Now We Are Four

Kids, this month marks the four year anniversary of the Studly Pastures.

That's a long time to be breeding unicorns and making water cooler comments about life and if you've been reading, clearly my sanity has been affected.  Sacrifices have been made and feelings have been hurt over the years but, hey, anything for you, my loyal, faceless entities.  I'm definitely not the type to benefit from hearing himself talk.  I get absolutely nothing from this and it's most definitely NOT a log of my own hubris.

You know that song, "You're So Vain"?  Carly Simon wrote that about me.  I'm sure of it.

But hey, I'm no dummy.  I know I'm not perfect!  I still breathe oxygen like the rest of you (except for the fish people).  I've gotten rid of the need for consuming food and excreting waste but the oxygen thing still eludes me.  It might take me another four years but eventually I'll get that oxygen thing figured out too! (then I'll finally be just like you high and mighty fish people).

Anyways, enough about me, let's get to what's made me so famous over the last four years: judging people solely based off of my own crazy perception of reality!

Dwight Howard has decided he wants to go and play for the Houston Rockets and we can all finally remove the tape from our eyelids and blink again.  Why the Houston Rockets?  He thinks that they can be contenders with him on the team.  While everybody outside of Houston has just shit their pants from laughing too hard (I've seen it happen) let's try and look at this a little seriously--but there's a small problem.  Dwight Howard doesn't take anything seriously.  Remember when he first started playing for Orlando and he kept smiling all the time and everybody thought, "Hey, here's a nice guy who truly enjoys playing the game!"  Well, you are all idiots.  Dwight Howard was smiling because somebody made a fart joke or said the word 'titty' or something.  Dwight Howard is a child.  He doesn't care about trophies or legacy or anything remotely important in the game of basketball.  He cares about everybody talking about Dwight Howard and he's getting it!  Every single day!  Even from me!  ARGHHHHHHH!

I'm not going to make some lame 'Houston, we have a problem' joke because I kinda just did anyways but it's not going to work out!  In today's NBA you need at least a third player, maybe even a decent fourth, and Houston doesn't have it.  It was thrown around that maybe they would try and get Josh Smith but he just signed with the Detroit Pistons.  Uh oh.

Which, by the way, I would love to have seen THAT business deal.  "Hey Josh, ummm, we don't have anything."  Whoever negotiated this deal needs to come and be my lawyer because he's probably the Hypno-toad from Futurama.

Oh but hey everything is shifting into place for 2014 when all the big names will be free agents again and all these teams will have cap space and...and...OH MY GOD MY EYES ARE BLEEDING!  I absolutely hate that mentality.  I hate to get all kindergarten on you but be the best you can be...today!

Enough basketball, it's July for crying out loud.  Let's give the people what they want on this joyous of occasions and talk tennis.

Andy Murray has won Wimbledon this year to be the first Brit to hoist the trophy since 1936.  I'm amazed.  Not that he won but that it has taken over 70 years for Great Britain to win their own freakin' tournament.  Relax, kids, I'm not ignorant, I know that tennis was invented by the French and not the British (you're welcome) but Wimbledon has been a British institution since 1877 and is the OLDEST tennis tournament in the world.

70 years?  70 years?!  Could you imagine an American not winning the Daytona 500 for 70 years?  The repercussions from something like that would be catastrophic.  There's one thing you don't do and that's piss off rednecks.  If they decided to revolt I'd be screwed.  Not because I'd look terrible in a mullet but that Bud heavy tastes like copper wiring that's been soaked in moose piss.  But if it's the only beer left in the fridge...

70 years.  I hope this isn't a 'Portrait of Dorian Gray' type of thing where now that the curse is broken the Queen will lose her immortality.  (Relax, I don't have that many British readers)


Well, here we are, kids.  Four years later.  In all seriousness, as much as I love hearing my own voice through my writing...if you've read a single line, or even a whole post, if you've giggled, chuckled or just slightly smirked just once...then it's been worth it.  Thanks for making me feel like I'm not talking to the wall, my dear faceless entities.