The same thing seems to happen to me every year in fantasy football. I start off hot, winning 2-3 games, then my players start having byes and getting injured, so I drop a couple. The one I dropped last week was entirely my fault for not preparing properly before going camping for the weekend. I sat LeSean McCoy, who ended up scoring a TD and getting 138 all-purpose yards that I desperately needed. Who was in his place? Tim Hightower, who has done fuck-all for me this season, and who was subsequently dropped. What a waste of a draft pick.
Here are my injured players that were big in the points dept:
Michael Vick - QB
Jermichael Finley - TE
LeSean McCoy - RB(who is playing through the pain like a true gent, but you can tell is being affected by his cracked rib)
Reggie Bush - RB
With that said, here's how my lineup is looking this week. I was gonna have Percy Harvin too, but some fuckbag in my league already picked him up before I got to him.
Peyton Manning - QB
Josh Freeman - QB
Jeremy Maclin - WR
Davone Bess - WR
Dexter McCluster - WR
Rashard Mendenhall - RB
LeSean McCoy - RB
Heath Miller - TE
Roy Williams - WR/RB
Rob Bironas - K
Pit - DEF
Darrelle Revis - DB
Julius Peppers - DE
DeMarcus Ware - LB
Miller should flourish with Roethlisberger back at QB, RW11 has gotten me a fair amount of points ever since his breakout in week 3 vs the Texans, Bess is a slot receiver with a lot of potential from Miami, Freeman has been getting better by the week, and Pittsburgh's defense has been lights out for me so far this year.
So there's my fantasy team, we play 2 QB but it's only a 10-man league so it's really better. If anybody has any suggestions I'll see if I can try to get someone off a waiver before the week.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Creepy
Last year, I moved into a middle class house right around summer time. The move went smooth, and it seemed like everything was just…working. Nothing broke during the cycle, I had plenty of friends to help me out, hell I even found twenty bucks in my couch! Beer money? Hell yeah!
Anyway, back to the house. For the first day or two, I thought life couldn’t get any better; my girl was beautiful, my friends were happy, and my parents were fixing their relationship. However, I hadn’t realized - until it was too late - that I was doomed to remain in this prison, which I sit in now as I tell you this story.
The first time it happened, I was in my room. I was in the zone on my Xbox. You know what I mean, where you get 10 headshots without breaking a sweat? Yeah, that. As I was kicking fat terrorist ass I heard movement downstairs (My room was on the second floor). It sounded like someone was running around down there. Like, they were running from room to room banging on the walls, just being flat out obnoxious.
“Hey, Jeff! Get out of my house, I said three-o’clock, dumbass!”
The noise stopped.
I waited a few moments before turning back to my game, but it was too late. I was already doomed. I saw it come at me too late…A tank.
“Son of a…” I sighed.
The next few days were normal, there were no more sounds that shouldn’t be there, just the pipes, the heater, you know the sort. Yet, about 3 days later, that idiot Jeff snuck into my house and started beating up my shit.
“Alright, you aren’t getting off so easy this time!” I shouted as I charged down the stairs. As my foot hit the last step, something out of the corner of my eye moved. I looked over so fast that I got whiplash. “Oh, dammit!” I moaned. I didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that whatever was in my house - had disappeared.
After that, it got worse.
That same night, as I layed in bed, the banging started again. Not only was it worse, but it was on my floor of the house this time. I was sure I locked everything before I came up here, so here I was pissing my pants at 900 miles per hour while something destroyed my house. I actually pulled the blankets over me - hey, I was scared - as the noise approached my door. Just as I expected it to bash open my door and slaughter me, it stopped.
The next morning I grabbed my baseball bat as I got out of bed, if whatever that thing is, was still out there, it would regret it. I didn’t find anything, but my house was trashed. Almost everything was tipped over, torn, broken, missing, or worse. I just figured I had been robbed.
I called the police, they didn’t do shit. But the noises stopped for a week or so, and that made things easier. Sure I was pissed that some fuck destroyed my new place, but at least I was ok. But, of course, I know now that it wasn’t a robber, or Jeff, or the pipes in the walls…It was the thing IN the walls.
A week after the incident, it came back.
This time it was pissed. I was startled out of my slumber by the noise of a vase breaking into a thousand pieces downstairs. SMASH it went, with little pieces still breaking a few seconds after the initial smash as if to mock me.
Not long after, I began to hear more deep, guttural banging noises on the walls again. Coming from inside of them, no doubt. As I lie there in my bed, I let out the tiniest, quietest, timidest squeak by sheer mistake, and the noise stops.
Sharpest ears I’ve ever seen, those were.
After several painstakingly long moments of silence, I released the breath I was holding, thinking it was over for now. Big mistake, I realize, as the noises suddenly start to rampage up the stairs. Incredibly fast, incredibly loud, smack, crash, bang against my wooden floor.
The beast, which I could now accurately call it, broke my door open with intense force, thrusting it all the way to the opposite side of the room. Being an intelligent individual, I had already hidden under my impenetrable field of safety known as the common blanket.
The noise of this monster running through my room, it’s footsteps enough to damage my eardrums at this close, was the scariest thing I had ever experienced in my entire life.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, I threw the blankets off in the direction of the…thing, somehow making a direct impact to its face. Whoever - or whatever - this was, was stunned. But not for long, and I knew that. I frantically moved across my room, attempting to make it out the door, downstairs, outside, where I could attract public attention.
This night, luck was not on my side. I knew this as a large hunk of my hair was grabbed from behind and pulled out with such force that pieces of skins came along with it, along with a shitload of blood. Before a scream escapes my voice box, I’m being held down by a dark, hairless beast that walks on all fours with a face I can hardly imagine again, that then smashes my head with it’s fist, sending me into a dark, welcoming sleep.
…
Someone new has moved in, but they don’t even acknowledge my existence, the jackass. I patiently watch, wait, hear, hoping that they will. But no. Not me. I’m not worth it to them.
Maybe if I bang on the walls.
Anyway, back to the house. For the first day or two, I thought life couldn’t get any better; my girl was beautiful, my friends were happy, and my parents were fixing their relationship. However, I hadn’t realized - until it was too late - that I was doomed to remain in this prison, which I sit in now as I tell you this story.
The first time it happened, I was in my room. I was in the zone on my Xbox. You know what I mean, where you get 10 headshots without breaking a sweat? Yeah, that. As I was kicking fat terrorist ass I heard movement downstairs (My room was on the second floor). It sounded like someone was running around down there. Like, they were running from room to room banging on the walls, just being flat out obnoxious.
“Hey, Jeff! Get out of my house, I said three-o’clock, dumbass!”
The noise stopped.
I waited a few moments before turning back to my game, but it was too late. I was already doomed. I saw it come at me too late…A tank.
“Son of a…” I sighed.
The next few days were normal, there were no more sounds that shouldn’t be there, just the pipes, the heater, you know the sort. Yet, about 3 days later, that idiot Jeff snuck into my house and started beating up my shit.
“Alright, you aren’t getting off so easy this time!” I shouted as I charged down the stairs. As my foot hit the last step, something out of the corner of my eye moved. I looked over so fast that I got whiplash. “Oh, dammit!” I moaned. I didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that whatever was in my house - had disappeared.
After that, it got worse.
That same night, as I layed in bed, the banging started again. Not only was it worse, but it was on my floor of the house this time. I was sure I locked everything before I came up here, so here I was pissing my pants at 900 miles per hour while something destroyed my house. I actually pulled the blankets over me - hey, I was scared - as the noise approached my door. Just as I expected it to bash open my door and slaughter me, it stopped.
The next morning I grabbed my baseball bat as I got out of bed, if whatever that thing is, was still out there, it would regret it. I didn’t find anything, but my house was trashed. Almost everything was tipped over, torn, broken, missing, or worse. I just figured I had been robbed.
I called the police, they didn’t do shit. But the noises stopped for a week or so, and that made things easier. Sure I was pissed that some fuck destroyed my new place, but at least I was ok. But, of course, I know now that it wasn’t a robber, or Jeff, or the pipes in the walls…It was the thing IN the walls.
A week after the incident, it came back.
This time it was pissed. I was startled out of my slumber by the noise of a vase breaking into a thousand pieces downstairs. SMASH it went, with little pieces still breaking a few seconds after the initial smash as if to mock me.
Not long after, I began to hear more deep, guttural banging noises on the walls again. Coming from inside of them, no doubt. As I lie there in my bed, I let out the tiniest, quietest, timidest squeak by sheer mistake, and the noise stops.
Sharpest ears I’ve ever seen, those were.
After several painstakingly long moments of silence, I released the breath I was holding, thinking it was over for now. Big mistake, I realize, as the noises suddenly start to rampage up the stairs. Incredibly fast, incredibly loud, smack, crash, bang against my wooden floor.
The beast, which I could now accurately call it, broke my door open with intense force, thrusting it all the way to the opposite side of the room. Being an intelligent individual, I had already hidden under my impenetrable field of safety known as the common blanket.
The noise of this monster running through my room, it’s footsteps enough to damage my eardrums at this close, was the scariest thing I had ever experienced in my entire life.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, I threw the blankets off in the direction of the…thing, somehow making a direct impact to its face. Whoever - or whatever - this was, was stunned. But not for long, and I knew that. I frantically moved across my room, attempting to make it out the door, downstairs, outside, where I could attract public attention.
This night, luck was not on my side. I knew this as a large hunk of my hair was grabbed from behind and pulled out with such force that pieces of skins came along with it, along with a shitload of blood. Before a scream escapes my voice box, I’m being held down by a dark, hairless beast that walks on all fours with a face I can hardly imagine again, that then smashes my head with it’s fist, sending me into a dark, welcoming sleep.
…
Someone new has moved in, but they don’t even acknowledge my existence, the jackass. I patiently watch, wait, hear, hoping that they will. But no. Not me. I’m not worth it to them.
Maybe if I bang on the walls.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Enjoy playing golf? Try World Golf Tour.
I'm a big time golfer. I love hitting the links and playing 18, sometimes 36 holes in a day. But I don't always have the time or money to go out, so you can imagine how excited I was recently when I was looking for good golf games to play on my computer when I stumbled across World Golf Tour. It's a very detailed online game that allows you to create a character and play famous courses. They have tournaments and online play, as well as Closest to the Hole competitions. This game is better than it's rival, Tiger Woods Online.
The courses on this game are realistic and amazing. In stroke play, you can play on famous courses such as Bethpage Black, Oakmont, Kiawah Island, and St. Andrews. It takes a little while to get a feel for the putting and meter and all that, but when you do get it down and start making birdies it feels great.
There are a few beefs I have with the game though. First of all, the meter tends to lag a bit every now and then, which causes me to shank a shot horribly left or right. Secondly, the driver you start with is complete crap and only hits 225 yards, well below the average amateur, and as you level up(the tiers are Hack, Amateur, Pro, Tour Pro, Master, Tour Master, and Legend), you don't gain the ability to hit the ball farther, which I find strange. This forces you to go to the pro shop and buy new clubs and/or balls if you want to have better distance on your shots. It's especially frustrating for the higher up tiers, because they play from more difficult tees, and the bad driving distance on the club usually leaves them with approach shots of 180+ yards. With the bad club distances I would recommend only playing St Andy's or Kiawah when you first start, because the holes there are approachable in a reasonable manner.
Other than that though, this is a fantastic FREE online game that anyone can play. I've been addicted to it for a few weeks and have my average down to about a 72. Seriously, play this game.
Link: http://www.wgt.com
The courses on this game are realistic and amazing. In stroke play, you can play on famous courses such as Bethpage Black, Oakmont, Kiawah Island, and St. Andrews. It takes a little while to get a feel for the putting and meter and all that, but when you do get it down and start making birdies it feels great.
There are a few beefs I have with the game though. First of all, the meter tends to lag a bit every now and then, which causes me to shank a shot horribly left or right. Secondly, the driver you start with is complete crap and only hits 225 yards, well below the average amateur, and as you level up(the tiers are Hack, Amateur, Pro, Tour Pro, Master, Tour Master, and Legend), you don't gain the ability to hit the ball farther, which I find strange. This forces you to go to the pro shop and buy new clubs and/or balls if you want to have better distance on your shots. It's especially frustrating for the higher up tiers, because they play from more difficult tees, and the bad driving distance on the club usually leaves them with approach shots of 180+ yards. With the bad club distances I would recommend only playing St Andy's or Kiawah when you first start, because the holes there are approachable in a reasonable manner.
Other than that though, this is a fantastic FREE online game that anyone can play. I've been addicted to it for a few weeks and have my average down to about a 72. Seriously, play this game.
Link: http://www.wgt.com
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
New startup site, NOT A SCAM.
Hey guys this is a new site that is wanting to be like a paypal sorta thing that I've found, starts you off with $50 and gives you $20 for doing surveys and such.
http://www.paybox.me/r/strokulese
God damn you, Nick Cannon.
I saw the movie "Underclassman" on TBS late the other night, and there's a reason you haven't heard of it. It stars Nick Cannon as a cop(go fucking figure), and leaves the watcher wondering "How the fuck is this piece of shit famous, and how the fuck did he marry Mariah fucking Carrey?"
Yes, Nick Cannon truly did win the lottery of fame, because this movie left me wondering why anybody would star him in any movie, ever. His boss is Cheech Marin(I thought he was dead) and the only scenes I enjoyed watching were the ones with his fine ass spanish teacher, Ms. Lopez, mainly cause of dat ass(She was played by Roselyn Sanzhez, google it).
In between going undercover at a local high school to infiltrate a ring of car thieves and hitting on his Spanish teacher while playing his quirky, trying-too-hard-to-be-ghettoish character, he plays on a basketball squad with a bunch of white dudes, where he is the best player on the team. These scenes feature him dunking on an obviously lowered goal, proving that the popular phrase should be "white men can't jump, and neither can Nick Cannon".
4/10, only cause of the hot Latin chick.
Also, I somewhat enjoyed a few episodes of Wild & Out back in the day, but only because I was with girls I wanted to fuck, and all teenage girls watch is MTV.
Yes, Nick Cannon truly did win the lottery of fame, because this movie left me wondering why anybody would star him in any movie, ever. His boss is Cheech Marin(I thought he was dead) and the only scenes I enjoyed watching were the ones with his fine ass spanish teacher, Ms. Lopez, mainly cause of dat ass(She was played by Roselyn Sanzhez, google it).
In between going undercover at a local high school to infiltrate a ring of car thieves and hitting on his Spanish teacher while playing his quirky, trying-too-hard-to-be-ghettoish character, he plays on a basketball squad with a bunch of white dudes, where he is the best player on the team. These scenes feature him dunking on an obviously lowered goal, proving that the popular phrase should be "white men can't jump, and neither can Nick Cannon".
4/10, only cause of the hot Latin chick.
Also, I somewhat enjoyed a few episodes of Wild & Out back in the day, but only because I was with girls I wanted to fuck, and all teenage girls watch is MTV.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
God damn.
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/washington/2010/09/congress-taxes-irs.html
Par for the course with our government.
Over the years a lot of suspicion has built up across the country about Washington and its population of opportunistic transients coming to see themselves as a special kind of person, somehow above average working Americans who don't labor down in that monument-strewn former swamp.
Well, finally, an end to all those undocumented doubts. Thanks to some diligent digging by the Washington Post, those suspicions can at last be put to rest.
They're correct. Accurate. Dead-on. Laser-guided. On target. Bingo-bango. As clear as it's always seemed to those Americans who don't feel special entitlements and do meet their government obligations.
We now know that federal employees across the nation owe fully $1 billion in back taxes to the Internal Revenue Service.
As in, 1,000 times one million dollars. All this political jabber about giving middle-class ...
... Americans a tax cut. Thousands of feds have been giving themselves one all along -- unofficially. And these tax scofflaws include more than three dozen folks who work for the president with that newly decorated Oval Office.
The Post's T.W. Farnum did some research and found that out of the total sum, just 638 workers on Capitol Hill owe the IRS $9.3 million in back taxes. As in, overdue. The IRS gets stiffed by the legislative body that controls its budget. How Washington works.
Now, back taxes have been a problem for the Obama-Biden administration. You may recall early on that Tom Daschle was the president's top pick to run the Health and Human Services Department. But it turned out the former Democratic senator, who was un-elected from South Dakota in 2004, owed something like $120,000 to the IRS for things from his subsequent benefactor that he just forgot to pay taxes on. You know how that is. $120G's here or there. So he dropped out.
And then we learned this guy Timothy Geithner owed something like $42,000 in back taxes and penalties to the IRS, which is one of the agencies that he'd be in charge of as secretary of the Treasury. The fine fellow who's supposed to know about handling everyone else's money. In the end this was excused by Washington's bipartisan CYA culture as one of those inadvertent accidental oversights that somehow never seem to happen on the side of paying too much taxes.
And under Geithner's expert guidance the U.S. economy has been, well, wow! Just look at it.
Privacy laws prevent release of individual tax delinquents' names. But we do know that as of the end of 2009, 41 people inside Obama's very own White House owe the government they're allegedly running a total of $831,055 in back taxes. That would cover a lot of special chocolate desserts in the White House Mess.
In the House of Representatives, 421 people owe a total $6,524,892. In the Senate, 217 owe $2,774,836. In the IRS' parent department, Treasury, 1,204 owe $7,670,814. At the Labor Department, where Secretary Hilda Solis' husband had some back-tax problems before her confirmation, 463 owe $7,481,463. Eighty-one workers for the Federal Reserve System's board of governors owe $1,076,733.
Over at the Justice Department, which is so busy enforcing other laws and suing Arizona, 1,971 employees still owe $14,350,152 in overdue taxes.
Then, we come to the Department of Homeland Security, which is run by Janet Napolitano, the former governor of Arizona who preferred to call terrorist acts "man-caused disasters." Homeland Security is keeping all of us safe by ensuring that a brave Dutch tourist is aboard every inbound international flight to thwart any would-be bomber with explosives in his underpants.
Within that department, there reside 4,856 people who owe the tax agency a whopping total of $37,012,174.
And they're checking our pockets for metal and coins?
Par for the course with our government.
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