Because a) I ain't posted anyfuckingthing in waaaaaaay too long and 2) I need to up my pop culture references.
Is it just me (it often is) that who, every time he hears a refernce to Ariana Grande wonders how someone from Teens Like It Big got her a record deal? What? Too on point? Too Rosetta Stone? Sue me.
While I admire a) the stones on the hockey player that felt he could utilize the delightful Lisa Ann as a dating service/procurer of shapely young adorables and 2) that he could land time with her in the first place; an obvious thought arises: dude, you're a hockey player, slow your roll. It's not like you're a Laker. Or a Dodger. Or Mike Trout. Or a Kennedy.
I'm going to be in Dallas next week, and it's going to be a bitch to tell future partners I have that Ebola shit. The dyslexia conversation was painful enough.
Nobody blogs anymore, Twitter (still up on my 6 share lottery ticket) and Free Agency (shameful Bruce Willis flick reference) killed the game.
Peace, love and all the rest of it, y'all.