For the explanation behind this picture let’s go straight to the caption…

At which point Warner turned to his daughter and screamed, “Don’t you realize how many NFL records I hold? DOES THAT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?”

Well we’ve learned one thing, and that’s that the writers of The Suite Life on Deck take fantasy football to an entirely new level. Sure, we’ve all designed our own frilly new uniforms for our imaginary teams to don on Sundays, but surely none of us have ever gotten one of our draftees to actually model said outfit. The Suite Life indeed.

Now I’m not all that familiar with the Disney Channel, so excuse my ignorance, but is every show on that network about a fabulously wealthy teen and/or tween?

The Bengals’ web site has one of those garden-variety off-season redemption profiles of Chad Ocho Cinco, in which he vows this coming season won’t be quite as unremarkable as the last. It being Ocho, bland anecdotes about being inspired from one conversation with Denzel Washington and Kobe “Moutheyes scowl” Bryant at the NBA Finals are interspersed with magically disjointed and pause-worthy quotes about his relationship with Carson Palmer.

“I know people are trying to say we’re mad at each other and all that, but we’re good,” he said. “We’re like Brokeback Mountain. I’m going to be with Carson so much in July that I’m going to be the nanny (for his new twins).

I’m not totally up on my state-by-state gay adoption laws, but I’m pretty sure Ohio hasn’t granted those sort of rights for gay couples, but shine on you crazy kids.

“I’m going to babysit. We were getting down to the details. If he and the wife go out, they have to be back by three. I asked for permission to have company over.”

And he gets to keep this old birdcage!

Painfully tired Brokeback jokes aside, is there a worse idea than leaving your children alone with Ocho? Even if he doesn’t make them play inside the dryer, his circles of logic will render their still-forming minds to gelatin. Because he’s an alien. (Sorry Hulu)

It’s a good thing he brings the crazy in this profile, because there exists a distressing paucity of it in his Twitter feed. So far not a single mention of Car Boat (the boat with cars) and 8,000 responses to Ray Lewis’ feed. Someone’s peyote supply is diminished.

Elsewhere, Cedar Point amusement park will host a Brady Quinn Day this Saturday. In future news, Quinn will be disappointed to learn that “Batman the Ride” is a roller coaster.

Today might be Peyton Manning’s actual birthday, but last week he was celebrating early down in Key West, ostensibly to reunite with his old flame Kenny Chesney. As you likely recall, Chesney has a long history of making beautiful music with both Peyton and his little brother Eli, but never both at once because incest is gross (unless you’re in bed with twin sisters). Continue after the jump for the duo’s encore performance, a fitting tribute to their hosts at Sloppy Joe’s.

Video via FanHouse, Shutdown Corner, and more.

Seems to be the real deal, since they have details of a church and a dress (Dolce & Gabbana, obvs!) and whatnot.  Finally, we can stop hearing all the rumors and gossip about engagements and wedding plans… and start focusing on pregnancy rumors and gossip.

/punches self in crotch

(fackin Sawx and Dogs)

So what if all three of my Super Bowl titles are tainted? That’s three more tainted titles than you’ve ever won, you fucking piddling career backup.

You think you can turn this fanbase against me? Best of luck, kid. I made this fanbase, fashioned it with the sheer force of my rugged handsomeness. Before Feb. 3, 2002, there wasn’t anything but a bunch of empty fucking aluminum bleachers in Foxboro Stadium and maybe – MAYBE – a few bored Red Sox fans. I made the goddamn Patriots. Turned them into a brand and gave it meaning. You’re just keeping the throne warm. Shit, half the Massholes who follow this team think you spell your last name with two L’s. Still, YOU think you can be the man?

Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh. O-kay.

But now clueless pundits are on the cusp of defining my legacy as a system quarterback. Some fucking thanks I get for my 50 touchdowns last year. And like you look even half as good in your White Sox cap as I look in my Yankees hat when I’m parading around the streets of New York. God, I love that town.

If it weren’t for that asshole Bernard Pollard. That dick. For months I’ve thought of nothing but the furiously rakish grin I’d shoot that guy if I saw him again. And how fast I’d run to the sideline if he looked offended by it. That should be me out there against the Steelers. Shit, I’m 5-1 against them. No one, and I mean no one, is better at talking shit to the fourth safety on their depth chart then running away like a bitch when James Harrison shows up than I am.

I’d like to see you act like that much of a cunt today. In your moistest dreams, Moosetard.

And I know you’re the one who put all this extra bacteria in my knee.

[Sighs]

I want my perfect life back.

It is with heavy hearts that we bid farewell to Brady Quinn for the rest of the season. Cleveland’s quarterback has a broken index finger, an injury that’s been exacerbated by Quinn’s insistence on using said finger to stimulate his own prostate. Truly, a sad day for football fans everywhere.

Until next year, enjoy some “classic” Quinn.

Donovan McNabb: It’s about that time, my Benny bear. I’ve waited so long.

Ben Roethlisberger: HI DONOVAN

McNabb: Four years. Whew. Four. Long. Years. Can you believe it?

Roethlisberger: WE’RE DOING GOOD RIGHT NOW!

McNabb: I bet you are. How’ve you been holding up?

Roethlisberger: MY SHOULDER BEEN SPRAINED. OR SEPARATED. I THINK SPRAINERATED.

McNabb: Sounds like you need a rubdown.

Roethlisberger: GOT TRAINERS FOR RUBDOWN.

McNabb: How ’bout I be your trainer?

Roethlisberger: GOTTA ASK COACH

McNabb: Don’t be like that. You let coach tell you how to run your life?

Roethlisberger: SOMETIMES

McNabb: Well I think you – Oh shit, that cameraman is watching us. Play the part, man, play the part. [Raises voice with forced bass] Yeah, well, ya’ll got us last time, bitch, but that was then! I’mma throw all over the field on your lame-ass secondary! Me and Westbrook gone light shit up.

Roethlisberger: HOPE SOMEONE TAPES THE NEW ENTOURAGE FOR ME

McNabb: Yeah, well, FUCK YOU, man. We’re the only real team in this state. We gone keep it all the way live in the 215! For real!

Roethlisberger: HARF HARF HARF THAT RHYMES

McNabb: … All right, he’s gone. [Adopts tender voice] You know I love that laugh. Makes my dick wanna vomit like it’s the Super Bowl all over again. So you’re gonna call me, right? I mean it. Call me, Ben.

Call meeeeee

So I can make it juicy for ya.

C-call meeeee!

So I can get it juicy for ya

C-call meeeee!

Roethlisberger: OKAY, BUT HINES GOTTA SHOW ME HOW TO WORK THE PHONE.

Zak Keasey is drooling at his computer AS WE SPEAK.

“So Michael, tell me more about how tight those LZR swimsuits get.”

Thanks to reader I’m Your Huckleberry.

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All other images from Getty via Yahoo! Sports