Category: Uncategorized

Can I Be Frank, Frank McCabe, Uncategorized

Blizzard Juno Post-Mortem & Confessions

Well, we made it.  We are all alive.  The world did not end.  I actually think I still have some bread and milk in the house.  It’s a Super Bowl week miracle!  As we continue to dig out and dust away the close to 3 feet of snow (“Do you realize the street value of this mountain?”) dropped on us by Juno (oh, yeah, we now apparently name blizzards now like freaking hurricanes! Oh and we couldn’t do any better that Juno?  How about something cool and powerful…like Herb or Norm?  I digress)  I came to some realizations about myself, my family, and my manhood during this hizzy of a blizzy; none of which are that encouraging from where I sit.

NO SCHOOL.  ALL SCHOOLS!

Sure, the knee jerk reaction is YIPPIE!  No school!  What could be better?  I am thrilled for my 3 little cherubs.  Enjoy a relaxing day of snow bound leisure, kids.  Sleep in, stay in your PJs, watch too much TV and of course, play in this winter wonderland.  The excitement for a parent is far less.  By about 9AM I wanted to get out of dodge.  Have a great day, suckas!  Dad is off to work.  However, when that diabolical bitch Mother Nature hammers 3 feet on your ass, nobody is going anywhere.  We are in Snow Prison.  Get back in your cells.  Outside of the shoveling, (which I dread, hate and suck at – see below) I was trapped.  Being stuck inside for more than 24 hours straight on Tuesday was perhaps the greatest deterrent to ever land myself in the joint.  Well, that and the man rape.

SHOVELING & SAUSAGES

Shoveling PERIOD Snow PERIOD Sucks PERIOD  It’s cold.  It’s windy.  It’s cold and it’s cold.  And that bomb we got this week was just.too.much.  Open my back door to this…

door open snow

Holy Sweet Mother of Crap.  OK, I need a game plan.  And so, I determined I would pace myself and my friggin’ diggin’ schedule would go a little something like this…

  • Shovel for 12 minutes
  • Beer break
  • Lite grill (after nearly a whole 1/4 hour of grueling, back breaking slave labor I would surely need some sustenance to survive the elements)  BOOM.  Like Frozen Fenway baby!grill in snow

Yeah, that bad boy meat-heater resides 4 feet from the door in the photo above.  I basically shoveled just enough so I could spark up some sausages.  (By the way, under that blue tarp you see?  Yeah, that is an un-used, un-tested, un-gased, un-oiled generator in case the power went out.  I’m always ahead of the game)

On with the schedule…

  • Cook meat
  • Eat meat
  • Go inside and whine and…yup…beer break
  • Shovel for 6 more minutes
  • QUIT

Pathetic you say?  That’s nothing…read on.

I SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF MYSELF!

So, after said pathetic shoveling attempt as described above, the real ‘pants-wearer’ in the family stepped up; the Mrs.  Unlike her ill-skilled spouse, she is a bit of a gamer.  Once she saw me throw up the white snowflake flag of defeat (and threw me a condescending and disappointing glare), she informed me she was going out to continue the excavation effort…and that I had a piece of sausage on my face.  DOH!  Grabbed her tin of Skoal and made her way into the wild to ensure our family would be able to safely exit the premises if needed…

…while I made chicken soup watching her out the window.  Winning the shame game.  Holla!

Each month is gay…

Each season nice…

When eating chicken soup with rice…

Anger, Pistoffirishman, Uncategorized

Wow you climbed a Big Rock…hey look a dog with a puffy tail

rock

Yosemite climbers reach top of El Capitan in historic ascent

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) – Two climbers completed a historic 19-day ascent to the summit of Yosemite National Park’s El Capitan in California on Wednesday after scaling the rock formation’s 3,000-foot (900-metre) sheer granite face without climbing tools, representatives said.
Tmmy Caldwell, 36, and Kevin Jorgeson, 30, made it to the top of El Capitan at 3:30 p.m., spokeswoman Jess Clayton of clothing company Patagonia which played a sponsorship role in the climb, said in an email.
The two men, who were the first to climb El Capitan’s so-called Dawn Wall without bolts or climbing tools but used safety ropes in case of falls, climbed the rock face in stages beginning on Dec. 27. They had been expected to reach the summit on Wednesday afternoon.
The Dawn Wall of El Capitan is divided into 32 climbing pitches, which are varying lengths of rock that the climbers mastered with only their hands and feet. The wall has been scaled before, first by legendary climber Warren Harding in 1970, but never without climbing tools.
Yvon Chouinard, Patagonia’s founder and owner who climbed El Capitan in 1964, joked about attitudes toward evolution in a tongue-in-cheek statement celebrating the ascent. He said it “leaves Pope Francis with no choice but to admit our closest relative is the chimpanzee.”
Caldwell and Jorgeson reached the final 11 pitches on Tuesday after working their way past some of the toughest stretches on the rock.
Since the warmth of the day caused their hands and feet to perspire, the two often started climbing at dusk. They used ropes and other tools to move back and forth between the pitches they were attempting to master and their campsite, perched high on the rock.
Jorgeson struggled for several days last week on difficult pitch 15, at one point being forced to rest for two days while the skin on his fingers healed after being ripped off by razor-sharp ledges.

Their attempt on El Capitan was closely watched in the climbing world and drew worldwide news headlines and attention on social media as they made progress toward the summit.

Caldwell, 36, who is sponsored by Patagonia and is one of National Geographic’s “adventurers of the year” for 2015, conceived of the climb in 2007, the company said. Jorgeson spent five years preparing for the climb, his website said

Congratulations you guys, on climbing a mountain that has been climbed a million times, but this time you guys did the hard part with no climbing tools. How are people astounded by this? You want to be astounded?  Head down to Cappys Copper Kettle on a Wednesday morning at 9am. Trust me you will see some shit in there that will blow your mind more then two hippy clowns climbing a rock. Not only did you climb a mountain that’s been climbed you did it in 19 days! You know how much stupid shit has impressed me more in the last 19 God damn days.

-My 6 month old shit so hard it went up to his neck!
-My brother drank (19) 30 packs
-Tobes got a kegerator and hasn’t got divorced yet
-Nobody from the NFLhas raped anyone (whoops spoke to soon)
-Danny Amendola caught 2 touchdown passes
-Bill Cosby raped 34 more chicks
-All the Khardashians and Bruce Jenner all slept with black guys
-Ray Lewis used the work “inadequate” correctly in a sentence
-I drank a bottle of red wine trying to be classy til I sharted
-Saw 13 different Asians wearing glasses (GWG)
-Watched Under Siege 3 times
-The Bruins scored more then 2 goals in a game
-Saw a dog fall asleep while licking himself
-Made a telemarketer hang up on me by asking “Who let the dogs out”
-School was canceled due to COLD?  Bullshit.
-Beetlejuice was nominated for an Oscar
-My iPhone didn’t autocorrect ‘Fuck’ to ‘Duck’

So, all of the above were way more impressive in my life than these two playing ‘Cliffhanger‘ on something that’s been done before. Ya, I get it it’s a part that hasn’t been done before without equipment. Give me a break, that’s like saying the guy that killed himself with a rocket launcher to the dome broke the suicide record. Hey guys, go back to Eastern Mountain Sports with your Timberlands, rock climber key chains, and your wrist bands for no reason and shut. the. fuck. up.

 

Can I Be Frank, Frank McCabe, Uncategorized

Red Sox great Wade Boggs drank 107 beers…in a row

As a kid growing up in the 80s in Boston, Wade Boggs was pretty much as great as they come in your sport universe.  Right up there with Larry, Mosi and Cam.  Outside of his disgusting move to the New York Yankees late in his career, the Boggs man was great at four things:  baseball, eating chicken, philandering and, as you will see in this clip, drinking brew.

The rumor has always been Boggs based 64 Miller Lite beers in a day/flight….but Wado told the hilarious Charlie Day during a taping of ‘It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia’ the number is actually 107.

boggs_web

Repeat: 107

I want to call bullshit here…but hey…I don’t know?  Guy was a bigger than life sports star.  He had a bigger than life mustache (we’re talking Wyatt Earp/Doc Holiday league mustache).  Those 2 factors alone lead me to believe he could pull this off.

I have a buddy named “Brian” who I have seen whack back a 30 pack with relative ease…and he is just an idiot…not some highly skilled, highly trained, highly testosterone-ized, highly paid Hall of Fame Red Sox.  He’s a regular dude with way to much time on his bladder.

So, before you dismiss Sir Wade’s claim, digest this information for a few moments.  Better yet, see if you are as much a man as he?  Grow a mustache.  Go out and grab yourself 4 1/2 cases of Miller Lite and show ’em who’s boss?  My guess is your mustache will be grown sooner that you finish the 107.

Uncategorized

Patriot Kool-Aid

So, I had a very fortunate and unexpected privilege of having dinner with former New England Patriot, Jarvis Green (he’s the one on the left next to the Law firm of Whitey, Whitey, Whitey, Patel and Honkey)

If you are not an avid Pats fan(loser), I’ll remind you.  He was on this team for 9 years – and the really good years.  AFC Championships, Superbowls and the like.  He rolled with Belicheck, Brady, Bruschi and the whole lot of winners.  Jarvis was a part of, arguably, the greatest NFL team(s) in history.  If you click on the link above you will see that he had a admirable statistics and played a critical role in our favorite home town team’s success.  But, enough of this fan boy’s blow job.

I spent the lion’s share of last night holding my tongue and trying to play it cool as if I did not give a shit about the Patriots and the rare opportunity to get the inside scoop.  Fast forward 2 Moscow Mules and 2 Cabernets and I said, fuck it.  I am asking.  I am gonna make this giant prick uncomfortable.  I am doing some investigative/drunken/nosey reporting.  And, unfortunately, I hate to report what I got hit back with….
QUESTION: OK, Jarvis, what’s Tom Brady really like?

ANSWER: Really good dude, man.  (laughing) Except for a being a little loud.  Great guy.  Leader.

FIne, I’ll trap him now…

QUESTION: Thats cool…but how bout Belicheck?

ANSWER: Ah, Bill.  He’s the man.  Quiet, calm.  Except that he never talked to me – or any other rookie – when you get up there, guy is awesome.  I played for Nick Saban and Bil Belicheck.  Both are winners.  Both were always good to me.

Shit, Jarvis.  I am looking for some violence or , at the very least, pedophilia.

QUESTION: OK, fine.  How about Tedy Bruschi?

ANSWER: Absolute bad ass.  He used to punch players in the face if they werent doing their job.  Right under the face mask.  Guys would be bleeding.  He didn’t give a shit.  Absolute badass.

Damn.  Nothing.  The good – and uninteresting – news is that the New England Patriots are apparently exactly what you, me and the wall all believe; a complete and total family unit.  They work as hard as we expect.  They care for one another.  Most impressively (to this guy anyway) is they keep their shit in their house.  It became quite clear to me (even through the mild buzz) that Mr. Green was not placating me.  He repeated phrases like, ‘We were a team, man”, “We knew what we were doing”.  I wanted more.  I wanted him to say that Bill Belicheck likes to dance to show tunes in a garder belt.  Tedy Bruschi wears lipstick after a big win.  Tom Brady uses rogaine.  Anything!  Give me something that I can share with my 11 readers.  Anything!?  Nope.  Jarvis just confirmed exactly what we all want to believe: The Patriots are that good. They are that cool.  They are that united.  It is awesome.

Bring that shit to tomorrow’s game, fellas.

Thanks, Jarvis – I wont tell anyone about beating you at arm wrestling. (and by arm wrestling I mean the race to get white girl wasted)

Can I Be Frank, Frank McCabe, Uncategorized

Rocky 7: The Rocky Road to Dementia

Rocky 7?  Really?  Say it isn’t so!

What once was considered one of the greatest stories of sport and spirit has truly (well, for the 3rd or 4th time actually) spit in its own aging face.  Now, without having read or viewed anything except this nebulous trailer, I can only assume that Rocky only plays the role of manager/trainer in this film to some young spawn that wants to enter the fight game (appears to be of the Apollo Creed lineage).

I really don’t want to know the sure-to-be pathetic plot.  Rather I want to imagine this next installment in the storied series with Rocky, circa age 70, actually entering the ring to do battle.  More so, I would like to see the Southpaw battle the demons of growing old.

Rocky with early onset Alzheimer’s…

Picture the Champ running up those infamous City of Brotherly Love stairs wearing only his ugly wool cap, taped up hands and his championship belt. I imagine all those kids would be running in the opposite direction as Philadelphia’s finest receive the call over the radio, “We have a naked and confused old man running toward City Hall.  Please proceed with caution.”

Rocky with a prostate issue…

Round 1.  Ding ding.

“As the Medicaid-elible former champion makes his way to the center of the ring, he is met by a challenger 50 years his junior.  A stiff jab to Rocky’s face followed by a left hook to the body and, oh my goodness, Stu, what has happened?”

“It appears as if Rocky has lost control of his bodily functions and urinated all over the ring.  127 year old referee Lou Phillipo is going to have to stop this one before somebody slips in this tremendous puddle of Italian piss.”

Rocky with Type 1 diabetes…

149 year old Trainer Mickey Goldmill has miraculously risen from the dead (why not, right?) after being murdered more than 30 years ago by Mr. T.  He is back in the Tough Gym training the aging Italian Stallion.  A rigorous session ensues when the Champ faces the ultimate adversity; keep training or get his insulin.  His no-quit attitude, and incredibly low IQ, inspire Rocky to fight through the pain and delusions.  After a grueling 6 minutes of the workout, Balboa hits the canvass and sends longtime gym gofer, Mike, to get his medicine from his locker.  A newly-alive Mickey reminds Rock that he gave his locker away to contender, Dipper, since Rocky is a no good lousy bum.  Rocky goes in to diabetic shock and enters the hospital in a coma.  In an ironic twist, he is assigned to the same room where Adrian delivered that monkey baby 40 years before.

Rocky with osteoporosis…

Rocky has lost everything.  His beloved trainer, wife and son.  He has lost his money, his wits, his cognition.  Yeah, like I said, everything.  Everything EXCEPT his will to box.  In a truly unimaginable scenario, he is challenged by the heavy weight world champion.  Rocky decides resting his old bones (wait for it) is the best training strategy and forgoes the gym.  Come fight day, he laces up the gloves, dusts off those red, white and blue Larry Bird -esque boxing trunks and slaps on (the now defunct business) Shamrock Meats robe.

Enters the ring full of confidence to do battle with the new champ.  The bells sounds and Rocky charges the across the ring.  Throws a right jab – breaks his hand.  Throws the famous left hook – breaks the other hand.  In a sad and pathetic twist, Rocky tries to the kick his opponent and breaks his leg.  The fight is stopped and they put Rocky out of his misery like any true stallion; by a gunshot to the head in the middle of Madison Square Garden (strangely they asked Father Carmine to do the honors)

Now, those are some story lines I could get on board with.  Otherwise, I am afraid I will continue to consider Clubber Lang your “final” fight, Rock….and simply look the other way.