Well I am still alive. Barely.
What a crazy weekend. Click the link to this week's podcast to hear about the Crossfit Sectional in general and my performance, which I was pretty happy with considering I am terrible at some of the movements.
Talkin' with Tewks Live - Crossfit Sectional Recap
In the podcast, I discuss my hands being torn to shit, which they were from the horrible pullup bar that we had to use in the third workout. Check out the picture below to see the ghastly results.
Also, check out this Youtube clip I found of my rowing heat. I'm on the left side. I was the only guy in my heat (the first for the men) to row without a shirt on. Obviously.
I will be back next year. I have the taste for competition now. And I am not satisfied with 38th place.
One last thing, I forgot to thank everyone for the support they gave me before I embarked on this journey. I appreciate it.
Those of you who are long time followers of the blog know that I am a willing disciple of Crossfit. I first saw the light a little over two years when preparing for an all-inclusive trip to Cuba. To get yourself up to speed on what Crossfit is all about read this column from April 2008.
Each year in July, there is a Crossfit Games held in California. Its purpose is to find the World’s Fittest Man and Woman through a variety of strength and metabolic conditioning events. To get to California, one must enter a Sectional. Place high enough in the Sectional and you move on to a Regional competition. The cream of the crop then descends upon Aromas, California to see who can make legitimate claim to being the Fittest Man and Woman on earth.
Tomorrow, the Ontario Sectional competition begins with approximately 150 athletes taking part in four workouts over two days. The top 15 men and top 15 women will qualify for the Canadian Regionals in Calgary at the end of May.
I’ve been training in earnest since the last week of 2009. I have never fully committed myself both physically and mentally to something before.
Not only were my workouts consistent (five workouts a week for four months), but they were also unparalleled in intensity. I worked my ass off. There were times when I just didn’t want to go the gym, but I pushed myself past my comfort zone and put my work in day in and day out.
For the first time in my life, I really paid attention to nutrition and what I put in my body. I’ve always eaten fairly well (not a huge fan of sweets or other junk food), but I made conscious decisions to only put healthy food into my body while in training. I don’t think I’ve eaten fried food in 2010.
Alcohol intake was another huge factor. I haven’t been drunk at all this year. I was even sober on New Year’s Eve. I gained my weekends back. No longer did I have waste days away sleeping off a hangover; it was fantastic.
Conversely, my alcohol tolerance is pathetic. I went to the casino on Wednesday and had one beer and one small glass of wine. I woke up with a headache. This does not bode well for my inevitable return to drinking.
The workouts for this weekend were posted yesterday morning. The Saturday workouts are below; Sunday’s final event is being cloaked in secrecy:
Workout #1
3000m Row for time
This will actually play to my strengths. I am bigger than the average Crossfitter which means I can generate more power (row faster) than most competitors. I need a top time here to have any chance of qualifying for the Regionals.
Workout #2
3 Rounds for time
10 Overhead Squats (95lbs)
10 Burpees
This is not a good workout for me. Overhead squats are a technical lift and I am terrible at things that require comprehension and actual thought. The weight is light enough for me to manage, but my poor form will not stand a chance against those who could do this workout in their sleep.
Workout #3
As Many Rounds as Possible in 12 minutes
5 Deadlifts (235lbs)
10 Pullups
5 Ring Dips
I have a very good deadlift and an advantage over most guys but, unfortunately, the weight is not heavy enough to separate the bigger guys from the smaller guys. 235lbs will not give me an advantage. If it was 315lbs, I would feel a lot more confident about this workout as the weight would impede the smaller guys.
But with 235lbs, I will only to be able to gain a fractional advantage, something I will lose at the pullups and dips. Both of these exercises are catered to smaller guys as they are bodyweight movements. They are moving less mass; therefore they can get more work done faster.
In fact, both workout #2 and #3 are predisposed to smaller frames. It will be a miracle for me to qualify, unless Sunday is an absolute perfect workout for me.
Tune in on Monday for a full Sectionals recap.
Just a few quick hits today on a variety of topics as I have a big 72 hours coming up. This afternoon, I am embarking on the first session of my new life goal of representing Canada at the 2022 Winter Olympics in curling.
I have a ‘Learn to Curl’ class with Sister Tewks (Hey, even the best have to start somewhere). I am hoping that my session will be led by Cheryl Bernard. If that’s the case, I will do whatever it takes to obtain some extra credit. I’ll bring my rock straight to her button.
This weekend, I will be competing in the event that I’ve been training excessively hard for over the last four months, the details of which I will divulge in tomorrow’s column.
The Iditarod
For reasons that remain unclear, my good friend and avid reader, Thy Drunken Rookie, is a closeted fan of the Iditarod. For those of you not up to speed on the world of competitive sled dog racing, the Iditarod is like the World Series of this niche sport.
It takes place in Alaska every year and it’s basically just a test of who can’t die in the frigid, Alaskan weather while leading a team of 11 huskies through the wilderness for a little over a week.
I don’t understand the point of it either.
Apparently, this year’s winner, Lance Mackey, won his fourth consecutive Iditarod which is apparently akin to Roger Federer winning six Wimbledon titles in a row.
Congratulations, Lance! See a picture of Mr. Mackey here. Yikes. Now, I have a few other questions. Like what is the probability that Mr. Mackie does not engage in group orgies with his dogs at night? There’s a little too much chlorine in that gene pool.
Ron Washington Admits to Cocaine Use
At first glance, I was nonplussed at the revelation of Texas Rangers manager Ron Washington admitting to cocaine use. The guy played in the majors in the 70s and 80s when such drug use was a rampant problem.
Then I read the story a little more in-depth and found out that Washington failed a major league drug test LAST YEAR!
What?
The best part of the story is that Washington says that he only used cocaine once. I am calling supreme bullshit on that one. You experiment with recreational drugs in your twenties when you’re young and dumb. You don’t ‘try cocaine once’ when you’re fifty-seven years old.
I have a feeling this is not the last time we will hear about this story. Fifty bucks says Washington and Josh Hamilton took their nostrils to Santa’s village at some point during last season (Did that analogy make any sense at all?).
Argos Sign Canadian QB
The big news out of the Toronto sports world is that the Argonauts signed local boy, Danny Brannagan, to a three year contract. I actually went to university with Brannagan which makes this story hit close to home, as it reminds me of my failed dreams of professional sports glory.
I don’t really understand why Canadian quarterbacks are shunned so vehemently by the CFL. I can see that there is a talent drop-off from their American counterparts, but I would think playing in a Canadian system for four years would give the Canucks a competitive advantage.
Most Canadians don’t understand CFL rules, how are Americans going to?
Full disclosure: I don’t know that much about NCAA college basketball.
However, when have I ever let something as insignificant as knowledge stop me from writing a column before?
The reason I don’t know a lot about March Madness is that I don’t follow the game during the regular season. I am not watching a sport when the best players in the world aren’t playing. What’s the point of that?
I know March Madness is one of the (many) pre-eminent events on a degenerate gambler’s social calendar. In fact, I’ll bet CSzem has retreated to his man cave, placed some calls to his bookie, and will not return to civilization until Easter.
Unfortunately for your man Tewks, to be a degenerate gambler, you need money which is something that I don’t have. I consider myself to be a cursory viewer of March Madness. The first two weeks of play are always the most exciting for me because I can toggle between games and focus my attention on the close nail biters and possible upsets.
To keep myself accountable for my March Madness picks (guaranteed winners or your money back), I’m going to do this in stages. Today, I’ll pick the teams that I think will make it to the Sweet 16 and next Wednesday we will revisit the picks to see how I did.
How I pick winners is a very complicated scientific process that involves a number of large algorithms designed by a bunch of nerds at NASA. Basically, I pick the lower seeded team if the game involves a double digit seed. For all other games, I pick whatever school I’ve heard of before/would want to attend.
For example, if UCLA played the University of Alaska and they were both single digit seeds, I’m going with UCLA.
On to the picks:
Midwest Region
#1 Kansas (Some of you may wonder why I would rather go to Kansas than the University of Las Vegas Nevada. Because if I went to UNLV, I would be dead before first semester midterms)
#5 Michigan State (I saw all I need to see of Maryland on The Wire)
#3 Georgetown (I would love to be a Hoya)
#7 Oklahoma State (I have a soft spot for Oklahoma and the state’s Southern Belle inhabitants)
West Region
#9 Florida State (My upset special; and what a great place to go to college)
#4 Vanderbilt (It was them or Butler. I’m a fan of old money)
#3 Pittsburgh (I could live at Mario Lemieux’s house with Sidney Crosby)
#2 Kansas State (I am not going to school with a bunch of Mormons at BYU)
East Region
#1 Kentucky (John Wall is the only player in the NCAA that I’ve heard of before this week)
#4 Wisconsin (I wouldn’t really want to go to school in Wisconsin, but I have no idea what Temple is)
#3 University of New Mexico (It’s a depressing state, but it has great weather and I don’t know where Marquette is)
#2 West Virginia (Where the hell is Clemson?)
South Region
#8 California (I’d rather go to prison than Duke)
#4 Purdue (I am not going to an Agricultural and Mechanical school; I wouldn’t last the first day)
#6 Notre Dame (I would recreate every scene in Rudy every chance I could)
#2 Villanova (It sounds like a tasty dessert)
Good luck in your own brackets.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
I didn’t really plan on seeing She’s out of My League over the weekend, but the other choices at the theatre were less than stellar:
Green Zone? I‘ve already seen three Jason Bourne movies, thanks.
Shutter Island? I can’t watch scary movies.
Remember Me? How is that dolt from Twilight getting more movie roles? Is there that much of a need for brooding, excessively pale, monosyllabic douchebags in film these days?
Basically, it was decided to go with the lesser of evils. I wasn’t overly enthused with the previews that have been shown for She’s out of My League over the last few weeks. It just didn’t look that funny and they kept beating the “hot girl doesn’t wear underwear joke” into the ground.
The entire premise of the movie just made me upset and I couldn’t relate to it at all. Were we actually supposed to buy the ridiculous plot? Take their looks out of the equation for a second. I guarantee there is not a woman on earth who would be attracted to an insecure guy who can’t put a coherent sentence together because of nerves and has zero self-confidence.
It’s not ‘cute’ or ‘sweet’. It’s pathetic and a normal woman would get turned off by such behaviour by the end of date one.
Plus, I wasn’t in the target male demographic for the film. I have never experienced the problem of having a lady who is out of my league. I mean, let’s be honest, if you use the ‘10’ rating system, your buddy Tewks is like Spinal Tap: I go all the way to 11.
The only scenario where a member of the fairer sex would be so far above my level to be termed “out of my league” is if I tried dating the Princess of Monaco. Or Miley Cyrus.
All that being said, I thought the movie was fantastic.
It was really, really well done and had me laughing out loud throughout. The strength of the film was the supporting cast, especially Kirk’s (Jay Baruchel) group of friends. The scene stealer was, without a doubt, Kirk’s fat friend, Devon (Nate Torrence).
Devon’s lines were delivered with impeccable comedic timing and a perfect deadpan expression. As the lone married guy in the group, he loved living vicariously through Kirk and his dating exploits. Throughout the movie, Devon had a look of pure child-like wonder on his face at all times. It was hilarious. His riff on Aladdin and Princess Jasmine killed me.
Kirk’s family was also terrific in terms of craziness, complete with the off-the-wall and oafish, immature older brother.
The laughs were consistent throughout and, at times, you could almost believe that Kirk and Molly (Alice Eve) could possibly date in real life.
That all changed during the Third Act crisis scene where Kirk and Molly are about to get it on. Kirk has possibly one of the worst bodies I have ever seen in a movie. He makes Michael Cera in Superbad look like Matthew McConaughey. I literally had to avert my eyes when his chest came on the screen.
On the other hand, Molly’s body was . . . well, I am not a good enough writer to accurately capture such beauty. She looked unreal in that black bra and matching panties. So much so that I have no idea what transpired during that entire scene because I was so transfixed by her bountiful bosom.
I definitely recommend this movie for anyone looking to have a few laughs on a weekend night. In fact, I plan on having another viewing when She’s out of My League comes out on DVD to catch all the jokes I missed while laughing (although I don’t think I could watch Kirk’s pubic hair shaving scene again. Don’t say I didn’t warn you).
Verdict: 4 Huge Alice Eve Boobs out of 5
Today's episode of Talkin' with Tewks Live is pretty self-explanatory. CSzem and I discuss Tiger Wood's impending comeback to the game of golf; how much adversity will he face; does he have any fans remaining; how he will he play etc.
Talkin' with Tewks Live - Recorded March 14 2010
Enjoy.
What a great episode last night. Although, the stupidity and illogical thought processes of the Heroes tribe has me concerned for their sanity over the next three weeks.
What is going on with that tribe? It’s almost like they want the Villains to walk all over them at the merge. They constantly bicker back and forth and are more concerned with keeping their alliances than forming a strong tribe capable of, you know, actually winning a challenge.
Contrast their backbiting and pursuit of individual gain with the Villians’ cohesive, well-oiled unit. I mean the Villains were a guitar away from singing Kumbaya at the beginning of the episode. How Coach convinced the entire tribe (sans Russell) to take a Tai Chi lesson from him I will never know, but it’s indicative of how well their tribe is currently working together.
Maybe it’s because I’m a man, but I do not understand the wild reaction provided by the ladies when Probst told them of the chocolate reward. Really? Chocolate is going to get you that fired up?
I loved Colby’s reaction when Probst handed him the small pieces of chocolate as a tease. It was basically, “Get that shit away from me.” I would have done the exact same thing.
Speaking of the reward challenge, this may be in poor taste, but did anyone else find it funny that in a challenge that was basically a game of basketball, the black guy was the one who got hurt? Shouldn’t he have dominated that challenge?
What? I was the only one? Ok, moving on.
After James hurt his knee, Amanda said something extremely telling. Apparently, this is the second time a serious injury has felled James while playing Survivor.
Follow this train of logic: Steroids make you big and muscular. James is big and muscular. Steroids make your tendons and ligaments weaker because your body cannot adjust to that much muscle mass in a short period of time. James is taken down by a knee ligament.
Throw in his James’ bitch fit at the immunity challenge when he berated his blindfolded tribe members and it’s pretty evident that the guy is on the juice.
The Villains won the reward and got to ‘enjoy’ a chocolate feast. Was anyone else disgusted by the spread? That is the absolute last thing I would have wanted to eat. I guarantee every one of them puked their guts after eating all that crap.
Russell knighting Coach was one of the greatest things I have ever seen. Conversely, I really hate Parvarti. Can we agree that she is not hot? Her mouth looks like one of those carnival games when you have to shoot the water into the clown’s mouth.
The immunity challenge was great. It’s always fun to see blindfolded people try to complete simple tasks. The two best moments from that portion of the challenge were JT standing around by himself flailing at the air and Rob, after taking a few shots to the gut, walking around with one hand covering his junk.
How dumb are the Heroes? They have gotten destroyed in every challenge that requires just a modicum of brainpower. Are they really that bad at puzzles or are Boston Rob and the gang just that good?
The idiocy of the Heroes in the immunity challenge was surpassed only by their decision that James, with a full brace on his leg and unable to walk, was more beneficial from a physical standpoint than Tom.
Are you kidding me?
How could they even say that to Probst at Tribal Council with a straight face? You can tell Probst is getting fed up with this tribe as well. Their consistently stupid decisions are starting to piss him off as all of the drama built up through the season will be lost when the Heroes have one tribe member left at the inevitable merge.
It sucks that Tom was voted off. He will be missed. Colby is the only person I care about now on the Heroes tribe. I’ll give Tom the last words in the column, when he described James thusly: “All mass, no class.”
(Which is the same thing people say about my penis)
Why are we still talking about head shots? Why are general managers so reticent to ban vicious blows to the brains of their players?
Back in November, I covered this issue in some detail and proffered my own suggestions on how such wanton violence could be curtailed. Let’s revisit my hypotheses, shall we:
However, something needs to be done about head shots as NHL players have been dropping like flies with concussions in this fledgling season. The safety of players is paramount, along with their intelligence. Concussions have been proven to have adverse effects on mental acuity and, let’s be honest, hockey players can’t afford to be any dumber.
Everyone knows the danger and severity and concussions, but no one at the NHL seems willing to make a conscious decision to do anything about it. Not surprisingly, many of these guys are ex-players, which gives credence to my last point.
In terms of solutions to the head shot dilemma, here’s what I had to say:
To fix the problem in the NHL, forget about making the game less violent. To quote my buddy Brian Burke, “this isn’t ringette.” I think you have to look at the equipment. Players are ensconced in heavy duty plastic from head to toe: it offers too much protection. Guys race around the ice throwing their bodies at opponents with reckless abandon. Not to mention today’s players are so big and fast – it’s a recipe for disaster.
If you soften the equipment (especially shoulder pads), players will think twice about turning themselves into human battering rams. Less vicious hits, fewer concussions, safer playing conditions, better hockey.
It’s evident to me now that the dinosaurs running the game will never take progressive measures like softening today’s gladiatorial-like protective equipment, so I have come up with another proposal.
It’s exceedingly simple and I can’t quite figure out why the head honchos at the NHL are so slow to adopt this measure because they’re terrified of “taking the physicality out of the game.”
Any hit where just the head is contacted, by a shoulder or an elbow, is an immediate five minute major penalty and a game misconduct. A hit that contacts both the head and the body is legal.
For example, Mike Richards hit on David Booth and Matt Cooke’s hit on Marc Savard would fall into the former category. Alex Ovechkin’s hit on Jaromir Jagr in the Olympics would be in the latter category.
It’s impossible to eliminate head and body shots completely and players know there is an inherent risk in playing the game. Accidental blows to the head can occur because of size discrepancies between players, guys not skating with their heads up, or putting their bodies in a vulnerable position.
That being said, the Richards and Cooke hits were cowardly and deserved to be punished severely. The NHL really dropped the ball on that one.
Now, for a feel good NHL note. Chris Chelios, at the age of 48, has been called up to play for the Atlanta Thrashers after playing extraordinarily well in the AHL (plus 35 on the year).
Chelios made his debut in 1984. Let me say it again. He is 48 years old! I don’t think Papa Tewks could do a pullup when he was forty-eight and Chelios will be playing the NHL. It’s no secret how Chelios is able to pull this off as he keeps himself in tremendous physical condition. He could probably give me a run for my money.
I know Gordie Howe played in the NHL when he was 52, but, to me, this is more impressive. Back then, guys would smoke and drink beer in the dressing room after games. They considered offseason training to be a one mile jog on the first day of training camp. Now, guys train all year round and for Chelios to be able to keep up at that age is nothing short of incredible.
I hope he kicks ass. I would love for him to beat the shit out of Patrick Kane at some point over the next six weeks. That is my wish.
I’m a big fan of optimism. If I wasn’t, then my choice to pursue a career in the writing, film/TV or radio genres would be downright terrifying. But, I have an unshakeable belief in myself and my talents (some might say that’s my first problem).
Cynicism has never gotten anyone anywhere. It’s poison. Life is more enjoyable when you look at the glass as being half full. Surrounding yourself with negativity is a sure-fire way to become stagnant and watch life pass you by.
That being said, I think the gorgeous weather Southern Ontario is currently experiencing has adversely affected the rational and logic centre of baseball fans’ brains.
I’ve had two conversations with Papa Tewks and Gretzpo respectively over the past two days and they both are planning the World Series Parade for the Blue Jays based on the team’s 5-1 spring training record thus far and the plethora of young arms in camp.
The saddest part is that they were both serious.
I do my best to ignore the results of spring training games as their use as a barometer for future success is highly suspect. I do read player profiles and game notes, but I specifically avoid watching highlights and game action at all costs, so I don’t get too excited or too depressed for the upcoming season (Plus, I’m a little busy getting the thunderbolt called my left arm ready for my own baseball season).
Let’s tackle Papa Tewks and Gretzpo’s lunacy one point at a time. Basing any merit whatsoever on the final score of Grapefruit League games is dumber than using lottery tickets as a retirement plan.
Any player signed to a major league contract doesn’t give two shits how they play in March. Do you know the most pressing issues on an established veteran’s mind: When am I getting pulled from this game so I can squeeze in a quick nine holes before dinner and can I make it the entire month of March without breaking a sweat?
Then, you have the youngsters working their asses off and trying way too hard to be assigned to the major league roster. These guys are running full out on every play, stealing bases, stretching singles into doubles and throwing curveballs on 3-2 counts.
The veterans hate these guys. Especially older catchers forced to crouch for millionaire bonus babies looking to make an impression. Do you think a 35 year old guy with two bad knees wants to crouch in the hot sun for two hours while some first round jerkoff nibbles at the corners?
Therefore, you have half the players not giving a shit and trying their best not to get hurt and the other half busting their tails for an opportunity to head north with the big club. That is the worst possible combination for taking stock of a team’s chances.
While discussing the Jays novice pitching staff with Gretzpo, the question of who gets the Opening Day Start arose. Let’s look at five possible arms and you will see how depressing the 2010 season will be (Granted, I will concede that the Jays staff has a tremendous upside for years to come, but there will be significant growing pains).
Ricky Romero: The numbers choice. He’s the best pitcher remaining from last year’s staff (which is a terrifying thought in itself). Romero has great natural talent, but I think he’s a little bit of a diva. He has zero mental fortitude; he’s like soft-serve ice cream. His nickname should be Dairy Queen
Shaun Marcum: The obvious choice based on his 2008 numbers, except for the tiny, little problem that he shredded his shoulder and hasn’t pitched in eighteen months. Do you really want him facing other teams’ ace night in and night out?
Dustin McGowan: Another guy who didn’t pitch last year because of a shredded shoulder. The Jays should really think about trying Crossfit. I’ve never had an arm injury. What? It’s because I don’t throw hard enough? Touché.
Brian Tallet: Tallet’s much too inconsistent for this position. I wouldn’t trust him to start for my beer league team. The only time Brian Tallet should ever be considered the best at something among Jays pitchers is if they have a mustache growing competition.
Dana Eveland: An offseason pickup from Oakland. On the plus side, he’s a big, strong, hard throwing lefty. On the minus side, his name is Dana.
And that ends the Pu Pu platter of players auditioning to be Toronto’s ace. Still excited about a postseason run?
I have to admit, I was initially very worried about today’s column. Without The Bachelor to make fun of and dissect, was there enough going on the world of sports to write an interesting column?
My fears were assuaged once I found out that Ben Roethlisberger, quarterback for the Pittsburgh Steelers, never got the memo that ‘No means No’. For those of you not up to speed on the trials and tribulations of Big Ben, allow me to summarize:
Ben is currently being sued by a woman who claims he raped her in Lake Tahoe in 2008. Apparently, she worked at a resort in guest services, Ben invited her up to his room and then, according to the woman, raped her.
Some of you may be wondering why Roethlisberger is only being sued for the alleged rape and not facing criminal charges; I believe there was not enough evidence to file a conviction.
In this recent case, a 20 year old college coed accused Big Ben of sexually assaulting her in a Georgia nightclub, a charge which Roethlisberger vehemently denies. As we found with the Eric Tillman story, there are many definitions of sexual assault (Tillman was charged after grabbing a teenage girl’s clothed hips).
So, we don’t know exactly what Big Ben did to constitute the sexual assault. Interestingly, the police force in charge of the investigation said they have yet to take a DNA sample from Roethlisberger, but probably will.
Now, I have some questions.
I assume that the request for DNA means it is thought that Benny made a romance explosion somewhere near the vicinity of the supposed victim. How did said explosion take place inside the bar? For this to happen, that means that Roethlisberger’s Big Ben must have been out and ready for action.
No one else saw that? In a crowded nightclub? I could see if the sexual assault was just a question of Ben grabbing either the woman’s T or A, but for a specimen of Big Ben’s seed to be requested adds another layer entirely to this sordid affair.
There are usually two schools of thought when it comes to such accusations against high profile athletes and celebrities:
1. These guys are just assholes who think the rules don’t apply to them and they deserve any woman they want, regardless if she’s interested or not.
2. The women are nothing more than groupies looking to extort money from professional athletes. They hop into bed with these guys at the first sign of cash or fame and make up wild accusations when the guy in question wants nothing to do with them afterward.
Personally, I think it’s a mix between the two. Look at Big Ben. In his first case, the woman went to visit Roethlisberger in his suite to see if “he needed anything.” Seriously? We’re expected to believe this woman went up to Ben’s room with pure intentions?
If it was indeed rape, wouldn’t Roethlisberger be in jail right now? My feeling is that the sex, or whatever took place, was consensual and this woman decided to make up a story.
There’s a very good chance that this new case is the exact same scenario. The coed is looking for money or notoriety, so she makes up some untrue story about Big Ben.
The problem is that the stories are not mutually exclusive and the common thread is Ben Roethlisberger. One story, the media and public can dismiss it as nonsense. Two stories and then people start asking questions.
Typically, when there’s smoke, there’s fire.
It’s too much of a coincidence that Ben is not at fault both times. Something is definitely amiss. Maybe all Roethlisberger is at fault for is bad judgement. Or maybe he needs to realize that just because he plays in the NFL does not mean that every woman he meets can be his sexual plaything.
Before listening to today's podcast, I have to ask all of you to do a little research first. CSzem and I discuss the following two articles at length. The first details the idiocy of an American journalist who had the gall to compare Canada's patriotism at the Olympics to Nazi Germany (I'm not kidding).
Read it here.
The second discusses the moronic suggestion circulating around Parliament that the lyrics of 'O Canada' need to be changed to make it more "gender-sensitive" towards women. I can't make this crap up.
It's not hard to figure out where we stand on the above articles.
Talkin' with Tewks Live - Recorded March 7 2010
Post thoughts to comments.
Even though I’m ecstatic that spring training has started in earnest, which means that warm weather is right around the corner, I am somewhat melancholic at the news of Roy Halladay’s first Grapefruit League start.
He was typical Doc yesterday afternoon. In his two innings of work, only one batter reached base (on an error) and Halladay threw an incredible 21 strikes in 23 pitches. That type of perfection is unheard of, even from the best pitchers in the game.
Now, I have to listen to Phillies fans and the American media wax poetic on how great Roy is; something that we Toronto fans have known for years. It’s tough to listen to these guys fawn all over Roy, knowing that I will never see him pitch in a Blue Jays uniform again. He’s going to win thirty games this year and hopefully get the World Series ring he so richly deserves.
Truthfully, it’s going to be hard to be a Jays fan this year. I honestly don’t know if I can do it. Sure, I’ll watch the games and follow the team, but it’s going to take a little while for the team to gain back my fandom.
I’m kind of like a scorned politician’s wife whose husband cheated on her. Yes, I’m going to stay with him, but it’s going to take some time for me to forgive his infidelities.
What an excellent Survivor episode last night. After a lacklustre episode last week, Probst and company really brought the goods this time.
I feel remiss that I stopped watching Survivor before Coach’s inaugural season. I mean the guy is an absolutely tremendous reality show character.
For all of his egomaniacal blustering, he’s surprisingly deep and multi-layered. I had no idea that his macho act was such a façade and masked with such rampant insecurity. He’s also surprisingly feminine, evidenced by his teary, emotional blubbering when Sandra had the audacity to call him lazy.
The scene after Tribal Council when Coach was talking to Tyson just killed me. I was transfixed by what lay before my eyes on the screen. Tyson talking Coach off the ledge felt like a scene ripped from the script of Good Will Hunting.
“Coach, it’s not your fault.”
"I know.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, I know, Tyson.”
“No, no. It’s not your fault.”
"Don’t do this to me man. Not you.”
Boston Rob managed to smack some sense into the Dragon Slayer by basically telling him to man up and to find his nuts. Coach did an immediate 180 and compared himself to the Last of the Mohicans and King Arthur. Then, he quoted Confucius. I am in awe of the man.
The reward challenge felt like an episode of the Price is Right with all of the Sears products presented exactly like one of the Showcase Showdown prizes. Speaking of the reward challenge, how hot did the women look all greased up from that sliding track? That was as close to porn as you can get at 8pm on network television.
Danielle’s breasts looked AMAZING! They should really have their own tribe. They’re also the most interesting thing about Danielle.
James seemed somewhat subdued throughout this episode. Maybe Probst got him an extra HGH cycle or something. I was quite impressed that he didn’t punch Sandra in the face during the reward challenge.
Seeing Boston Rob and Russell square off against each other in a battle of wits is like watching two Bond super villains go head to head. I think Russell is, and should be, worried. He’s never faced an adversary quite like Boston Rob, which was evident when Rob once again dominated the immunity challenge with his smarts and puzzle prowess.
What a great move by Tom to get the immunity idol and coerce JT to switch alliances in a complete blindside of Cirie. She deserved to go, for the sake of North America to bear witness to more Tom and Colby interaction. They’re great, like father and son.
This is shaping up to be one of the best seasons of Survivor ever.
Now that The Bachelor is finally over, it’s time that I get back to my roots and talk about pressing sports issues. And not just discuss a topic from the world of sports by giving my admittedly uninformed opinion, but to ridicule and insult someone who has posited a contrarian viewpoint.
With that said, I have to give an assist to long-time reader, Thy Drunken Rookie, for bringing the source material for today’s column to my attention. It’s an article from Yahoo! Sports, by Ross McKeon, entitled ‘Good Show, but the NHL shouldn’t be Involved’.
Read it here before continuing so my forthcoming vitriol makes more sense.
McKeon’s article actually starts out overwhelmingly positive with his praise of Team Canada’s effort in the face of great adversity and knuckle-whitening pressure. He even points out how Sidney Crosby has been pilloried by those who foolishly denounce his greatness. A Stanley Cup and an Olympic Gold Medal at the age of 22 form just the tip of the iceberg of Kid Crosby’s eventual career accolades.
It’s at this point that McKeon opines that NHL players shouldn’t have played in Vancouver in the first place and the wheels completely fall off the coherency of his writing.
What’s fantastic about this article is that McKeon’s points are so stupid and suffer from a case of watching too much Jeopardy. Everything he says comes in the form of the question. Do you know why he does this?
Because it’s much easier to write a column and make a point that way without giving any real thought. For some reason, McKeon has decided to rest on the journalistic laurels the Yahoo! Sports department provides; The New York Times it is not.
Yahoo! Sports is to journalism what William Hung is to singing (Sorry, but I still have the Idol ladies on the brain after last night’s performances).
First, I would hardly call watching two weeks of the best hockey the world has to offer “good stuff.” Is Filet Mignon pretty good meat?
McKeon says that the ‘Miracle on Ice’ would have never happened had NHL players been allowed to play in Lake Placid. Look, the ‘Miracle on Ice’ was such a tremendous moment because of a confluence of factors, not limited to Communism, the Cold War and the fact Mike Eruzione hasn’t had to pay for a dinner in thirty years.
Yes, the American victory in 1980 would have been impossible with NHL participation (mostly because Canada would have run the table). That was one great Olympic hockey moment. Does anyone remember or give a shit about the winner of the gold in hockey in the Olympics before or after that moment?
Of course not, because, until 1998, the best players weren’t playing.
McKeon states that the NHL product has suffered due to the Olympic break because it’s led to rash of injuries and a watered-down product which adversely affects the paying customer.
He provides no statistics for his injury claim (he’s like my kindred writing spirit in that regard) and McKeon’s placing the blame on the lacklustre product on the wrong culprit. The Olympic tournament was great because THE BEST PLAYERS IN THE WORLD WERE PLAYING!
The NHL product sucks during the regular season because there are too many teams and front offices are forced to stuff their rosters with guys who wouldn’t make an AHL team twenty years ago. If the NHL would cut ten teams out of the league, the quality of the product would go up. It has nothing to due with guys having to play a few extra games a month because of the Olympics. They’re professional athletes for Christ’s sakes!
McKeon says, unequivocally, that the “Olympics should be reserved for non-pros. It’s as simple as that.” Yeah, that would be exciting. Have you ever watched the Spengler Cup?
He tries to use the World Juniors as an argument for the exclusion of well-known NHL stars. Sorry, Ross, but that dog won’t hunt. The World Juniors are great to watch because it’s the best under 20 hockey players in the world. That’s why that tourney is so riveting. No one wants to see a bunch of minor leaguers decide Olympic hockey supremacy.
Do you really think 26 million Canadians and 15 million Americans would have watched Sunday’s final if the teams were comprised of guys who couldn’t stick on the NHL’s already bloated rosters?
What would we be able to brag about? Our shitty players are somewhat less shitty than yours?
We should switch jobs, Ross. You’re obviously overpaid.
Great comments on yesterday's Bachelor recap. As promised, here is a podcast CSzem and I recorded on the After the Final Rose special. Unfortunately, there are still some audio glitches on CSzem's end, but what he says isn't that important anyway.
Plus, if this podcast thing doesn't work out, we can always take solace in our inevitable American Idol auditions next year. Trust me, the last thirty seconds is pure magic.
Talkin' with Tewks Live - The Bachelor
My newer readers may not know this, but this blog was actually started by a friend of mine, Gretzpo. This site used to be called Gretzpo's Sports Blog and it used to suck. Big time.
Is it a coincidence that the readership of this blog has exploded exponentially since I took over the writing duties and Gretzpo went back to pleasuring himself to pictures of Gregg Zaun? I think not.
I mean, just take a look at his guest column below (chock full of egregious grammatical errors; Mine and Tewks? Seriously?). Is it funny? Yes, moderately, but it also took him 5 days to write where I can pump out something much better in less than 90 minutes.
It's great to have you back, Gretzpo.
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Garbage Time with Gretzpo: An Olympic Advertising Hangover
Where have I been? Mine and Tewks writing frequency is inversely related to our professional success. I'm currently enjoying a meteoric rise in my industry – hence the sparse amount of posts. Tewks, on the other hand, has a T4 resembling that of the guy who begs for change outside of the LCBO.
This blog was like a son to me ... I raised it. And when I couldn't give it the time it deserved a part of me died ... but now Tewks is the one ... Tewks is the one who has to make sure this site flourishes.
With the Olympics over, I find myself yearning ... yearning for the collective groan of the audience when a female figure skater falls; yearning for the chance to see said female's buttocks as she picks herself up off the ice. I also yearn for pretending to be an expert in sports I watch once every four years – I yearn to scream at a short track speed skating official for a perceived foul.
Sometimes I sit ... and yearn.
The Olympics are crammed full of sappy, human interest stories that pull at the heart strings and make us care for Olympic athletes for 17 days ... and then forget about them for the next 1443 days – until the next Olympics.
But what are the Olympics without advertising? Thirty second clips that also aim to pull at the heart strings ... and make us buy things. One day after the Olympics that's what I'm finding I yearn for the most: horrible Olympic commercials.
My favorite commercial of the Olympics is the one where we see a father and son open up a new pair of skates, and the two go to an outdoor rink to try them out. Only it's the father who has the new pair of skates ... and it's the son who is teaching him to skate. Aww...
The director's cut of this commercial was never released: flash forward a year. The child is belligerent: he is cursing out his father in the dressing room after missing a wide open net in the “D” Championship game of his Wednesday night beer league. The father has failed his son ... he'll never make it to the NHL.
How about the one that tells the story of a Canadian cross country skier who broke her ski pole – but a quick thinking Norwegian coach gave her the pole he was using, allowing her to finish the race and claim a silver medal.
“And to thank the coach, we sent him some maple syrup – three tonnes of it.”
What the fuck is he going to do with all that maple syrup? It's almost as if we wanted to send an exorbitant amount of maple syrup just to confirm our own stereotype. We've forced him to become a maple syrup wholesaler – in a country that has absolutely no market for maple syrup.
“It's big”
“It's beautiful”
"Laid back”
“Sophisticated”
It's definitely my penis ... wait... what was that first one?
The commercial that pissed me off the most was for the Coors Light Beer Coozy.
“Excuse me ... you are Olympic Champion?”
No... he's a fat fuck with a douche beard that probably has four popped collars on under that winter coat.
Beer commercials aren't funny or clever anymore... I yearn for the days of, “If I wanted water, I'd just ask for water.”
Horrible Olympic commercials – I salute you. Your sappiness and maudlinism around the Olympics are as predictable as a Jeremy Wotherspoon 12th place finish.
Gretzpo writes seldomly for this publication
I can’t believe it’s here already. The season finale of The Bachelor. It seems like only yesterday I cast away any illusions of being a rugged, manly man and embraced my love for such trashy television.
I’m getting all emotional just thinking about it. Although, it might just be gas.
On to the final recap of this epic show. Cue the band: ON THE WINGS OF LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!
8:02 – Why is Jake wearing a T-shirt with a plunging neckline? At this point, it might make more sense if he just held up an ‘I’m a gay guy’ sign.
8:05 – Christ, even Jake’s Dad is a pussy.
8:06 – “Vienna’s really smart”. Are you kidding me? Jake has pretty much left all his thought processes to his penis, hasn’t he? His brain is on a permanent vacation.
8:10 – Wow. Watching Tenley walk out of that limo certainly snapped Little Tewks to attention. He just made his final choice.
8:12 – Tenley fits so well with this boring, vanilla family. I could see them doing this for the next fifty years. This is brutal.
8:13 – Why is Jake’s Dad still crying? No wonder Jake is such a dork.
8:14 – Nice set of jugs on Jake’s Mom, but why is she asking about conflict resolution? Is this a job interview?
8:15 – Tenley just mentioned her ex. Everyone take a shot.
8:17 – Papa Pavelka is crying again?
8:18 – “What is he, 5?” Great comment by Sister Tewks after learning that Jakey likes to roughhouse and push people into pools.
8:20 – The producers are making Tenley out to be the obvious choice. It’s all too perfect. It’s an old magician’s secret: misdirection. It’s the same technique I use to slip roofies into girls’ drinks at the bar.
8:25 – Vienna’s meet and greet is going to be a disaster. His family is going to hate her.
8:26 – “Oh, look who’s hereeeee”. Jake’s Mom is staring absolute daggers at Vienna right now.
8:27 – The Pavelka women are not impressed with the cross-eyed freak.
8:28 – Jake’s Mom is the voice of reason. She should take over for Harrison next season. How can Jake not see how horrible Vienna is?
8:34 – “I feel like I’m trying to talk people into Vienna.” How does that not set off alarm bells in Jake’s small, pea brain? This is so frustrating.
8:37 – The conversation between Jake’s Mom and Vienna is like the courtroom scene in A Few Good Men:
“Do you want answers?”
"I think I’m entitled.” “Do you want answers?”
“I want the truth.”
“You can’t handle the truth!”
8:40 – Jake’s family is letting me down. What is wrong with the water in Saint Lucia that they think this bleach blond tramp is marriage material?
8:47 – Jake and Vienna are going on a date at a Sulfur Spring. Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t sulfur smell like farts? Hmm, maybe this date is appropriate for Vienna.
8:49 – “I don’t think Vienna is marriage material”, courtesy of Sister Tewks. No shit. I don’t think Vienna is one night stand material.
8:50 – Why are they covering each other in mud? This is like Predator.
8:56 – When Jake says things like “Vienna offers things that Tenley doesn’t” can we all just agree that it means Vienna will go down on him and Tenley won’t.
9:00 – “I just want to fall asleep in your arms again.” I hate this show. How do I watch this shit?
9:07 – Joyride on a yacht or mud bath in fart springs? These dates perfectly personify Tenley and Vienna.
9:10 – “The heat is building slowly.” That means that Tenley has the guard dog out in front of her garden of earthly delights.
9:12 – Jake’s an asshole. How could he hurt Tenley’s feelings like that? He deserves that trashy whore. All his bullshit about finding true love is just a cover for finding the chick who is the best lay.
9:22 – I think Tenley just grabbed his junk! Atta girl. I got your physical chemistry, Jake . . . RIGHT HERE! That’s a Heisman Trophy calibre move.
9:26 – Oh, Jake is so pensive at the edge of that reflecting pool. What a powerful moment.
9:27 – There’s another ex-husband bomb. I am so wasted right now. It’s the only thing making this show bearable.
9:32 – Another one! I think I have alcohol poisoning.
9:33 – Tenley, Jake’s only going to get down on one knee if you’re willing to get down on two.
9:40 – Look at Tenley! She looks amazing. How can he not pick her? I don’t understand. Vienna is terrible!
9:41 – Wow, this is actually hard to watch. She looks crushed.
9:42 – Tenley is so classy. Keep your chin up. This is like a romantic comedy except the two stars don’t end up together in the end because the guy got Chlamydia from the neighbourhood whore.
9:45 – Jake’s a moron.
9:46 – I would have loved it if Chris Harrison looked at Tenley and asked “So, how did it go?” That would have killed me.
9:54 – I don’t even give a shit anymore.
9:57 – I hope their plane goes down on the way back to the States.
9:58 – Ok, I’m done. I can’t watch this On the Wings of Love music video.
Tune in tomorrow for a special podcast with CSzem to recap this season of The Bachelor and a discussion on the After the Final Rose special.
Let me know what you thought of tonight’s finale.
I'm breaking protocol today. I've decided to post a picture of Canada's national hero instead of my usual vixen.
What a fantastic end to the Olympics last night. CSzem and I recorded a podcast after Canada's gold medal win in which we discuss the game and all things Olympics.
Talkin' With Tewks Live - Episode #2
Be forewarned, the audio on CSzem's end is a little choppy because, in lieu of purchasing a good microphone, he tried to make his own. We hope to have such technical difficulties ironed out shortly.
Plus, we recorded the podcast in different cities. Admittedly, we are morons when it comes to the wonders of modern technology, so you should all be impressed we even managed to produce anything of substance.
Today's podcast clocks in just under fifteen minutes in duration.
Enjoy.
The male contingent of Canada’s athletic representation really needs to get their shit together over this final weekend of the Olympic Games. The Canadian women are making the male gender look bad with their dominating performances.
Female athletes have accounted for 75% of our total medal haul, single-handedly giving Canada a chance to have a great showing on the world stage.
The Women’s hockey team kicked things off first with an efficient (wo)man handling of the US. Though the score was only 2-0, the outcome was never really in doubt as the Canucks got the early lead and never gave the Americans a chance to mount a comeback.
There is a bit of a sour note on Canada’s third straight gold in Olympic hockey. Apparently, the Nazis at the IOC are all up in arms because our women, in true Canadian fashion, celebrated their victory with a case or two of Molson Canadian.
Way to rain on our parade, IOC. That’s how we do things in the Great White North. We drink beer to commemorate special occasions and I would think a gold medal victory should suffice (Hell, I crack open a brew if I figure out how to PVR American Idol on the first try).
Apparently, the IOC is worried about the message a few beers will send to the youngsters in the crowd. Oh, wait. The building was completely empty during this portion of the celebration? It was a private moment between Team Canada and their coaching staff?
Maybe worry more about the corruption poisoning your organization and less about some good old Canadian gals having a few wobbly pops.
How about Joannie Rochette? She is a late addition to my roster of Team Canada hotties. Plus, the emotional turmoil she has undergone in the last week is nothing short of incredible. How she found the strength to still compete after losing her mother is unfathomable. I must admit, after her long program performance last night, it got a little misty around the Tewks household.
I’m saving the rest of my Olympic thoughts for the podcast CSzem and I are recording on Sunday afternoon. It will be a recap of Canada’s performance at the Games, our thoughts on specific sports and the hosting job of the City of Vancouver. Plus, it will be funny. I think.
Quick Survivor Thoughts:
Has there ever been more disparate tribes in terms of team strengths than Heroes versus Villains? In every challenge thus far the Heroes have dominated every physical portion and the Villains have dominated anything involving brainpower.
This dichotomy was readily apparent last night after the Heroes whitewashed the Villains 8-0 in that pillow fight challenge. It wasn’t even close. I’d love to hear the family CSzem defend James’ poor sportsmanship of throwing his pad on top of a defeated Randy. Very impressive, James. You beat up on an old guy. Kudos.
Evidence that the Heroes tribe are basically just meatheads: JT actually used the word ‘strategical’ with a straight face. And Tom, bless his heart, tried to sound smart when describing his tribemates propensity to scheme and backstab this early in the game.
He said that hoped “people would play Marcus Queensbury rules,” which means fair play and honesty. Unfortunately, the correct pronunciation of the term is ‘Marquis of Queensbury.” A valiant effort though.
I’m still not ready to unleash full-blown Survivor recaps until they lose a few more people or have consistently stellar episodes (last night was kind of weak).
Have a good weekend.
Dare I say yesterday was the greatest day of competition for Canada in the history of the Olympic Games?
Let’s review: four medals (one gold, two silver, one bronze) and the defeat of Russia in men’s hockey for the first time since Squaw Valley in 1960. The periodic table should be covered in red maple leafs right now: Au, Ag and Cu (for bronze I guess).
Let’s start with the ’10,000 pound elephant in the room’ (for you Bachelor fans) and take a look at Canada’s beatdown of the Communist menace last night at Canada Hockey Place. What a fantastic quarter-final for a Canadian hockey fan.
It was such a relaxing game to watch; it felt like we were playing Germany again. But, I do have to disagree with the pundits who are saying that Canada finally put a well-played game together against a worthy opponent.
To me, the self-appointed knowledge czar of the Winter Olympics, Canada played just as well as they did versus the United States last Sunday. The only difference: they actually put the puck in the net this time.
Plus, the US’s strength was defence and goaltending. Evidently, the Russians don’t have that problem. They couldn’t contain the Canadian attack and it didn’t help that Evgeni Nabokov treated each shot on net like the puck was sprinkled with anthrax.
To say Nabokov was shell-shocked would be an understatement. Did you see him on the bench after he got pulled? He just sat there with a dazed look on his face. Nabokov looked like a Haitian earthquake survivor who got rescued after spending a week buried under rubble: he was confused, disoriented and wasn’t sure where he was, but he was just happy to be out of harm’s way.
The Canadian women must have been inspired by my column yesterday as they took it upon themselves to force our nation up the medal standings.
Clara Hughes gave a tremendous performance in her competitive swan song in the 5000 metre long track race. She capped off a great career with her sixth Olympic medal (summer and winter combined). Not to be outdone, the lady short-trackers picked up some hardware in the 3000 metre relay, avenging the disappointing (thus far) performances by their male teammates.
But the real story was our surprising mastery of the women’s bobsleigh. I had no idea we even had teams in this discipline. We finished first and second, so I think it’s safe to say we owned the podium at the Whistler Sliding Centre.
Kaillie Humphries and Heather Moyes took gold, while Helen Upperton and Shelley-Ann Brown settled for silver.
I suppose the worst thing about the bobsleigh event was that the outcome was never in doubt. The margin of victory for Canada was 0.85 seconds which, ironically enough, is the same amount of time it takes me to have sex. While it doesn’t seem like a long time to most viewers (or my ladies), it’s like fifteen minutes in real time. So, the Canadians crushed the competition.
As a nation, we are poised to win the overall gold medal tally of these Games; we are currently tied with the US and Germany. And, honestly, isn’t that the way the winning nations should be decided?
Who gives a shit how many third place finishes the Americans have?
Who won the most events?
That is how you determine the most successful country of any competition.
On Friday, I extolled the physical attributes of American skiers, Lindsay Vonn and Julia Mancuso. I’d be remiss if I didn’t give some figurative love to some sexy Canucks currently taking the Winter Olympics by storm.
Not only are these ladies beautiful, but they are also supremely talented: two golds thus far and one hopefully to follow.
I have no idea what ice dancing is, but I do know that I need more Tessa Virtue in my life. Truthfully, I didn’t even know that ice dancing was included in the Olympics. I’m still not sure how it’s different from pairs skating, but since Canada won gold, I will declare that it definitely belongs on the Olympic roster.
Virtue is very pretty. She’s not what I would call ‘hot’, but she definitely is blessed in the facial attractiveness department. She’s the type of girl you bring home to Mom. She just seems so sweet and innocent. The fact that she appears to be more flexible than Gumbi doesn’t hurt either.
Where did Ashleigh McIvor come from? Wow. I was at a bar last night for Papa Tewks’ birthday and the place was packed with fans waiting for the start of the Canada/Germany qualifying game.
(There’s no point in discussing last night’s game. We all knew Canada was going to win. Tonight’s game is the big one. The Canucks versus the Big Red Dog. Tune in tomorrow for my thoughts, win or lose. I will be suicidal if it’s the latter).
There was lots of chatter in the bar and no one was really paying attention to the screen while Brian Williams was rehashing McIvor’s gold medal performance. As soon as the camera went in for a closeup of McIvor, the entire bar, I shit you not, went silent.
Every pair of male eyes was entranced by the image on the screen and we all thought the same thing: why haven’t we seen Ashleigh McIvor before?
Maybe it’s the blond hair, but I can seriously not remember what happened in the next fifteen minutes after McIvor’s pearly whites flashed across the TV. She is a mega babe. I would take a girl like McIvor, an athletic, beautiful woman, over a bleach blond, over-tanned tramp who eats 300 calories a day and has the IQ of a cucumber any day of the week and twice on Sunday.
Both Tessa Virtue and Ashleigh McIvor came out of nowhere to occupy high rungs on my unhealthy crush ladder, but the last lady has been an object of my infatuation since before the Opening Ceremonies.
Who am I talking about? The Canadian women’s curling skip, Cheryl Bernard. Where to begin?
First, has there ever been curler that hot in the history of the Olympic Games? I mean, we’ve come a long way since the days of Sandra Schmirler.
Second, you can somewhat expect Tessa Virtue and Ashleigh McIvor to be attractive as they are young girls in their twenties. Bernard is forty-three. She puts the COUG in Cougar. Her body is rocking. I’ve never been aroused by curlers before (except when they yell “Hurry hard!”), but the blood definitely flows to my nether regions when Bernard takes her position in the hack.
Since I do not have gainful employment, I will be able to watch Bernard in the semi-final tomorrow at noon. Probably without pants on.
Go Canada Go.
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