Archive for the ‘Trucks and Redneck Things’ Category

12 Reasons You Were Never Meant to Dunk

Tuesday, November 17th, 2009

1. You can dunk the ball . . . but you’re considered clinically obese:

2. You have absolutely ZERO depth perception:

3. You think the trampoline is a great place to dunk from:

4. You had to enlist in the military instead of the NBA . . . and still can’t dunk:

5. If you think Sir Isaac Newton’s laws do not apply to chairs and dunking off of them:

6. The high school asked you to be the mascot instead of the center:

7. They ask you to put on a Scream mask before attempting a dunk:

8. You’re fat, dunking depends on your life, and there’s only a bucket:

9. See (5) and apply to shopping carts:

10. You’re a nerd and you have a dunk called “the Spidey” involving wall climbing:

11. If your friends convince you to jump off their backs . . . from 10 ft out:

12. You don’t believe in the slippery powers of freaking ICE:

The WWE Raw Drinking Game

Monday, July 20th, 2009

40hands_fullbatista

With the Rawleigh tonight, i decided that posting the Monday Night Raw drinking game would be good to spread the good word of WWE. These are only a handful in total there are about 100 with new ones added every week. These rules are also followed rather loosely because if you were to strict adhere you would get alcohol poisoning.

Drink every time…

  1. there is entrance music
  2. a wrestler uses his/her special move
  3. there is unnecessary backstage drama
  4. there is a 2 count on an attempted pin
  5. drink double for a one count
  6. you laugh (this one gets brutal)
  7. the ref does unnecessary and ridiculous hand motions
  8. there is an attempted joke that is terrible
  9. a diva muff dives another diva
  10. they hype their next pay-per-view
  11. you see a terrible sign in the crowd
  12. an outside object, a chair, ladder, sledgehammer, etc., is introduced to the match
  13. Raw cuts to commercial mid-match only to return to the other guy winning now (called a “Commercial Reversal”)
  14. a tag team partner begs to be tagged in
  15. someone is knocked out by something that shouldn’t have hurt
  16. they mess up a move

This game is to be played with 40’s of Malt Liquor or Beer.

Pic of the Day - 04.23

Thursday, April 23rd, 2009

Why hunting is not a sport . . .  

The Sport with One Rule : No (Intentional) Murder

Monday, April 13th, 2009

In the small English town of Ashbourne during 2 days a year the people divide to play a sport with the purpose of scoring the “toughest goal”. Sure kicking a ball into the net takes some skill, but even these people would say scoring in a sport such as rugby is only for the weak. Imagine thousands of people, divided by a river, with 2 days to get a ball across town with one simple rule: no murder. That is only the beginning in Royal Shrovetide Football.

The Time:

The game of Royal Shrovetide is played annually on Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday in Ashbourne, which is located in Derbyshire, England. The pitch begins at 2:00 pm and lasts until 10:00 pm. If a ball is goaled before 5:00, then a new ball is released in the town centre and play continues. Otherwise, play is over for the day.

The Teams:

Through the middle of Ashbourne runs a river called the Hanmore Brook. People born north of the river are on the Up’Ards and people from the south are called Down’Ards. On opposite ends of the town are two goal posts that are located 3 miles apart. The Up’Ards attempt to score at Sturston Mill, and the Down’Ards at the Clifton Mill, each located in a river. In order to score, the team must move the ball from the town centre, to their mill, and then bang the ball on the wall 3 consecutive times.

The Game:

There is no limit to the number of players the Up or Down’Ard teams can possess. The teams (composed of thousands of people) are encouraged to stay within the confinements of Ashbourne. As a precaution all stores and shops board up their windows and all cars are parked miles away. The crowd gathers at a specially designed plinth in the middle of Town Square to begin the game. Prior to the beginning, they sing Auld Lang Syne followed by God Save the Queen. Shortly after, town (or in some cases actual royalty) figures throw the custom painted ball into the crowd. From there, the chaos begins.

The “Rules”:

The only real official rule to the game is no murder or manslaughter. But a good way to find you in a sticky situation during the game is to:

1) Carry the ball by motorized vehicle.

2) Hide the ball under your coat or in a bag.

3) Run into a cemetery, churchyard, or memorial.

Also, unnecessary roughness is heavily frowned upon, although a common occurrence during the 2 day game.

The Roll of Honor:

The roll of honor is an official document, which keeps history of each scorer and the turner-up (the person who threw the ball) during each of the game. If you are a visitor wishing to score on either of the two teams, you are out of luck. Each part of town usually predetermines who will score the goals and thus keep the ball. It is usually respected members or families of the town, for they frown upon visitors getting their names placed in the Roll of Honor.

Here are a few videos of this great brute of a sport unfolding:

By Colby Almond

Hey That’s a REAL Nice Truck . . . for a WOMAN

Friday, April 10th, 2009

For some reason . . . I read this every Friday to remind me why life is great. 

Sayyyyy, nice truck you got there.  What is that, a V-8?  Oh, only a V-6?  Well, I suppose that’s okay.  As long as you don’t need your truck to do anything MANLY, like carry heavy shit uphill.  Heavy shit made out of metal, because that’s the kind of heavy shit REAL MEN need to haul.

But no, it’s a good truck. You get good gas mileage?  Yeah?  Well gas mileage is for pussies.  My truck here gets about two gallons per mile.  You know what else gets mileage that bad?  A fucking TANK.  That’s how I know my truck kicks ass.

That’s a nice color for it, too. What is that, “red”? It looks good. I seen some real pretty flowers that color. Me, I don’t need to paint my truck. Primer’s good enough for me. If I had paint it would just get in the way of me doing MANLY SHIT, like driving through explosions in the desert and speeding past giant machines swinging other trucks at my truck. But red’s good, too. Probably looks really nice in the parking lot when you pick your son up from ballet practice.

But I like yours.  Who made it, Tonka?  I’ll bet it plays your Jonas Brothers CDs pretty loud while I’m fucking your wife.  Pansy.

Oh hey, I notice you’ve got a little– what is that?  A “man ramp” to get up into your truck’s bed?  No, no — it looks good.  Must come in handy when you want to help a dainty little man into the back there.  So you can hold his hand and have sex with him and ask him to stay the night, because you’re a needy little bitch.  It works for you.

Whatcha got in the forward cab, huh?   Scented Kleenex and Barbies, I bet. 

(peers in through window)

Well well well.  Looky here.  Seatbelts, huh?

(makes wanking motion)

No, don’t take that the wrong way!  Seatbelts are great for women and babies in little cars.  And trucks for men with tiny little limp dicks.

Listen to me, jabbering on like that.  I should let you go.  You’re gonna be late to yoga class or book group or your… your Cocksuckers Anonymous meeting.  You can park that bad boy next to the hybrids.

Gonna drive with the windows up, huh?  Pffft..