Thursday, April 21, 2011

Coping With A Realization

Before I get started, let me first remind everyone that the Bloodhound Gang’s most popular CD was not only entitled “Hooray for Boobies”, but the actual disc was flesh-colored (for white people anyway) and came with instructions to stick your tongue through the hole of the disc to make it look like a boob. I think I speak for everyone who was 12-years-old when that CD came out (like I was) when I say that this was quite possibly the single funniest thing in the world at the time.  I actually think I may have called the Bloodhound Gang “geniuses”, which looking back might have been giving them maybe just a little too much credit, but still. The fact of the matter is that they made a CD that looked like a boob, and for 12-year-old guys, that’s all it really takes to earn the “genius” label.  I regret nothing.

(By the way, getting a group of guys together and dressing like the Bloodhound Gang from “The Bad Touch” video would make a phenomenal Halloween costume.  I suggest you get on that now.  You’re welcome for the idea.)

Since I’m kind of on the topic of being 12-years-old and since – let’s be honest – I have no idea what to write about with this blog post and I’m basically just spitballing at this point, I guess I could discuss how I had a revelation since you last heard from me and realized that I live pretty much the same lifestyle I did when I was 12 (and school was out for the summer).  I mean, I still don’t have a real job and can therefore do whatever I want all day every day, I still have the exact same diet as I did 11 years ago, I still watch the same TV shows, and I still get nervous when I talk to attractive 14-year-old girls (whoops – um, please disregard that last part).  In fact, the only real differences now are that I have bills to pay (but even so, I only pay them when I feel like it), I can actually get arrested for egging my neighbor’s house and taking a dump in their shrubs, and I don’t sneak down to my parents’ basement to watch scrambled Cinemax at 2 in the morning.  Oh, and I now have a crippling amount of debt thanks to student loans and overusing credit cards (and apparently not paying my bills on time).  Can’t forget about that one.

Anyway, the first time I should have known I was recently living a 12-year-old’s lifestyle was when I went shopping for groceries with my fiancée last week and she put gross things like lettuce, asparagus, and broccoli into the cart and I honestly loaded up on nothing but cereal, cookies, ice cream, and Spaghetti O’s.  Anyone who knows me on a personal level will tell you that I’m a notoriously picky eater, which is to say that I basically only eat meats and sweets (“Meats & Sweets” kinda sounds like it could be the name of a gay club, doesn’t it?), and I’ve been that way my entire life.  I’ve never really given much thought to the fact that I’m 23-years-old and I’m basically still eating from the kids’ menu, mostly because I think the food I eat is delicious and don’t see a reason to change.  I’ve just always poured myself a tub full of Cap’n Crunch’s Oops! All Berries, wolfed it down, and not thought twice about it.

(I’ve got two things I need to get off my chest real quick: 1- As far as I’m concerned, Oops! All Berries is the best mistake in the history of mankind and will most likely remain at the top spot on that list until my first child is born, and 2- How have the Cap’n Crunch people not corrected the mistake by now? They’ve been making Oops! All Berries for almost 15 years. At this point, I think it’s clear that it’s no longer a mistake and they know exactly what they’re doing. Because of this, I think they need to change the name to “This Perceived Accident Was Actually Premeditated! All Berries”.  Just saying.)

Anyway, where was I? Oh, right – I’m a picky eater.  So, about five days ago I got a terrible stomach ache and thought it was nothing more than some strange coincidence because my last blog post was probably my favorite piece of writing I’ve ever done in my life and it focused almost exclusively on pooping (side note: I was happy to see The Relationship Poop Cycle was so well-received by the Trillion Man March. You guys are awesome).  I expected it to be just a routine stomach ache that would pass with a painful 30-45 minute poo, but it turned out to be much, much worse.  Starting on Saturday, for about four days straight, it felt like a swarm of bees flew up my rectum, stung the sh*t out of my bunghole, and then set off a bunch of firecrackers to top it all off.  In other words, it has not been a pleasant week for me. 

After a few days of battling the stomach ache, I realized that my original thought that this was somehow related to “The Relationship Poop Cycle” was dead wrong.  That’s because, after further review, I’m fairly confident that my stomach aches are directly related to the fact that my dinner pretty much every night consists of two cans of Spaghetti O’s, two PB&J sammiches, and one big ass bowl of ice cream for dessert.  I can’t say for sure, but I think my body has finally had enough and is trying to tell me to grow the F up and start eating foods that aren’t exclusively found at the tip of the food pyramid (I like my food pyramid like I like my foreplay – “just the tip”).

(Let’s do another one of my patented paragraphs in parentheses.  Alright, so after eating Spaghetti O’s for about a week straight, I have another irrelevant theory.  Here it is: I’m fully convinced that Campbell’s spent millions of dollars on years of research to figure out the size of the average American fork prong, and then made the smallest Spaghetti O just slightly bigger than that.  Think about it.  Once you eat most of your Spaghetti O’s and you’ve only got a few stragglers left, what do you do? You start looping those bitches on your fork until you can’t fit anymore on there, that’s what.  Well, when I was eating the Spaghetti O’s this week, I noticed that the smallest O’s barely fit on the fork and you can usually only get one or two stacked on each prong at a time, which was something I somehow missed all these years.  The way I see it, Campbell’s purposely made these Spaghetti O’s this small because they wanted to stimulate kids’ brains and make them really focus on looping the biggest O’s first, the medium-sized O’s second, and top the stack off with the smallest O’s.  This way you can’t just randomly loop the O’s but instead you have to have a strategy to attack them.  Well, Campbell’s, I’m a product of the ADHD generation and don’t have the attention span for your manipulative games now that I’m a grown-up.  So do me a favor and get rid of the small O’s, because my only other option is to use a spoon.  And in my household, using a spoon to eat Spaghetti O’s is the highest possible form of blasphemy.)

Last Friday, I was again reminded that I was living a 12-year-old’s lifestyle when I stayed in that night to watch Friday Night Smackdown! instead of going out, getting drunk, and making terrible decisions like pretty much everyone else my age does.  I haven’t watched pro wrestling in years, but ever since The Rock announced his comeback recently, I’ve started paying a little more attention to what’s going on (it was obvious Triple H wasn’t going to beat The Undertaker at Wrestlemania and I don’t understand how anyone could’ve possibly thought he would.  Also, hearing about Edge’s injury damn near brought a tear to my eye.  He was a master on the mic and was one of my all-time favorites, which is why I paid tribute to his career by spearing my fiancée as she walked through our front door the other day).

Anyway, much like my prolonged stomach ache has made me reconsider my juvenile diet, there are three reasons why I think it’s time for me to grow up and stop following WWE again (the same three reasons I stopped watching in the first place).  The first of these is simple – the WWE is racist. Now, I know that the WWE has a long history of pumping up racial stereotypes when creating characters (the most notorious example of this being Tony Atlas’ alter ego, Saba Simba), but that’s not what I’m talking about here.  No, I’m more concerned with the fact that it’s always the Hispanic announcers who have someone bodyslammed through their table.  Sure the American announcers get their table destroyed every now and then, but it’s almost always after the Hispanic guys get theirs annihilated first.  In fact, according to the Elias Sports Bureau, 94% of the time that only one announcing table is destroyed in a WWE match, it’s the Hispanics who are left to deal with the damage.  Just try and tell me that’s not racism.  You can’t.

The second reason I’m frustrated with the WWE is because they still have women’s matches.  That’s right – I’m all about racial equality, but gender equality can S my D and make me a sandwich.  I’ve got nothing against women per se, as evidenced by the fact that I’ve made love to more than 258 of them and even plan on living with one for the rest of my life.  My problem is more with women’s sports, especially the masculine sports like wrestling, football, and boxing.  On paper, women’s wrestling seems like a great idea.  Put smoking hot women in skimpy clothes and have them catfight? R U SRS? I’ve got a half chub just thinking about it.  This is just about every man’s initial reaction to women’s wrestling.  But when their matches actually start, it only takes somewhere between 10-20 seconds to figure out that there is literally zero chance that any of the girls will inadvertently lose their tops.  And that’s really the only reason for watching women’s matches in the first place.  Once it’s established that that’s not happening, all you’re left with is a bunch of unathletic chicks screwing up simple wrestling moves.  Sure their matches never last too long, but by the time you factor in their intros and the commercials before and/or after their match, that’s a 5-10 minute block that’s basically going to waste.  Coincidentally, because women’s matches are such a waste of time, that’s usually the part of the broadcast that I get up and make myself a sandwich.  And by that, I obviously mean that I have my fiancée make me a sandwich cause she’s a woman and that’s her job.

(Relax, ladies. I’m only half serious.)

Finally, the last and most important reason I’ve more or less given up on pro wrestling is because I just can’t stomach a WWE where guys like John Cena, The Miz, Wade Barrett, and Jack Swagger are marquee names.  This has nothing to do with these wrestlers being faces or heels (good guys or bad guys, for those of you who didn’t know), but rather because all four of these guys seems like world champion douchers.  The WWE I know and love featured Stone Cold Steve Austin flipping people off, drinking beer in the ring, and reminding everyone that Austin 3:16 says I just whopped your ass. The WWE I know and love featured The Rock dropping The People’s Elbow on fools, laying the smack down, and putting his boot straight up your candy ass.  The WWE I know and love never revolved around a bunch of douchey white guys with terrible personas who basically look like stereotypical frat boys with (more) steroids pumped into them.  Simply put, you’re never going to hear someone say, “The Miz is such a badass.”  And, the way I see it, that’s a serious problem.

So that pretty much sums up my last week and a half.  I still enjoy the fact that I can sleep in and play video games all day if I want to (who wouldn’t?), but it’s clear that it’s time for me to start making some changes to my 12-year-old lifestyle, starting with trying some vegetables and watching more thought-provoking shows on TV (you know, like Jersey Shore and The Real Housewives).  Much like Uncle Joey and the Toys R Us kids before him, I’ve always prided myself on celebrating youth and not wanting to grow up.  But this past week has been a wake-up call, and writing all of this down (in an admittedly disjointed and improvisational manner) has been pretty therapeutic for me.  I need to make some changes and I need to make them now.  The only problem, though, is that my mom just brought home a ton of groceries and my Super Mario Kart isn’t going to play itself.  So if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some Fruit by the Foot and a date with Bowser on Rainbow Road calling my name.  I’ll start growing up tomorrow.

Proud To Be An American But Even Prouder To Be A Buckeye,

Mark Titus

Club Trillion Founder

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

The Relationship Poop Cycle

With the exception of benchwarming, FIFA, making it rain on the basketball court, the Rubik’s cube, belching the ABCs, singing “Sister Christian” at a karaoke bar, Facebook stalking, making fart noises with my armpit, eating ice cream, and destroying every aspect of the Presidential Physical Fitness Award in elementary school except those sumbitch pull-ups, there aren’t too many things in this world that I claim to be an expert at (my mom always stressed to me the importance of being modest). But now that I’ve been engaged to my fiancée and future first wife for almost a year, I’m starting to think that I just might be an expert on romantic relationships. Sure I’m only 23-years-old and sure most of my relationships have started on Facebook (and coincidentally, ended on Facebook), but that’s irrelevant because I’ve already discovered that all it takes to have a successful relationship is to have some sort of income, to not buy anything that costs more than $100 without first talking it over with your partner, and to not put your wiener where it doesn’t belong (or if you’re a lady, don’t let other guys put their wiener where it doesn’t belong). You can worry about “communication”, “being compatible”, and “maintaining that spark” later. Just so long as you make a little money, don’t spend too much of it, and don’t let other ladies ride your bologna pony, you’re set.

Ok, ok…you got me. I’m not really a relationship expert, as evidenced by the fact that I’ve been dumped infinity more times than I’ve done the dumping. Instead of saying I’m a relationship expert, what I meant to say was that I’ve been in a handful of failed relationships and now that I’m in one that seems to have the legs to go the distance, I feel like I have enough experience to accurately measure just how serious a relationship is. And what I mean by that is that over the weekend I came up with a concept that I wanted to write about, so I first decided to write a couple paragraphs about how I’m a relationship expert just so it could maybe sort of serve as a transition into what I really want to discuss. After all, it would’ve been a little weird for me to talk about The Relationship Poop Cycle right off the bat. In fact, from what I’ve been told, that’s the first rule they teach you in journalism school – “Don’t talk about The Relationship Poop Cycle right off the bat.”

So, now that I’ve introduced it, what is this Relationship Poop Cycle anyway? I’m glad you asked. It’s something I came up with while – you guessed it – taking a dump this past weekend that will surely revolutionize how you view your relationships. Here’s the gist of it: I’m of the opinion that you can gauge how seriously you view a romantic relationship and how much you like/love your partner based solely on your behavior when you are in their presence and, to alter a phrase from the 69 Boyz, you feel a poop coming on. The way I see it, as time passes and the relationship gets stronger, you will go back and forth with how comfortable you are pooping in front of your partner, which is why I refer to it as a “cycle”. Instead of trying to explain it further, I think it would work best if I just went ahead and jumped right into what the different phases of the cycle are. And by the way, since I’ve yet to even slightly figure out the female thought process, the cycle was created with the fellas in mind (but it’s still worth reading if you’re a woman because you’ll definitely learn how seriously your man views your relationship).

PHASE ONE – Don’t want her to know that you ever poop

This is in the preliminary stages of the relationship, usually within the first couple dates. Chances are that you aren’t yet an actual couple and since she doesn’t know much about you, you’re hesitant to excuse yourself because you don’t want her first memorable experience with you to be associated with defecation. Even if you can already tell that there won’t be a second or third date and you’ll never see her again for the rest of your life, you still don’t want her to know that you have to poop because it will forever haunt you to think about her friends asking her how the date went and her responding with “he left the table for 15 minutes to take a dump” or “he had to poop the entire night but didn’t want to be rude” (nobody wants someone’s lasting memory of them to revolve around feces). If you’re in this phase and you have to drop a deuce, your only real option is to tell the chick you don’t feel well, end the night early by taking her home so you can go back to your place and relieve yourself, and either reschedule another date within the next few days or never talk to her again. Or if you’re superhuman and can somehow take a sh*t in less than 5 minutes, I guess you could just excuse yourself like you were going to go #1 and then play it off like nothing happened (but be warned: unless you’re absolutely sure that you have the bowels of a god, I would strongly advise against this, as there’s a solid chance this could end up doing much more harm than good).

PHASE TWO – Comfortable enough to excuse yourself

At this point you’ve been on a few dates and she’s had the chance to get to know a little bit about you, so if you excuse yourself for 10-15 minutes, it won’t be the end of the world. After all, you’re human and pooping is the great common denominator of every person who has ever lived. Sure it’s not the best situation, but she understands and it’s not like she’s going to associate you with poop if she already likes you enough to go on four or five dates with you.

PHASE THREE – Explicitly announce that you have to poop

This is my favorite phase of any relationship and is exactly what it sounds like. By now, you know each other pretty well and she’s most likely your official girlfriend, so you see no reason to hide the fact that you just ate a couple of Chipotle burritos and will now be busy for the next 15-90 minutes. This is the phase where you basically tell her how it is and if she’s disgusted and can’t handle it, you’ll find someone who can. An interesting note here is that Phase Three is also the first significant phase in The Relationship Poop Cycle, because it most likely marks the first instance in which your girlfriend is on the same level as your friends and family.

PHASE FOUR – Comfortable enough to poop at her place

Phase Four is one of the most underrated phases because it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal until you’re in a relationship and it happens. Everyone knows that once you step outside the confines of your own house, it’s a whole different ball game, but in a relationship the stakes are raised that much more because clogging her toilet or having a Dumb and Dumber moment could very easily be a deal breaker for her. It’s common knowledge that before taking a dump in someone’s house, a man must always make sure he knows that there’s a plunger on hand, he knows where the backup toilet paper is, and he is confident that the bathroom fan could effectively mask the sound of any potential disturbingly gross drawn out farts. But that’s just the bare minimum. For some guys it takes much more than that to get comfortable enough to poop at their girlfriend’s place, and can sometimes take months for them to get to that point. Others, like me, though, don’t need quite as much time, which makes this phase the most debatable in The Relationship Poop Cycle (it’s probably actually Phase Three for me, but I know a lot of guys that this would be Phase Five or Six for). Either way, there’s no denying that pooping at your girlfriend’s place is definitely a big step in the relationship.

PHASE FIVE – Poop with the door open

Again, this phase is pretty self-explanatory and usually occurs a few months into the relationship at the absolute earliest (and almost always occurs after the relationship has at least gotten to third base). You don’t necessarily want her to see you taking a dump, but at this point you don’t care if she does because keeping the door open maintains good airflow, and that’s essential considering how majestic of a load you are capable of unleashing into the toilet. This phase basically tells her that you have officially integrated her into your life and you are now going back to the pooping behavior that you utilized before you met her, which is a pretty big deal if you really think about it.

PHASE SIX – Poop in front of her

This is similar to Phase Five, but is slightly different in that she’s actually in the bathroom with you as you poop. This is one of the more disgusting phases on The Cycle and is so disgusting, in fact, that some people save this phase for marriage. The important thing to remember here is that Phase Six doesn’t necessarily mean that she has to be in the bathroom with you every time you take a dump, but rather it means that you don’t mind if she brushes her teeth or does her makeup at the sink while you drop bombs in the toilet, usually because you both are in a hurry and can’t afford to wait on each other. As gross as this phase is, the good news for the women is that it’s almost exclusively for guys who are taking their relationship very seriously, think it has some real long-term potential, and aren’t afraid to admit that they’re in love. That’s right, ladies – he can get you all the flowers, chocolates, and stuffed animals in the world, but it won’t mean a thing until he busts down the bathroom door while you’re putting on your eyeliner, drops his drawers to his ankles, spreads his cheeks, and lets last night’s dinner ooze out of him without thinking twice about it. Then and only then will you know for sure that he loves you.

PHASE SEVEN – Respect her too much to poop in front of her

For what it’s worth, this is the phase I’m currently at with my fiancée and is really the entire inspiration for The Relationship Poop Cycle in the first place. This phase is reserved for guys who are either newly married, engaged, or have already figured out that they’re going to marry their girlfriend but they don’t have the money to buy a ring yet. At some point in your relationship, it finally hits you that your spouse/fiancée/girlfriend is going to be your life partner and the mother of your unborn (or born) children, and upon realizing how precious and special she really is you also realize that it’s incredibly disrespectful to poop in her presence. I like to think of this phase as the most romantic, because it’s basically your way of showing your significant other that you care for her so much that you want to shield her from the horrors of the world, namely the heap of toxicity coming out of your butthole. This is accomplished by shutting the door, doing your business, and sometimes even giving a courtesy flush and some aerosol spray to help dissipate the odor when you’re done. It’s the little things that mean the most.

PHASE EIGHT – Just stop caring altogether

At this point in the relationship, you’ve been together so long that the honeymoon feeling has worn off and you really just don’t have the energy to care anymore about whether or not you should poop in front of your wife. Besides, by now pooping in front of her probably wouldn’t even crack the top 50 most disgusting things she’s seen you do, so it’s really not even that big of a deal for either of you. In fact, the relationship has most likely reached the point where you poop in front of her without even realizing what you’re doing. You carry on a conversation while you’re on the toilet and even while you’re wiping, all without taking a second to step back and process how gross the situation actually is. The epitome of this phase is the middle-aged couple who have been together for so long and are so inseparable that they basically are the same person at this point and do everything together, including pooping. And yes, I did write that last sentence solely because I wanted all of you people who are my age to think about your dad taking a dump with your mom standing five feet from him (if you weren’t before, you are now!). You’re welcome for that mental image.

PHASE NINE – Getting on and off the toilet becomes a challenge

With the exception of Phase Ten, this is the saddest of the entire Relationship Poop Cycle. With this phase, you are so old and your body is so weak that squatting down onto the toilet and trying to get back up has become a real chore for you. Because of this, you want to close the door while you poop so your wife can’t see you in your feeble condition. I can’t say for sure (and am only speaking based on how I’ll probably act when I’m older), but I imagine these elderly men love their wives so much that they don’t want them to see how much trouble they have when they take a dump, because their wives will inevitably want to help and the men will feel guilty for being a burden. And so, they slowly drop their wrinkled cheeks to the porcelain, defecate with all their might, and methodically stand back up without so much as letting out a single groan. And they do it all in the name of love.

PHASE TEN – Swallow your pride and admit you need help

This is the final phase in The Relationship Poop Cycle and is undoubtedly the most depressing one. Whereas the other phases reflect how much a man cares for a woman, this phase is really more of a testament to how much the wife cares for the husband. After a few months or even years of living in Phase Nine, you finally swallow your pride and admit to your wife that you just can’t poop on your own anymore. Your fragile body can’t handle squatting up and down, and in some cases you might even have trouble twisting around to give your crack the proper wipe it needs. This is sad for all parties involved, but in a way it should be celebrated because it shows just how much love exists between you and your wife. In all seriousness, with all joking aside, and (insert whatever your favorite phrase to convey sincerity is), if I could define love with a single picture, it would be one of a wife wiping the bunghole of her ailing husband. You can’t possibly name me a more selfless act in this world than that.

And that’s The Relationship Poop Cycle. Personally, I think this needs to replace the relationship status feature on Facebook, as telling the world that you are Phase Six with a chick gives people a better understanding of the magnitude of the relationship than if you were to just put “in a relationship” with a chick. Anyway, there you have it. Fellas, if you were unsure how you felt about a girl you’re dating, let The Relationship Poop Cycle be your guide. If you tell your friends that you don’t love her, but you poop with her in the bathroom with you, you’re lying to both them and yourself. And ladies, if you wanted to know how your man really feels about you, now you know. If he says he loves you, but he’s never pooped with the door open and you in the other room, he’s just saying he loves you to get in your pants (or to avoid pissing you off). But if that’s the case, don’t let it get you down. I’m sure someday you’ll find Prince Charming and will eventually get the Phase Ten relationship we all strive for. And when that time comes and you’re wiping in between your 90-year-old husband’s scaly pale asscheeks as you’re overwhelmed with the feeling of love in the air, your entire life will be validated and suddenly all your failed relationships will be a distant memory. Mark my words.

As I mentioned in the last blog post, Brooks Godwin of Wake Forest won the inaugural contest among college basketball walk-ons from all over the country that I had been referring to as The Belt. Originally, the belt was basically just going to feature a bald eagle and that’s it, but after talking with the company that will make it, I apparently have more creative freedom than I initially thought. Having said that, I proudly present to you the mock-up (created by Keller) of the most badass thing these eyes have ever seen…


If you plan on rubbing one out to this picture, I suggest first clicking on the belt to make the image larger.

Yes, the belt will be made of basketball leather, and yes, that’s Fundamentals Montage lightning in the background. Unfortunately, as of right now I can’t say for sure whether they can make this exact belt or not, but you can bet your balls I’m going to do everything I can to see that they get as close as possible to it. And with that, we can all officially start being jealous of Brooks Godwin now.

By the way, in case you cared here’s the final tally for what is now being referred to as the 2011 Club Trillion National Player of The Year award. It should be noted that Jarrett Sutton actually tied Brooks Godwin for total trillions, but Brooks dominated with the tiebreaker and thus claimed the belt. Anyway, props to Jarrett Sutton for making it a hell of a race (and props to Matthew Dorwart for making a late push).

The Belt (Final)

Proud To Be An American But Even Prouder To Be A Buckeye,

Mark Titus

Club Trillion Founder

Friday, April 1, 2011

Don’t Call It “Don’t Call It A Comeback”

Listen here and listen good.

If you’re reading this, you’re obviously a diehard member of the Trillion Man March.  I know this because I informed the masses  months ago that I was done blogging yet here you are still visiting, either because you like reading the old posts or you have your fingers crossed that maybe, just maybe, I’ve written something new.  Well, I’ve got good news.  You can now uncross your fingers, douse them with lube, and start pleasuring yourself  (unless you’re reading this in a public place, in which case I’d recommend you just simply uncross your fingers and leave it at that) because not only is this blog post “something new”, but there’s plenty more where this came from.

As I’m sure you remember, the main reason I stopped writing the blog is because I was overwhelmed with trying to write both it and my book  (“Don’t Put Me In, Coach” will be available in March 2012 wherever books and cans of whoop-ass are sold), and therefore decided to put all my focus towards just the book.  But now that I’ve written half of the book and gotten into a groove (which is just another way of saying I’ve figured out the appropriate ratio of dick jokes per page), I think it’s high time to start blogging again.  And even though it’s all but guaranteed that many of you will claim that this is an April Fools prank, I assure you that it isn’t.  You’re just going to have to trust me, which shouldn’t be too hard considering that, if you don’t count my repeated behavior of lying and going back on my promises, I’ve never let you down.

So here’s the deal. I’m going to wait a week or so to tweet and post on Facebook about my “comeback” for two reasons, with the first being that I’m dumb and apparently don’t want anyone to read my blog.  The second (and real) reason, though, is that I want to give you diehard fans a chance to be the cool person in your group of friends by being the one who breaks the news to all of them (although if being the first one to know that I’m starting my blog again makes you the cool one in your circle of friends, it’s probably time for you to find some new friends who aren’t incredibly lame). I understand that by waiting to tweet and post on Facebook, it only enforces your thought that this is an April Fools prank, but I again assure you that it’s not. So go spread the word and meet me back here in about a week so we can party.  And before I forget, when you do come back for the party be sure to bring a bag of chips with you if the first letter of your last name starts with A-M, or a dessert item if your last name starts with N-Z. 

Don’t you worry – I’ll provide the booze.

For those who have asked – yes, we still plan on having the SharkWolf podcast.  As of right now, the only thing standing in our way is Keller somehow being even lazier than I am.  For whatever reason, every time I ask him to record one he says he doesn’t feel like it or he’s too busy screwing around on the internet.  If you want to give him a kick in the pants so we can make this podcast a reality, here’s his Facebook (I should warn you, though – he takes pride in his Facebook stalking abilities, so if you’re a female, you should probably think twice before you open that can of worms).

Lastly, I need to congratulate Brooks Godwin of Wake Forest for clinching The Belt last week, making him the inaugural winner of what’s sure to be college basketball’s coolest award.  Brooks actually tied with Jarrett Sutton of Missouri for total number of trillions on the season with eight, but crushed Jarrett with the tiebreaker.  I’ll post a final leaderboard on the next blog entry (when the season is officially over), but none of that really matters anyway because none of the other guys in the race can catch Brooks (I’ll also post a picture of The Belt once I get it).  So if you go to Wake Forest and see Brooks Godwin on campus, be sure to congratulate him.  And if you’re an attractive female who is ready and willing, by all means don’t be afraid to give him a ride to Pleasure Town.

Proud To Be An American But Even Prouder To Be A Buckeye,

Mark The Shark