Monday, July 30, 2012

Olympics: Weekend Recap with Lots of Pictures for People who Don't Like to Read Stuff

Fencing is so weird and amazing
and I don't talk about it at all in this post which is just WRONG.

Andy Cohen pretty much ruined the word "obsessed."

Because of his "Three Things that I'm Obsessed With," every woman aged 7-49'er is now obsessed with the word obsessed. Some girl at work told me the other day that she was obsessed with grapefruit ... grapefruit .... you're not obsessed with grapefruit, lady, you like grapefruit, it's fun to smell, and it's the only fruit to have its own spoon, but you're not eating it with every meal.

The Olympics on the other hand ... my wife is straight-up obsessed. This past weekend we had olympics for breakfast, lunch, and I even ate my wife's one-piece bathing suit for dessert ifyaknowwhaimean. 

What I mean is that I ate five donuts this weekend in honour of the Olympic rings. We also had an opening ceremonies party, complete with:

double-TV action:

Futbol on the left, Willie Geist talkin' about some isht on the right.

and this guy:

Nasty Nate. No chance he ever makes an olympic squad,
because he's honestly the tubbiest baby of all time.
Also, peep that birdhouse in the background. My father made that jawn.

So in honor of my wife's obsession, let's recap the opening weekend of the Olymps.

Dumbest Event: 

The Pommel Horse

Essentially, all these guys are doing here is walking on their hands. Not that that's not difficult, it is, but it's borrrrriiinnngggggg, and I've seen guys without legs who are wayyyyyy better at pommel horsing than these guys. Granted, they can't jump (at all), but I still enjoy watching them squirm around. 

And how much better would the pommel horse be if they used an actual horse?!?! Even a dead horse. They could do so many more moves, like hang from the horse's neck, or surf on the horse. I've always wanted to surf on a horse.

This guy knows what I'm talking about!

Now that's certainly 

Best Olympic Moment So Far:

I've got a two-way tie here between Senegal's football goal celebration and the Team USA basketball team getting in line to hug Michelle Obama.

For the record, the second dumbest event is the Floor Exercise. It used to be awesome! But now it's just ladies walking around, pointing at stuff and doing the French Flutter-Foot. I have NO DOUBT that Moussa Konate from Senegal would've won last night's Floor Exercise if he had entered.

Best Event that I Always Thought Might Be Awesome, But Now I Know is Totally Awesome:

Men's Team Volleyball

These guys are constantly smashing stuff. I also realized this weekend that the only characteristic that makes someone a good athlete in my mind is the ability to jump really high, and these guys can jump really high. Think about it, the basketball players who are considered the most athletic are LeBron, Blake Griff and Russell Westbreezy: guys who can jump really high. Carmelo, Chris Paul, Kevin Durant, yeah, they're good, but they can't jump really high. Based on this logic, you would think I'd really like the high jump, and I do, I just wish high jumpers would spike something or dunk something or eat something when they were in midair. Like a grapefruit.

Other events that are totally awesome include Archery, Fencing, Synchronized Diving, standing up on a swing naked with another naked person, and grapefruit.

Another fencing pic without talking about fencing!

Best Combo of Butts by Two Women Whose Butts Are So So So Different

Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh-Ken-Jennings

Misty May has a boom-boom-boomer -- and I love it! I especially love the fact that her bathing suit gives a subtle glimpse of how white her butt would be if she didn't tan her butt. Kerri Walsh-Ken-Jennings on the other hand has the teeniest little pocketbook butt. I just wanna put my cellphone in it.

By the way! I've had enough of ladies hyphenating their last names, especially black ladies. Every black woman I've met in the last ten years has a hyphenated name. Do you know what this does to your children, black ladies??? And yes, I'm aware that Misty May and Kerri Walsh are two of the least-black women history has ever produced.

My wife would also argue that every member of the Senagalese football team has better butts than these two white ladies.

This is Senegal's assistant coach who my wife finds RIDICUROUSRY ATTRACTIVE.

Best Schwee-Schwoop

Ryan Seacrest!

David Becks gets the silver.

David Silver gets nothing.

Biggest Doucher

Ryan Lochte**, who is slightly more douchier than Tim Daggett, who totally ruined the suspense of a Chinese gymnast landing on his face by telling us that a Chinese gymnast was gonna land on his face!

I couldn't find the vid online, but this is certainly

I'm so obsessed with the Flutter-Foot.

How many Flutter-Foots can you count in this picture?
I have a boner!

Anybody else really into that Skrillex-type music? I don't even know what that means, but here's a link to 5 amazing football goals (with dope music) by my new favourite footballer, Kevin Prince Boateng, who also has amazing football hair. If you're not into that, checkkkkkkkkkkkkkk out this pretty picture of a seagull swimming in the sky. Or check out this hot dog. You're prolly gonna check out the hot dog.

**Evster's note: I just watched Ryan Lochte lose again and now I feel kinda sorry for him. He seemed sad in the interview, so I'd like to rescind calling him the biggest douche and give that honour to Bob Costas. Thank you for your understanding on this matter. PS I am gay.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Wednesday's Wifey: Márta Károlyi

Lindzi, my darling, I may have just gotten a manicure,
but I will snap your neck like Ceausescue. 

Hey, just because the Bachelorette is over doesn't mean you should be sticking TV Me Weef Wooches in your rearview mirror. My wife lurrrrrvvvvves the Olympics, so expect loads of event coverage right here at the biggest sack of dogshit the internet has to offer.

We're starting our report on London 2012 (why am I saying "we"? no one else is doing anything. this is a one-man operashe.) by highlighting Márta Károlyi, Team Coordinator for USA Gymnastics, wife of the mustachioed Bela, and a woman who has probably whipped more young women with a belt than Chris Breezy.

Let's get to know Márta, or as they say in Romania, "Shlorg'en von soosleheifs!"

Ahhh, the ole headbutt -- a classic Hungarian motivational technique. Márta was born in Hungary ... how's that for research! Also notice how Márta's hands (and freshly manicured nails) are always in prime neck-snapping position. Reminds me of another famous Hungarian warlord, Rickus Mahornus.

Back in the diz, Mahorn didn't need one of those fancy NBA Sleeversons! Just slap a piece of leather on your elbow!

(For the rec, my wife coined the term "Sleeverson" for those things NBA players wear on their arms, after Allen Iverson, the first player to do so.)

Jason Eisenstadt had this shirt in middle school. I was so jealous. I did have a pair of red spandex though (like the ones above) that I'd wear under my basketball shorts. Pretty sure I stole them from my boy Jonny Hitops. Now that I think about it, that's really really disgusting (but it certainly explains my chronic itchy dick syndrome)!

If you google Márta Karolyi you will find that she has her hands on a little girl's neck in EVERY one of her pictures. I find it sort of erotic.

Speaking of erotic!

Actually pretty surprised that a gymnast would have some San Antonio Saggers. I guess that's what happens after you pump out two kids.

While we're going back in time ... WHAT THE HELL IS BUSFIELD LOOKIN' AT?

All right everyone, Timmy, Chuck, G-Man, Other Guy, smile for the camera, ready? 1, 2, Tim? Timothy? Over here buddy, look over ...

"You guys smell waffles? I smell waffles."

Back to the Károlyis!

As we get our first glimpse of Márta's husband, Bela, whose mustache looks even more impressive from the side. Pretty sure Márta is explaining to Bela just how small Timothy Busfield's penis really is.

(That's actually a pretty nice size for a pener.)

This guy is amazing.


I'm sorry, I found too many gems when searching for Rick and Charles ... and I'm not sure if you can see this too well -- you might have to click on the pic to make it larger -- but can we PLEASE talk about Buzz Braman?!?! 2nd from the right, back row.



Awww, y'know, just out feeding my three horses ...



What's going on here? Did Bela ride the camel out to where the horses live to feed them? Or does Bela ride the camel with the horses? Can camels keep up with horses? And how many horses are there in the vicinity of this picture? Look in the lower-lefthand corner, there's another horse down there!

He's smelling the ground!





Even back in the day Bela's mustache was incredible!

Kinda looks like Randy Quaid!

Back to the mustache debate ... best mustaches ever ...



You can't deny it!

Fonda's at least in the discussion!

What the hell goes on with this sport?!?!?

Bing ...







Yo, I'm being sers, you gotta keep coming back to TVMWW for exclusive London Olympic coverage (not really that exclusive, is it?). Think about all the hot bods and foreign mannerisms that I'll be able to report on! It's gonna be great! Also, follow me on Twitter here! Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, check out this London Broil!

And if you're wondering why S.Mouse's "Slap My Elbow" video's up in here, it's bringin' it back from the Rick Mahorn leather elbow thingie!

Monday, July 23, 2012

The Bachelorette Finale: Breaking Down the Schwee-schwoop

Diet soda? Whaddayou think?
Iced tea? Unsweetened with lemon?

If you asked me three months ago, "How many Fs would a man named Jeff need to capture Emily’s heart?" I would’ve said two … but apparently no, JUST THE ONE F is all you need!

In one of the most shocking developments in reality television history, Emily chose a man who blow-dries his hair to be her future husband. 

Emily has clearly accepted Je despite his lack of Fs (possibly even embraced it?), but now that the happy couple has stepped out of the television and into reality, will she really be able to deal with the fact that her fiancé has a Schwee-schwoop hairstyle?

One assumes that this morning – the first morning that Emily and Je ever spent together – Emily witnessed firsthand Je blow-drying his hair. Following his shower, Je probably took his place at the sink, broke out his trusty T3 Tourmaline Evolution and went to work. 

I can only imagine the look of horror on Emily’s face.

Just the T3 Tourmaline Evolution. Not that big of a deal. 
Wittttthhhhhhh attachment.

And c'mon with the rolled up pants!
Nice balls though ... or, ball.

I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a grown man blow-dry his hair, but I have, and it’s not pretty. The man I saw was an 85-year-old dude named Sheldon who goes to my gym. The key word there is “goes to”, because I’m not sure if Sheldon does anything at the gym other than going to it. That’s not true, he takes around 43 showers a day. Sheldon is ALWAYS in the locker room, just strutting around as naked as a llama, occasionally with a towel over his right shoulder covering up absolutely nothing. It’s almost insulting that Sheldon even carries a towel, because he’s never used it. He certainly uses talcum powder though. I fucking love that man.

Well one day after getting out of a particularly wet shower, Sheldon was standing buck-nekk at the sink and combing his hair with the smallest, blackest comb. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, because A) I have problems and B) he has the most delicious little raisin-ass. But then Sheldon grabbed a blow dryer and put on a blow-drying clinic.

Sheldon proceeded to dry every spot on his body -- his head, his neck, down to his belly, a little shot to the back of the thighs, all perfectly understandable and acceptable spots. But then Sheldon went X Games on that ass. He took his foot – his little, wrinkled, flapjack of a foot – and propped that bad boy up on the sink (Sheldon’s very agile for an octogenarian, VERY agile). He then proceeded to zorp his grundles, blasting ‘em from every conceivable angle, right in front of a live studio audience.

What Sheldon did with that blow-dryer was totally disgusting, but sort of amazing. What Je does with a blow-dryer is a disgrace to the male gender.

Sheldon's even older than Tark, if that helps you at all with the mental picture.

I mean, really, how can Emily live with herself knowing that her fiancé has a Schwee-schwoop?!

How does one even produce a Schwee-schwoop?

What goes into the Schwee-schwoop?!

Clearly there’s a hairbrush involved. Could be one of those plastic comb jawns with the gigantic teeth that also make for fantastic back scratchers. Or Je could use one of those flat mega-brushes that you might also use on a horse or a very insecure Jewish pre-teen. I actually think Je uses a roll-brush (y’know, the ones that look like a frozen banana that’s been dropped in the dirt), which allows him to produce both the maximum schwee and schwoop.

As far as technique, I’m thinkin’ Je probably starts with an upward motion, pushing his hair high up towards the sky and then follows with a left to right arc, as if he were a Flamenco dancer announcing himself to the audience. He prolly finishes with a flick of the wrist, maybe a French flutter-twist, rolling his follow-through for optimal schwoop. There might be more to it – possibly some rollers – but I guess that’s what makes Je so mysterious. I’m also curious to know where he learned about the Schwee-schwoop. I’ve never known anyone from Utah not to have the exact same haircut as Jef Hornacek.

Two Fs for this guy, please.

Je told Emily’s dad that he’s very olde-fashioned, because nothing screams olde-fashioned like skinny jeans, skate boarding and a Schwee-schwoop. But what must Emily’s dad (AND BROTHER, ERNIE, HOLY SHIT HOW ABOUT THAT GUY? ROBOBROTHER.) think of the Schwee-schwoop? What’s gonna happen the first time Je joins them for a fishing trip?


Je, Emily and Ricki are visiting the Maynards for Columbus Day Weekend. (Is Columbus Day Weekend in October? It should be.) Ricki sits on the kitchen floor talking to a potato. Emily’s Dad and Ernie sit at the table, eating Wheaties, waiting for Je to finish getting ready.

Emily enters. Her titties look as if someone had been suckin' on them all night.

EMILY'S DAD, LET'S CALL HIM FRED:  Hey honey, you sure do look purtty. Where’s Jef? We’re supposed to head out on the boat at 8am.

EMILY:  Oh, he’ll be down in a sec. He’s just blow-drying his hair.

FRED MAYNARD:  Sorry, he’s what?

EMILY:  He’s blow-drying his hair.

ERNIE:  Um, Em-ull-lee. I’m sorry. Did you say that young man who plans to marry you is blow-drying his hair?

EMILY:  Yeah, he goes with the Schwee-schwoop.


ERNIE:  He’s been blow-drying his hair for 45 minutes.

EMILY:  He likes it really dry. 

Shirt so tucked in.

I’m not saying Arie’s hair was any better. In fact, I kinda think Arie’s hair might’ve been worse, but he certainly doesn't use no stinkin' blow-dryer. 

I was actually sort of impressed by how Arie took the news when a woman ripped his heart out on national television.

Did you notice that in the scene where Emily crushed every fiber of Arie’s being, that you could actually see the precise moment when he realized she was dumping him? It was like he was listening and thinking, “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Jef? Is Ricki okay? Does my love potion smell like Ernie? It smells like Ernie, doesn’t it? Dammit, why would I make a love potion that smells like … ohhhhhhhhhh, she’s crushing my soul and mashing my heart. That’s what’s going on here. She’s telling me that I’m not as good as that other guy. The guy who blow-dries his hair. The guy who took a totally normal name and made a mockery of it on national television. He doesn't even understand semantics. I need to go do some cocaine.

What made it even worse was that EVERYONE (meaning the entire viewing audience) knew besides Arie. And you just had to sit there and watch this poor man figure out that this lady preferred a man with a Schwee-schwoop. Sad.

And then poor Neil Lane -- a man who has probably made love to hundreds of women while blow-drying their assholes -- had to give away a perfectly beautiful engagement ring to a man with a Schwee-schwoop! I'm sorry, Neil. I'm sorry that you had to go through that!

So now what?

Now our Monday nights are freed up, Arie will lose about fifteen pounds through constant diarrhea and Emily'll head back to Charlotte with a man who needs to wake up 45 minutes earlier than he should.


And they're planning on going to Africa to help people build huts!






I am so so so so so happy that my Monday nights are free again ... free to watch other television shows. The wife and I actually started watching Breaking Bad this week. It's amazing. You know what else is amazing? This dog watermelon eating contest. 

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Wheel of Fortune: the Greatest Ep of All Time

Don't stop, git it, git it!

The most commonly asked question I get from TVMWW readers is:

"Evan, how are you able to write an entire blog with your head jammed firmly inside your own rectum?"

And to that I say, it's not easy! But it's the only way I know.

The second most commonly asked question I get is:

"What's with the Pat Sajak/Wheel of Fortune stuff?"

The short answer: Pat Sajak's a baller.

The longer answer is that when my wife and I first moved in together, she used to put on Wheel of Forch after work because it's television's equivalent to adult contemporary music. Easy to watch. Sort of retarded. Zero Alex Trebek.

Here's what I wrote about WoF last year:

Wheel of Fortune is so relaxing and mindless and the perfect buffer between a long day of work and the riveting reality television of prime time. It's happy people clapping and having a nice time and potentially winning thousands of dollars that will undoubtedly be spent on either cocaine or lollipops.

Is it 7:30 yet? Get my agent! Garcon, two caesar salads! SHut uP KARL!

So seeing as I hadn't watched Wheel of Forch in quite time, I decided to tune in last night, which just so happened to be the greatest episode in Wheel of Forch history.

The show started off in typical Wheel of Forch fashion with Vanna being escorted on stage by Pat, his hand guiding her on the small of her back, soft enough to relay that he's not a threat, but firm enough to tell her that he could impregnate her womb at any mome.

The first Toss Up round (and the second) is won by Jed Firestone, a typical white person. Jed tells Pat that he's an Account Executive who likes biking and playing beach bocce ball. Pat responds by saying, "Beach bocce ball? Is that a thing?" and when Jed responds, "Yeah," Pat cuts him off and says, "I don't really care, I just like saying Beach bocce ball. BeachBocceBall. Beebahcheeball."

Sarah is next, a soon-to-be-married teacher from Chicago. She's skinny, wears glasses and is sort of hot, but after discussing how nervous she is for her students to adjust to her impending name change, I realize that I hate her guts.


Karla's a TOTAL MILF and tells Pat that she recently started taking belly dancing classes. I LOVE HER. She's from SoCal and has clearly had some work done, but not so much that she now looks like a Maloof. Karla also admits to Pat that he was her first crush, to which Pat responds, "There's still a little bit of that left, isn't there?" Karla nods. I wouldn't be surprised if she's pregnant by the end of the show.

The next round's category is "THING" which helps absolutely no-one. After Jed the White Guy screams, "S!" and there are none, Karla follows up by screaming "S!". There are still none. I'm sad for her.

Sarah then goes on to win the puzzle and I mumble under my breath that I hate her.

"You only like Karla 'cause she's a slut," my wife says.


I had no idea how to find a picture of Karla,
so I googled "Karla Wheel of Fortune" and this popped up!

During the next round (which also starts with an "S!"), Karla lands on Bankrupt. We're now ten minutes into the show and she hasn't done shit. Jed goes onto land on the ONE MILLION DOLLAR thingie, to which my wife explains that he can only win if he wins this round and the final round AND picks out the envelope with the $1,000,000 jawn. I wonder if anyone has ever done that.

A quick YouTube search reveals this:

Sarah ends up winning the round.

During the next round (is there another word for round? segment?), Karla starts off amd guesses an "N!" and there are no Ns!

HOW ARE THERE NO Ns?!?! In the last two sentences I typed there were like FORFTEEN Ns!


Jed is KILLIN' IT, racking up some cash and a trip to somewhere and all he has to do is solve this puzzle:

_ O _ L D     _ I D E   SMASH-HIT   MUSICAL

Jed guesses a "P!"


Sarah guesses a "B!"





Karla wins a trip to NYC and a hug from Pat!


Karla goes on to win the next round as well, winning a $3,000 Toss Up and goes into the final segment  with the lead. For those of you still reading (what's up Millrood!), the scoreboard currently looks like this:

Jed the White Person: $3,000
Sarah the Trick-ass Ho: $4,350
KARLA aka the Next Notch on Sajak's Belt: $7,855!

The bell signals that Pat will give the wheel one final spin (with his dork) and after landing on $600 and playing a little game of cat and mouse with Karla, SHE ENDS UP WINNING THAT SHIT TOO!


Pat shows Karla where to stand for the Final with his hand around her waist. You can smell the sexual tension. Vanna looks PISSED. Pat looks CALM. Karla looks WET. Clearly bothered, Karla requests her final letters to be C, B, M and A, and gets NO HELP WHATSOEVER!

She has no chance at the final puzzle. The buzzer sounds, Pat consoles her and the rest as they say is Hisdorkinherpoonpie.

During the post-game interview with Vanna, Pat reveals that his daughter Maggie has a new song out on iTunes, which will now be brought to you exclusively by TVMWW.



Orrrrrrrrrrr, check out this village in the cliffs of Ladakh, India.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Bachelorette: the Men Tell All, Except for That Guy with the Long Straight Hair Who Didn't Say Isht

I know you're staring at Wolf's pants, but check out Stevie above him.
It looks like he's thinking about killing himself! 

Look, I recognize that I'm a lame-ass dude. Besides writing this blog-blog and being scared of heights, I've also been to two (yes, two) Cranberries concerts, I sort of like cats, and I used the words "adorable" and "adorbz" in two separate emails yesterday. HOWEVER, I have never (and will never) go to a live taping of The Bachelorette: The Men Tell All.

I counted four dudes in the crowd last night -- FOUR -- including a black guy!

And while I may be opposed to attending The Men Tell All, I am not opposed to watching it (even though last night's show went up against a USA Basketball game). So yesterday I settled in with my wife, an Entenmann's cake and my fish, Franck Ribery Jr., for two hours of first-grade dogshit.

My wife prefers the jawn with the marshmallow icing ...
but she doesn't understand simplicity!

Going in, I was pretty excited to see DJ Stevie, Tank Top Tony and Captain Clamballs (Doug), but after ten minutes, I wanted them all to die. And not like, "Ohhhh, these guys are sorry as shit, I want them to die, hahahaha lol lollz jaja lollers lollerpops!" Like, "I want these men to DIEEEE. I want them to be DEAD." I know that Tank Top Tony is a single father, but I think his son would be better off in this world without his single, slut face.

And obviously those feelings are harsh, but that's the way I felt after Stevie called a helicopter "a chopper" ... and after TTT ran and hugged Emily when she walked on stage ... and after Doug took a shit in his own mouth.

My anger only increased when Chris aka Ike Turner Jr. took the stage. I dunno what y'alllll thinks, but I thinks that dude is a future wife beater. Think about it, when Emily broke up with him, his first reaction was ANGER, not sadness. He's also VERY confrontational with everyone, he does NOT like to be challenged and he also kinda walks like he has an enormous rake jammed in his asshole. Have you noticed that? Do you even know what a person looks like when they try to walk with an enormous rake jammed in their asshole? I do. My Uncle Bruce got an enormous rake jammed in his asshole during our family picnic in '87. My Aunt Sheryl pleaded the fizz-ith.

It was nice to see Ryan again though, probably my favorite contestant on this show, ever. And how 'bout the fact that he went with a side-parted haircut?!?! Let it be known, parts are coming back. International footballers Cristiano Ronaldo and Sergio Ramos have been rockin' the part all summer, my friend Rart has a part (and syphilis), Don Drapes, Je ... parts are back baby!

Excuse me! I have a part!

I have an angry part!

I'm goin with the ole dipsy-do!

I don't know why everyone is so hard on my man, Ryan. Chris Harrison was being a little dick'ish to him last night, "Trust me folks, he's NOT the next Bachelor! Hahaha lollz lollers jaja!" Take a shit, Chris Harrisons! Yesterday, the Ry Guy said the smartest thing I've ever heard on this progrum. He said something like, and I'm paraphroovsing, "For me, the purpose of the show was not for Emily to find her husband, but for me to find my wife."

He wanted to see if Emily was right for HIM.

This should be a two-way street peoples!

I've been DYING for someone to say this for YEARS. Kind of like how Rebecca Howe was DYING for someone, ANYONE, to tell her that they "cared for her."

Robin Colcord!

Cheers people!

Another part!

Back to Chris Harrison. (And am I right? He was being a little dick'ish!) I can't tell if I like him or not. He's got a semi-decent personality and he sometimes cracks some good jokes (last night I did laugh when he offered Emily four dollars to do the Running Man ... that's funny ... FOUR DOLLARS), but he's also kind of a tweedle-dick.

My friends and I have a word for someone who's kind of cool, but also kind of a tweedle. It's a "Slasher," as in, "he's cool/he's a tweedle." He's a "slasher." Ryan Seacrest is the definition of a Slasher. So's Scott Disick and Andre Iguodala and anyone who gets really excited about using a Dutch Oven.

We don't have a word for dudes who go to Cranberries concerts.

I call them Hammercocks.

Team USA only won by 11 points last night! That's embarrassing! I kinda feel like Coach K has a really shafty starting lineup. My preferred go-to five is Deron Willy, Russell West, KDTrey, BronBron and Kevin Loveballs. Regardless, how amazing was this t-shirt back in the dizz? And this one?

Friday, July 13, 2012

Wednesday's Wifey: Rosie from RHONJ (not really a "wifey", but then again it's not really Wednesday, is it?)

I actually really like Rosie's outfit.
Her shirt looks so light and comfortable!

You know those folks who are totally nice and totally fine and totally decent people, but for some reason you just can't handle them? Like that guy on your softball team who really really likes softball and wears wrist bands and batting gloves and steps out of the box after every pitch to hit the bottom of his cleats with his bat to get the dirt off, and that's fine, because a lot of dirt gets under your cleats, but c'mon dude, settle down, we don't need a first base coach. Or that lady you work with who brings her own salad dressing to the lunch table? Like, okay, you like salad dressing, get over yourself. Well, that's how I feel about Rosie from Real Housewives of New Jersey. She's sweet, she means well, she's a good person, but I don't know what the hell she's ever talking about.

Let's dive deeper into the life of Rosie DiFeliciantonio-Ambrosini-Linguinilingi.

Gotta be honest, kinda expected Rosie to have a better throwing motion. I mean, the left arm looks good, her footwork is solid, and she's determined to bomb that thing across the Atlantic Oashe, but she still kinda throws like a girl. Her right hand needs to move up about three inches! I'm guessing this throw was a total flutterball and splashed down no where near her intended receiver (although there's also a very good chance that she launched it about 4,000 yards and broke someone's face).

Interesting move here to go with the double thumbs up. What do you think Rosie's giving her approval of? A nice park-job? Did the photographer ask her a leading question? "Eyyy Rosie! Whaddya think about Linguini in clam sauce tonight?!" ... "Eyyy Rosay! How's your diarrhea?" ... "Eyyy, eyyy, eyy Rosay! Check me out! I'm sucking a dog's dick!"


Forget about the haircut, or the fact that Rosie's staring off into left field ... why is she holding her mortar board like that?! Is there a karate master waiting in the wings who's about to fly in and kick that shit in half?

"Okay Rosie, one more shot, one more. Could you just turn your hat around 45 degrees and hold it out in front of you? Perfect. Perfect! Okay Takashi, fly in and kick that shit! Perfect Rosie, perfect! C'mon Takashi! Kiaip! Kiaip!"

Oh Rosie, you are AMAZING!

And are those the same earrings as the previous picture? If so, great job holding onto those jawns!

I mean, this girl is adorbz!

Here's Rosie (and her sister Kathy) doing something.

What could possibly be going on here? It sorta looks like Rosie has something in both of her hands. Maybe Laffy Taffys? And what is up with that move Kathy's doing with her left leg?!?! Is that the San Francisco Sidewinder?!

THESE GIRLS LOOK FLABBERGASTED ... it's really a shame the camera wasn't pointed the other way, because whoever's taking this picture is doing something outrageous. I sort of think this picture might've been taken by a gorilla.

Fast forward again to modern-day Rosie, who's seen here with the true star of RHONJ, her brother-in-law, Rich.

Back when I was trying to peddle TVMWW t-shirts, I had the idea to make a shirt with just Rich's face on it. I'm convinced this could make me a million dollars.

AmIright or AmIright? Or amIright? Oramryeryt?

Oh, Rich!

Are you taking over this blogpost?

I think you're taking over this blogpost!

"Honey, I'm thinking about wearing my Miami Motors shirt."





I seriously want to start smoking ciggies.

Looks so relaxing!

Now we're gettin' somewhere ladies.

Hey everybodys, have you ever seen the movie You Can Count on Me, with Mark Ruffalos and Laura Linneys? Great, great, great movie. Sweet, sad, funny, fantastic. Anyways, the guy who made that movie, Kenneth Lonergan, apparently made another movie a few years ago that never got released for some dumb reasons, but now it's out on blu-riz and DVD and all that. It's called Margaret, and it's probably great, so you should check it out. You can listen to an interview with Kenneth on Fresh Air here. Orrrrrrrrrrrrr, look at this potato guy!