The Onion has killed off Herbert Kornfeld. This was his last column: [link]
Buffy ,'Chosen'
Spike's Bitches 35: We Got a History
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
As Cindy has noted, I definitely coach (and parent) from the "rub some dirt on it" philosophy line. In fact, one of my players came running up to me during warmups asking for a band aid after he scraped his elbow and my response was very much "What? You're not bleeding. Get back out there."
Chris got "hurt" during practice on Saturday. I told him to walk it off, and thought you'd be so proud of me.
Poor Ben's team sucks out loud. They've lost all three games to date. One was called during the game on account of rain, but it was a mercy -- they were losing 9-0. Last night's loss was a more reasonable 11-9. Ben and one other boy seem to be the only kids on the team that actually know how to play baseball. My poor kid. Last year his team almost made it to the championship. The year before that, I think he was on the losingest team in the league. Baseball is his first love, and it's always a roller coaster ride for him.
Herbert Kornfeld R.I.P. Or, um, I pour a 40 on the ground, or something....
From his last column:
Shitload o' turnovah in tha hizzy, too. Peeps used 2 make a career o' this place; ain't that way no moe. I no soona done sexin' up a Cash Room bitch than some new big-hair ho take her place.
Ain't it the truth....
eta:
Daddy H still in full effect, y'all. Tha bling, tha fame, an' tha bitchez keep flowin' in, but that shit ain't what matta. They ain't what kept me in tha game foe so long when so many o' my A.R. bruthahs never got promoted, or got hooked on Sharpies, or gave up on tha reeceevin' an' went into tax preparin' or auditin' or some other pitiful shit.
No, it wuz always 'bout tha numbahs. Tha numbahs. An' this Stone-Col' Funkee-Fresh Mack Daddy Supastar Enforca O' Midstate Office Supply will be crunchin' 'em an' balancin' 'em 2 tha grave. Much luv 2 ya, mah G's. H-Dog OUT. Peace.
sniff....
Man, one of our school administrators had a stroke this morning and isn't expected to recover. Sweetest guy you've ever met. He actually hired me on here, and my good friend J not only considers him one of her mentors, but her father is also a stroke survivor.
It's not too late to declare a do-over on today, right? Or too early to start drinking?
Oh, Ailleann, I'm so sorry.
Oh, Ailleann, that's awful. I'm so sorry.
That's very sad, Ailleann. All the best to the school and his family.
Ailleann, so very sorry
I'm so sorry, Ailleann.
I'm sorry Ailleann.