Int. Romo’s Living Room

[cellphone rings]

Tony: You got Romo!

Jason: Hello Anthony, it’s Mr. Garret.

Tony: Yo, J-dog, my man! You wanna go grab a few beers and wrangle up some low-quality tail?

Jason: Surely you jest, Anthony. As you well know, my time is far too valuable for such excursions. Besides, I do believe that philandering about town behind Jessica’s back would cause quite a distraction, something you can ill afford.

Tony: Ah, screw that, man. Jess has been getting all of these phone calls from some weird smooth-talking guy. I think she’s going to dump me, so I figure I better blow the whole thing up first. You know, gotta protect the rep’.

Jason: Indubitably. I’m sure you know best, I’ll let you get back to it then. Just please remember to review the changes in the playbook. The Annexation of Puerto Rico is quite simple for an Ivy Leaguer, but for those of us who matriculated through Eastern Illinois it could be rather complex.

Tony: Yeah whatever, broseph.

[Giggling sounds from the bedroom]

Tony: Hey Jess, are you actually talking to that wackjob with the accent again?

Jess: Shut up Tony, he’s more man than you’ll ever be. I don’t even want to see you anymore, I wish you’d just go home and stay outta my life!

Tony: This is my house you addlebrained cum-guzzler.

Jess: Whatever, you’re a loser!

Tony: Bitch!

[Jessica enters]

Jess: You can’t call me that, my new man is coming over here and his friend is gonna kick your ass!

Tony: Whate-

[loud crashing noise]

Jess: Oh KITT, I love you more than anything, and I wanna have your car-babies!

Sad but (supposedly) true, Tony and Jess are no more.

Big thanks to LSUFreek for the magic.

Tony Romo made a recent stop at Wrigley Field where he lead the crowd in a rendition of Take Me Out to the Ball Game. In a shocking twist that nobody saw coming, he was fucking terrible.

Clearly he’s trying to endear himself to the Simpson ladies. That performance showed the vocal range we’d expect from Jessica and all of the uncomfortable moments that make Ashley’s performances so special.

Harry Caray’s corpse has more charisma as of late.

video courtesy of Bugs and Cranks

Ext. Golf Club of Dallas

[cellphone rings]

Tony: You got Romo!

Jessica: Why do you answer the phone like that? It’s so stupid.

Tony: Hey Jess, I told you I was busy today.

Jessica: Why, whatareyou doin?

Tony: Well, I just knocked in a 20-footer for par on the first hole. 17 more of those and I’m on to the sectionals!

Jessica: Ugh, nobody cares about your bowling scores.

Tony: No babe, I’m playing golf. Don’t you remember last week at dinner when I told you I was trying to get into the US Open?

Jess: Well if it’s open, why don’t you just go in? Ohmygod! Are you watching The Hills?

Tony: No Jess, I’m in the middle of my round.

Jess: Don’t they have a tv at the bowling alley? I mean, there’s a Hillsmarathon on today. Gosh, I really wish I were back on tv. We should totally get a reality show!

Tony: Actually Jess, I meant to talk to you about that. I’m going to be on that HBO show Hard Knocks during training camp.

Jessica: Hang on, I wanna conference in Daddy on the call.

Tony: What are you fucking kidding me? I once watched you put KY jelly on your toast, how can you possibly know how to-

Joe: Go for Papa Joe!

Jessica: Hey daddy! You won’t believe it, I’m gonna be on another reality show!

Tony: Uh, not exacly…

Joe: What the hell are you talkin’ about? My sweet baby Jessica is the show god damn it!

Tony: Actually Joe-

Joe: Call me Papa Joe.

Tony: I’d rather not. Listen, the show is Hard Knocks on HBO, and it’s about the Cowboys, not me and Jess.

Joe: Are you kidding me? Don’t they know that each one of her milky white ta-ta’s is worth millions in advertising revenue?

Tony: It’s a pay channel, they don’t have advertisers.

Jessica: I just got the sexiest bikini ever.

Tony and Joe: I bet you did, sweet tits.

Jessica: Awww, ya’ll are cute.

Joe: Hell, if this is pay tv we can finally let those suckable nipples some camera time!

Tony: You see, this is exactly why HBO doesn’t want Jess on the show.

Joe: What, are those Hollyjewmo’s scared of some good ole’ home-suckled American fuck globes?

Tony: Her what-globes were suckled by who now?

Joe: Fine, don’t show the fun bags, I’ll save their debut for my retirement. But how about a quick sex tape on the last episode? You know, totally dark, all subtitled like. Classy, all the way.

Tony: Jess, can you believe this shit?

Jess: I know, Heidi’s such a bitch!

Joe: Listen Chico, if you don’t fuck my daughter on that show then I’ll do it myself.

Tony: I hate my life.

[fumbles tee]

You knew Bill Belichick wouldn’t rest until he wrapped his hands around that curvaceous, sex-starved, beauty… even if it does belong to another man.

It’s just like that time he fucked Coughlin’s wife!

Big thanks to the indomitable LSUFreek for the magic.

Our beloved game is under attack, and from an entirely unlikely adversary.

Canadia.

Our seemingly innocuous moose fucking neighbors to the north have struck a deal with the frost-bitten traitors of Buffalo, New York. All it took was $78 million Canadian (or 2,096,774 liters of pure maple syrup) for those Buffalonian Benedict Arnold’s to export our most precious resource across the border.

I can just picture those jabberwockies yukking it up in Toronto, and it makes me sick to my red, white, blue, and black stomach (don’t swallow black tar heroin unless it is sealed in a premium prophylactic). Some might consider this a small concession to our neighbors, or even a wise business decision on Ralph Wilson’s part, but I see it for what it is, an attack on our very way of life.

Before you know it our dollar will stabilize, universal healthcare will become a reality, politeness will rule the day, and all of our football games will be played on 120 yards of foreign soil. I, for one, will not stand for this. In support of our nation we must band together to stem the tide of the Canadian takeover.

It is with great pride that I announce my boycott of all things Canadian until our football games are returned unharmed. From here on out I will deprive myself of each of the following.

Canadian Whisky- No more Crown Royal with Royal Crown.
Canadian Bloggers- Farewell Skeets and Mutoni, hopefully this will be resolved in time for next year’s NBA season.
Canadian Strippers- I’ll miss you most of all.
Canadian Beasters- Forget what I just said about the strippers.

However, if none of this works I could be convinced to trade Buffalo the Canucks straight-up for that stripper chick.

Update: Our snowbound overlords have informed us that this post must be presented both of their official languages, English and French. So this is for all of you pea soup eaters…

Notre jeu aimé est sous l’attaque, et d’un adversaire entièrement peu probable. Canadia. Nos voisins foutus d’orignaux apparemment innofensifs au nord ont frappé une affaire avec les traîtres gel-mordus de Buffalo, New York. Tout qu’il a pris était le Canadien $78 millions (ou de 2.096.774 litres de sirop pur de érable) pour des ces Buffalonian Benedict Arnold pour exporter notre ressource plus précieuse à travers la frontière. Je peux juste décrire ces jabberwockies yukking le vers le haut à Toronto, et il me rend malade à mon estomac rouge, blanc, bleu, et noir (n’avalez pas l’héroïne noire de goudron à moins qu’elle soit scellée dans un prophylactique de la meilleure qualité). Certains pourraient considérer ceci une petite concession à nos voisins, ou même une décision économique sage sur la pièce de Ralph Wilson, mais je la vois pour ce qu’est il, une attaque sur notre façon de vivre même. Avant que vous le sachiez notre dollar stabilisera, des soins de santé universels deviendra une réalité, la courtoisie régnera le jour, et tous nos jeux du football seront joués sur 120 yards de sol étranger. I, pour un, ne représentera pas ceci. À l’appui de notre nation nous devons nous réunir ensemble pour refouler la marée du changement canadien. C’est avec grande fierté que j’annonce mon boycott de tout le Canadien de choses jusqu’à ce que nos jeux du football soient indemnes retourné. D’ici dessus hors de moi me priverai de chacune du suivant. Whiskey canadien pas plus couronne royale avec la couronne royale. Des ball-traps d’adieu canadiens de Bloggers- et le Mutoni, si tout va bien ceci seront résolus à temps pour la saison du NBA de l’année prochaine. Les décolleurs canadiens je m’ennuierai de vous surtout. Beasters- canadien oublient ce que j’ai juste dit au sujet des décolleurs. Cependant, si aucun du ce des travaux je pourraient être convaincus pour commercer Buffalo le Canucks droit-vers le haut pour ce poussin de décolleur.

This week’s Kill Kill Kill video happens to tie in quite well with all of the hullabaloo (ha, spelled it right my first try!) going on in the blogosphere after last night’s episode of Costas Now. Watch as the young jungle cat utilizes all of it’s speed, strength, and cunning to fell the cumbersome, prehistoric, beast.

I think it’s safe to say that there’s something wrong with Buzz Bissinger’s medulla oblongata.

Now remember all of you print media types, we aren’t journalists and we aren’t trying to take your jobs. Although if we are provoked, there’s a decent chance we’ll eat you.

Thanks to Joe Sports Fan for the tremendous fan shots.

You might have noticed that nifty hyperlinked badge over on the sidebar. For those who haven’t figured it out yet, we will be hosting what is sure to be the single greatest live blog ever. I’ll be at the controls from 3 pm until my fingers fall off or I run out of mood enhancers. You can expect additional appearances from Punte and Christmas Ape, assuming he has time in between Deadspinning and cat shaving (Jean Grey got in the taffy again!) With a little bit of luck we’ll even be joined by the elusive Captain Caveman, on location at the ACTUAL NFL Draft.

But forget all of that, what makes this live blog special is YOU!*

That’s right, on Saturday we’ll be engaging in our most bold bit of experimentation since that time at summer camp that we swore we’d never talk about. We’re using the most excellent Cover It Live (example) to…cover it. LIVE! If you’re unfamiliar with this technology it means we’re going to get a bit more interactive. While our witticisms are updating LIVE you will be able to contribute all of your own thoughts and jokes. The ones that don’t totally suck will appear LIVE in the live blog window. There are all sorts of other fun features that we may or may not get into (sample LIVE poll: What variety of animal flesh is currently lodged in Berman’s teeth?).

So please join us this Saturday, but remember, you must be this drunk to ride the ride. And if you are that drunk, you should probably sign up for an email reminder and a 3 pm wakeup call for Saturday afternoon.

Sorry if I seem excited, but I’m about to go see the Wiz/Cavs LIVE (ape note: for those not superwealthy like the Maj, follow along with my live blog at SbB)! I just hope I don’t get kicked out before Brendan (he earned that n!) Haywood.

*Does not apply to Jet fans.

NOTE TO COMMENTERS: You can add avatars by going here.

Chris Cooley is saving so much time using Big Daddy Drew’s personal shopping service that he had time to attend the pre-party for the Redskins’ Super Bowl XXII Reunion with his fucktastic (it’s a compliment!) fiancé Christy.

Poster KB24 over at Redskins Warpath has all sorts of great pictures of the pre-party and a friend of Mister Irrelevant came through with some pictures of the actual event. Want to see how your favorite players have aged? Here’s a hint…

In other news that you’ve probably heard by now, Captain Chaos has taken his newfound blog skills over to Shutdown Corner at Yahoo(!) Sports Blogs. Cooley joins Rod Benson in Yahoo!’s stable of fucking hilarious athlete-bloggers.

via Mister Irrelevant

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD, I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M ACTUALLY MARRIED!

HEY MOM, CAN YOU WRITE “MR. ELI MANNING-McGREW” ON ALL OF MY NEW UNDERPANTS?! WHAT AM I SAYING, I’M MARRIED NOW! MAKE IT MRS. ELI MANNING-McGREW!

[sucks inhaler]

HEY MOM, DID YOU FINISH PACKING MY SUITCASE FOR THE HONEYMOON?!

[opens suitcase]

WHAT THE HECK, MA? YOU PACKED THIS ALL WRONG!

[unpacks item]

I’M NOT A BABY!

[unpacks item]

JEEZ MOM, WHY WOULD I WANT TO READ ON VACATION? HONEYMOONS ARE FOR TWO THING, PLAYING DRESS-UP AND EATING S’MORES!

[packs items]

[packs imaginary item]

THIS TRIP IS GONNA RULE!

[sips from sippy cup]

Stay tuned for dispatches from the honeymoon later in the week.