine story about daughters at later date*

Enjoyable/Aggravating Travel Note of the Week
Any travel to and from Montclair, New Jersey, even if to get a cup of coffee from Starbucks, is complete misery. Stay away, far away. Flying sucks, taking trains suck, driving sucks.

Ten Things I Think I Think
1. I think that if Tom Brady needed any sort of organ transplant, I would jump to the front of the line and offer him whatever he needed.

2. It's been a couple of years since I joined the NBC Football Night in America crew and here's what I've noticed:
a. I've never said this, and it will surprise a lot of people, but I think Jerome Bettis smells better than Tiki Barber.
b. If Keith Olbermann and Bob Costas had a contest to see who could be the smuggest person on television, I think the world would explode.
c. I think that John Madden is going to eventually die in an horrific Ace hardware accident.

3. I think that it's about time to put Al Davis in some sort of nursing home. Sources tell me that he can no longer control his bowel movements.

4. I think that Jerry Jones is one cool dude. Thanks for always having popcorn on hand, Jerry!

5. I think that if I was going to start a team from scratch, I'd just clone the Patriots. That way, my team would be amazing and I wouldn't have to take anything away from the already awesome Pats team.

6. I think it's time we let Bill Belichick run this country. I mean, it can't get any worse, can it? The man is a proven winner and won't back down from any challenges. And I just like the thought of the commander in chief wearing a hoodie that looks like it was stolen off of a dead hobo.

7. I think that Cris Collinsworth eats too much garlic. There, I said it.

8. I think that somewhere, deep in the Mississippi forest, Brett Favre is sitting on a log, eating gator jerky and thinking to himself, "Damn, I should have done this a while ago." He then throws an interception to a cyruss tree.

9. I think Starbucks is making a terrible decision by shutting down so many stores. If I have to walk farther than 100 yards to get a venti soy latte with a dash of vanilla (w/ whipped cream and cinammon) someone is getting an angry letter.

10. I think Steelers over the Cards, 27-13.

A Meeting at the Mound

Scene:
A late July afternoon in Yankees Stadium and the Bronx Bombers comfortably leading the Oakland Athletics 5-0. Shade has started to engulf the stadium, bringing the temperature down to a more palpable 84 degrees. It's the top of the ninth inning, with two outs and no runners on base. The following will unfold on baseball's center stage, the pitching mound.

Characters:
Joe - Manager of the Yankees. Wears number 27 as a reminder of the team's ultimate goal: a 27th World Series championship. A strict disciplinarian slightly over his head managing baseball's most famed club.
DJ - Shortstop and captain of the Yankees. Notorious womanizer and slayer of women's hearts. Highest paid shortstop in history.
Arod - Arguably the best player in the game, yet almost universally reviled among fans of America's pastime. Although their starting third baseman for half a decade, still not considered "a true Yankee." Highest paid player in the game's history.
Tex - First baseman and new guy on the scene, Tex has struggled to adapt to his new surroundings. Highest paid first baseman ever.
Cano - Young second baseman accused of laziness and a general indifference to improving his skills after scoring the second highest annual salary for his position.
Jorge - Crusty veteran catcher, trying one last time to prove he can still make it at the game's highest level. Highest paid catcher in the game.
CC - Plump starting pitcher. Highest paided hurler in the game. Generally of a jolly disposition.

---

[Following the second out of the ninth inning, CC's 11th strikeout of the game, Joe calls timeout, emerges from the dugout and slowly saunters to the pitching mound. The other members of the infield, including the catcher, converge at this central location]

Joe: Hell of an effort, CC. Great job today. Way to put the team on your back. Err...(pulls out a book entitled "World's Greatest Sports Cliches from his back pocket, opens to a random page) When we needed you most, you stepped up big time. (quickly tucks book away)

CC: Thanks, Skip. But, I really think I've got this last guy. I mean, I've only given up three hits all game and I've thrown, what, around 120 pitches? That's at least 40 fewer than my season average. And remember what I did for the Brewers last year? I was on the slab all day, every day.

Joe: CC, come on now. There's a big tub of rocky road ice cream waiting in the clubhouse for you if you hand me the ball.

CC: Fuck that, now you're just lying. We all know there's no snacks in down there. I've been sneaking in bacon wrapped Klondike bars all season. Those tasty bitches are cold. Hey, Jorge, how's my stuff?

Jorge: First, I just want to apologize for having to roll the ball back to the mound today. One of these days, this shoulder is going to get healthy. And then, just watch. I'll be throwing parabolic arcs back to the pitchers just like old days.

Joe: Great, can't wait for that to happen, but this isn't about you, Jorgie. How's CC look?

DJ: Sorry to interrupt here, but you mind if I step out for a sec? I really need to take this. (DJ suddenly presses a button in his glove and holds it up to his face. His glove houses a cell phone in the heel, allowing for inconspicuous conversing with various models and actresses throughout the game) Hey, Doc, thanks for getting back to me so quickly. Yeah, they're back. I'm going to need you to refill that subscription for me, stat. Minka's folks are coming into town and the tingling has started again. Cool, so you can drop that off before 6? Awesome. Thanks, bro. (Hangs up glove-phone) What did I miss?

Tex: What the hell was that? Is there a phone in your glove?

DJ: Yeah, I called in a couple of favors from this cougar I tagged a while back who knew someone high up at Verizon and they hooked me up big time. Best four grand I ever spent. Not counting the time I took Jessica Biel out in Vegas then...

Arod: Did someone mention a cougar? Where? I've been scouting the stands for the most muscular looking 5o year old chick I could find, but no luck so far. If I can't find anyone before this last out, I might have to take home another stripper tonight. Paying for that is becoming such a bitch.

Cano: Hey, can I just...

Arod: Shut the fuck up, Cano. Seriously, learn English, amigo, then get the biggest contract at your fucking position, then you can talk. When we get in the locker room, so help me God, I'm going to piss on all your fucking Dominican shit.

Tex: Didn't you just play for the Dominican team in the World Baseball Classic?

Arod: I know, but I just wanted to win, something, anything, once in my life. Look how that ended up. Goddamn Cubans took us down. Cubans!?! That's worst than losing every year to the Angels.

Joe: Can we get back on track here, I'm pretty sure Tim McClelland just gave us a dirty look. That is one scary dude. Jorge, how is CC tossing?

Jorge: He's good man. Throwing peas out there. Hey, anyone want to massage my shoulder?

CC: See, skip, I'm all good. Let me get this last guy. The bucket of KFC I ordered in the fifth is probably really soggy right now. There ain't nothing worse than soggy fried chicken.

Cano: Yo, can I get...

Arod: SHUT THE FUCK UP!

DJ: (answers glove-phone) Scarlett, you're married now. Stop calling me. During games at least. Hit me up later.

Tex: What did I get myself into? If we don't win the series this year...

Joe: Shit, here comes McClellan. Okay, okay, calm down Joe. Time to make a decision. CC, you got your wish, finish this game off.

CC: Sweet, KFC always tastes better after a shutout.

Arod: Is that a retired female body builder over there? I think it is. Shut the fuck up Cano.

Jorge: One last thing, CC. If you possibly get this last guy on one pitch, I'd really appreciate it. It's starting to get embarrassing, you know, with me rolling the ball back to the mound every pitch. Thanks.

[The group disbands off the mound and returns to their respective positions. CC retires the next batter on one pitch much to the delight of his catcher. It is his fourth consecutive shutout]

Countdown to the Summer of 2010

To some, the summer of 2010 might seem far off. Eighteen months, when looked at as a whole, can seem like a long time. For the most part, I don't even know what I'm going to be doing in 18 days, let alone 18 months. But that is changing, and for good reason: during the summer of 2010 the world will converge on South Africa to bear witness to the most important sporting event every quadrennium. Fuck the Olympics, this is the World Cup. I swear to the blogging Gods I will be there in some capacity in 2010, documenting the revelry and debauchery as it transpires, in REAL motherflipping TIME! That, or I'm just going to get really drunk and hope to avoid contracting AIDS.

How am I going to pay for this epic, worldview altering journey? No f'ing clue right now. Handouts are not only welcomed, but encouraged. It might be a good idea to just start walking now. Although traversing through the Sahara and/or rainforests with a Nando induced boner is probably a bad idea.

If I suddenly disappear off the face of the earth in 18 months, please check the gutters, brothels and/or opium dens of Cape Town or Johannesburg. Or inside the gullet of one of the famed jumping great white sharks that get so much attention during Shark Week. Either way, it will be a hell of a way to go. And that's fine with me.

The preliminary itinerary includes:

• Taking in a US soccer match, possibly with an American flag draped over my shoulders. It shall be known as the Shawl of Freedom.
  
• Drinking until my liver bursts.
• Assassinating Cristiano Ronaldo.
• Avoiding the following creatures: lions, rhinos and anything else that could possibly gore, maim and eviscerate me.
• Procuring a deadly spider and smuggling it back into the country, then unleashing it on a quaint town and watching havoc ensue.
• Finding the world's largest diamond to cover any additional costs that I might accrue during my travels.

Sacrifices will need to be made in order to make this happen. So from this point forward, no more Lily Pulitzer pants, Grey Goose vodka or Kobe steak. It's TJ Maxx, 5 O'Clock vodka and dirt. Don't expect me to be much fun for the next year and a half. Sorry, friends, but 2010 is calling and it's sweet Siren song is just too strong to ignore.

Quick Thoughts on An Irrelevant Game

In five years, ask me who won the college football national championship in 2008, and my reply will be "the Utah Utes." Undefeated and with a most impressive resume, they are the best team in the country. Go ahead, try to disprove that fact. But because college football is a cesspool of corruption, greed and scantily clad cheerleaders, fans tonight will watch Oklahoma and Florida battle it out for the right to be a very undeserving champion. Congrats, BCS, that's quite an accomplishment.

Essentially, the game boils down to the performance of the quarterbacks: bible thumping Tim Tebow of Florida and pseudo-Asian Sam Bradford.



Bradford is the better quarterback, but the legend of Tebow is hard to overlook. Somehow Jesus Christ fits in there, as well.

To channel my inner Herbstreit: Neither defense will be able to shut down the opposing offense, but look for a more balanced Oklahoma offense to control the tempo of the game and limit Tebow's opportunities by placing an emphasis on time of possession and field position.

Final score: Oklahoma 38, Florida 30.


Site update - All new, somewhat coherent, stuff coming soon. Vacation is winding down so it's time to start cranking out the original content that you parasitic mooches so desperately crave.