MMBF - 12/28: I'm Glad I'm Not Rich

First off, all of us here at New Jersey is Clean, Idiots hope that you and your family had a most joyous and happy holiday, whichever holiday it may be that you celebrate. And if you are a Jehovah's Witness, we also hope that you had a splendid time doing whatever it is that you do in lieu of holidays. Second, it may seem that the only thing I write anymore is the Monday Morning Brain Fart... which is correct, it is all I've been writing these days. But it was the holidays, and I was on vacation, blah blah blah... the point is, I'm back in the groove and should be back to writing my usual boring dribble more often now. wOOt wOOt!

It's well documented how much I hate Brett Favre, and his actions this past week only serve to further my argument that he should go away. Forever. He is such a shit. Like we all predicted back at the beginning of the season, he has started to ruin the Vikings' season just like he did the Jets' season last year by throwing ridiculous interceptions because he's most likely hiding the injury that his 840 year old body was inevitably going to get. But now on top of that, he's disobeying his head coach, because A) Brad Childress is a pussy, and B) Favre thinks he runs the organization. And the sad thing about the Vikings is that Favre probably does run the organization. What a bunch of pushovers: first getting on their knees and providing oral stimulation to Favre to get him to un-retire for the 7th time and play for them, and now letting him make all of the decisions for the team. Brett - you're not God. Look at Peyton Manning. He is arguably the best quarterback to ever play the game, a guy who you never were and never will be as good as, and what does he do? He listens to his coach. He doesn't create a problem with the team. He doesn't say stupid shit to the media so that there is unnecessary drama. Peyton Manning = awesome. Brett Favre = asshole.

I have to say that I would be pretty pissed off today if I was a Colts player or fan. Up 15-10 on the Jets yesterday in the 3rd quarter, with an undefeated season still in progress, Jim Caldwell pulled Peyton Manning and most of the other starters, effectively waving the white flag and giving up the game, as well as the perfect season. In came Curtis Painter (who?!) at QB, which was promptly followed by the Jets defense doing everything but sexually assaulting him on their way to a gimme victory. Caldwell should probably be tried for attempted murder with the way Painter was treated, but not only by the Jets defense, but by the Colts fans, who were so incensed with his decision to pull Peyton that they booed Painter every time he took a breathe. So now the Colts fans and players have to live with the fact that their chance at history was taken away by people who weren't actually playing the game. You can understand where they were coming from; they want the players healthy for the playoffs. But when you have a chance to do something that only 1 other team EVER has done, it has to sting a little bit to know that you now don't have a chance.

This Christmas, Santa was very good to me. I got a lot of good stuff. But in a sign of just how old I am getting, the one thing I am most excited about getting was my egg rings. That's right. Egg rings. In case you don't know, egg rings are stainless steel rings that you lay in a frying pan and crack your egg into so that the egg doesn't run all over the pan, or run to the edge of the pan if you have a crooked stove top, like I do. Now all of my eggs will be perfect circles every time, not discombobulated amoeba-shaped substances that make me angry. I used to think old people were lame for loving the kitchen utensils and pots and pans and shit that they received at Christmas, but now I understand where they're coming from. My egg rings will make my life much more enjoyable. I am... happy.



Finally, I spent the latter part of last week and Saturday searching eBay for a good deal on Giants tickets for yesterday because it was their last game ever at Giants Stadium and I wanted to be there. However, I'm not rich, and was completely priced out of the game by the absurd prices on eBay. But now I see that not being rich was a blessing in disguise, because if I had gone to that game yesterday, I would most likely be dead right now. The performance yesterday by the Giants, considering all that was on the line with playoff implications and such, as well as the fact that it was the last game ever at their home stadium, was absolutely disgraceful. They were pathetic. Embarrassing. It was one of the worst displays of football I have ever seen in my life. I won't write too much about it because the longer I go the better chance there is that my fist ends up through this wall next to me, but it needs to be said how awful the Giants were yesterday. This was the last game in their stadium's history. The last time that a lot of die-hard fans who have been priced out of the new stadium will ever see them in person. And this is what we see? They played with no pride whatsoever. Want to see what pride looks like, Giants? Look across the sideline. The Panthers had absolutely nothing to play for, and they beat the crap out of you. Look at the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. They have far less talent than you, yet they beat the then 13-1 New Orleans Saints yesterday. I can understand a bad day at the office, but yesterday was no bad day. Yesterday was a prideless, gutless, embarrassing display. I took my Justin Tuck jersey off at halftime and put on my Yankees championship t-shirt, just so I could be reminded of a team that plays with heart - a team that actually cares about the uniform they put on everyday to go to work. I've never been so low as a Giants fan as I was yesterday. Absolutely disgraceful.

And on that most pleasant of notes, ugh. Another week of work.

MMBF - 12/21: The Mystery of the Sleep Shit

Good day to all on this Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year! No, that does not mean that you can leave work sooner, just that it'll be pitch black outside at about lunchtime. Awesome.

We begin today with a little bit of confusion on the part of the NFL Network. They aired the Cowgirls-Saints debacle on Saturday night that was absolutely TERRIBLE for the Giants (thank you Saints), but that has nothing to do with what I'm saying here. Apparently we were watching "Thursday Night Football"... on Saturday. And they kept saying, "We'll be right back on this Special Edition of Thursday Night Football," or "Welcome to this Special Edition of Thursday Night Football." Maybe they don't have enough money in their budget to swap out the "Thursday" with a "Saturday" in their graphics? IT WAS SATURDAY NFL NETWORK, SPECIAL EDITION OR NOT. Although since about 85% of the country still can't see that channel, maybe they thought no one would notice?

Also on Saturday night, the guys and I came up with what I think is a brilliant business idea that could become a worldwide phenomenon. Ladies and Gentlemen, I introduce to you, MediocreStrippers.com! Want to get a stripper up to your hotel room, but can't afford the kind of stripper you really want? Then go to MediocreStrippers.com, where you can have your pick of the litter of some of the most mediocre-looking strippers you can find! We are flexible in our pricing, but the more you want to pay, the more mediocre she gets! Got an extra 10 bucks? We'll offer a few less teeth! Another 10? Here's comes the pregnant chick! Stretch-marks available too! Log on now to MediocreStrippers.com, for the mediocre night of your life!

So after watching Thursday Night Football on Saturday, coming up with a can't-miss business plan, and enjoying an adult beverage or 20, we decided a trip to White Castle - at 3:30 AM, in the middle of a blizzard - was a great idea! Granted, White Castle is always a great idea, but Saturday night it seemed particularly appropriate, since we were celebrating the birthday of the man who pioneered the practice of finding a random Joe in a car and having him buy your White Castle for you because only the drive-thru was open. So we made it up there, slowly-but-surely so as not to die a snowy death, and a Crave Case, 2 sacks of Chicken Rings, and 4 orders of fries later, we were in White Castle heaven. And as you would guess, we were all glued to the toilet seat the next day, re-enacting this scene from one of the hallmarks of American cinema, Dumb and Dumber.



Have you guys seen that absurd commercial for Dolce & Gabbana's new cologne, Light Blue? First off, perfume/cologne commercials are always ridiculous, portraying for us real-world moments where hot people in skimpy clothing rub up against each other in a sweaty passion, often in a public place for all to see. This particular commercial is along those same lines, with a European-looking couple giving each other the "fuck me gently" gaze while floating on an inflatable raft in a cove somewhere out in the open sea. We notice that the girl is soaking wet (from a recent swim?), yet somehow we cannot see her nipples through her shirt. Impossible. Then the camera pans down on the man for a gratuitous package shot before he lovingly attacks her to begin the love-making. HOT DAMN I WANT TO BUY ME SOME D&G COLOGNE!

And finally, on Friday my apartment-mates and I threw the 2nd Annual Secret Non-Secular Joy Giver: Post-College Edition party. Yes, I realize what non-secular means, but that was what we mistakenly named it, so it stays. BACK OFF. Anyway, lots of joy-giving occurred, and a great party was had by all, but not so much that I got the White Castle stomach that I described above - which is why the following course of events was so puzzling to me. I woke up in the middle of the night to take pee, did so, and flushed, as always. I was then shocked to see that the toilet was clogged. Typically that only happens when I make a doodie and forget to courtesy-flush, but that was not the case this time. It was just... clogged. Had I Slept Shit, I wondered? Sleep Walking is something people do, but did I break out the immortal Sleep Shit? Knowing that was a possibility, I was proud of myself, but too tired to fix the toilet, so I went back to sleep. Next morning, pee happened again, and still, the toilet was clogged. At this point, the Sleep Shit was a very real possibility in my mind. Being the professional toilet un-clogger that I am, I fixed her right up in about 4 seconds, and went on with my day, thinking that I had actually Slept Shit. You couldn't wipe the smile off of my face! Then my friends told me it was probably my girlfriend and she just didn't want to tell me. Yep. Probably that.

Ugh. Another week of work... Wait! For you, but not me! I'm on vacation!

Monday Morning Brain Fart - 12/14: Introducing the Fapster

Hola chicos y chicas. Again I apologize for the delay, but the Brain Fart is here. At least in the meantime you got to watch some dude chug what looks like pig lard. Also, you may notice that I will now be naming my Monday Morning Brain Farts, so as you can see, this entry will introduce you to the Fapster. More on that in a bit.

We'll get the sports talk out of the way quickly, since everything has gone to shit for me lately. On Saturday night I went to the Rangers game at The Garden, which was only made tolerable by the fact that we were in a suite, enjoying beer and wings in comfort while watching the Blueshirts eat dog doo. They actually held a 2-1 lead in the first period, but of course they ended up blowing it and losing the game 3-2. A team that started the year 7-1 is now under .500. Pathetic! Marian Gaborik is the only player on the team who can score, the defense is mostly crap and King Henrik has been playing more like a pauper these days. Glen Sather needs to be fired. He must have nudies of James Dolan or something, because his absurd level of job security is ridiculous.

And then of course there are the Giants, a team that continues to prove to me that they are not a winning football team. They are absolutely incapable of making the plays that need to be made in order to win the game. In a game where Eli Manning played as good as you'll ever see, throwing for 391 yards and 3 touchdowns while leading the Giants to 38 points, they STILL lost. This defense cannot stop anyone, and it's never more apparent then when we play the Eagles, who own us the way we own the Cowgirls these days. We can't stop Donovan McNabb. We can't stop DeSean Jackson. We can't stop shit. Despite being down 30-17 because of a Brandon Jacobs fumble that Sheldon Brown returned for a touchdown and a Jackson punt return for a touchdown, the offense fought back to actually take a 31-30 lead... that we had for 15 seconds. It took ONE PLAY for the Eagles to score on a bomb to Jackson. ONE PLAY. This defense is embarrassing. It's appalling. It's just completely unbelievable that a team with the defensive history and tradition that the Giants have can be this bad. Bill Sheridan needs to go. Chris Canty and Rocky Bernard are absolute busts. We have no pass rush. We need more athletic linebackers. We need a cornerback that can hang with DeSean Jackson. We need better safeties. And this is just on the defensive side of the ball. Don't get me started on Kevin Gilbride's play-calling, the offensive-line, Mario Manningham, and the dropped passes. This team makes me want to jump off my balcony. And if the fall doesn't kill me, jump into the Hudson River so my skin melts off.

Among other things, NBC needs to stop doing those stupid little puff-pieces called, "Great Moments in Tailgate History." Basically, what happens is that a couple of time-travelers driving a Toyota pickup drive up to a football tailgate and see when the chicken wing was invented, of the foam finger, or whatever. The people who invent the particular item that the piece is about make a bad joke, then the assholes in the Toyota make a joke, then you cut your wrist because it is one of the least funny things you have ever seen. Stop it, NBC. Please.

While watching TV on Saturday, we came across a commercial for a thing called a Pajama-gram, which is basically giving your wife and/or girlfriend ("and" if you're Tiger Woods) pajamas that come in the mail with a little note. The whole commercial has these women trying on their comfy pajamas, and modeling them for their husbands/boyfriends who have these shit-eating grins on their faces. The narrator keeps saying how much your woman will love it, how comfortable they are, how sexy they are, blah blah blah. I didn't find anything too much sexy about it though, so I decided I would come up with some more appropriate slogans for the company:

"Pajama-Grams! So comfortable, your wife will go to sleep before she even thinks about giving you sex!"

"Pajama-Grams! Buy your wife something that leaves absolutely everything to the imagination!"

"Pajama-Grams! Hopefully your woman isn't superficial and doesn't mind that you're cheap!"

"Pajama-Grams! So comfortable, they make your wife dance awkwardly for you in the bedroom while you smile and cop wood! Don't count on her doing anything about it though. She's too comfortable!"

Got any other catchy slogans for the Pajama-Gram? Comment, or email them to me at jerseyisbest@gmail.com and I'll post them.

I was at a party on Saturday that was filled with many a New York City hipster. If you're unfamiliar with who exactly a hipster is, let me lay out for you the criteria a person needs to meet to become one:

1) You absolutely must listen to very obscure indie music. If your entire iTunes library contains any artist someone has heard of, you're not a true hipster.

2) You're pants have to be ridiculously tight. If your nuts are not showing through your jeans, you're not a hipster.

3) You own over 20 different beanies, and always have one of them on at any given time, regardless of current setting and/or dress code.

4) Your hair must be long and stringy. No hipster can be clean cut or have a thick, full-bodied coif.

5) Vintage clothing shops are your wet dream. You own a lot of cardigans, sweater vests, and regular tuxedo vests that you purchased from them.

6) You may work for a major corporation, but that's just a stop-gap to your dream of working for a non-profit and changing the world.

7) And last but not least, and I cannot stress this enough - you must, must, must be entirely too skinny. I'm talking heroine chic here. If you are above 3% body fat, you cannot be a hipster, no questions asked. Or at least I thought...

...until Saturday night, when I encountered the Fapster. The Fapster, or Fat Hipster, is a mythical creature, not unlike the unicorn. He is truly unique in his environment, and stands out from his hipster friends. I was truly amazed at what I saw. A hipster... that was obese! WHAT?!?!? This particular Fapster was of course wearing too-tight pants, which were quite unflattering, a striped shirt with a tuxedo vest, a beanie, and Chuck Taylor's. Classic hipster, nay... classic Fapster. And to put the icing on the cake, the Fapster I happened upon was absurdly annoying, to the point where I wanted to rip out his gross, stringy hair, light it on fire, and shove it straight up his ass. Avoid the Fapster at all costs. You've been warned.

Ugh. Another week of work. But at least it's already Tuesday!

I thought soda was good for you?

Children,

First let me offer my most sincere apologies for the lack of the Monday Morning Brain Fart on this traffic and aggravation-filled December Monday. I know you all yearn for it like Tiger Woods yearns for sex with ugly chicks, but unfortunately I am entirely too busy to write it this morning, and clearly I was in no mood to write it last night after watching the G-Men put forth one of the worst defensive performances I have ever seen. You can rest easy however knowing that it will be posted at some point in your lives, no later than tomorrow morning.

So in the meantime I thought I would show you this wonderful PSA that really makes drinking soda look wonderfully appealing.



Well, guess I'll just stick to beer!

Random Musings from the Sports World

Welcome to New York, Curtis
As I'm sure you heard if you care about baseball, the Yankees, Diamondbacks, and Tigers engaged in a little menage a trois this past week which resulted in the Yankees getting CF Curtis Granderson from Detroit. To get him, they gave up Austin Jackson, Ian Kennedy, and Phil Coke. I love the deal. As far as the players we gave up go, I don't mind losing Phil Coke. He was good last year, but tailed off towards the end of the year and didn't have a good playoffs, and with Damaso Marte dominating at the end of the season, we have our lefty out of the bullpen. Kennedy I don't care about giving up either as he was a head case who most likely was never going to get a shot in our rotation anytime soon anyway. And while Jackson is arguably the organization's top prospect, at this point, he's just that: a prospect. Ideally, he turns into what Curtis Granderson is now, so why not get Granderson already in his prime? Granderson has the potential to hit 40 homers in Yankee Stadium, drive in 90-100 runs, score 100 runs, and steal 20 bases. Plus, he'll plays a great centerfield. Yes, I know he has trouble with lefties. But it's not like teams are rushing to throw lefties against the Yankees, with guys like Derek Jeter, A-Rod, Mark Teixeira in the lineup - all good hitters against lefties. Also, the AL East really only has one dominant lefty in the division not on the Yankees: Jon Lester. Great deal for the Yanks.

Flozell Adams is a Bitch
I used to think that Brian Dawkins was the dirtiest player in the NFL, but this year has drastically changed my opinion. I still hate Dawkins, but a new player have moved to the forefront of my shitlist: Flozell Adams. First, in week 2, Adams got beat by Justin Tuck (as usual), so he tripped him, which resulted in Tuck landing awkwardly on his shoulder and tearing his labrum. He also tried to trip Osi in that game. Bitch. Then this past week when the Giants broke out the brooms and swept the Cowgirls, Adams took a cheap shot at Tuck at the end of the first half, decking him from behind when he wasn't looking. Bitch. If you're going to hit a man, at least look him in the face. Then when the entire Giants team came at him, he stuck his hand in Mathias Kiwanuka's eyes. Bitch. After the game, when told of Tuck calling him a "dirtbag" to the media, Adams said, "He's a nobody." Hey Flozell, why don't you go see that nobody, because he's got a big, shiny piece of jewelry to show you. Bitch. I also CAN NOT BELIEVE he wasn't suspended by the NFL. A fine means nothing to these rich bastards, Roger. Unbelievable. BITCH.

The Steelers Offensive Line is Shit
And not only this year, but they were last year, when they won the Super Bowl. But because they won the Super Bowl, the Steelers hierarchy was fooled into thinking that they were actually a good unit, which is completely false. They sucked last year. Scotty, a Steelers fan, agrees with me. So some of them were signed to extensions, which was obviously a bad idea, because I am watching them get owned at this very moment by the Cleveland Browns. Yes, the Cleveland Browns. Who are 1-11. I think I am witnessing one of the worst performances by an offensive line I have ever seen. Big Ben has absolutely no time to throw the ball. He looks like he just fell off a motorcycle while traveling at high speeds without a helmet on. It's a feeling he's familiar with, I believe.

The World Cup Draw! Was last week...
So I'm a week late in my analysis, SUE ME. The Americans were drawn into Group C with England, Algeria, and Slovenia. Like everyone else, I think it's a great draw for us. England is obviously the favorite in the group, and we'll have a chance to send a message early because we play them in our first game. But they are England, and it will be incredibly difficult. Algeria and Slovenia are two of the World Cup's lesser-regarded countries, which is why the US is favored to get through the group, but they shouldn't be taken lightly. Algeria beat a very good Egypt team in a do-or-die playoff for the last African qualification spot, and Slovenia is a very good defensive team that is very tough to break down. But hopefully the Americans can move on, and we can make some noise and make up for our shit showing in 2006. U-S-A!

My Thawghts on Jersey Shore!

As a fan of VH1, I've seen some supa trashy TV. I like, love Rawk of Love, Flava of Love, Daisy of Love, Tool Academy, and I Love New Yawk. But lemme tell yous, they ain't holdin' NO candle to Jersey Shore! This show takes the cake in being ridiculously absurd, with the booze, the bitches, the tans, the steroids... Words can't describe how like, unbelievable this show is.

Lemme introduce yous to da cast!

(I'm done typing like this now. It's giving me a headache.)



Angelina - Staten Island, NY
Claims to be all natural, and likes to tell everyone about it. Loudly. Over and over again. Then one more time. Then again after that. In fact, she never shuts up.

J-WOWWW - Franklin Square, NY
Her real name is Jenni, and apparently her nickname comes from what guys say when she enters a bar, most likely because her tatters are hanging out all over the place. Has a boyfriend and wants to remain faithful, but cheats on him within the first half hour of the show. Not a good start.

The Situation - Manalapan, NJ
Our man Mike calls himself the Situation because he has nice abs. Girls apparently call him The Situation because they like his... situation? I call him an idiot. I also just read on Wikipedia that his actual name is Mike Hunt. Yep. I'd go by The Situation too if that was the case.

Snooki - Marlboro, NY
Nicole goes by this ridiculous name, and though we're never told what it means, I think I do. I believe Snooki is German for "fugly; busted; has taken too many shots in the face." She looks like the first picture you would see in the "Plastic Surgery: What Not To Do" handbook. And yet she thinks she's hot. Odd.

Pauly D - Johnston, RI
Our friend Paul here is a DJ, with the most out-of-control blowout you will ever see. He takes 25 minutes to do his hair. He also has a tanning bed in his house. I find it hard to believe he's actually a man.

Ronnie - Bronx, NY
He is the token steroid freak of the house, who I assume will have some sort of roid-rage episode during this season where he goes nuts and beats the shit out of all the women and then sets fire to the house. This could get interesting.

Sammi - Hazlet, NJ
"Sweetheart" says that she's a sweetheart, but only for the first week or two of your relationship, then she tears your heart out and runs it over with a car. Sign me up!

Vinny - Staten Island, NY
Vinny. From Staten Island. No way!

First, let me point out to you that only 2 of these people are from New Jersey. Therefore, these schmucks are not a completely accurate representation of the people from New Jersey. If MTV wanted to make a real Jersey Shore show, they should have gotten all of the people actually from New Jersey. Half-assed MTV. Half-assed.

Second, I think it's funny that these people think they're real Italians, and that real Italians have to have blowouts/extensions, huge muscles/fake boobies, tans so fake that they look orange, and that they have to speak like they were held back in kindergarten for 4 years due to speech impediments. I was raised in an Italian family. I have family all over Jersey, Staten Island and Brooklyn. It's not actually like this. Trust me.

Third, I'm still going to watch every episode of this show because it is AWESOME! Few things make for better TV than a good train wreck, and this show is the Titanic of train wrecks. So if you love watching people make asses of themselves, drink too much, make bad decisions, get in fights, and make you feel good about your own life like I do, then I highly suggest Jersey Shore. You need this show in your life.

Monday Morning Brain Fart - 12/7

Good day to you all on this delightful / snowy / mild / freezing / hot / rainy / humid / temperate (please choose one) December Monday - the last, first Monday of any month in 2009, which of course is the 4th to last year that this planet will exist, according to John Cusack.

Dear Tiger Woods,

You have a hot Swedish supermodel as a wife. You have 2 children. You are the first billionaire athlete. You are telling us that this is not good enough. Idiot.

So you cheat with a variety of women, ranging from party planners, to cocktail waitresses, to a manager at Perkins. Then you show how stupid you are by sending them text messages and leaving them voicemails, all things that can be saved and given to various reputable publications such as the National Enquirer. Idiot.

The only good thing to come out of this for you is that one of the women said you were great in bed and have a huge dong. Congratulations! Still an idiot.

Love,
New Jersey is Clean, Idiots.

Saturday was a big day in college football, with various conference championship games playing out across the country. I watched the Pitt-Cincinnati game, which for all intents and purposes was the Big East Championship game, and believe me when I say this: it was one of the best football games I have ever seen. Back and forth they went throughout the whole game, until Pitt scored a touchdown to go up 44-38, only for their kicker to screw the pooch and miss the extra point. Cincy made them pay of course, scoring a touchdown of their own with about 30 seconds left, but actually making the extra point, and winning 45-44. I hope the Pitt kicker wasn't hoping to get laid anytime soon. The other game I watched was the SEC Championship game between Florida and Alabama, which did not end up being the uber-competitive game it was made out to be because Alabama beat the piss out of Florida. Afterwards, the CBS cameras caught Tim Tebow crying his eyes out on the sideline. Alabama better watch out! God does not take too kindly to teams who hurt the feelings of His quarterback. They will rue the day they made The Great Tim Tebow cry! (If you hadn't already figured it out, I'm mocking Tebow. What a weenie.)



I'm sure you've all seen those weird Levi's Jeans "Go Forth" ads by now. They use the words of Walt Whitman, mixed with some artsy bullshit camera work and editing, to portray a sense of optimism for a new America in a time of pessimism (or at least that's what I found in a google search, I honestly have no clue what the hell they're trying to say). How does this make me want to buy jeans? You wouldn't even know it was a jeans commercial with all that pretentious nonsense going on there if it wasn't for the Levi's logo thrown up at the end. They should take a lesson from Brett Favre. Now THAT guy knows how to sell jeans!

I'm sure you also are familiar with those DirecTV ads where it looks like a scene from a movie or a music video, only the star turns towards the camera and talks about how awesome DirecTV is (which it is, by the way). The latest new one features Christina Aguilera in a music video for some song that sounds like all her other songs. Now, she used to be hot, but... oh boy. She looks like some weird, gothic stepford wife. Christina, do us all a favor and ease up on the makeup. You're scaring the children.

And now we move on to the Giants - SWEET CHRIST THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! We broke out the brooms and swept the Cowgirls for the first time in 5 years, playing our first good game in a long while. Now we're right back in the mix for the playoffs. We finally committed to running the ball, and as a result, the offense got back on track, made some big plays, and put some points on the board. The defense stopped the run like they used to be able to, holding a team who had run for 250 yards last week to a paltry 45. And for once, the special teams played a good game, with Domenick Hixon's 79-yard punt return in the 4th quarter proving to be the winning points. I couldn't remember the last time we returned a punt for a touchdown before today - we never do that! Osi Umenyiora made some plays in response to his benching by Tom Coughlin, Brandon Jacobs had a huge 74-yard reception touchdown, Aaron Rouse I thought actually played a pretty decent game, and Steve Smith and Hakeem Nicks made big plays at wide receiver. I do have some gripes, like Bruce Johnson continuing to get abused by big wide receivers, Bill Sheridan still insisting on dropping our defensive linemen into coverage (STOP DOING THAT BILL, IT NEVER WORKS AND IS COMPLETELY STUPID), and the aforementioned Steve Smith dropping an easy touchdown, but I'll save the extensive complaining for another day. Today is a day to savor a huge victory, a victory that we can hopefully build off of and take this momentum into our next biggest game of the season against Philly next week. Let's make the Eagles pay for that beatdown they gave us earlier in the season boys!

Ugh. Another week of work.

An NYC/JC Adventure

Last week, while I was on staycation, my woman and I embarked on an adventure of epic proportions - an adventure that would make me the envy of those who know me, and make those who don't know me wish they knew me so that they could envy me like the people who know me.

I used to live the The Heights, one of the sections of Jersey City that is "up and coming." Unfortunately my experience there tells me that "up and coming" actually means "place where your car gets stolen." Granted, it wasn't my car, but it hurts all the same. RIP Stryker. May you rest in peace in that tow pound in the sky...

Anyway, whenever we went out in the city or to Hoboken while living in the Heights and took the PATH home, we had 2 delightful food options to assuage our drunken hunger when we returned home. The first was Deli Plus, a wonderful delicatessen inside the Journal Square PATH Station. Option number 2 was White Castle, just a few steps from the train and on our way home. At Deli Plus, you can get the most excellent turkey sandwiches found on God's green earth, while at White Castle you could either gorge yourself on sliders that smelled and tasted the same coming out the next day as they did going in, or feast on a tasty sack of chicken rings dipped in White Castle's signature honey mustard. Suffice it to say, those two places hold a special place in the hearts of those of us who lived in the Heights, and ever since we've moved to a different part of the JC, we've spoken about one night bypassing our PATH stop and going all the way back to Journal Square and re-living the glory days of yore. Well, since I didn't have to work all last week, that night finally arrived for me. Of course, I documented the whole night in photographs. Please enjoy my photo essay.

The night began for the woman and I at the Rangers - Columbus Blue Jackets game at Madison Square Garden. It was a rousing 7-4 victory for the Rangers; a fantastic game to watch. Too bad they suck now.



From the Ranger game, we continued on to McSorley's, the greatest bar in New York City, hands down. I'm not kidding. It's that awesome.



After a long night of drinkin' some of NYC's finest, we headed back to the JC on the PATH, going all the way to Journal Square in search for the Holy Grail of food.



With a half hour between trains to get back home, we had precious little time to make our dreams come true. First we left the PATH and ran to White Castle.



We suffered our first setback here, as the restaurant proper was closed; only the drive-thru remained open, and White Castle doesn't allow walk-ups. So we did what we always used to do in this situation: we wait for someone to drive up, and we convince them to get food for us if we give them money. This delightful young man in my blurry photo was kind enough to help us out.



The kind gentleman placed our order: 6 cheeseburgers, 4 chicken ring sandwiches with cheese, and a sack of chicken rings. My mouth was watering, and my pants grew ever tighter. We walked around the building and sat on the curb, waiting for the goods to be delivered. When our bag of gold was given to our friend, he flashed his headlights at us and we went to the car to receive our prize. 1 down, 1 to go.



With our first bag of happiness in hand, we headed back to Journal Square to complete our mission. We got to the station, headed down the escalator, and entered our deli sanctuary.



Turkey Sandwiches of Ecstasy in hand, we headed down to the platform...



...just as the train was arriving. Perfect timing, for the perfect night of perfect culinary treats.



We got back to Newport, and headed up the tunnel from the platform...



...walked down the street past the classiest adult beverage establishment in the JC...



...and arrived at home to feast.



Post-gluttony, we retired to our slumber at around 3:00 AM. It was the slumber of champions, the kind of slumber that you only read and hear about in great tales of mythology. Suffice it to say, I was happy. Suffice it also to say, I shit my brains out at 6:30 AM. And yes, it smelled like White Castle.