Lincoln Riley Is Terrified Of The SEC

Lincoln Riley has been one of the best coaches in college football in the past five years. I have no problem giving him his flowers. He’s been courted by blue blood college programs and NFL teams every single year since his debut season. So what changed? 

Yeah yeah I know, his contract is crazy . $110 million, buyout his OU contract, buy both his homes 500k over asking price, hand him a $6 million home, and a 24/7 private jet to boot. Blah blah frickety blah. People are going nuts about this private jet. Fucking Schiano worked a private jet into his Rutgers contract and he hasn’t done shit in the last decade. You think USC is the only program that can afford this ransom? LSU’s pockets ain’t light. 

The other big rumor for Riley was to be the new Tiger King of Baton Rouge. In my opinion, what should have been the most coveted vacancy. Has another school ever been able to boast that their last three Head Coaches have won a National Championship? The school is guaranteeing you recruits, guaranteeing a giant contract, and guaranteeing you your best shot at a college football legacy with a National Championship. Ok so maybe Lincoln rathered LA over a Louisiana swamp. But I’m not buying that reasoning. Plus like, traffic… ever heard of it? 

So why not LSU? And why leave now? Lincoln Riley just signed a six year extension with OU in July of 2020. He just filed for inspection for his new home he was building in Norman this fall? What the hell changed?

The SEC is not for the weak hearted. Orgeron just got shown the door two seasons removed from a National Championship. Dan Mullen was fired after bringing Florida to the SEC championship in his third season! Gene Chizik two years after winning a Natty at Auburn, gone. Mark Richt 145-51 at Georgia, goes 1-3 against Saban, fired. Les Miles, championship winning coach, 114-34 all time goes 3-7 vs Alabama,  dead. This isn’t worrying about Iowa St and TCU mediocrity out here. Week in and week out you’re playing grown men. No one knew that better than Lincoln Riley. 

Lincoln has taken Oklahoma to the playoffs three times. All three times he lost to an SEC team. His first year he put up a fight against Georgia. The other two playoff games both Alabama and LSU put Lincoln Riley over their knee. Whenever OU played an SEC team in a must win situation, Sooners couldn’t get it done. 

I reckon when Oklahoma decided to leave the Big 12 is precisely when Lincoln Riley decided to leave Oklahoma. He saw the trail of dead bodies that Nick Saban and Kirby Smart left in their rear view and walked, no, RAN out to California. Another dead conference where he can be a a big fish in a small pond. Lincoln Riley is a little bitch boy. Terrified of the SEC, it just fucking means more. 

How To Stop Reliving Your Bad Drunken Nights

If you’re unlucky it hits you as soon as you wake up the next morning. Sometimes it comes to you in the shower. A certain phrase or word could trigger it. Even worse in a text, forcing you to face reality. But when you’ve had a bad night of drinking, the humiliation comes in one form or another. You convinced yourself it probably wasn’t that bad, but it was. 

Maybe you were embarassing. Maybe you were mean. Maybe you stroked the ego of someone you don’t even like. Maybe you agreed on topics you’re actually against or made promises you had no intention of keeping. Maybe you professed your love. Maybe you faked love. Whatever the case, the cringes toll for thee. 

When a flashback of an argument, or a heart to heart, or a failed pursuit invades your thinking space, it’s paralyzing. You cringe, suck your teeth, or maybe even groan and yell it out. So how do you make it stop?

First you need to get in the right mind set. It happened, don’t give yourself false hope by trying to convince yourself otherwise. It was just your time to pay the piper. Don’t make excuses of outside influences causing you to overdo it. It was just your turn to take one on the chin. If you haven’t made an ass of yourself while enjoying a drink, cast the first stone. Don’t feel ashamed of something everyone has done. Shame is nothing. Shame is just something the Catholics invented to force you to give them money. 

Stop the bleeding. If it was a public spectacle odds are you’re gonna catch some heat in the inbox. If your friends are like mine, you’ll most likely be burned at the stake where everyone can see, the group chat. This is where I like to take what I call, the “Varys Approach”. I am availible to all my friends, I am a trustworthy confidant, I’m accepting, and above all else, I keep receipts. I’m a group historian in a sense. If anyone tries you in the chat, send them a screen shot or an embarrassing picture of themselves. I personally have a file on all my friends. It’s not blackmail, it’s just reminding them of a time when you kept your mouth shut when they had a bad moment. Its definitely not blackmail. 

Clear your mind. The Taoist monks of China have been trying to clear their mind of thought through meditation since before JC. Their government finally released a reasonable thoughtlessness solution nearly 2,000 years later- Tik Tok. It’s my personal choice because it fills me with useless fun facts, traveling fantasies, and people getting hit in the nuts. Whatever works for you, deploy it. Netflix, video games, sports, movies, whatever it is that gets you to that point where your brain is on airplane mode. 

Indulge. This probably isn’t the best time to be rewarding yourself but fuck it. You already abandoned your morals last night, you can afford to lose the diet too. Order food you shouldn’t eat. Grab a snack. Eat the ice cream in the freezer. Give yourself something to look forward to. Time heals all and you’re in a race against a countdown til this thing you did doesn’t matter anymore. Fill the countdown with things you enjoy. 

Accept what you did but don’t forgive yourself just yet. Especially if you did something you need to apologize for. Just apologize and accept the consequence. People who ask for forgiveness have already granted it to themselves. Don’t be that person. 

If all else fails go get drunk again, you’ll be less hard on yourself. It’s a Hail Mary but it has a high conversion rate. Unless of course you were violent or committed a crime or something. If that’s the case, maybe it’s time to hang em up. 

Of course your best course of action is just don’t be a idiot when you blackout. Or don’t blackout ever. I don’t know, I’ve heard it works but haven’t tried it yet.

Everyone’s had a bad night, you’re doing fine.

Going To A Restaurant On Thanksgiving

Yesterday was the day after Thanksgiving Eve. A day of reflection spent pretending that you’re not hungover and like all of your cousins. This year was something. My dad had been reinstated to holidays since he’s started dating my mother again. My family couldn’t go to my aunt’s like normal since my grandfather won’t talk to my uncle. And I’d been ignoring all my friends texts messages because of my performance from the night before. So what did we do? Kicked a field goal down 28 in the fourth. We went to a restaurant on Thanksgiving. 

I picked up my little brother from his trailer in the late afternoon. Normally not one to miss a holiday Instagram opportunity, he walked out in a hoodie, beanie, and cigarette hanging off his lip looking like he hadn’t slept. It’s why I decided to drive him, misery loves company. We tried erasing flashbacks of the night before by chain smoking menthols and playing alternative music too loud. It didn’t work. 

Despite our 3:30 reservation, we didn’t sit until 3:15. I don’t know if you’ve been to a restaurant on Thanksgiving but it’s a sad place. It’s mostly fathers having their crack at it while their kids scroll through the phones. Or other various characters who dressed like they had been kicked out of their family. Plus all the servers look at you like it’s your fault that they’re not seeing their family today.

It took saying grace for my grandpa to bring up my uncle. No one found it as funny as I did but he gave me a wink after his rant. After my grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s we took his car since he insisted he could still drive. We took it about two years ago and whenever he asks where it is we say it’s only been in the shop for a week. But it wasn’t always that easy. My uncle, who’d spent the most time with my grandpa, fell on the grenade for us. When we first took the car grandpa lashed out at all of us. My grandma and aunt took the brunt of it. So my uncle sat him down, asked him if he trusted him, told him he took the car and explained the dangers of him driving. Since my grandfather’s sick, he said my uncle stopped in the middle of the Outerbridge, dangled his keys in his face, and chucked them over the side. Now he says the next time my uncle will see him is at his wake. None of it is true of course, I actually have my grandpa’s car now and even drove it to the restaurant. 

My grandma was stressed over my grandpa. My mom was sad her sister couldn’t be there. My dad was overcompensating too much for missing the last three Thanksgivings. My brother couldn’t stop going to the bathroom. My sister’s baby, the youngest of her four, wouldn’t stop climbing on her and crying no matter what tricks we threw at him. We were the crying baby table. And my flashbacks wouldn’t stop coming. 

But do you know what? My grandma gave the funny toast she does every year. My oldest niece and I played a game where we make funny faces and the first one to laugh loses. I lost every time. My sister and I almost fell on the floor from the look my mom gave my little brother when he came out of the bathroom wiping his mouth. My nieces were so excited to ask my parents to keep going up to the buffet to make their plates. And my Grandpa had us dying when he kept having his great grandchildren recite “knock-knock” jokes that made absolutely no fucking sense. 

It wasn’t what we were used to. It wasn’t what we preferred. But any day on this side of the ground is a good day. And I was thankful that we ate together, even if it was at a depressing ass restaurant. 

The Yankees Don’t Buy Players But I Wish They Would

I’m in a three person group chat with a Sox and Mets fan so I’m often left defending myself from a two pronged attack. It’s always the same cliche throwaway insults during this time of year. “Yankees fans think they can sign everyone”, “Yankees have to buy their championships” “blah blah blah”. They hear each other say it so much that they never stopped to realize that it really isn’t true. 

Ok so there’s Gerrit Cole, I recognize that. But 300 mil is the new 200 mil, right? Plus the Mets went out and gave stinky Lindor like a gazillion dollars. So whatever. But outside of Cole, that’s pretty much it. 

Last year we signed a thirty four Corey Kluber to one year 11 million. Not exactly breaking the bank. We also initially signed a LeMahieu that nobody wanted to a two year 24 million dollar contract. 

Outside of those three players, who in the Yankees starting rotation or lineup was “bought”? No one that’s who. 

Gary Sanchez came up through the farm. Voit traded for. Rizzo traded for. Got Gleyber and Ursela in a trade. Judge drafted. Stanton traded for. Gardner drafted. Joey Gallo traded for. German came up through the farm. Jordan Montgomery and Nestor Cortes were drafted. Jameson Taillon traded for. 

But but but Yankees always buy All Stars! No they don’t. They’re much more likely to to trade for an All Star and that’s another team’s fault, not ours. So tell Stroman to shut his bitch ass up. 

But I wish we would buy all the all stars. I wanted Bryce Harper and Manny Machado. Go crazy. I was promised a fully operational Death Star and what I got was Brian Cashman with a claw machine laser pointer. In the words of Tyrion Lannister, “I wish I was the monster you think I am.” 

I reserve the right to rescind this entire blog if the Yankees sign Seager/Kershaw/Freeman/Scherzer. 

Big Bait Catches Big Rat

I read somewhere once that if people were gambling on a coin flip and there were an equal amount of people betting on heads as there is tails, the handicapper would have to change the 50/50 odds. Makes sense right? If the amount of winnings equal the amount of losses, the house can’t win. So they throw little nuggets to entice you to one side or another. Rat lines, as they’re commonly known. I know they’re manipulating me, but I ate the cheese anyway.

How the fuck do they always know? I’ve never accepted “algorithms” as an acceptable answer. That’s cheating and they know it. There’s absolutely no reason for Aaron Rodgers to throw for four touchdowns and 385 yards only to lose to Kirk Cousins and a 4-5 Vikings team. What’re you some fuckin wizard? HOW DID YOU DO KNOW THAT? 

In case you can’t tell the last three weeks have kicked my balls in. Since I was getting soo much wrong I decided to only bet heavy on one game. You guessed it, Packers. “And Eve bit the apple and suddenly knew she was naked.” It’s just.. I thought… you know, it was so low because Aaron hadn’t been playing so they were overcompensating for his drama and I would catch them slipping. I’m playing mind games with an invisible entity. 

After the Packers game I went to the 7/11 across the street to get a bag of Tostitos. I ordered Skillet Queso from Chili’s and it got delivered with dip but no chips. Imagine the state of me then. Legally I think I could fight that kitchen to the death with no repercussions. The 50 something year old guy in front of me came in only for scratch offs. He was skinny and frail looking. He had dirt in his fingernails and holes in his sweatpants. I pitied him. Scratch offs seemed suddenly cruel to promise a life of grandeur to a man who would never see it fulfilled. On the way to our cars the man lit a cigarette and I hit my vape and we both left in our respective Hondas. Fuck. 

I decided then to take a break from gambling. I vetoed my decision almost immediately when I realized Thanksgiving was this Thursday. I haven’t canceled the break, just postponed it. Might as well start ripping my sweat pants now. 

Gamble Responsibly. 

High School Reunions Have Been Rendered Useless

Hollywood would have you believe that high school reunions are magical places. A chance to settle old scores, overturn unrequited love, and prove to everyone once and for all that they were wrong about you. Romy, Michele, and the American Pie crew all had me convinced that this one going to be one of the best nights of my life. But is anyone even going to these things anymore?

I could see the entire thing in my head. The jock still in his letterman jacket whos 3/4 bald and turned town drunk. The pregnant cheerleader who’s lost a step chain smoking menthols. The nerd who got hot. The quiet kid turned millionaire. But that’s not the case, is it?

One thing you don’t think about as a senior in high school is how you’re only(!) 28 at your ten year reunion. Ten years is an enternity at that age. It’s more than half your existence. You’re going to be so different in ten years! Except none of us really are.

Sure, some people are doing great. But majority still live home with their parents paying off their student loans. Their more sophisticated pallet turned into doing cocaine on the weekends instead of buying dime bags from the kid who graduated two years ago. You got some change in your pocket now. But going from server to bartender wasn’t really the “next step” you were hoping for. We all still drink Fridays and Saturdays, except we stopped playing sports so everyone put on a couple pounds. Otherwise, ain’t shit changed, so do what’s the point of catching up?

Apparently my line of thinking seems to be the consensus since I’m not having a High School Reunion this year. Ten years have gone by and there’s no committee, no Facebook group announcement, not even a group text message. Apparently no one feels the need to relive our private school years just yet. My mother, as she’s contractually bound to do, is very upset over this despite it not concerning her whatsoever. Which developed into hearing allll about her high school reunion. 

I’ve seen pictures of my dad’s ten year high school reunion. They were much older ten years after high school than my graduating class is. Anyone in a picture with a yellow hue over it was old even when the picture was taken. They had families with three kids hanging off of them and talked about the remodel they're doing on their kitchen. I’d say less than ten people have children in my class and none of them did it on purpose. My dad’s class introduced their spouses and talked to people they hadn’t seen since high school. They wore name tags just in case they forgot each other’s names already? I know maybe three couples who got married and it was to the same person they were feeling up when the ball dropped in 2010. 

I know everything about everyone I went to high school with whether I want to or not. Social media has changed the game. I know the ones who are trying to start their own shitty company with no business model. I know the names of the babies of people who got knocked up. I know the ones who selling cable packages and won’t acknowledge the pyramid scheme they’re in. I know the ones who turned hippie and make videos on their holistic healing methods. I know what the quiet girl who sat behind me in Trig had for breakfast this morning and I’ve never even said a word to her. 

Whats there to catch up on? We’ve had impromptu reunions at DJais and Bar A every summer. I didn’t care to hear about what stocks they invested in then and I don’t care for it now. If they had anything interesting to tell me at a ten year reunion I’d reply “Oh yeah, I saw you post that,” and then the conversation would flatline. My parents needed a reunion because they got married four years after high school and never saw anyone again. I saw a kid I was in a school project with once in Belmar and smoked a cigarette with him on the porch and watched the cops write him a ticket for peeing in public. 

We’re all caught up. No ones different, nothing drastics happend, and it turns out ten years isn’t a long time. Guess we’ll have to wait til the next one. Which is fine by me. I always needed extensions in high school, and now I have til the twenty year to get my shit together. 

How To Become A Holiday Shopping God

I have an affinity for thrift stores. The possibility of getting one over on an idiot who doesn’t know what they’re selling is enough to make my mouth water. That adrenaline rush is what led me to finding my secret favorite website: shopgoodwill. 

Goodwill stores are in thirty-six states around the US. They’re a place to go shopping for used items like clothing, electronics, art, jewelry, furniture, etc. All of the items are donated, mainly from families who didn’t know what to do with all grandma’s crap when she croaked. Occasionally, you’ll find something half decent in a store but those moments are few and far between. Why? Because all the good shits on the website. 

Not many people know this, but Goodwill has online shopping. It’s an endless catalog of wonders that replenishes itself every day. It’s a bidding system that awards the highest bidder when the time runs no matter what, no extensions. There’s 30 different categories, each with thousands of items to cyber sift through. It’s easy to get lost for hours. 

The site has everything. Right now some of the most popular items are Travis Scott’s Cactus Jack Jordan’s, a WW1 helmet, a lot of 7 Nintendo Wii’s with 19 controllers, and a Christian Dior full length mink coat. The highest bid for an item at the moment is 40k for a diamond bracelet that was appraised at 119k. 

But I bob and weave all that garbage. I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel for the treasure no ones found yet. To be successful you need to know where to search, good timing, and a little bit of luck. 

Keywords are crucial. Know what you’re looking for and then filter it by most bids. Let other people find do they heavy lifting, most of the time they’ll still only bid $15 dollars anyway. Then you sit and wait til the final minute when they think they’re safe and pull the rug out. I’ve gotten things like vintage Ray Bans, a Widdy dart board, and a signed Gerorge RR Martin signed GOT book doing this. 
I got so good at buying stuff for myself on shopgoodwill that I decided to do my Christmas shopping for others. Today I bought my brother a dope Camel ash try from the 90’s, a collectible Batman glass from McDonald’s that we used to drink sodas out of at our grandma’s house, and a signed headshot of Billy Zane. All that plus a Deion shirt from the Barstool store and I can cross him off the list. Four things I know he’ll love and it cost me less than $70.
Whatever someone likes, type it into the search bar. If they like Star Wars, I searched that once and found a sweet 80’s Miller High Life poster with Lando and chained up Leia looking like they were about to get it on. If they like a college program, search that for old starter jackets and old memorabilia for cheap. Want an N64? They have 29 consoles available right now. Hell if they like Brett Favre, there’s a signed photo with the certicate of authenticity currently at $9.99. Don’t believe me? 

I still have some bids out so I’m not going to tell you where are the treasured buried, but it’s out there. 
You can go the weird and obscure route like myself. Or check popular sports items and video games and shit. Just set an alarm so you don’t get sucked into a vortex. The site is your oyster. If you can think it, shopgoodwill has something for it. Come Christmas time, people will think you’re a god and you never have to tell them it barely cost you a dime.