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			    <title>Tom Brady | AFC East | New England Patriots | NFL | Juiced Sports News</title> 
				<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/nfl/afc-east/new-england-patriots/tom-brady</link> 
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			<title>NFL teams are allowed to designate two &quot;stars&quot; who only have to face the media once per week.</title>
			<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/news/nfl-teams-are-allowed-to-designate-two-stars-who-only-have-to-face-the-media-once-per-week</link>
			<description><![CDATA[ NFL teams are allowed to designate two &quot;stars&quot; who only have to face the media once per week. The Patriots&#039; stars? Tom Brady and Tim Tebow. [NY Post] Read more...    ]]></description>
			<pubDate>Thu, 13 Jun 2013 10:00:03 EDT</pubDate>
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			<title>Brady: &#039;Fun couple days&#039; with Tebow on board</title>
			<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/news/brady-fun-couple-days-with-tebow-on-board</link>
			<description><![CDATA[Tom Brady on Wednesday gave a thumbs up on the team&#039;s acquisition of Tim Tebow.]]></description>
			<pubDate>Wed, 12 Jun 2013 18:00:04 EDT</pubDate>
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			<title>AP Sources: Tebow signs 2-year deal with Patriots (Yahoo! Sports)</title>
			<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/news/ap-sources-tebow-signs-2year-deal-with-patriots-yahoo-sports</link>
			<description><![CDATA[FOXBOROUGH, Mass. (AP) -- Tim Tebow and Tom Brady took turns, zipping passes over the middle and lofting tosses toward the corner of the end zone.]]></description>
			<pubDate>Tue, 11 Jun 2013 19:30:01 EDT</pubDate>
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			<title>Tebow on joining Pats: Will &#039;be a lot of fun&#039;</title>
			<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/news/tebow-on-joining-pats-will-be-a-lot-of-fun</link>
			<description><![CDATA[Tim Tebow said Tuesday it was &quot;an honor&quot; to be able to play for Bill Belichick and learn from Tom Brady, saying he expects his time with the New England Patriots &quot;to be a lot of fun.&quot;]]></description>
			<pubDate>Tue, 11 Jun 2013 14:00:03 EDT</pubDate>
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			<title>Some Poor Soul Ordered A Tom Brady Fathead, Got Tim Tebow&#039;s Instead</title>
			<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/news/some-poor-soul-ordered-a-tom-brady-fathead-got-tim-tebows-instead</link>
			<description><![CDATA[ How could you fackin&#039; loozahs mix this up? NAWT only does Tim Tebow NAWT play for OW-AH fackin&#039; team, he ain&#039;t even good enough to PRAY in front of Tawmmy Brady&#039;s jawkstrap!Read more...    ]]></description>
			<pubDate>Wed, 05 Jun 2013 17:30:01 EDT</pubDate>
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			<title>Today In Sports Advice: Don’t Let Dane Cook Sign Your Football Jersey</title>
			<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/news/today-in-sports-advice-don’t-let-dane-cook-sign-your-football-jersey</link>
			<description><![CDATA[“The New England Patriots are like AIDS, rape, cartoons I remember and also the latest tragedy. Laugh, everybody!”TLDR version: Don’t let Dane Cook do anything ever.Slightly longer version: Dane Cook is the karate of comedy.  A lot of people hate him.  At the same time, a lot of people love him 8 years ago.  No matter what side you’re on, he’s a person of note, and is occasionally called upon to sign autographs.  Sometimes a fan has a glossy 8×10 ready to go, but sometimes they don’t, and need him to sign their arm or their boob or their New England Patriots Tom Brady #12 football jersey.Here is the story of what happens to that Dane Cook Tom Brady jersey.  Via @MCEsoteric:I wonder how much he would’ve gotten if Dane had signed Louis C.K.’s name instead? 
    
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			<pubDate>Fri, 31 May 2013 15:00:05 EDT</pubDate>
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			<title>Pats&#039; Brady not surprised Welker left team</title>
			<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/news/pats-brady-not-surprised-welker-left-team</link>
			<description><![CDATA[New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady said on Thursday morning that Wes Welker&#039;s free-agent departure to the Denver Broncos did not come as a surprise, as he&#039;s played in the NFL long enough to understand the nature of the business.]]></description>
			<pubDate>Thu, 23 May 2013 10:00:03 EDT</pubDate>
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			<title>Steelers&#039; Clark: Patriots&#039; Brady &#039;sees ghosts&#039;</title>
			<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/news/steelers-clark-patriots-brady-sees-ghosts</link>
			<description><![CDATA[Pittsburgh Steelers safety Ryan Clark said Monday on ESPN&#039;s &quot;NFL Live&quot; that New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady &quot;sees ghosts&quot; when pressured by defenses.]]></description>
			<pubDate>Tue, 07 May 2013 13:30:03 EDT</pubDate>
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			<title>The Ultimate Cookie Rankings</title>
			<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/news/the-ultimate-cookie-rankings</link>
			<description><![CDATA[
Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re covering accents, WAGs, gym rats, poop, and more. Your letters:
Christian:
Oatmeal raisin or oatmeal chocolate chip? I think the former is the greatest cookie ever but my co-workers say the latter. Am I fucked up or are they?
What about oatmeal raisin chocolate chip? Must the raisin and the chocolate chip be mutually exclusive? Can they not live in harmony forever and ever with the occasional walnut bit dropping by for a three-way?
As someone who believes that chocoholism is a disease, I favor any cookie that has the addition of chocolate chips. I&#039;m the kind of person that, after eating a chocolate-free dessert, will demand a SECOND dessert that has chocolate in it. I am Cathy. When my wife scans a dessert menu and is like, &quot;Ooooh! Mango tart!&quot; I tell her to piss off. We&#039;re having the molten lava chocolate jizz cake and that&#039;s final. So I&#039;ll always pick the cookie that has chocolate in it. Not that I don&#039;t see the value in an oatmeal raisin cookie on its own. It&#039;s good. But why NOT add a cup of Tollhouse morsels to that fucker while you&#039;re at it? YOU HAVE ONLY CHOCOLATE TO GAIN.
In fact, just to start a fight, here&#039;s how I would rank the world&#039;s cookies:
1. Chocolate chip (this one, specifically)
2. Oreos
3. Thin mints
4. Tagalongs
5. Monster cookies (peanut butter, m&amp;ms, oatmeal, possibly horse parts, etc)
6. Samoas
7. Mallomars
8. Florentines (chocolate-dipped only, please)
9. Fudge Stripes
10. Oatmeal raisin
11. Ginger snaps
12. Berger cookie
13. Macaroon
14. Snickerdoodle
15. Peanut butter cookie
16. Sugar cookie
17. Black and white cookie
18. Shortbread
19. Nilla wafers
20. Milanos
21. Madelines (Are you a cookie or are you a cake? YOU MUST CHOOSE)
1,006. Fortune cookies
1,006 (tie). Biscotti. God, women go batshit over biscotti.  EVERY cookie tastes good dunked in liquid, honey.
I&#039;m sure I&#039;ve forgotten some important entries here, so please dive into the comments and tell me what an awful person I am.
Kevin:
I&#039;m 35. I work in marketing. I have no connections to the NBA. If tomorrow I was given Michael Jordan&#039;s basketball talent, could I make it to the NBA? How would I go about doing it? Join a big city Y league? Try and make a name at the Rucker? Harass any agent who will listen? What would be the surest way from total obscurity to the NBA?
The NBA D-League held open tryouts last September, so I would imagine they&#039;d do it again next fall.  But that means you would have to wait around for the next five months before someone noticed you. What you&#039;d have to do in the meantime is make a highlight reel. You&#039;d have to get a friend who&#039;s decent with a camera, head to a pickup court where they&#039;d actually let you play instead of making you wait there like an asshole for three hours while you feebly hold your hand up and ask, &quot;I got next?&quot; Then you&#039;d have to OWN the court, pulling off all kinds of crazy tomahawks and windmills and dunks from the three-point line and what not. Then your friend hops on Final Cut and edits together all your kickass moves, all scored to just the loudest, shittiest hip hop song possible. Maybe an old, obscure No Limit song. Something truly awful.
Then you&#039;d have to post the thing on YouTube and blitz social media with it, telling all your Facebook friends OMG WHITE JORDAN! Then your friends would either A) Ignore you, B) Comment on how amazed they were by the video despite secretly being too lazy to watch more than three seconds of it, or C) Watch it and say, &quot;Hey that guys looks famili... IT&#039;S YOU! HOLY SHIT!&quot; I&#039;d wager maybe one of your friends actually watches it. Then you&#039;d send the video to us and to The Big Lead and to BleachHuffington RePostFeed and hope that they post it with the headline &quot;The Most Amazing Basketball Video You Will EVER See.&quot; Then you&#039;d look at the post and see the first 900 comments were all, &quot;FAKE. Consider this the last time I visit your site!&quot;
Then, you&#039;d have to hope that some shady-as-shit agent (or worse, a manager with no actual agent certification) sees the video, believes it, calls you up, tries to sign you to an onerous contract in which 150 percent of all your income is put in a trust in his name, and then gets you a private workout with some peripheral NBA human being like, I dunno, John Lucas. Then you&#039;d have to pray that Lucas could persuade some GM or living scout to watch you work out. Then the scouts would come to your private workout, watch you dunk, measure your height, say you aren&#039;t &quot;long&quot; enough, and then never call you again.
That&#039;s how it would go down. Your potential would be utterly wasted. In fact, you could now count yourself among the five million men out there who tell friends and family that they totally would have made the NBA if not for politics. No one would believe you. Eventually, you&#039;d go work for the circus, develop an Oxy habit, and then kill yourself. I&#039;m so sorry, man.
Nick:
I never use the word &quot;ma&#039;am&quot; but always find myself saying it when I&#039;m talking to a woman who has a southern accent. What&#039;s up with that? I caught myself using it with the Geico insurance rep on the phone the other day. I&#039;m from the northeast and have never lived in the south. Do other people do that?
Well, of course you did that around a Southern lady. You were probably hoping to sweet talk her on the phone while trying to save 15 percent or more on your car insurance. You have to go all out during this kind of courting ritual. Unfortunately, the joke&#039;s on you. That was an Indian woman coached to talk with a Southern accent to keep you on the phone longer.
If you&#039;re weak-minded, as I am, it takes very little to affect certain languages and dialects. I&#039;ve lived in Maryland for a few years and I now have a full-fledged Maryland accent. I say &quot;row-ood&quot; instead of &quot;road.&quot; That&#039;s pretty much the extent of the Maryland accent, but still. It&#039;s amazing how easy it is to slip into those little affectations. When I got back from England after a semester abroad, I said &quot;cheers&quot; instead of &quot;thanks&quot; and all my friends HATED me for it.
People like to fit in when they go places, so it makes sense if you&#039;re in the Deep South if you feel compelled to say &quot;sir&quot; or &quot;ma&#039;am.&quot; You don&#039;t want them mistaking you for a YANKEE and then killing you. And when you get back, that affectation is a kind of linguistic keepsake—a humblebrag, a way of telling people that you went somewhere fancy and exotic. &quot;I&#039;ll have a pint, which is what they say when they order a beer IN ENGLAND, WHICH IS WHERE I JUST CAME FROM.&quot; It&#039;s the main reason everyone hates Madonna and Gwyneth Paltrow.
Andrew:
Let&#039;s say some magical being - a wizard, an alien, Jesus, Alien Jesus, whatever - puts a curse on your penis. Now, every time you masturbate, you must finish into a cup and down your byproduct like a slimy Jello Shot. If you do not do this within five minutes, you&#039;ll go impotent for three months. Do you masturbate less, or just start bringing Dixie cups everywhere?
Dixie cups ahoy. You can get used to the taste of ANYTHING if it&#039;s required. If you&#039;re starving in the desert and someone offers you beets—which are disgusting—you&#039;re not turning them down. Same principle here. I&#039;d make sure to bring a cup, do my business into the cup, add water, swirl it around a bit, and then gulp it down. Much better than sucking ejaculate out of a tissue, or fishing out cocksnot from the toilet. No, thank you.
Frank:
How much would you pay to be able to know the exact length of your turds? I just took a dump and I could have sworn the turd was at least 2-feet long, but I feel like I can&#039;t brag without facts to back me up. I think I would spend at least $100 for this power.
I think $100 is a bit rich. If it were an app, you&#039;d get sticker shock. Remember: most people blanch at paying, like, $2 for an app. I know I do. I&#039;ll happily waste $2 at the 7/11 buying pork rinds and Ferrero Rocher, but when I have to pay two bucks for a potentially life altering app? FUCK YOU INTERNET, MAKE IT FREE. It makes no sense. I would pay maybe $10 for the app. Tops. Frankly, I prefer imagining the length of the poop in my head. I don&#039;t want the app to ruin the fantasy for me. That shit was eight feet long and no one can tell me otherwise!
Sean:
What would have happened if one of the random former players (Seriously, &quot;Harvard&#039;s highest drafted player&quot; was the best the Seahawks could do????) that no one remembers used his 15 seconds at the podium to lambast the NFL for not doing enough for former players health benefits/concussions? Would ESPN&#039;s broadcast have gone black and the Ginger Hammer&#039;s Gestapo thrown a bag over him and beat him up and thrown him in the Hudson? Would he have escorted him off the stage and had one of his henchmen announce the pick and then next year&#039;s 2nd round presenters are all Verizon Fan Zone winners who will get booed for just winning a contest?
It&#039;s funny because Wayne Chrebet was the guy the Jets trotted out to announce the Geno Smith pick on Friday. Chrebet suffers from memory loss and bouts of depression due to numerous concussions he received throughout his career. But Chrebet wasn&#039;t about to hold up Geno Smith&#039;s moment because GRRRRR SCRAPPY TEAM PLAYER GRRRRR. He&#039;s a good soldier, one of the army of damaged former players who say they&#039;d do it all over again after listing out all their maladies: arm palsy, spinal frost, stooly urine, etc. The NFL is like an overbearing father: You want to stand up to him, but you just can&#039;t bring yourself to do it.
Frankly, it would hard for anyone in that kind of public situation to go off script. You may have your little diatribe all planned out, the way I&#039;m sure lots of people want to chew out the President when they come face-to-face with him. But then the moment comes and you&#039;re too overwhelmed. Everyone&#039;s watching. There are bright lights. You consider whether or not it&#039;s kind of rude to seize the moment for yourself. That tends to cow most people. It&#039;s easier to just say the pick and leave than it is to kick up a fuss.
If Chrebet, or someone like him, had spoken up, I can tell you exactly what would have happened. One: He would have been allowed to talk. Two: The NFL would have immediately planted an angle in various media outlets to undermine what was said. You&#039;d see shit on PFT like, &quot;Chrebet ruins Smith&#039;s happy moment,&quot; or, &quot;Chrebet may have violated contract terms with extended riff,&quot; or, &quot;Chrebet jeopardizes Hofstra Hall of Fame chances?!&quot; That&#039;s how the NFL works. They hold enough sway with meathead America to shape their opinions as needed.
By the way, I&#039;m not feeling this whole &quot;new guest announcer every pick!&quot; format to the draft. We&#039;re two years away from Seth Meyers hosting this thing and having formal celebrity presenters wearing ugly outfits. THIS IS NOT AN AWARDS SHOW IT MEANS SOMETHING DAMMIT.
JL:
Tony Parker allegedly slept with Brent Barry’s wife. Jason Richardson allegedly fathered a child with Steve Nash’s wife. My question is how many GF’s/wives of teammates do you think Michael Jordan slept with?
All of them. He&#039;s just that competitive. He probably didn&#039;t even LIKE banging John Paxson&#039;s wife. He just did it to do it. At any given moment, there are two NBA or NFL teammates with a running wager to see who can have sex with the most WAGs. SPOILER ALERT: Antonio Cromartie isn&#039;t losing that bet.
Tim:
What is your stance on the expression &quot;By Far and Away&quot;&quot; Sports announcers seem to use this hideous expression most, when &#039;By Far&#039; and &#039;Far and Away&#039; isn&#039;t strong enough (example: Lebron James is by far and away the best player in the NBA right now!) It causes an instant physical reaction in me akin to defecating sharp chunks of tungsten-carbide. Choose a friggin&#039; lane! It&#039;s either one or the other, but not both.
It&#039;s true. It&#039;s like a &quot;Before And After&quot; puzzle on Wheel of Fortune. Any day now, sportscasters will start combining even more cliches:
&quot;He&#039;s a real nine-to-five-tool player&quot;&quot;He can flat-outstanding play&quot;&quot;If you&#039;re looking at a team like the Denver Broncos&quot;&quot;There&#039;s no question about this guy&#039;s intangibles&quot;&quot;That&#039;s just a great NATIONAL FOOTBALL PLAY.&quot;
Work Sucks:
How much would you pay, per minute, to have total access to your back for pimple popping purposes?
About the same amount I&#039;d pay for a poop-measuring app.
HALFTIME!

Kevin:
Turned on the TV just now and witnessed Chris Mullin being called a &quot;gym rat&quot; for the six-hundredth time. Then it hit me - it&#039;s absolutely the go-to term for old white broadcasters when dealing with talented (even Hall of Fame-level) white basketball players. You never, ever, ever hear a black guy being called a &quot;gym rat&quot;. Michael Jordan could&#039;ve qualified as a gym rat. If we&#039;re going to use the shitty term, at least make it equal opportunity.
It&#039;s awful. It&#039;s a staple of any Sports Illustrated puff piece about a gritty young scrapper. &quot;Bobby asked Coach for the keys to the old warehouse, then hung an old coffee can rim up and cut out a net from his younger brother&#039;s cloth diapers. Then he shot 700 free throws a day!&quot; Well, la-di-fucking-da, Mr. Gym Rat. Go watch TV for an hour and settle down.
When I was a kid, I had a plastic pumpkin that I used to huck against the wall for hours at a time every day (and by hours, I mean 15 minutes, tops). And I had read so many gym rat stories by then that I was thinking, &quot;If I just do this 50,000 times a day, I&#039;ll become a major league pitcher!&quot; That was wrong, of course. Those profiles never include an analysis of the gym rat&#039;s fast twitch muscles, or any other physiological proof of superior athleticism, because that would harm the myth. I wish there had been a tasteful piece by Dan Jenkins telling me to not waste my time.
Meathead sports fans want their players to WORK. They nod in douchetastic approval when they hear that Tom Brady is the first guy to the practice facility and the last one to leave. They don&#039;t want you to be a pro athlete and actually ENJOY it. Meanwhile, if you&#039;ve ever worked a real job, you know that the number of hours you work is virtually unrelated to how well you do your job. If you can do your job quickly and efficiently, who gives a fuck if you&#039;re the first to leave? That&#039;s how the rest of the universe works (or should, at least). God forbid an athlete not make a superficial display of how many man-hours he&#039;s put into fixing the hitch in his swing. I&#039;m gonna build a giant GYM RAT TRAP. It&#039;ll have a spring that can crush bones and it&#039;ll use a Welker jersey as bait.
Richard:
If Daniel Day Lewis had to play a drug addict, let&#039;s say like crackhead Christian Bale in &quot;The Fighter,&quot; do you think, as a method actor, he&#039;d get addicted to crack, meth, etc. to get into character?
I promise you there have been any number of dipshit actors who have done that kind of &quot;research&quot; to get into character. And I bet they were really proud of themselves for doing it. &quot;No one&#039;s ever gone THIS DEEP before. I&#039;ll win 10 Oscars for this one film alone! AND I&#039;ll get to smoke crack!&quot; Meanwhile, Robert Downey, Jr. has probably pulled that trick six dozen times.
Anyway, I think Daniel Day-Lewis would experiment with drugs in order to get into character, which is why he&#039;s probably avoided playing crackheads. He&#039;d rather go make shoes or whatever the hell it is he does in his spare time. &quot;I&#039;m good at acting, but my REAL passion is for woodblock printing.&quot; Whatever, dipshit. ACT MOAR PLEEEZ.
When I was in my early 20s, I wrote a bunch of terrible screenplays, and I remember I had the same idea that every other 20-year-old dipshit has. &quot;I&#039;m gonna make a REAL movie with hardcore sex in it! Like, it&#039;ll be a normal movie, but the actors will FUCK! Because that&#039;ll be real and shit. Totally revolutionary!&quot; You can be fairly certain these days that any indie movie that features hardcore sex will be god awful. But oh, I bet every single one of those directors thinks they&#039;re were kickstarting a revolution.
Owen:
I got into an argument with a friend of mine the other day about whether or not animals enjoyed sex or if they did it solely for the purpose of procreation. His opinion was, &quot;Yes, of course they love it just like humans do.&quot; However, my argument was that there is no way animals get the same satisfaction from sex and orgasm like humans do because if that were true, wouldn&#039;t animals be having wild animal doggy style sex in the streets all day every day? They seem to only do it when the bitch is in heat.
According to this article, mammals enjoy sex, and even have orgasms. That&#039;s important to know when you hump your dog.
It makes sense for animals to like knocking paws, when you think about it. An orgasm is nature&#039;s way of luring you into reproduction. It&#039;s the bait. And birth control is your way of going SUCK IT, NATURE! I AIN&#039;T FALLING FOR YOUR SHIT. So there&#039;s no reason that other mammals wouldn&#039;t have that built-in incentive to procreate.
Down the evolutionary chain, that incentive probably isn&#039;t as prevalent. When an amoeba breaks off a pseudopod, it&#039;s not like, &quot;YES YES YES OH GOD FUCK YES (bites lip).&quot; You have to have a more advanced brain to get the full sex experience.
Justin:
Is it just me, or has the consummate &quot;I have a migraine&quot; excuse gotten out of control these days? Apologies to all those legit migraine-sufferers out there, but this shit has gone too far. My wife has gotten to the point of pulling the migraine card to get out of watching loud action movies when it&#039;s my turn to pick... at home no less. Can the people at BIG THERMOMETER come up with a migraine validity test or something?
Oof, the self-diagnosed migraine. Those people can burn in hell. A migraine is not, &quot;Oh, this movie is too loud. I have a migraine!&quot; A migraine is when you feel like someone has taken a glass cutter, opened your skull with it, and then taken out your brain to practice slapshots. A real migraine involves going into a dark room and shooting up a vial of morphine to knock you out so that the thing goes away. That&#039;s a migraine. A migraine is not just you having a regular-ass headache.
People use the migraine excuse now to get out of playdates and cocktail parties and work and all kinds of commitments. Unless you have written proof of your diagnosis, or you have to wear a motorcycle helmet at all times to keep the pain at bay, I&#039;m NEVER believing you. You&#039;re a dick and I don&#039;t want to have brunch with you anyway.
Brendan:
What is the ratio for number of times you&#039;ve encountered empty ketchup bottles to a full ketchup bottle? For me it has to be like 12:1. Whether at home, a restaurant or cookout, the ketchup is always empty. I find myself violently shaking the bottle and squirting it 30 times to get enough ketchup for two french fries or one bite of hot dog. But those times when I reach for the ketchup and it&#039;s full are very satisfying.
My kids waste ketchup like it&#039;s running tap water. They make POOLS of the shit on their plate for one goddamn nugget. And so when it&#039;s finally my turn to get the ketchup, I get 50 bottle farts before anything comes out. Then I shake the thing like a paint can and try again, and then I get spritzed with ketchup mist. It&#039;s awful. I want one of those giant ketchup dispensers like they have at Five Guys. You push a lever and a pint of ketchup comes out. It&#039;s really gratifying.
By the way, the ketchup cups at Five Guys need to be 60 times larger. They give you a pen cap to fill. I&#039;m walking back to the table trying to balance six mini-cups of ketchup in my hands. I want a BARREL for my ketchup. There can&#039;t be enough of it on my fries. Ever.
Chris:
On occasion, I have poops that blister paint. Absolutely terrible smells. Last night I was at a restaurant, and had one of these poops. One toilet bathroom. I did the deed, and opened the door to a guy waiting. Do I give a heads up, say &quot;Sorry man&quot;, or look at the floor in shame?
The latter. Better yet, walk out with your head held high, not even acknowledging what just happened. NEVER give the next guy the &quot;I&#039;m sorry, bro&quot; bit. It&#039;s a bathroom. People do bathroom things in there. Everyone should know that going in. Anyone who expresses shock or outrage when a bathroom smells like someone went to the bathroom in it deserves to be nailed with 3,000 cubic feet of methane gas.
Time for your email of the week. It&#039;s about rats.
Scott:
During my senior year of college I lived in an old shitty house that provided little protection from the outside world. At some point during the year, my roommates and I started noticing nibbles in our bread products. Being morons, we decided that mysterious nibbles were a result of us drunkenly going to town on bread after a long night at the bars. A couple days later I hear a screech and see my roommate standing on the table scared shitless because he just saw a rat run by. I put two and two together and realize that it&#039;s a rodent that&#039;s been eating the bread and not a blacked out version of me. The first thing I do is vomit because I&#039;ve been sharing a loaf of bread with a rat. The second thing I do is grab every weapon in the house and go on a hunt for this fucking rat. I made a lap around the house, got bored, and decided to set up some traps rather than exert the effort to actively hunt. Later that night I hear a loud thud in the circuit breaker box (this house had its circuit breaker in the kitchen). I&#039;m positive that this is the rat and I tell my roommates to arm themselves because we have this fucker cornered. As I stated before, we&#039;re all morons when it comes to rat killing so I grabbed a textbook, roommate 1 grabbed deer antlers, and roommate 2 picked up a big ass printer still in its box. I open up the circuit breaker box and this fat rat flopped out onto the ground and hauls ass out of the kitchen before I can even comprehend what just occurred. The last line of defense is roommate 2 with the printer. With perfect hand eye coordination, he dropped the printer and crushed Speedy Gonzalez. VICTORY! Or so we thought...
Further inspection of the circuit breaker box revealed that this rat had GIVEN BIRTH. The orginal rat got knocked up, took refuge in our cicuit breaker, carb loaded on bread, and then gave birth. We were one week away from having a full blown infestation (also disposing of newborn rat babies is horrible). The story doesn&#039;t end here . Turns out, daddy rat was still at large and he decided to take refuge in my room (luckily I was out of town for the week). Rather than grabbing a printer and going in my room, my roommates called an expert. The exterminator places a rat trap with peanut butter outside my door, and two days later there lies a decapitated rat. We killed an entire rat family, and I was forced to spend the rest of the year in a room that was forever unclean.
Drew Magary writes for Deadspin and Gawker. He&#039;s also a correspondent for GQ. Follow him on Twitter @drewmagary and email him at drew@deadspin.com. You can also order Drew&#039;s new book, Someone Could Get Hurt, through his homepage.]]></description>
			<pubDate>Tue, 30 Apr 2013 14:30:01 EDT</pubDate>
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			<title>My Personal Record Is A Completed Race: Recovering Fatass Soundtrack</title>
			<link>http://juicedsportsblog.com/sports-news/news/my-personal-record-is-a-completed-race-recovering-fatass-soundtrack</link>
			<description><![CDATA[A weekly look at the iPod of a regular dude trying to run himself out of an early grave.
&quot;Cold Night In Virginia,&quot; The Blacktop Cadence
Well, we are getting down to the nitty-gritty. My race is a week from today. I did 11 miles last week and I will be doing 12 tomorrow. I hope. I am a little concerned that I seem to be getting gassed during these long runs. I had to stop somewhere around mile nine and walk for a bit before finishing up. I keep telling myself that I will be all jacked up come race day so that won&#039;t be a problem—and I&#039;m probably right—but still, I&#039;m worried.
I think of it like the Iverson situation. So far, it hasn&#039;t been for keeps; it&#039;s just me out on my own practicing. When I know it&#039;s showtime I think I&#039;ll be OK. I&#039;m not trying to set any personal records here —&quot;PRs&quot; as the Runners call them—my personal record will be finishing the thing. That&#039;s all I really care about. I want to finish and I want to have run the whole thing; I don&#039;t give a rat&#039;s ass how long it takes me, I just want to be able to say I ran a half-marathon. That&#039;s what we are doing here: managing expectations, one song at a time. 
&quot;All Along The Watchtower,&quot; Jimi Hendrix
&quot;Wild Horses,&quot; Mazzy Star
OK, I know what you are thinking: This is a terrrrrrrible song choice. And I agreed almost instantaneously when it came on. I don&#039;t know why I do this; I always try to experiment and add off-beat choices. It almost always backfires. This one, strangely, did not and I&#039;ll tell you why. Like I said, I almost immediately recoiled when this came on but soon found myself going down a crazy train of thought.
First I thought man, you have got to stop experimenting with these songs. I like this song; as a song that one listens to, it&#039;s pretty good. But this is not good for running. Then I started thinking about things related to the song. Oh yeah, this was in that movie Fear with Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon. It&#039;s in that scene when he&#039;s fingerblasting her on the ferris wheel. What a fucking weird movie that was. Marky Mark just terrorizing the dude from CSI&#039;s family, saying things like &quot;Now I&#039;ve popped both your cherries&quot; and snaps that poor guy&#039;s neck in the woods. From what imagination does a film and lines of dialogue like that come from? Crazy. And then I transferred trains. 
Oh yeah, and Witherspoon got arrested the other night. And Reese is not her real name. That&#039;s disappointing. I guess? What do I really care about actors&#039; and actresses&#039; real names? God Hollywood is the fucking worst... 
&quot;Just Breathe,&quot; Pearl Jam
&quot;Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don&#039;t,&quot; Brand New
...so many phonies running ar-hey, a new song! Holy shit I just killed five minutes without realizing it. Turns out Wild Horses by Mazzy Star was a perfect song choice. OK, don&#039;t forget this. 
Don&#039;t forget this.
Don&#039;t forget this. Fear, Wild Horses, fingerblast. Fear, Wild Horses, fingerblast. Fear, Wild Horses, fingerblast.
That&#039;s the worst, by the way. I think of tons of crap to mention in this space while running and I always forget like 95 percent of it. I wish I could take audio notes or something like Captain Kirk. Captain&#039;s log: stepped in horse poop. That is the worst, think of funny bit involving stepping in horse poop.
&quot;5-3-10-4,&quot; Alkaline Trio
After my long run this week, I was craving a sno-cone. I have absolutely no idea why, but at that moment it sounded like the greatest thing ever: refreshing and tasty. Usually water is good enough for me. Well, let&#039;s get serious for a second; it&#039;s not good enough, it is spectacular. Halfway through any run, usually all I can think about is how delicious some ice cold water will be when I&#039;m done. It&#039;s kind of crazy when you think about it, that what is basically wetness can be delicious. But it is. Anyway, that wasn&#039;t the case this week, this week I really wanted flavor. A sno-cone would have been dynamite, but even a Gatorade would have hit the spot. My wife said it had something to do with science-y stuff, something about electric lights, but I just think I wanted to treat myself to something delicious after a long, hard run. 
&quot;Fury Of The Storm,&quot; DragonForce
I have this shirt that I bought ages ago and it&#039;s kind of been a representation of my whole existence since I bought it. Almost immediately after I got the shirt, it no longer fit. I really liked the shirt, so I kept it, but it just got pushed further and further back in my closet. It was still there, I knew it was still there, I just never looked at it. Every once in a while I would come across it and think, I really want to wear this shirt, this will be my goal. And it would stick around for a bit, I would never fit in it but I was more cognizant of it as I dipped my toes in the water of fitness and then ran away frightened. With each relapse, it would get moved to the back of the closet again. But I still always had the goal of fitting into that goddamned shirt. 
&quot;Someday,&quot; The Strokes
Finally with my latest rededication, current longest time between relapses or whatever this is, I was getting very close to fitting into that shirt. I would periodically check, and when once I couldn&#039;t even button half the buttons, I was buttoning more buttons. They were hanging on for dear life, but they were buttoned. It was like standing on a scale, but with less math. Finally one day I could button the whole shirt and it didn&#039;t look ridiculous. Only it did look ridiculous because the shirt was so long I looked like a kid playing in his father&#039;s closet.
&quot;The Birth And Death Of The Day,&quot; Explosions In The Sky
That&#039;s the problem, if you want to call it a problem, with being a large man who has since lost weight. All your clothes have been designed to fit over your massive gastrointestinal factory that all that fabric—that once went out, perpendicularly—now has nowhere to go but down. Basically all my shirts go down to my thighs now, which just looks so slovenly. I want to get new clothes, but I still have weight to lose before I&#039;m done and I worry that buying new clothes will make me complacent. It&#039;s like an acknowledgment that I&#039;m done or something. Either that or I&#039;m just wasting money on clothes that will not fit me in a few months if all goes according to plan. I&#039;m already a complacent person, I don&#039;t need to reinforce it and I certainly don&#039;t need to waste money.
&quot;Don&#039;t Look Back in Anger,&quot; Oasis
&quot;Quarter Past,&quot; The Fall Of Troy
A related problem, sort of, is seeing people you haven&#039;t seen for a while and they&#039;re surprised by your appearance. &quot;Oh my god, you look great,&quot; &quot;You&#039;ve lost so much weight&quot; and the like. It&#039;s what I imagine reading the paper is like for guys like Tom Brady or Derek Jeter. Yeah, I am pretty great, aren&#039;t I? It totally blunts your edge because it&#039;s a really nice thing to hear and makes you feel good, but you also start to believe it while simultaneously and completely disregarding the implied parenthetical that they are commenting on relative changes.  Yes, yes, you look good. Compared to the slob you were 12 months ago, you should be in the goddamned classical Greek sculpture wing of a museum. But you&#039;re still a chunky guy with work to do. Don&#039;t buy the hype. 
 &quot;Old White Lincoln,&quot; The Gaslight Anthem
I&#039;ve mentioned before that my neighborhood is very hilly. Based on a very scientific inquiry into various factors including living here, the Bronx, outside of Staten Island—which isn&#039;t really a borough anyway—is probably the hilliest borough in the city. The &quot;Bronx&quot; is actually dutch for &quot;a great many hills, exasperatingly spaced out.&quot; Despite my best efforts, it has been virtually impossible to avoid hills when running outside. 
So, I do the next best thing. I run down the bigger hills and up the smaller ones. I&#039;ve lived here long enough that I know exactly which ones are the worst and happily run right down them every day(ish). I know I should be pushing myself to accept and conquer new challenges but running is hard. Running uphill is even harder. I am OK with doing just the hard things. [eyes shift to the left, then to the right.]
&quot;(I Am) What I Am Not,&quot; Idlewild
To be serious for a second, though: fuck hills. Fuck them right in their stupid climbing faces. Oh are you sweating? And panting? And barely alive, basically? Cool, try this, then. [tectonic shift rearranges road at a 45 degree angle]. Just keep doing what you are doing, but also climb. Oh, that feeling? Those are alveoli being expelled from your lungs. Don&#039;t worry, you can spit on the pavement. Yes, that is a cemetery and, yes, that is a headstone shop. 
It doesn&#039;t matter what kind of hills they are either. The short (in distance), rapidly climbing ones are just as bad as the longer, more gradual hills. And they probably take the same amount of time to overtake. The thing about the gradual ones, though, is that if you don&#039;t actually run or walk them, it&#039;s hard to appreciate just how devastating they can be. If you only drive up a road with a steady incline you have no way of truly understanding just how much it will make you want to puke while running up that road. 
&quot;Alone,&quot; Heart
I should mention here, and perhaps elsewhere on this playlist, that the songs I select for these playlists are selected for one reason. It&#039;s kind of like the relevance test in evidence: Does this song have a tendency to make my run less miserable? Like with evidence, the test is not &quot;does this prove the case.&quot; It&#039;s much, much smaller than that. It&#039;s not, is this a great song? or does this make the run awesome? If the entirety of human emotion is on a linear graph and 1 is running and 100 is, like, puppies giving you a Christmas present of more puppies then we want our song choice for a running playlist to just move the needle from 1 to 1.1. That&#039;s it. Does it tend to make this not as horrible as possible. 
&quot;Moonpies For Misfits,&quot; Hot Water Music
Sometimes that means you choose a song you really like and would listen to at any time.
&quot;Breakfast at Tiffany&#039;s,&quot; Deep Blue Something
And sometimes it means...not that. 
&quot;Whole Lotta Love,&quot; Led Zeppelin 
Apparently lots of Runners bring water with them, or plan routes around known water fountains, when they are going on long runs. It goes without question that I don&#039;t do this because it is ridiculous. First, I would never willingly carry anything more than what is absolutely necessary. That means, me, myself and my iPhone. I don&#039;t want shit in my hands while I&#039;m running. It&#039;s actually one of the reasons I was hesitant to run outside in favor of the treadmill. At least with a treadmill you can stow a water bottle and only pick it up for the few seconds you take a sip. I knew that I would never carry water with me and I had previously used water as a sort of reward: Run a mile, get some water. It was a nice way of breaking things up. All that went out the window as soon as I started running outside.
&quot;Helena,&quot; My Chemical Romance
&quot;Napoleon Solo,&quot; At The Drive-In
I&#039;ve seen all those weird Batman utility belts with secret compartments for all manner of accessories including keys, water bottles and, I don&#039;t know, underwear? Again, I&#039;m not carrying anything and I&#039;m definitely not wearing a fanny pack born of Mountain Dew and skateboards. 
And the water fountain thing is the craziest thing I&#039;ve heard. I don&#039;t need built in excuses to stop running. I need ways to finish running as quickly as possible. I can&#039;t see spending time the night before a 12 mile run trying to figure out where all the water fountains are so I can know in my head exactly where I will stop and rest and prolong the already too-goddamned-long run I am currently on. I would rather turn into an actual California Raisin than spend any longer time running than is absolutely necessary.  Planned stops sound like admitting defeat, or at the very least inviting it inside the door.
&quot;Helicopter,&quot; Bloc Party
I run like I eat vegetables. I try to get it all out of the way as quickly and tolerably as possible. So, I stuff my mouth with as many vegetables as I can cram in at once while still appearing to be an adult person with table manners, and minimize my time spent eating vegetables. Much like fitness, I spent a great deal of my life avoiding vegetables. I now realize this is silly and immature and counter to a healthy life. So I eat vegetables. But I don&#039;t like eating vegetables (although I do perversely enjoy the asparagus-pee phenomenon, like the smell of gas). I tolerate eating vegetables because I know I should have regular poops and stuff. I&#039;m told there are other health benefits. But it&#039;s always a means to an end—never the end—so I complete the task with a surgical strike. Entire serving of vegetables, crammed in mouth: done! 12 mile run, no stopping: done!
&quot;Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt,&quot; We Are Scientists
&quot;Happiness Is A Warm Gun,&quot; The Beatles
 This time next week, I&#039;ll be running 13.1 miles all at once. It&#039;s something that even six months ago sounded downright preposterous to me. Actually, no, it did not have a sound because it was never even a thought that entered my mind. But here I am. I&#039;m interested to see how I react to it all. I don&#039;t expect I will become addicted to races or anything. I don&#039;t get the same release from running—the Runner&#039;s high—that you always hear about. Or, maybe I do, but I don&#039;t crave it. I do get a sense of satisfaction from having completed a goal, though. Hopefully I feel it next week after I run all 13.1 of those miles in however-many-hundred minutes it takes me. And hopefully the process is slightly less terrible than it could be.]]></description>
			<pubDate>Sun, 28 Apr 2013 14:30:02 EDT</pubDate>
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