(Babe of the Day - Amber Heard)
All of you better appreciate the fact I’m writing a column today. I am currently riding shotgun in a car driven by someone who has no business being behind the wheel; not only that, but I`m trying to create journalistic excellence with one hand on the holy shit handle.
Last night, I went to a performance at Casino Rama to see the Golden Boys, featuring Fabian, Lou Christi and Frankie Avalon. It was amazing. I sincerely wish I had a time machine to go back to the 1950s and live my life.
Then, after the show, I had about a half dozen Bud Lights, so if my writing is worse than usual, now you know why.
What a start to the 2010 Masters yesterday afternoon. Not only did you have the return of Tiger Woods’ after a five month layoff, but you had the PGA Tour`s very own members of the Golden Boys dominating the first page of the leaderboard.
Both Tom Watson and Freddie Couples were able to turn back the clock, for one day at least, and be the focal points of a tournament and course that hasn’t seen their best days for more than decade. Couples’ 66 and Watson’s 67 gives hope to aging Boomers everywhere that the opportunity to kick the shit out of guys half their age isn`t just a pipe dream.
Also, even more unbelievably, Watson and Freddie were able to take the spotlight away from Tiger and his return to competitive golf. How cool did Freddie look with that tan, salt and pepper hair, sneakers and no socks? He looked like he should be yachting off the coast of St. Barts rather than playing in the season`s first major.
Tiger shot 68, which is the first time he`s ever broken 70 in a first round at Augusta, and looked to not have one ounce of rust in his game. Everything looked sharp, which is a scary proposition for his fellow PGA Tour members the rest of the year.
Was it me or did Tiger look exceedingly composed and comfortable throughout the entire round? He didn`t even seem fazed by the helicopters flying overhead dragging banners talking of sex addiction and ‘bootyism’.
By the way, the person responsible for said banners is nothing short of a comedic genius.
Here’s my hypothesis on Tiger for the foreseeable future. The guy was the best golfer on the planet while leading a double life. Do you realize how much focus and mental fortitude is required to win golf tournaments, all while juggling your wife and family and a gaggle of slutty mistresses?
Any normal human being would have cracked under that unrelenting pressure and mental strain. Not Tiger. And now, he says he having fun again for the first time in a long time.
Tiger’s mind is completely clear. He can just hone his focus in on golf. I think he’s going to be a better player now than he ever was.
And it will start with a fifth green jacket being draped across his broad shoulders on Sunday night.
Tune in on Monday for a Masters Recap podcast with CSzem.
(Babe of the Day - Gabrielle Union)
The inspiration for today’s column was derived from the cover story in this week’s Sports Illustrated; a glowing expose on the greatness that is Roy Halladay. I felt somewhat melancholic as I read about how hard Roy works between starts, how committed he is to his craft, and just how great he is on the hill.
These are all things I knew already. In fact, I kind of felt like a guy from a small town who had a smoking hot girlfriend until an unfortunate breakup. Everyone in the town knew how hot she was, but she was pretty much an unknown entity outside of our municipality. We had some great years in high school, but we started growing apart in our senior year.
She wanted to spread her wings and go to a big city for college. Her hotness had outgrown the small town. She needed to find someone who was on equal footing and had something more to offer than what I could provide.
I knew she deserved to go; she had given me some great years that I’ll never forget, but she had to explore her options and have the opportunity to be with a winner. We had a mutual breakup. I hadn’t thought about her for a few months and then I hear through the grapevine that she’s now the most popular girl at her school, she’s dating the star quarterback, and everyone loves her. They can’t believe how great she is and that they’ve never heard about her before.
And I just want to puke out of sheer anguish (I also somehow managed to make my mancrush on Roy Halladay seem even gayer).
A couple of things bothered me about the article. First, Roy was lauded for his tremendous work ethic and legendary workouts that last multiple hours; which is why he shows up at the park at 5:30 in the morning for spring training.
Look, pitchers, by and large, are pussies. They exhibit diva-like tendencies and are generally pretty soft. There are some exceptions like Roy and yours truly, but, as a group, we are not known for our toughness. So, when I hear that no one on the Jays pitching staff could even complete half of Halladay’s post start leg workout, I’m not that impressed. I think that’s more of a commentary on the weakness of the Jays staff, rather than Doc’s impressive strength and endurance.
Next, why do Roy’s workouts take hours to complete? If it actually takes him that long to workout, then his intensity is nowhere near the level it should be. As a Crossfit disciple, I know that optimum results can be achieved in less than an hour of work per day, provided you are working your ass off the entire time.
For that matter, why the hell is he doing leg presses? Learn to squat. Below parallel. With 400 pounds on your back. Then, I'll be impressed.
It’s impossible to maintain such a breakneck pace for any significant time duration. I’ll bet Roy, if he ratcheted up the intensity, would cut the length of his sessions drastically with zero loss in effectiveness.
The early arrival time isn’t as impressive as it sounds, either. I’ve already established that Halladay’s workouts, while long, are unnecessarily so. Plus, he’s not working out for eight hours a day (the article states 3-4 hours max, which includes his cool down, hot and cold baths etc.). Why does he get there so early?
So, he can be known as the first guy at the ballpark.
The article said that he even bumped up his arrival time to ensure he would beat some of his new Phillies teammates to the park. The work he puts in could be done at anytime. He’s obviously an early riser, so he likes to get his work done in the pre-dawn hours, which is fine, but let’s not fawn all over the guy because he gets up early.
Working out early just looks more impressive; Halladay could do the same stuff at three o’clock in the afternoon.
I know it seems like I’m committing blasphemy by calling Halladay’s workouts into question, but as a person who truly understands working hard at the gym, and as someone who has been around the game of baseball for almost twenty years, Roy’s workouts are impressive for a baseball player. The training regimen of any NHL, NBA or NFL player would absolutely bury him.
Something about Roy’s game day regimen bothered me as well. I understand his desire to stay focused before he pitches, but he comes off as a bit of an asshole. Not saying a word to coaches, teammates or the training staff (not even a thank you to the trainer after he rubs you down?) just seems a little much.
There’s a difference between being focused and being a prick. Staring at a teammate until he moves from your pre-ordained seat? Come on, Roy. That’s just being a bully and abusing your power as the big dog in the clubhouse.
However, Roy can get away with all of this. Why? Because he’s the best pitcher in baseball.
Crash Davis said it best in Bull Durham when he admonished Nuke Laloosh for his fungus-ridden shower sandals.
"If you win 20 in the show, you can let the fungus grow back and the press'll think you're colourful. Until you win 20 in the show, however, it means you are a slob."
People will excuse all types of behaviour provided you produce when you’re on the bump. Roy can do whatever he wants because he’s a stud.
Am I being too harsh? I don’t know.
Maybe I’m just a jealous ex-boyfriend who can’t deal with the fact my smoking hot, former girlfriend is now banging some guy who is way better than me.
(In yesterday’s comments, AC asked that I begin providing the names of the 'Babe of the Day' for, what I assume are masturbatory purposes. Ask and ye shall receive. Today’s lady is Kaley Cuoco)
It’s very rare that I get an opportunity to gloat in this space, so when the time comes along that I am actually correct in predicting something sports related, it’s best to take full advantage. I’d be remiss if I didn’t.
Back in November, I wrote a very engaging piece on the H1N1 flu shot scandal. Read it here. To summarize, Canadian NHL players were given the opportunity to skip the queues and receive their flu shots before at-risk priority groups.
I was particularly vehement in my written word upbraiding of these rough, tough hockey players, but I also made, in hindsight, a very cunning prediction:
Karma is going to come back and bite the Calgary Flames in the ass; I guarantee they won’t make the playoffs this year. I’d say the same thing about the Leafs but they weren’t going to make the playoffs in the first place.
What happened last night? The Calgary Flames were eliminated from playoff contention. How do you like them apples, Flames? Still wish you had gotten that flu shot before everyone else?
I think this may be the first time I have ever been right on the blog. I feel like I should be standing on an aircraft carrier, in a flight suit, with a giant ‘Mission Accomplished’ banner hanging behind me.
I feel so energized by my correct assertion that I want to parlay my luck a little bit further with my prediction for the winner of the Rocket Richard trophy for most regular season goals. Plus, since I already covered the NBA points race, it’s only fair that I talk about some white guys who score as well.
Sidney Crosby and Alexander Ovechkin faced off against each other in another clash last night and, when the dust settled, both players had 48 goals with three and two regular games remaining respectively. Honestly, Crosby should be up by one because Ovechkin’s second goal was complete horseshit.
It’s a 5-3 game with less than ten seconds left and Ovechkin was skating around like it was Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. He put the puck in with two tenths of a second remaining on the clock. I know a goal is a goal, but it was a pure garbage tally. I hope Ovechkin doesn’t end up winning by one.
Somehow Steven Stamkos is still in the mix for the title as the baby-faced assassin scored his 47th last night. It would just be weird seeing Stamkos’ name engraved on the trophy. Is he really the player you’d most remember from this season when asked to name a prolific goal scorer?
Also, not to take away anything from the kid, but I’m pretty sure every single goal he’s scored this year has come on the power play from the exact same spot on the ice: the left faceoff dot. He’s a great player, but I have a sneaking suspicion that his goal total from this year will eventually be explained away as a statistical
aberration.
I hope Crosby ends up with 50 on the year (for the first time in his career) and ultimately takes the trophy because this may be his last opportunity. Let’s face it, Ovechkin is a better pure goal scorer than Sid the Kid and Ovie’s missed quite a few games this year, so it would be nice for Sid to capture the one piece of hardware that has eluded him.
Before I delve into my thoughts on Opening Day, I wanted to address the comments on yesterday’s MLB preview podcast. I was very impressed with He Who Hits Bomb live recap. I feel honoured that you took twenty minutes out of your busy schedule of eating protein bars and touching yourself to weigh in with some legitimately funny comments.
Anytime you want to be a podcast guest, just let me know. The offer’s on the table. However, I must warn you that grunts and monosyllabic expressions of opinion will not translate well through computer speakers. You might want to look into an ESL course or something.
I really wish the person who said the podcasts suck wouldn’t have hid behind the anonymous tag. That’s just lazy, and kind of cowardly. Let my buddy Herm Edwards take over my thoughts on that comment:
Just put your name on it, that's all I say. Be a man or a woman, put your name on it, don't be afraid of it.
What a great day to be a baseball fan yesterday. The sun was shining, I didn’t have a shirt on, and the Blue Jays kicked off their 2010 campaign with an exciting game against the Rangers.
I loved having Buck Martinez in the broadcast booth. He was such an improvement over Jamie Campbell that it was like a dark cloud had been lifted over the TVs of thousands of Jays fans everywhere. Buck’s presence had a positive influence over Pat Tabler as well. Finally, Tabler has a broadcast partner to whom he can talk intelligently about baseball instead of that gingerbread Campbell asking him why Adam Lind isn’t being selective on an 0-2 count.
However, I do think Martinez and Tabler have to temper expectations a little bit. Numerous times throughout the broadcast, they mentioned how ‘hungry’ this Jays team is and that the team is taking all the pundits criticism personally and they’ll surpass early season predictions because of it. Nope, the team still sucks. Sorry, guys.
It appears that Vernon Wells may actually be good again for the first time since 2003, which is nice. I loved Overbay’s facial hair; he looks tough as nails now. Marcum threw great, but just ran into some bad luck in the seventh; that jack by Nelson Cruz was complete bullshit.
Moving around the majors, it was great to see Doc Halladay throw a gem in his debut for the Phillies. I’m happy for him. He will seriously be unstoppable in that league all summer. I really hope the Phillies win it all.
Did you see Barack Obama throw out the first pitch in Halladay’s start versus the Nationals? Jesus Christ, that was embarrassing. I understand that he’s a basketball guy, but I expect a little more from the leader of the free world.
Obama looked like he had never thrown a ball before. I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand how someone could be so uncoordinated that they can’t throw a ball sixty feet without looking like they’re having an epileptic seizure.
Say what you want about the efficacy of George W. Bush’s presidency, but at least the guy could pump the zone when called upon.
Check this out.
I hope everyone has recovered from the orgiastic chocolate feast known as Easter. I have a horrible sugar hangover right now. This weekend was the first time in 2010 that I've eaten any semblance of sweets and I am paying for it right now.
But enough about me. Today is Opening Day of the 2010 Major League Baseball season. To mark such a terrific occasion, I, along with two jerks well-known to this blog, recorded a MLB preview podcast.
There is also a surprise at the beginning of the recording that is evidence of my newfound technical prowess.
Talkin' with Tewks Live - MLB Preview
Enjoy.
I’m going to cover a melange of topics today as I prepare for an epic Easter Weekend consisting of softball and much-needed male bonding tomorrow, my second foray into the world of curling on Saturday, and an opportunity to take my shirt off and workout outside on Sunday.
(No column tomorrow out of respect for Jesus)
Yesterday’s Comments
I’m actually going to take He Who Hits Bombs childish (and projected) digs at my sexual orientation as a compliment. He remarked that “this blog is going downhill” with my coverage of American Idol, Jersey Shore and The Bachelor.
However, that just means that at some point, my blog was enjoying lofty status uphill, which is one of the nicest things ever said about my writing. I may even add that to the banner at the top of the site: Talkin’ with Tewks – It Sucks Now but You Should Have Seen it Six Months Ago.
Teebs, Teebs, Teebs. I’m very disappointed in you. We had quite a nice little discussion going on and you had to ruin it with your display of research and facts. I completely made up my points from yesterday. I went with my gut. That’s what we do here at Talkin’ with Tewks. Gut first, intelligence and thought later.
Come on, Teebs. You’re better than that.
Thank you SSzem for the kind words and your own American Idol thoughts. See fellas, I was asked to provide my reality TV thoughts and I did. Are you brave enough to go against the wishes of a pregnant woman? I, for one, am not. Especially since she has the capability to suffocate me in my sleep this weekend.
Blue Jays Rough Up Halladay
Yesterday afternoon, the Jays lit Roy up for four runs in the first inning. Thus far, I haven’t heard anything, but I have a strong enough belief in the idiocy of some Jays fans that they will look to yesterday’s game as some type of proof that the Jays got rid of Halladay at the right time and he will no longer be the same pitcher he was for Toronto.
Nothing could be further from the truth. It was a meaningless spring training start. There was no reason for Doc to be jacked up for that start and a myriad of reasons for the Jays to try to jump all over him.
You Jays fans thinking Halladay is done: talk to me in August when he’s already won twenty games.
More Tiger Details Emerge
This will be the last time I’m going to mention Tigers' off field exploits. From this point forward, it’s only golf related topics from now on. Like, by just how many strokes will Tiger win The Masters this year?
A new article from Vanity Fair talks to some of the whores that Tiger had sex with. It’s mostly boring shit no one cares about, but one quote made me laugh. Apparently, Tiger is quite frugal with the women he sleeps with. According to the article, the only thing Tiger ever bought for Mindy Lawton was a chicken wrap from Subway on the way to her house.
That’s fantastic. I guess Tiger and I have more in common than I thought.
American Idol Travesty
Didi Benami, otherwise known as the hot chick, was voted out last night. What a horrible decision. Unfortunately, I may have to boycott covering the remainder of the season as a protest.
I sincerely think this may be the last year this show is socially relevant. It’s been a fun ride.
Dion Phaneuf Named Most Overrated Player in NHL by Peers
This is really who you want as your next captain, Toronto fans? Good luck with that.
Now that Idol is finally down to a manageable number and I can recognize the remaining singers at first glance, I figured it was time to give my uninformed opinions on the “TOP 10 UNDISCOVERED SINGERS IN AMERICA!!!”
I am nowhere near a music snob. I like mainstream, popular fluff; evidenced by my adoration of Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus. Therefore, I will be dissecting last night’s performances based purely on what was pleasing visually and aurally (not to be confused with orally; I also like to be pleased that way as well). I don’t care if contestants take risks or ‘make songs their own’; I just want to be entertained.
(Quick aside: I want to address Teebs’ comment from yesterday’s post about the NBA scoring race. Teebs, when LeBron says “It doesn’t matter”, I don’t think he is referring to the scoring title. I think he is referring to the media trying to create a rivalry for the title between him and Kevin Durant.
I also disagree with your claim that LeBron says he doesn’t care about winning the scoring title. Would it be nice? Yes. Is it a necessity? No. Of course he wants to win it, but look at these (unsubstantiated) facts. Fifteen points separate the two players right now. That is one basket every ten games. A scoring title separated by such a miniscule margin is a big deal in name only.
Also, do you realize LeBron sits out the fourth quarter of one game a week because the Cavaliers are consistently involved in blowouts? That is almost one game a month that LeBron is stapled to the bench. Oklahoma City doesn’t have that luxury. Durant has to play big minutes every game for the Thunder to have a chance to win.
That is what LeBron means when he says he could be the scoring champion every year if he wanted. If he played 45 minutes per game, he’d be averaging 35 plus a night. But, he’s saving himself for a championship run. Therefore, fewer minutes equals fewer points. I’ll bet LeBron is dominating the hypothetical points per minute category)
Siobhan Magnus – Through the Fire
I rarely know what the judges are talking about when they critique a performance. Terms like ‘pitchy’, ‘runs’, ‘vibrato’ and ‘connecting’ with a song mean nothing to me, but I can tell if a performance is good or not. And last night, Siobhan was not good. She crushed the high notes, but whenever she sang the part that wasn’t the chorus (melody?) she sounded terrible.
Plus, she’s a complete weirdo. Have you seen her interview packages? She has dead eyes. Siobhan reminds me of Hannibal Lecter. Watch the next time Seacrest talks to her. It’s terrifying. Hello, Clarice.
Casey James – Hold On, I’m Comin’
This song is terrific. It gets me pumped up every time I hear it. Plus, the title always brings out the thirteen year old boy in me: Hold On, I’m Comin’ (That’s what she said. Hiyoo!! Who am I kidding? I’ve never heard that).
Casey sang it very well, but something is always off with his performances. They lack pizzazz and a certain je ne sais quoi. Plus, he smiles way too much. It looks fake and more than a little creepy.
Michael Lynche – Ready for Love
I think he might be the dark horse to win it all. He’s a likeable guy with a terrific backstory and he’s proved to be the most competent of all the male singers week in and week out. Truthfully, that’s not saying much, but it just exemplifies how weak this year’s finalists are.
Didi Benami – What Becomes of the Broken-hearted
Unfortunately, I cannot give an unbiased account of Didi’s performance for two reasons: 1. I love this song so much that I watch the Youtube video of Jimmy Ruffin’s original at least twice a week. 2. As the lone hot chick in the competition, I want to have sex with Didi which clouds my judgement of her performances.
So, I thought Didi was excellent.
Tim Urban – Sweet Love
He’s basically Sanjaya, but better looking. What else can I say? How about: why was Usher wearing sunglasses indoors? Can you imagine how dark it must have been in the theatre and this idiot has sunglasses on? What a moron. I’ll bet he couldn’t see anything but shapes for the entire two hours.
Andrew Garcia – Forever
A solid performance, but the most memorable thing about Andrew last night was the preview shot of him before the commercial break leading into his song. From a distance, he was waving his hand wildly and effeminately at the camera. That, plus his glasses, made Andrew look actually retarded. I’m talking Sean Penn in I am Sam retarded. Hilarious stuff.
Katie Stevens – Chain of Fools
I like Katie. She can sing very well and appears to have a poise and maturity beyond her years. She’s also cute, bordering on hot. So much so that I looked up the age of consent in Canada for, you know, research purposes.
Hint: I’m in the clear.
Lee DeWyze – Treat Her Like a Lady
Now this was a great performance. It was the first time that Lee showed he has some semblance of personality on stage. I was thoroughly entertained throughout and, if he keeps it up, Lee has a chance to dethrone Big Mike as the top male in the competition.
Crystal Bowersox – Midnight Train to Georgia
Crystal consistently brings the goods every week. And I like how it appeared she showered for last night’s performance. Her hair also looked significantly less disgusting than usual. The hippie, earth-mother goddess look has never really done it for me.
She’s undoubtedly the most talented performer in the competition and will win the title with ease if the thirteen year old girls doing the voting get a fucking clue.
Aaron Kelly – Ain’t No Sunshine
I don’t understand the draw of this kid. He looks like an elf. I suppose Aaron can sing in tune, but I expect more from my American Idols. Like the ability to lift twenty-five pounds over your head.
A new rule should be instituted that contestants should have at least started puberty before they can audition for the show. As soon as Aaron’s balls drop, that singing voice is going to fly right out the window.
Now that I am in my twenties, I consider myself to be a somewhat intelligent, well-informed sports fan. No longer do I blindly follow Toronto professional sports teams with such complete admiration that I resemble a teenaged girl overheating at the mere mention of the jerkoffs from Twilight.
Trust me, it’s fantastic. Do you know how great it is to not care that the Toronto Maple Leafs, a once great and proud franchise, are no longer relevant in today’s NHL? I don’t have to lose sleep over the fact the team only has two players with more than fifteen goals (and one of them only has one testicle).
Similarly, back in the Vince Carter years, I lived and died with every Raptors game. Not anymore. I don’t care that the Raptors can barely attain mediocrity in a conference where half the teams should really be playing in the NBA’s developmental league.
Instead, I am now a fan of great players, regardless of which team they play for. It’s amazing; I am never disappointed. I get to appreciate transcendent performances on a nightly basis (much like the ladies I frequent with).
In the NBA, my allegiances start and end with LeBron James and Kobe Bryant. I will wade through ten minutes of shitty NHL and NBA highlights just for a glimpse of the King and Kobe.
My infatuation with LeBron brings me to today’s column topic; the terrific race between James and Kevin Durant for the NBA scoring title. Not including yesterday’s games, only fifteen points separated the pair with ten games remaining in the schedule.
James and Durant are an interesting juxtaposition as they both have disparate scoring styles. Durant is a pure sharpshooter. He has range from anywhere on the floor and can score points in bunches. No matter what you do, he is going to go for at least 20 points a night. The opposition’s only hope is to not let Durant get hot, lest he unload for 40 without breaking a sweat.
On the other hand, LeBron is a complete force of nature. He can’t shoot as well as Durant, but he is also a more complete player. He’s averaging seven rebounds and nine assists per game to go along with twenty-nine plus points.
Opposing teams can let Durant get his points and still win the game. Try to take LeBron out of the game and he will burn you with his passing prowess. It’s not an accident that the Cavaliers are the best team in the league.
At 6’8” and 250lbs with a point guard’s speed, LeBron is unstoppable when he kicks it into his top gear. He can literally get to the basket anytime he wants. He’s only 25 years old. He hasn’t even scratched the surface of what he’s ultimately capable of.
This is why I loved his answer when he asked about the scoring race last week. LeBron said, “If I really wanted to be the scoring champion every single year—every single year—I could really do it. It doesn’t matter.”
What a refreshingly candid answer by a professional athlete. James has unfairly taken a beating for these comments and I don’t understand why. He didn’t resort to unrestrained braggadocio or make disparaging remarks about his competitors like Terrell Owens or Chad Ochocinco would.
LeBron just gave a matter-of-fact reply to a question he was asked. I am of the belief that a statement cannot be considered cocky if it’s true. James wasn’t being arrogant or egotistical. He was stating a fact.
It’s true, he could win the scoring title every year if that was his ultimate goal, but it’s not. He wants to be known as a winner and a champion.
Excuse my language, but what a giant clusterfuck last night was. I had visions of a terrific March Madness podcast with CSzem where we would discuss his gambling problem and the NCAA tournament in general, complete with actual analysis of the four teams remaining.
Instead, the software program that I downloaded to record the podcasts decided to stop working for no apparent reason. There was no warning; no harbinger for the frustration that caused radiating waves of pain to shoot down the left side of my body. I could have at least used an error message. Something like “You are too stupid to operate this machine.” That I would have understood.
The oddest thing about the situation is that once I tried to record our conversation, CSzem could no longer hear me. I could hear him fine, but he couldn’t hear a word I said.
So, not only was last night’s podcast DOA, but our five minute preamble conversation setting up said podcast took place without the audio troubles that have plagued our previous efforts. Of course.
My lack of technical knowledge is severely limited, as I’ve articulated before on this blog, and CSzem isn’t much better. Truthfully, I don’t even want to explain the techniques we used to try to record the podcast last night because it’s much too embarrassing. I’m confident a four year old just learning how to use a computer would have looked at our efforts and said “You two are morons.”
I have come to the conclusion that, since the recording software was obtained with a free download, I was in some type of free trial period without my knowledge. The trial must be over and that is the reason why I can no longer record conversations.
I suppose that is just karma for me not wanting to pay for something. So, now I am forced to actually pay for a recording program. Any suggestions for ones that are good and don’t cost a lot of money? That second point is of the utmost importance. Do you know how much money I have in my wallet right now? 71 cents. That’s not a joke. It’s just the depressing reality of my life.
Actually, the more I think about it, something just doesn’t add up about the technical issues. It’s fine that I wasn’t able to record the conversation, but it doesn’t make sense that then I could hear CSzem, but he couldn’t hear me.
I bet he made the entire thing up!
That wouldn’t surprise me considering the verbal roasting I was planning on giving him for his March Madness ‘expertise.’
The only 'problem' last night was that my intrepid podcast guest was suffering from an acute bout of hubris. After attempting to flex some gambling muscle in his column on Wednesday, the Madness has chewed CSzem up and spit him out.
Do you realize that for all his blustering about point spreads and in-depth dissections of various schools, CSzem only correctly picked one team to make it to the Final Four (Duke)? I, on the other hand, picked teams based on seeding and where I would go to school. I ended up correctly picking two entrants to the Final Four (West Virginia and Michigan State).
How embarrassing that must be for him. No wonder he didn’t want to record a podcast last night.
I would love for CSzem to defend himself in the comment section. He owes an explanation to all of you.
For those readers needing their podcast fix, fear not. I have a very special Easter Weekend podcast(s?) planned and it (they?) will not disappoint. I want to keep the guest list and discussion topics quiet for now, but I will allow CSzem a few minutes to redeem himself with his Final Four picks.
Jesse James
I think the only person on Jesse James’ side right now is Tiger Woods. This new sex scandal is absolutely perfect for Tiger. He can now just focus on his return to competitive golf, while the media hounds can focus their attention to, rightfully, tearing apart Mr. James.
James committed the cardinal sin when it comes to celebrity adultery. Never, under any circumstances, cheat on your significant other if he or she is more famous than you. Look, Tiger’s actions were reprehensible, but is anyone really surprised a guy with hundreds of millions of dollars in his bank account and worldwide fame wants to sleep with lots of women?
As I’ve said before, all Tiger has to do is come back and play winning golf and this scandal will eventually be forgotten. Sure, people feel bad for his wife, but no one really knows who she is. Right now, it’s only women who dislike Tiger and most women aren’t golf fans in the first place. Every guy just wants to see Tiger return and kick ass.
This is where Jesse James is screwed. He’s a complete nobody (I have literally never heard of him before this story came out) and his wife is a super famous actress who everyone loves. Seriously, who doesn’t like Sandra Bullock? She is lusted after by men and absolutely BELOVED by women. I’m not kidding. Mama and Sister Tewks were legitimately crushed when news of James’ infidelity came out.
The backlash against James will be unbelievably vitriolic. People will not forget this story as long as Sandra Bullock remains in the public eye. How do you cheat on someone like her? And with tattooed freaks? Plus, there’s nothing he can do to get back in people’s good graces. He’s toast. He threw it all away for disease-ridden sex.
What an idiot.
Mike Weir
This story is nowhere near the magnitude of the one above, but it irked me this morning nonetheless. In the first round of the Bay Hill Invitational, Mike Weir shot a 67 to be one stroke behind the leaders at Arnold Palmer’s tournament.
Apparently, Weir had skipped the tournament four years in a row at the beginning of the last decade. That’s not a big deal; most golfers don’t play every tournament on the PGA Tour schedule.
What pissed me off was Weir’s reasoning for skipping Bay Hill. He didn’t play well there earlier in his career, so he decided to stop playing because the course was too tough.
Are you kidding me?
And now, the only reason he’s back playing at Bay Hill is because tournament organizers made the course easier. How can Weir call himself a professional athlete with that type of attitude? His exact quote is “I didn’t see the point [in playing] if I couldn’t contend.” What a horrible message that sends for kids.
If you can’t play really well, don’t bother trying. In what other sport would such an admission of weakness be allowed? Can you imagine if Roy Halladay refused to pitch against the Yankees when he was with the Jays because New York’s batting lineup was too good? Or Kobe not wanting to suit up against LeBron?
I think it’s fairly obvious now why Weir hasn’t done anything since winning the Masters seven years ago. He lacks the competitive fire needed to compete at a high level. How can he call himself Canadian after making comments like that?
Tween Girls
They are ruining American Idol. They are the only people in America dumb enough to spend money texting in votes for their favourite singers and the viewing (and listening) public has to suffer the consequences.
These girls successfully ensured that four great singers were robbed of a spot in the Top 12, in favour of dweebs who look like they don’t have a drop of testosterone (or talent) in their bodies.
Furthermore, when the Top 12 was named, it was quite evident to everyone not a teenaged girl that the women were much stronger singers than the men.
What’s happening? The women are being systematically picked off while some terrible guys have remained in the competition. I can’t argue with Paige being sent home on Wednesday night. I am admittedly a horrible singer and I think I could have performed “Against All Odds” better than her.
But, there are now 6 guys and 4 girls remaining. Mark my words: Crystal and Siobhan are going to be in big trouble because tween girls have no desire to buy their records or listen to their voices. They would rather see Tim Urban stumble blandly through another song he doesn’t understand or Little Aaron mug for the cameras.
With Simon leaving after this season, this could legitimately be the end for American Idol. The performances are getting worse, not better. There are only a handful of people who even belong on that stage. You could not give me enough money to see the Top 10 on their summer tour.
What a horrible experience that would be.
Before I delve into last night’s episode of Survivor, I’d like to comment on a seminal moment in my athletic career.
I played my last game of competitive indoor volleyball last night. My knees can no longer take the pounding. The continuous jumping has wreaked havoc on my joints. If I want to continue to Crossfit and play baseball, then my volleyball days have to cease.
Of course, I will still play beach volleyball on my Caribbean vacations. Depriving the women on the island the opportunity to see me sweaty and shirtless would just be cruel.
Anyway, I ended my career as an A division champion as my team won the title in three straight games. It was a dominating performance and a fitting end to my career. Next winter, I will begin to tackle curling.
Another stellar episode of Survivor. This show just gets better and better.
The conversation between Russell and Rob at the beginning of the episode was like watching Professor Xavier and Magneto square off in a verbal joust before the inevitable physical clash (that might be the geekiest sentence I will ever write).
Has anyone noticed that, in the opening credits, every female and jacked male contestant is shown greased up in baby oil from that sliding competition a few weeks ago? It’s an underrated treat. I have Danielle’s three second clip running on a continuous loop. What a fantastic editing decision.
I loved the looks of shock on the Villains' faces when the Heroes walked into the immunity challenge avec James and sans Tom. Even the Villains know the Heroes are retarded.
Was there any doubt whatsoever that Boston Rob would win individual immunity and a hot dog feast for his tribe? The guy is absolutely incredible. At this point, I would have sex with him and not even think twice. I don’t even think it’d be a gay thing. I would just want some of his greatness to rub off on me (Ok, that was kind of gay).
The strategy espoused by both Rob and Russell last night was impressive to witness. My head hurt just trying to figure the moves each guy was trying to pull off. Rob’s misdirection of making Russell think he was going to be voted off, when Parvarti was really going, was pure genius.
Not to be outdone, Russell correctly determined the ruse and made his own counter move. Then Rob adjusted his own plan to ensure he still had the correct numbers. It was like watching a chess mach.
Colby’s apparent throwing in the towel was disheartening to watch. I agreed wholeheartedly with James’ assertion that Colby wasn’t himself: “It’s like finding out Superman is wearing a fat suit.”
Unbelievably, I found James growing on me throughout this episode. The race between James and JT was exactly like the second Apollo Creed/Rocky Balboa beach run in Rocky III. All that was missing was a homoerotic man hug in the surf.
There is nothing to be said about the Villains’ tribal council except WOW. I have no idea how Russell pulled that off, but it was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen on this show. Basically, it all boiled down to Tyson being a moron, but Russell was responsible for planting that seed.
Rob’s face after realizing Russell had gotten the best of him was priceless. He was like King Xerxes in 300. A very human chill crawled up Rob’s spine. The game is now on. Both Russell and Rob have finally found an adversary worthy of their respective talents.
The Heroes tribe just doesn’t get it. Why vote James out now? You could have both Tom and Colby and could have gotten rid of that whiny tool Amanda instead. That would be a tribe to be reckoned with. Their stupidity just astounds me.
Last Wednesday, I threw my hat into the March Madness and tried my hand at picking the first two rounds of the NCAA tournament, with the promise of revisiting my picks today.
What a horrible idea.
Out of 16 teams, I successfully predicted five making it to the Sweet 16 (Michigan State, Kansas State, Kentucky, West Virginia and Purdue). Since you’re supposed to dance with who brung ya (unless someone hotter comes along), I am sticking with four of these five to make it to the Final Four.
I’ve decided to let someone who knows a lot more about this stuff than I do take over for the Talkin’ with Tewks March Madness coverage. CSzem’s column is below. I have no idea what the hell he is talking about half the time, but it sounds smart. Unfortunately, he actually uses research, data and ‘facts’ to write his column, which goes against everything I believe in as a writer.
"Unfit in Ontario on my Sectional”
I can’t help but notice the stark contrast between the weekend that Tewks had and the weekend that I had. Saturday afternoon, while your regular blogger was competing in a challenge to be considered the Fittest Man in the World, I was competing in an epic adventure centred on drinking and gambling (or as I usually call it “Saturday”).
As Tewks has correctly pointed out, March Madness is a sacred time for people like me (support meetings are every Wednesday). Quite simply, the tournament provides a veritable smorgasbord of betting options. It’s like the Super Bowl, but spread out over 4 weeks. The most popular form of gambling this time of year is, of course, the bracket. Everyone’s got one. Your boss has one. That annoying woman from Accounting has one. Your pregnant wife has one (that’s the one that’s beating yours). This is the one with all the bragging rights. Sadly, it’s also the least lucrative of any of the gambling options (and certainly the one you’re least likely to win).
With the Sweet 16 now set, and another great weekend ahead of us, I’ll try my hand at some picks for the world to see (and ultimately ridicule). The irony of this is that Tewks makes his picks based on who’s seeded higher and/or where he’d rather go to school. My picks are derived from literally hours upon hours of watching games, breaking down stats, analyzing gambling trends, and devouring any other information I can find to make an informed decision. And our success rate will probably be nearly identical.
THE PICKS
Butler (+7) v. Syracuse
I like Syracuse to win, but I think Butler grinds it out and keeps within striking distance.
Prediction: 64-60 ‘Cuse
West Virginia (-4.5) v. Washington
Washington’s hot play from the latter half of the Pac-10 Regular Season and Conference Tournament certainly carried over into the first weekend of the tournament. It’s also entirely possible that Marquette was never any good and New Mexico, despite their nice season, simply wasn’t ready for prime time.
Prediction: 79-70 West Virginia
Kansas State (-4.5) v. Xavier
K-State was easily among the most impressive teams in the first two rounds. They’re an elite team, and can absolutely win the whole thing, especially after their in-state nemesis (Kansas) was taken out by a team led by a little white kid named Ali Falkjflakfjlkasdfjalsdfjlasdjfdlkjasflkjfasdlkasdfj.
Prediction: 81-68 K-State
Kentucky (-9) v. Cornell
5 years from now the only time any of these people will be in the same room is if John Wall needs his taxes done or DeMarcus Cousins needs an attorney to get him out of jail.
Prediction: 77-60 Kentucky
Ohio St. (-4.5) v. Tennessee
Tennessee just isn’t that good. They were lucky to beat San Diego St. and then lucked into playing Ohio. Conversely, Evan Turner is VERY good.
Prediction: 74-66 Ohio St.
St. Mary’s (+3.5) v. Baylor
The Upset Special: At the very least, St. Mary’s has the ability to keep this thing close till the end.
Prediction: 74-73 St. Mary’s
Duke (-8) v. Purdue
Would prison really be that bad, Tewks? I mean, you get your meals all taken care of, you get to exercise regularly. Sure, there is that “other thing”.....but I’m not nearly as pretty as Tewks, so I think I’d be OK. Let’s forget we talked about this.
Prediction: 68-54 Duke
Michigan St (-1.5) v. Northern Iowa
Everyone and their cousin are going to be riding Northern Iowa, completely ignoring the fact that they had never heard of them a week ago. UNI took out Kansas, Michigan St. isn’t as good as Kansas, so this should be no problem. The betting public is going to LOVE Northern Iowa. Of course, Vegas wasn’t built because the uninformed betting public has a high success rate. I think MSU guts it out and UNI doesn’t live up to their newfound expectations.
Prediction: 62-60 Michigan St.
Elite Eight
Kentucky over West Virginia, 79-77 in a thriller.
Syracuse over K-State, 74-70. The Orange’s destruction of Gonzaga brought me back on board.
Duke over St. Mary’s, 69-62. Nice run for the Gaels, but these are the big boy games now.
Ohio St. over Michigan St., 71-65. They were better in the Big-10, they’ll be better here.
I swear these predictions have absolutely nothing to do with the litany of bets I have remaining. Absolutely nothing.
Here’s what I don’t understand about Toronto Maple Leaf fans. The team is putrid; and not just a ‘they just aren’t that competitive’ putrid. I am talking about a team that is ‘once in a generation’ terrible.
That’s not even a joke. The Leafs have not been this bad since the 1980s when Harold Ballard imposed his reign of terror at the corner of Church and Carlton. Now, instead of being embarrassed at cheering for such a lacklustre product, what do Leaf fans do?
They debate and discuss which players deserve to be bestowed with the Captain’s ‘C’ with such verve and vigour that you would think they were in Rome trying to decide who should be the next Pope.
Coincidentally, both tasks involve the blowing of white smoke: in Rome, they release smoke from the Vatican to signal the selection of a new Pope. In Toronto, MLSE blows smoke up fans’ asses that the team is actually committed to, you know, winning.
The top names bandied about for Toronto’s vacant captaincy are: Dion Phaneuf, Mike Komisarek, Phil Kessel and Francois Beauchemin.
You have to eliminate Kessel right away. More so in hockey than other sports, a team needs a captain who will be vocal in the dressing room and not be afraid to get in guys' faces. From what I’ve seen of Kessel in media interviews, I don’t think he’d be comfortable speaking up at the dinner table, let alone a professional hockey locker room.
I suppose Komisarek and Beauchemin would make compelling choices, but do either of those guys scream ‘Captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs’?
I agree with Brian Burke and Ron Wilson’s claim during training camp that they weren’t going to select a captain just for the hell of it. Remember, the next Leafs captain has to follow in the footsteps of Wendell Clark, Doug Gilmour and Mats Sundin. Does anyone on the current roster come close to comparing to those Leaf greats?
Phaneuf would have the most potential to be in that group, but he really needs to be a part of the organization for more than two months. Also, I would think it would be prudent to see if Dion can actually make the team better and no longer languish in last place in the Eastern Conference.
However, do these guys even want to be captain of the Leafs at this point? I wouldn’t want to be the leader of such a dysfunctional franchise. It would be akin to being named Captain of the Titanic after the original was swept up in that wave.
Who wants to be the leader of a sinking ship?
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.
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