Erik Ainge admits to being a drug addict in this article, actually he brags about it. He says, “I would’ve made Charlie Sheen look like Miss Daisy.” Sounds like he’s still on drugs… actually he is, keep reading because here are a few points Erik needs to consider before he opens his mouth again.
First, Sheen made $1.8 million per episode, you signed a four-year $1.87 million deal to play for the NY Jets and your football career is over. Sheen lives in Malibu and is insane, you lived in New Jersey… in an apartment, which is also insane. Let’s do the math… $1.8 million for one episode of that shitty sitcom, or $1.8 million for 4 years of playing football, oh and your football contract isn’t guaranteed.
Second, you have tattoos reminding you not to do drugs. Seriously? You can’t just look at a line of coke say “eh, I can’t handle this shit”? Instead you have to have tats that say, “One Day At A Time” and “This Too Shall Pass”. Erik, you’re either an idiot (he is Mormon, so…) or you’re a dipshit. I’d say you’re both. But hey, at least he gets to have multiple wives! I wonder if old Joseph Smith is punishing Erik for going to Tennessee instead of BYU? Probably, I mean Joe Smith was a prophet and all.
Third. Erik, you have a fat, puffy face and you’re not even 25, which only means you’re either drinking a shitload of alcohol or you’re on med’s… oh, that’s right, you are on meds. You’re on “bipolar medication”. Well, at least you have an excuse of why you’re a drug addict. I mean, hell, it’s not your fault you wasted your talent, it’s the “rapid cycling bipolar disorder.” Right? Good thing there’s more drugs to cure you, or at least keep you stable for the rest of your life. Hurray for prescription drugs!
The good news is since your football career is over I know he can get a job as a car salesman.
I used to know a guy who was in great shape, actually he was in too good of shape. He worked out five hours a day on top of working a meager job sweeping out warehouses filled with soda. He made very little money and whenever he’d encounter anyone of wealth he would say this, “If you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything.” What he was really saying was, “I better live longer than all those rich bastards.”
Well, that guy died a long time ago but still works out five hours a day. Weird, huh.
Oh, and speaking of muscles… here’s the THOR trailer they didn’t show you.
That’s right, a naked gym in Spain. Imagine doing the bench press and having Javier spot you. Seriously, think about that… or don’t.
What do you think it’ll look like when Hilda goes for her personal best in the squat? What about when Larry the hairy guy from Rome forgets to bring a towel? I can’t wait until that hottie shows up for her yoga session, or maybe I can wait.
Below is a video of Stephen Paea benching 225 lbs 49 times with clothes on, the NFL combine record. Just think how many reps he could’ve got without clothes.
This is something you’d expect to happen in Florida, not Oregon. Or maybe Najeh Davenport got a new job as a postal worker in Oregon. Did you know Najeh’s nickname was “The Dump Truck”?
Anyway, long story short, The Smith’s roses will win first prize at this year’s county fair. Check out the video below.
Quick update on a story Rip Salsa covered.
The Federal Government has proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Barry Bonds’ balls have withered away to the point that grains of sand are laughing at him. Now he will be locked away from society for jacking too many home runs while jacked up on roids.
Barry Bonds, menace to society.
Those of us lucky enough to survive the apocalypse will undoubtedly head to New Orleans. Why? The feral chickens, of course. Do you think a bunch of feral cows could survive the apocalypse let alone thrive in post-apocalyptic conditions? Hell no. But chickens, they’re resilient, smarter than you think. And it's the chicken that will save mankind.
Tonight, when you’re at the dinner table feasting on a factory chicken, raise your glass to the feral chicken. For it is the feral chicken that will be worshipped… or maybe it’ll be the man that finds the feral chicken that will be praised. Only time will tell.
Australia has an idea for cigarettes. All cigarettes will be packaged in an ugly olive green package, researchers claim this is a color that's unappealing to most. 74% of my shits consist of this color so I see the correlation. They also want boring font for the brand name. It will be interesting to see how this goes. The NRA uses Australia as an example of what could happen in the USA, so I can see this becoming a issue for the NSA of America. You smoke because you smoke, if your young and smoke it is because others are drunk and smoking, smoking is for smokers. The Truth ads are useless to me, who the hell doesn't know smoking is bad? Rip Salsa knows.
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They fly me out to NYC all the time. Why? Because I’m important. Now that you know I’m important you should also know I’m a brisk walker. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Eder Sanchez, the great Mexican race walker, but I don’t dally when I’m walking from point A to point B.
I was walking through Central Park a few weeks ago, making my way to a kick ass hot dog stand, and it fucking happened to me, it always fucking happens to me and it pisses me off. I catch up to some asshole who’s running slower than I’m walking. There’s no God damn, mother fucking reason anybody should be running slower than I’m walking.
Now this is where I’m weak. I don’t pass the slow runners, I just start walking slower. I don’t want to pass them and feel guilty, like I’ll make them feel bad or some shit like that. But they should feel bad because they’re making a mockery of real runners, like Oprah or the McDonalds LA marathon guy.
If you’re running that slow and you’re too stupid to simply walk, or even take up swimming, then fuck you… right? Fuck! Why do I need reassurance for this? I’m ruthless in all areas of my life. I steal from my neighbor for Christ sake. Fuck it, next time it happens I’m confronting the slow runner. I’ll step in front of them and start walking backwards, so they don’t have to run any fucking slower, and I’ll applaud them for exercising then tell them they look like an asshole. I’m sure they’ll thank me one day. Even better, if you’re running and someone walking passes you, then stop fucking running. Simple.
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