For those of you who thought Humphrey and I weren't going to sac up and do it. Feast your eyes. (Though you should know this was the encore and the earliest stuff was better.) The end is the best where we try to party-boy my fiery professor. She loves it! She wanted it!
This was my last class period ever in college. I think I did it well. Thank you Humphrey for helpin' me do it up.
After the performance, some professor in the hallway looked at us and said, "Are you guys drunk?"
Some nerve that asshole had asking us if we left that Olde English 40 bottle in the middle of the hallway! We were making sure people didn't trip over it.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Legends Have Lapses (No H in Team)
Much has been made over the last couple of days about how Humphrey's flag football team, Dickinthe4skins, was snubbed of at least one game at the end of the season. After attending three of the matches and playing sparingly in two of them (I'm the second coming of George Plimpton), I must say that Humphrey struggled to be the leader of this team.
This blog has been and usually will be a glorification of one of the finest Americans to ever diet on Natural Light, but when Humphrey comes up short — and it seldom happens — I believe it is important to point that out. I know for some it stings to read this, but he is at least half human being.
In last week's game against an impressive all-Asian squad, Humphrey got off to a hot start under center. It was an amusing start too, as he dressed as Ace Ventura, Pet Detective. His hair has grown rather long — he is going for a mullet next week — and he gelled it up just like Jim Carrey in those great American films. He also donned an Hawaiian shirt with jeans tucked into his woolly tube socks.
He played Ace well, replacing BLUE 32! snap counts with BUMBLEBEE TUNA! BUMBLEBEE TUNA! and EINHORN IS A MAN! It seemed to be working as the other team was caught off guard by his charisma and commitment to the game and his character. On the game's first play he comfortably slung a 30-yard touchdown pass to a streaking Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris. It was a shootout through the first half as both teams struck often. Dickinthe4skins trailed by a score or two at the break. Humphrey had managed to keep the team in the game against a far quicker and as he put it "sneakier" opponent. He was having fun in the process.
Humphrey plays well out of the shotgun as it's just a few steps in from the snaps he took as a punter for Hanover High School, where he became Henrico County's most prolific boot of all time.
The second half was a different story. Possibly bogged down from swigging an Olde English before the game, he went from being an accurate Peyton Manning to an erratic Jake Plummer. He went from the top of Mel Kiper Jr.'s draft board to barely looking at getting a practice invite from the Scottish Claymores of the now defunct NFL Europe experiment. (Though it's debatable if his love for the American sport is enough to see him go abroad in order to continue playing it.) He went from being the leading candidate for the head of the Players' Association to leading candidate for the head of the Washed-Up Punters' Association. Humphrey failed the Dickinthe4skins as the team's once fearless leader.
He came to the sidelines after throwing pick-6s and tried to hide his dismay with comedy. "They're so sneaky and quick," Humphrey said. "Feels like Pearl Harbor out there."
Instead of rallying his troops and finding a solution to the quickness of Team Flagrats, Humphrey reverted to cheap talk with the officials. They were amused, but not enough to add points for the Dickinthe4skins. The final score was an embarrassing 63-41.
It is important to note that there is no I in team. There is no H for that matter, either. Humphrey only has the E and the M and that means at best the semi-human Humphrey was half the team. Everyone else was to blame as well.
Co-ed Kristin, a once legendary defensive tackle, wasn't even at the game as far as I remember, opting to study instead. (Below, Kristin and Humphrey team-worked for a nice catch a couple of weekends ago.)
Co-ed Becca, a starter for the JMU club Ultimate Frisbee team the Bitch Monkeys, couldn't snag much of anything. Her usually soft hands with the disk turned into stone with the pigskin. (Co-ed Becca is below, far left, with a team she apparently cares more about.)
Co-ed Lauryn, a nice gal with solid hands, lacked focus as she could only think about selfishly ruining another co-ed's birthday party on Saturday because she didn't plan her own. (The Birthday impostor is below with Humphrey.)
Zach, a striking young chap from Chincoteague, was anything but a galloping horse that his home island is known for. He was spent most of the 10 p.m. game trying to fine-tune his tan under the 1,000-watt stadium bulbs. (Zach also lifeguards.)
Chris, a balding young fella — not to be confused with Big Chris — was too busy texting his girlfriend Kelsey (a wonderful co-ed, I must add), hoping to secure some afternoon delight in the back of her car as soon as she got into town on Saturday afternoon. The rendezvous happened, so I guess you can't blame him too much. (This picture below is likely post-rendezvous because if he had lost balance, no chance at any delight for a long while.)
Mike, the sketchy cat from Jersey mentioned in the previous blog, played hard, but forgot that we were playing football at times. During one crucial third down, he stopped mid-play and pretended to be holding a skull as he acted out the part of Hamlet, or something like that. (Mike, below, "acting" with his "friend" Jesse.)
Myself, a sack specialist, was a disgrace to Daniel E. "Rudy" Ruettiger. After recording a monster sack the previous week, I was worthless. Even when the sizable Asian played quarterback he left me diving for nothing as he continued to prove that his race is the quickest and shiftiest to ever play. (Below is me. No. 45.)
Spectators also deserve some of the blame. Big Chris, not to be confused with Chris, and Pat — two gargantuan young chaps, in their own ways — gave little support and instead played grabass. (A picture of the two can't be located because they're always playing grabass.)
Brad, a confusing young chap, is Humphrey's only roommate not on the team. He is still nursing an ankle injury, but his support could have gone a long way. Sadly, the most likely reason he wasn't at the game is that he was masturbating to Merlin, a two-year old British television series about a wizard. (...Yeah.) (Brad, below and left, getting ready to watch Merlin before kicking Zach out of the room.)
In the end it was a collective failure. Ace didn't save the day and Dan Marino didn't back to the big game. April 20, 2010 is day that will live in infamy.
This blog has been and usually will be a glorification of one of the finest Americans to ever diet on Natural Light, but when Humphrey comes up short — and it seldom happens — I believe it is important to point that out. I know for some it stings to read this, but he is at least half human being.
In last week's game against an impressive all-Asian squad, Humphrey got off to a hot start under center. It was an amusing start too, as he dressed as Ace Ventura, Pet Detective. His hair has grown rather long — he is going for a mullet next week — and he gelled it up just like Jim Carrey in those great American films. He also donned an Hawaiian shirt with jeans tucked into his woolly tube socks.
He played Ace well, replacing BLUE 32! snap counts with BUMBLEBEE TUNA! BUMBLEBEE TUNA! and EINHORN IS A MAN! It seemed to be working as the other team was caught off guard by his charisma and commitment to the game and his character. On the game's first play he comfortably slung a 30-yard touchdown pass to a streaking Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris. It was a shootout through the first half as both teams struck often. Dickinthe4skins trailed by a score or two at the break. Humphrey had managed to keep the team in the game against a far quicker and as he put it "sneakier" opponent. He was having fun in the process.
Humphrey plays well out of the shotgun as it's just a few steps in from the snaps he took as a punter for Hanover High School, where he became Henrico County's most prolific boot of all time.
The second half was a different story. Possibly bogged down from swigging an Olde English before the game, he went from being an accurate Peyton Manning to an erratic Jake Plummer. He went from the top of Mel Kiper Jr.'s draft board to barely looking at getting a practice invite from the Scottish Claymores of the now defunct NFL Europe experiment. (Though it's debatable if his love for the American sport is enough to see him go abroad in order to continue playing it.) He went from being the leading candidate for the head of the Players' Association to leading candidate for the head of the Washed-Up Punters' Association. Humphrey failed the Dickinthe4skins as the team's once fearless leader.
He came to the sidelines after throwing pick-6s and tried to hide his dismay with comedy. "They're so sneaky and quick," Humphrey said. "Feels like Pearl Harbor out there."
Instead of rallying his troops and finding a solution to the quickness of Team Flagrats, Humphrey reverted to cheap talk with the officials. They were amused, but not enough to add points for the Dickinthe4skins. The final score was an embarrassing 63-41.
It is important to note that there is no I in team. There is no H for that matter, either. Humphrey only has the E and the M and that means at best the semi-human Humphrey was half the team. Everyone else was to blame as well.
Co-ed Kristin, a once legendary defensive tackle, wasn't even at the game as far as I remember, opting to study instead. (Below, Kristin and Humphrey team-worked for a nice catch a couple of weekends ago.)
Co-ed Becca, a starter for the JMU club Ultimate Frisbee team the Bitch Monkeys, couldn't snag much of anything. Her usually soft hands with the disk turned into stone with the pigskin. (Co-ed Becca is below, far left, with a team she apparently cares more about.)
Co-ed Lauryn, a nice gal with solid hands, lacked focus as she could only think about selfishly ruining another co-ed's birthday party on Saturday because she didn't plan her own. (The Birthday impostor is below with Humphrey.)
Zach, a striking young chap from Chincoteague, was anything but a galloping horse that his home island is known for. He was spent most of the 10 p.m. game trying to fine-tune his tan under the 1,000-watt stadium bulbs. (Zach also lifeguards.)
Chris, a balding young fella — not to be confused with Big Chris — was too busy texting his girlfriend Kelsey (a wonderful co-ed, I must add), hoping to secure some afternoon delight in the back of her car as soon as she got into town on Saturday afternoon. The rendezvous happened, so I guess you can't blame him too much. (This picture below is likely post-rendezvous because if he had lost balance, no chance at any delight for a long while.)
Mike, the sketchy cat from Jersey mentioned in the previous blog, played hard, but forgot that we were playing football at times. During one crucial third down, he stopped mid-play and pretended to be holding a skull as he acted out the part of Hamlet, or something like that. (Mike, below, "acting" with his "friend" Jesse.)
Myself, a sack specialist, was a disgrace to Daniel E. "Rudy" Ruettiger. After recording a monster sack the previous week, I was worthless. Even when the sizable Asian played quarterback he left me diving for nothing as he continued to prove that his race is the quickest and shiftiest to ever play. (Below is me. No. 45.)
Spectators also deserve some of the blame. Big Chris, not to be confused with Chris, and Pat — two gargantuan young chaps, in their own ways — gave little support and instead played grabass. (A picture of the two can't be located because they're always playing grabass.)
Brad, a confusing young chap, is Humphrey's only roommate not on the team. He is still nursing an ankle injury, but his support could have gone a long way. Sadly, the most likely reason he wasn't at the game is that he was masturbating to Merlin, a two-year old British television series about a wizard. (...Yeah.) (Brad, below and left, getting ready to watch Merlin before kicking Zach out of the room.)
In the end it was a collective failure. Ace didn't save the day and Dan Marino didn't back to the big game. April 20, 2010 is day that will live in infamy.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
UPDATE: Dickinthe4skins Uncircumcision Hopes Flaccid
I just wanted to update everyone. Dickinthe4skins, Humphrey's 4-on-4 flag football team, will not play another game. Like we thought yesterday, there is no playoffs for the Co Rec 1 league.
But myself and (unlicensed) attorney at law Chip Tarkenton were both miffed, to put it lightly, yesterday at the lack of opportunity the team was afforded.
I received a text message today from Jersey Mike saying that he spoke with an anonymous UREC source. Anonymous sources will seldom be used on this highly journalisticly sound publication, but it is the only new information we have. I am especially uncomfortable quoting this anonymous source because the news gatherer who talked to the source is not exactly an example of integrity.
Jersey Mike, known to most for his sketchy Jersey ways, must be taken with a grain of salt. He isn't greasy or overly tan, like Zach, but he reportedly has ties to the Mafia. That would explain why he sneakily moves around Harrisonburg, popping up at random times with his aviators on. The only reason I'm slightly inclined to trust him is because the kid really trusts himself.
Shortly after a near-death experience on Saturday evening, Mike assured me that he trusts himself. "Trust me," he said in his soft voice, only fitting of an aspiring mobster. "I don't really trust anyone else, but I trust myself. Trust me. Don't take the bus, the driver is drunk too." There is a good chance that it is all an act because Mike was quite the thespian in high school. He is regarded by some as the best high school actor in New Jersey history.
But he really is so sketchy that I'm trying to find a picture on facebook with no luck. I've searched a variety of ways his name could be worded but no profiles are showing up. I've even searched mutual friends' friends list but he apparently has his profile on the most heightened levels of secrecy.
He just walked in the room. "Yeah, I make it as hard as possible for people to find me." Surprise, surprise.
But according to Mike's text: "I quote from an anonymous urec source that they messed up our schedule. Corec 1 doesn't have playoffs. But the folks at urec expected us to win the championship."
I have also heard that the beautiful co-ed Kristin, former defensive tackle, is regrouping today. For a while last night she was considering admitting herself to psych ward, but thanks to loving support from Humphrey, the guys and her beautiful co-ed roommates Amanda, Lauren and Lisa (freak), she is healing faster than expected from the emotional scars of another botched football experience. It really is a shame that it has come to this. I invite everyone to join the blog as followers and discuss your thoughts on the situation. Chip is more than welcome to give the readers some legal follow up.
Oh, and I've been granted access to the virtual world of Jersey Mike. Here he is.
Thoughts on Mike:
Brad (the kid with the big nose for new readers) -- "Sketchy mothafucka."
Zach (tan kid who sometimes wears capris) -- "Brad took my line."
Humphrey (no description necessary) -- "Mike's just there... in the corner."
Brad -- "He's in theater. What a fag."
But myself and (unlicensed) attorney at law Chip Tarkenton were both miffed, to put it lightly, yesterday at the lack of opportunity the team was afforded.
I received a text message today from Jersey Mike saying that he spoke with an anonymous UREC source. Anonymous sources will seldom be used on this highly journalisticly sound publication, but it is the only new information we have. I am especially uncomfortable quoting this anonymous source because the news gatherer who talked to the source is not exactly an example of integrity.
Jersey Mike, known to most for his sketchy Jersey ways, must be taken with a grain of salt. He isn't greasy or overly tan, like Zach, but he reportedly has ties to the Mafia. That would explain why he sneakily moves around Harrisonburg, popping up at random times with his aviators on. The only reason I'm slightly inclined to trust him is because the kid really trusts himself.
Shortly after a near-death experience on Saturday evening, Mike assured me that he trusts himself. "Trust me," he said in his soft voice, only fitting of an aspiring mobster. "I don't really trust anyone else, but I trust myself. Trust me. Don't take the bus, the driver is drunk too." There is a good chance that it is all an act because Mike was quite the thespian in high school. He is regarded by some as the best high school actor in New Jersey history.
But he really is so sketchy that I'm trying to find a picture on facebook with no luck. I've searched a variety of ways his name could be worded but no profiles are showing up. I've even searched mutual friends' friends list but he apparently has his profile on the most heightened levels of secrecy.
He just walked in the room. "Yeah, I make it as hard as possible for people to find me." Surprise, surprise.
But according to Mike's text: "I quote from an anonymous urec source that they messed up our schedule. Corec 1 doesn't have playoffs. But the folks at urec expected us to win the championship."
I have also heard that the beautiful co-ed Kristin, former defensive tackle, is regrouping today. For a while last night she was considering admitting herself to psych ward, but thanks to loving support from Humphrey, the guys and her beautiful co-ed roommates Amanda, Lauren and Lisa (freak), she is healing faster than expected from the emotional scars of another botched football experience. It really is a shame that it has come to this. I invite everyone to join the blog as followers and discuss your thoughts on the situation. Chip is more than welcome to give the readers some legal follow up.
Oh, and I've been granted access to the virtual world of Jersey Mike. Here he is.
Thoughts on Mike:
Brad (the kid with the big nose for new readers) -- "Sketchy mothafucka."
Zach (tan kid who sometimes wears capris) -- "Brad took my line."
Humphrey (no description necessary) -- "Mike's just there... in the corner."
Brad -- "He's in theater. What a fag."
Interpretive Dance Latest
I was the recipient of a spirited e-mail yesterday from a JMU professor soon to be big-time novelist!
Not a co-ed, but a woman, this fiery writer and professor, got right to the point. The e-mail was titled "Interpretive Dance."
"Tim,
1. Are we going to get the interpretative dance? What are the results of the poll?"
Talk about pressure with only two class periods remaining.
I'm going to say, yes, her class is going to get an interpretative dance on Friday morning at about 9:15. I had already posted the results of the poll and 47 percent of the 34 voters believe Humphrey should do the dance in his daisy dukes and gold guido shirt. Humphrey has already planned around the dance and will not be able to go to work on Friday.
Here is a glimpse of Humphrey's sexy gold top, underneath an Hawaiian shirt.
Here is a shot of the last time Humphrey and I performed the dance. (Notice former defensive tackle co-ed Kristin, mentioned in the previous post, actively grinding against Humphrey's rump.)
Not a co-ed, but a woman, this fiery writer and professor, got right to the point. The e-mail was titled "Interpretive Dance."
"Tim,
1. Are we going to get the interpretative dance? What are the results of the poll?"
Talk about pressure with only two class periods remaining.
I'm going to say, yes, her class is going to get an interpretative dance on Friday morning at about 9:15. I had already posted the results of the poll and 47 percent of the 34 voters believe Humphrey should do the dance in his daisy dukes and gold guido shirt. Humphrey has already planned around the dance and will not be able to go to work on Friday.
Here is a glimpse of Humphrey's sexy gold top, underneath an Hawaiian shirt.
Here is a shot of the last time Humphrey and I performed the dance. (Notice former defensive tackle co-ed Kristin, mentioned in the previous post, actively grinding against Humphrey's rump.)
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
SPECIAL: 'Attorney' Weighs In
This letter was originally posted as a comment to the last post. I want to encourage readers to start discussions by commenting on the blog posts. Facebook is good, but we'll drive more people to the blog if everyone becomes a follower (see right and it's easy). The following is in regards to the Dickinthe4skins being left out of the playoffs. Thank you very much for your input Mr. Tarkenton.
Tim,
I'm Chip Tarkenton, a prestigious amateur lawyer specializing in cases that violate intramural sports liberties, and having accidentally stumbled upon your blog in an attempt to check the birth date of former vice president Hubert Humphrey, I believe we have a case here.
Like former Vice President Humphrey, it's evident that we're dealing with another great American here. No, your Humphrey didn't rise from modest beginnings in South Dakota to ascend to the second highest position of power in our great country, but its clear that your Humphrey stands for similar principles; America, football, co-eds, and 'Doin it live.' And America. And that's something we can build on.
V.P. Humphrey
What we have here, boys, is a prime example of intramural sports discrimination. If you scramble up the letters of UREC and add DOMMNIST to it do you know what you get? RED COMMUNIST! This isn't Vietcong University, this is AMERICA we're talking about here! Pardon me if I sound old fashioned but I still believe in a great American world where a portly young man with striking blue eyes can get liquored up and participate in Playoff Intramural AMERICAN Football. This spirited young Patriot they call Humphrey should be worried about a pass rush, not a gross violation of his constitutional rights, clearly protected in the Articles of Confederation. Sign me up boys, let's show these fascist pigs that when you fuck with the Red, White, and Blue, you're always gonna lose.
Chip Tarkenton
(Unlicensed) Attorney at Law
1830L Putter Court, America.
Tim,
I'm Chip Tarkenton, a prestigious amateur lawyer specializing in cases that violate intramural sports liberties, and having accidentally stumbled upon your blog in an attempt to check the birth date of former vice president Hubert Humphrey, I believe we have a case here.
Like former Vice President Humphrey, it's evident that we're dealing with another great American here. No, your Humphrey didn't rise from modest beginnings in South Dakota to ascend to the second highest position of power in our great country, but its clear that your Humphrey stands for similar principles; America, football, co-eds, and 'Doin it live.' And America. And that's something we can build on.
V.P. Humphrey
What we have here, boys, is a prime example of intramural sports discrimination. If you scramble up the letters of UREC and add DOMMNIST to it do you know what you get? RED COMMUNIST! This isn't Vietcong University, this is AMERICA we're talking about here! Pardon me if I sound old fashioned but I still believe in a great American world where a portly young man with striking blue eyes can get liquored up and participate in Playoff Intramural AMERICAN Football. This spirited young Patriot they call Humphrey should be worried about a pass rush, not a gross violation of his constitutional rights, clearly protected in the Articles of Confederation. Sign me up boys, let's show these fascist pigs that when you fuck with the Red, White, and Blue, you're always gonna lose.
Chip Tarkenton
(Unlicensed) Attorney at Law
1830L Putter Court, America.
BREAKING NEWS: Dickinthe4skins Circumsized from Playoffs
I was just prepared to write about how Humphrey's lack of leadership led to the Dickinthe4skins being left out of the flag football playoffs, but something smells fishy (and it clearly has nothing to do with the Dickinthe4skins).
After looking at the standings of the Co Rec 1 league (that's the lowest level league that includes co-eds) I realized that Dickinthe4skins should absolutely be playing tonight. Nothing like some good ol' investigative journalism to get me going.
If you click the previous link, you will first notice that Co Rec 1 isn't included under the brackets section of this Spring's 4-on-4 leagues. This could be a mistake on the part of UREC or, like I suspect, Co Rec 1 was purposefully not included in playoff action. I will look into whether this violates Title IX and is a clear discrimination against co-eds trying to participate in America's pigskin pastime.
(Humphrey's best friend and football legend Benjamin Rogers of Hampden-Sydney is baffled by this breaking news.)
To think that James Madison University, a beacon for equality, would stand for such an affront to co-eds. I know Humphrey is personally offended as he and the Captain of Dickinthe4skins, Zach, made a point to join the never-ending plight of co-eds in this country. One co-ed of Dickinthe4skins, the beautiful Kristin from Sandwich, Mass., even had a small stint as a defensive tackle in secondary school.
Beautiful co-ed Kristin
All of Kristin's memories have now come flooding back. She is reportedly sitting in a Carrier Library nook, bawling her eyes out with her chauvinistic coaches ringing in her ears. "Kristin, you'll never make it in the trenches weighing 100 pounds and standing 5-foot-4. You don't have the guts to get fat enough! Take your blond ponytail back to the locker bay where you can help the other co-eds plan a 'Mass' pregnancy scandal!" She thought by coming to JMU she would have a shot at playing for a football title without the sting of discrimination that has hindered our beautiful nation to this day. (Humphrey is currently en-route to comfort her. *Take note Pat, you don't have to be in the friends' zone, damn it!)
But I digress. Tonight must be some sort of consolation game for the top four teams in Co Rec 1. But the problem is that Dickinthe4skins finished fourth, not the Honey Combs. Dickinthe4skins not only finished with more wins at 2-3 (Honey Combs are 1-3), but for Mathematicians like Big Chris, not to be confused with Chris, that's a higher winning percentage at .400 compared to the Honey Combs' .250. The only way that Dickinthe4skins could have finished last is if they had a shoddy sportsmanship rating. Not so. They sit proudly with a 3.41 rating, good enough for third in the league. That's higher than the Honey Combs (3.15) and the Flagrats (3.18). Humphrey is a big reason for that rating, as he constantly compliments the zebras and puts them in stitches with his lively snap counts. "Bumblebee Tuna, Bumblebee Tuna!"
I have notified Humphrey and Captain Dick (Zach) about this unfortunate, and some might say tragic, development. Humphrey is enraged and likely trying to console Kristin. Poor guy can barely keep his composure right now. Captain Dick and Jersey Mike are going to see what UREC says.
Captain Dick's thoughts via text message: "they are scared of an upset then again its not really an upset when you have a 'rudy-like' figure in tim."
Could be Captain Dick. Could be.
(More to come when developments break.)
After looking at the standings of the Co Rec 1 league (that's the lowest level league that includes co-eds) I realized that Dickinthe4skins should absolutely be playing tonight. Nothing like some good ol' investigative journalism to get me going.
If you click the previous link, you will first notice that Co Rec 1 isn't included under the brackets section of this Spring's 4-on-4 leagues. This could be a mistake on the part of UREC or, like I suspect, Co Rec 1 was purposefully not included in playoff action. I will look into whether this violates Title IX and is a clear discrimination against co-eds trying to participate in America's pigskin pastime.
(Humphrey's best friend and football legend Benjamin Rogers of Hampden-Sydney is baffled by this breaking news.)
To think that James Madison University, a beacon for equality, would stand for such an affront to co-eds. I know Humphrey is personally offended as he and the Captain of Dickinthe4skins, Zach, made a point to join the never-ending plight of co-eds in this country. One co-ed of Dickinthe4skins, the beautiful Kristin from Sandwich, Mass., even had a small stint as a defensive tackle in secondary school.
Beautiful co-ed Kristin
All of Kristin's memories have now come flooding back. She is reportedly sitting in a Carrier Library nook, bawling her eyes out with her chauvinistic coaches ringing in her ears. "Kristin, you'll never make it in the trenches weighing 100 pounds and standing 5-foot-4. You don't have the guts to get fat enough! Take your blond ponytail back to the locker bay where you can help the other co-eds plan a 'Mass' pregnancy scandal!" She thought by coming to JMU she would have a shot at playing for a football title without the sting of discrimination that has hindered our beautiful nation to this day. (Humphrey is currently en-route to comfort her. *Take note Pat, you don't have to be in the friends' zone, damn it!)
But I digress. Tonight must be some sort of consolation game for the top four teams in Co Rec 1. But the problem is that Dickinthe4skins finished fourth, not the Honey Combs. Dickinthe4skins not only finished with more wins at 2-3 (Honey Combs are 1-3), but for Mathematicians like Big Chris, not to be confused with Chris, that's a higher winning percentage at .400 compared to the Honey Combs' .250. The only way that Dickinthe4skins could have finished last is if they had a shoddy sportsmanship rating. Not so. They sit proudly with a 3.41 rating, good enough for third in the league. That's higher than the Honey Combs (3.15) and the Flagrats (3.18). Humphrey is a big reason for that rating, as he constantly compliments the zebras and puts them in stitches with his lively snap counts. "Bumblebee Tuna, Bumblebee Tuna!"
I have notified Humphrey and Captain Dick (Zach) about this unfortunate, and some might say tragic, development. Humphrey is enraged and likely trying to console Kristin. Poor guy can barely keep his composure right now. Captain Dick and Jersey Mike are going to see what UREC says.
Captain Dick's thoughts via text message: "they are scared of an upset then again its not really an upset when you have a 'rudy-like' figure in tim."
Could be Captain Dick. Could be.
(More to come when developments break.)
Monday, April 19, 2010
Fast Food Mommas
Humphrey is no stranger to fast food. He loves good deals and knows where to find them. Taco Bell is one of those places.
Though Humphrey makes a hefty salary working for a used car dealer, he is American and he likes his bargains. It's tough to beat the 89 cent Beefy Five Layer Burrito. He usually gets three and trust me that's a mighty meal for less than three bones.
But the spawn of Big Rick isn't convinced that he can get this 89 cent deal just anytime. After all, he is American and part of being American is being a sheep when it comes to consumerism.
Yes, every time without fail, Humphrey goes up to the co-ed working the register and asks if Denise is working.
The first time I witnessed this it was a sunny Saturday morning in Harrisonburg. Accompanied by a less-observant Mike from Jersey (Mike is sketchy and might have been checking out a co-ed far younger than legal), Humphrey proudly walked up to a smiling co-ed named Sara. He gracefully placed his meaty left forearm upon the counter and politely leaned in, "Is Denise here?"
Aware of the Taco Bell commercial, Sara smiled politely, humoring Humphrey. He then asked about the 89 cent burrito.
"Is that cool? Is that still cool?" He said, still leaning against the counter with one beat up Sperry shoe crossed behind the other leg. As he reiterated this a couple of times, he kind of nodded his head each time as it was cocked a little to the left. Sara was clearly charmed by his suave moves. Bingo! She gives him the burritos for 89 cents.
"You're a doll," he said to the now near orgasming Sara.
I was ecstatic. Was she going to give me the same deal? She did, but the fun didn't stop there. As we waited for our little baggies of steaming shit, I mean refried beans, a seasoned veteran of the Taco Bell force greeted us. Roberta, a sweet old woman who looks like the maid in Billy Madison, smiled at us.
Just when I thought I was gonna hear a deep voice chuckle, "Humphrey, you can help me shave my armpits," Humphrey spoke up and said, "How's it goin' Roberta?"
"I'm fine," she said, as jolly as her cousin from Billy Madison.
Humphrey continued on his charm offensive that often paralyzes co-eds of all ages. Like I said, Roberta is a vet. In fact she told us that she's been in the exact location on Route 33 for 20 years. (She said the place used to be Bojangles, or some shit.) But even she fell for the Humphrey Hustle.
"Roberta, how about putting a couple of free tacos in our bag?" he said with a wink and that same nodding motion he won Sara over with.
Sure enough, Roberta came back and whispered in a sexy voice, "I put a couple tacos in there." She then licked her lips and crinkled her nose at Humphrey. OK, that didn't really happen, but it would have been awesome.
What made this performance all that more impressive was that it came before that outdoor soirée, when he nearly stole the flexible co-ed from his smooth, Sinatraesque neighbor Chip Tarkenton.
And just mere nights before he had been shot down by a haughty co-ed named Tonya at McDonald's. He called her doll after ordering a couple of McChicken sandwiches. Let's just say she wasn't "Lovin' it."
Humphrey, usually incredibly respectful of co-eds, was hurt by Tonya's dismissal and loudly mumbled in the parking lot, "Bitch." He hasn't been back to McDonald's.
But Sara and Roberta and those 89 cent burritos are doin' Humphrey well.
Though Humphrey makes a hefty salary working for a used car dealer, he is American and he likes his bargains. It's tough to beat the 89 cent Beefy Five Layer Burrito. He usually gets three and trust me that's a mighty meal for less than three bones.
But the spawn of Big Rick isn't convinced that he can get this 89 cent deal just anytime. After all, he is American and part of being American is being a sheep when it comes to consumerism.
Yes, every time without fail, Humphrey goes up to the co-ed working the register and asks if Denise is working.
The first time I witnessed this it was a sunny Saturday morning in Harrisonburg. Accompanied by a less-observant Mike from Jersey (Mike is sketchy and might have been checking out a co-ed far younger than legal), Humphrey proudly walked up to a smiling co-ed named Sara. He gracefully placed his meaty left forearm upon the counter and politely leaned in, "Is Denise here?"
Aware of the Taco Bell commercial, Sara smiled politely, humoring Humphrey. He then asked about the 89 cent burrito.
"Is that cool? Is that still cool?" He said, still leaning against the counter with one beat up Sperry shoe crossed behind the other leg. As he reiterated this a couple of times, he kind of nodded his head each time as it was cocked a little to the left. Sara was clearly charmed by his suave moves. Bingo! She gives him the burritos for 89 cents.
"You're a doll," he said to the now near orgasming Sara.
I was ecstatic. Was she going to give me the same deal? She did, but the fun didn't stop there. As we waited for our little baggies of steaming shit, I mean refried beans, a seasoned veteran of the Taco Bell force greeted us. Roberta, a sweet old woman who looks like the maid in Billy Madison, smiled at us.
Just when I thought I was gonna hear a deep voice chuckle, "Humphrey, you can help me shave my armpits," Humphrey spoke up and said, "How's it goin' Roberta?"
"I'm fine," she said, as jolly as her cousin from Billy Madison.
Humphrey continued on his charm offensive that often paralyzes co-eds of all ages. Like I said, Roberta is a vet. In fact she told us that she's been in the exact location on Route 33 for 20 years. (She said the place used to be Bojangles, or some shit.) But even she fell for the Humphrey Hustle.
"Roberta, how about putting a couple of free tacos in our bag?" he said with a wink and that same nodding motion he won Sara over with.
Sure enough, Roberta came back and whispered in a sexy voice, "I put a couple tacos in there." She then licked her lips and crinkled her nose at Humphrey. OK, that didn't really happen, but it would have been awesome.
What made this performance all that more impressive was that it came before that outdoor soirée, when he nearly stole the flexible co-ed from his smooth, Sinatraesque neighbor Chip Tarkenton.
And just mere nights before he had been shot down by a haughty co-ed named Tonya at McDonald's. He called her doll after ordering a couple of McChicken sandwiches. Let's just say she wasn't "Lovin' it."
Humphrey, usually incredibly respectful of co-eds, was hurt by Tonya's dismissal and loudly mumbled in the parking lot, "Bitch." He hasn't been back to McDonald's.
But Sara and Roberta and those 89 cent burritos are doin' Humphrey well.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Springfest/WWHD Part 3: Cystic Fibrosis
Let's just say jail sucks!
As soon as I got into Holding Cell 3 a bunch of annoying freshmen and sophomores from various state schools greeted me. Some were even from Westfield! (My home area). I made a point to not identify themselves because they were so annoying.
I was in that stinkin' cell for 14 hours! I was booked around 6 p.m., and didn't get released until around 8:30 a.m. Not fun at all, especially when you only blow a .08, which might be the legal limit for driving, but trust me when I say it's not drunk at all.
So, for the first two hours, one annoying kid from Tech banged on the windows. He wanted the guards to know that he had CYSTIC FIBROSIS. I've never been a vengeful person in my life, but I now hope that anyone I dislike strongly gets a strong case of CYSTIC FIBROSIS. This dumbass banged on the window for two hours, making Cs and Fs with his hands to signal CYSTIC FIBROSIS. He would often get confused on whether his letters were backwards. The dumbass never got his medicine he was clamoring for, but for two hours! -- FUCK YOU GUARDS! I HAVE CYSTIC FIBROSIS! CYSTIC FIBROSIS! CYSTIC FIBROSIS! CYSTIC FIBROSIS!
I am not even exaggerating. I felt a lot better today when I saw this kid getting arrested in a video, which has since been taken down. Haha. I bet his friends and many people pressured him to remove it because many are paranoid of getting identified in the next few days.
Other highlights of my night in the slammer included seeing a whole cell of dudes from Chantilly, who don't go to college. Hahaha. Poor guys were totally being scrutinized because of the color of their skin. Not cool.
There was a crazy old drunk in the other cell next to me, who had to be strapped down to a chair. At 3 a.m. he was still yelling at the correction officers, particularly one blond co-ed.
"BITCH, BITCH," he would yell. It really wasn't funny because I couldn't get any sleep on the cold floor in my T-shirt. He kept at it though. "GOD DAMN. GOD DAMN. BITCH. GET ME OUT HERE. DAMN IT, THIS HURTS. BITCH. BITCH."
I finally got out in the morning after almost no sleep. Jail really sucks. I was worried at 6:30 a.m., that I would never get out because one of my dumb cellmates from Westfield! was talking shit to the guards.
"You can s my d," he said. (I cleansed that quote for the younger readers like Lovings.) I'm thinking to myself, "What the hell are you doing? That is not going to get any of us out of here quicker."
I was released at about 8:30 a.m., and was excited to hear that the dumbass I just mentioned was going to have to stay a couple of extra hours. Sadly, they let him go at the same time as me. DAMN! I really wanted his annoying ass to stay.
I almost forgot about the shitty breakfast they tried to serve us. Disgusting.
Long story short, don't ever go to jail. If you have friends who are police, don't approach them while they're in SWAT gear. They're probably jacked up on Red Bull or Jooze and don't have time for anyone.
Thanks Humphrey for letting me out of your sight.
As soon as I got into Holding Cell 3 a bunch of annoying freshmen and sophomores from various state schools greeted me. Some were even from Westfield! (My home area). I made a point to not identify themselves because they were so annoying.
I was in that stinkin' cell for 14 hours! I was booked around 6 p.m., and didn't get released until around 8:30 a.m. Not fun at all, especially when you only blow a .08, which might be the legal limit for driving, but trust me when I say it's not drunk at all.
So, for the first two hours, one annoying kid from Tech banged on the windows. He wanted the guards to know that he had CYSTIC FIBROSIS. I've never been a vengeful person in my life, but I now hope that anyone I dislike strongly gets a strong case of CYSTIC FIBROSIS. This dumbass banged on the window for two hours, making Cs and Fs with his hands to signal CYSTIC FIBROSIS. He would often get confused on whether his letters were backwards. The dumbass never got his medicine he was clamoring for, but for two hours! -- FUCK YOU GUARDS! I HAVE CYSTIC FIBROSIS! CYSTIC FIBROSIS! CYSTIC FIBROSIS! CYSTIC FIBROSIS!
I am not even exaggerating. I felt a lot better today when I saw this kid getting arrested in a video, which has since been taken down. Haha. I bet his friends and many people pressured him to remove it because many are paranoid of getting identified in the next few days.
Other highlights of my night in the slammer included seeing a whole cell of dudes from Chantilly, who don't go to college. Hahaha. Poor guys were totally being scrutinized because of the color of their skin. Not cool.
There was a crazy old drunk in the other cell next to me, who had to be strapped down to a chair. At 3 a.m. he was still yelling at the correction officers, particularly one blond co-ed.
"BITCH, BITCH," he would yell. It really wasn't funny because I couldn't get any sleep on the cold floor in my T-shirt. He kept at it though. "GOD DAMN. GOD DAMN. BITCH. GET ME OUT HERE. DAMN IT, THIS HURTS. BITCH. BITCH."
I finally got out in the morning after almost no sleep. Jail really sucks. I was worried at 6:30 a.m., that I would never get out because one of my dumb cellmates from Westfield! was talking shit to the guards.
"You can s my d," he said. (I cleansed that quote for the younger readers like Lovings.) I'm thinking to myself, "What the hell are you doing? That is not going to get any of us out of here quicker."
I was released at about 8:30 a.m., and was excited to hear that the dumbass I just mentioned was going to have to stay a couple of extra hours. Sadly, they let him go at the same time as me. DAMN! I really wanted his annoying ass to stay.
I almost forgot about the shitty breakfast they tried to serve us. Disgusting.
Long story short, don't ever go to jail. If you have friends who are police, don't approach them while they're in SWAT gear. They're probably jacked up on Red Bull or Jooze and don't have time for anyone.
Thanks Humphrey for letting me out of your sight.
Springfest/WWHD Part 2: Leaving Humphrey
He simply was taking too long. That shouldn't matter anyone who follows this disciple should know that WWHD (What Would Humphrey Do?). I'll tell you what, he would have continued slapping fives and not deserted his friends, unless of course there was the far-outside shot that he might land a co-ed.
Like an idiot, I left him and wandered down the Village Lane, finding Pat (the other hopeless lover), Zach (the slightly homo Mark Sanchez) Chris -- not to be confused with Big Chris -- (the ever-balding) and Mike (that kid from Jersey). Then I ran into Jenna. She is a wily co-ed, who graduated a year ago and her mother is best friends with mine. Jenna is bad news.
So, for awhile I just hung out with Jenna and tried to impress people for her sake. She was hanging with a dude with mean mutton chops. (Our moms probably want us to wed.)
Things got crazy! Asshole students and non-students started throwing beer cans and bottles at each other. Then SWAT moved in and these same assholes, many who didn't get caught, decided it would be smart to throw at the people trying to keep peace.
SWAT moved people away from Village Lane toward Port Republic Road. I was standing with Jenna near the staircase by the Texaco. I noticed a police officer, who had been an arresting officer when my brother and roommates got a gun pulled on them in October. Naturally, being the inquisitive and friendly journalist I am, I thought I would go say hi to the officer. He clearly didn't know who I was and took his baton, shoved it into my chest, knocking me down the hill. I was quickly apprehended by another officer.
I asked the officer if I could speak with a high ranking officer I know. He said yes, but, of course, took me straight to a car and then to jail.
WWHD? Would have stuck with his boys.
See part 3.
Like an idiot, I left him and wandered down the Village Lane, finding Pat (the other hopeless lover), Zach (the slightly homo Mark Sanchez) Chris -- not to be confused with Big Chris -- (the ever-balding) and Mike (that kid from Jersey). Then I ran into Jenna. She is a wily co-ed, who graduated a year ago and her mother is best friends with mine. Jenna is bad news.
So, for awhile I just hung out with Jenna and tried to impress people for her sake. She was hanging with a dude with mean mutton chops. (Our moms probably want us to wed.)
Things got crazy! Asshole students and non-students started throwing beer cans and bottles at each other. Then SWAT moved in and these same assholes, many who didn't get caught, decided it would be smart to throw at the people trying to keep peace.
SWAT moved people away from Village Lane toward Port Republic Road. I was standing with Jenna near the staircase by the Texaco. I noticed a police officer, who had been an arresting officer when my brother and roommates got a gun pulled on them in October. Naturally, being the inquisitive and friendly journalist I am, I thought I would go say hi to the officer. He clearly didn't know who I was and took his baton, shoved it into my chest, knocking me down the hill. I was quickly apprehended by another officer.
I asked the officer if I could speak with a high ranking officer I know. He said yes, but, of course, took me straight to a car and then to jail.
WWHD? Would have stuck with his boys.
See part 3.
Springfest/WWHD Part 1: Early Mistake
As you all know, Harrisonburg was a fiasco on Saturday. Believe it or not, Humphrey had nothing to do with it.
But do believe this -- my incarceration had everything to do with Humphrey.
The day started off brilliantly. My brother had the hot spot in Stone Gate with some kegs and eggs action. A little beer pong was being played and Humphrey was pretty much wearing the same outfit he wore the night before at the dance majors' formal. We looked great that night.
Humphrey was putting on a show as usual. Serenading co-eds left and right, the jolly fella even mesmerized my visiting sisters.
Jenn texted me tonight saying: "i wish i used the f word because i want to use the phrase "fuck it do it live... i'm serious, i keep saying it in my head."
(As I type this at Humphrey's desk, I'm incredibly disappointed that Big Rick -- a great Catholic and a legend -- consented to a picture hanging at this very desk. The beautiful family is dressed in white shirts and jeans in corny poses. C'mon Rick, I expect better. And they apparently did this crap every year. Denise actually told me about this Sunday. "I'm sure your mom understands this," she said. "I just tell them take it and get it over with.")
So after hanging at my brother's place, Humphrey moved on to the noteworthy Chip Tarkenton's place for some shots. (Chip below. Yeah, I know he does well, but with a pick-up line like, "Yo, Baby!" who wouldn't?)
Bad idea? Maybe not. Humphrey was on his game. Tarkenton's flexible, female companion Devon was feeding Humphrey shots, in hopes of laying him later. As we eventually moved out toward Ashby and the Block Party on Village Lane, Humphrey was feelin' it. He looked like Ron Burgundy and people were diggin' it.
Here's where things went wrong, at least for me. Humphrey was holding me and my sisters up as we moved through the Manor. The kid had to stop every five seconds and slap high-five with everyone!
After awhile I decided to split ways from burgundy-clad stud. Bad idea? Yes.
See part 2.
But do believe this -- my incarceration had everything to do with Humphrey.
The day started off brilliantly. My brother had the hot spot in Stone Gate with some kegs and eggs action. A little beer pong was being played and Humphrey was pretty much wearing the same outfit he wore the night before at the dance majors' formal. We looked great that night.
Humphrey was putting on a show as usual. Serenading co-eds left and right, the jolly fella even mesmerized my visiting sisters.
Jenn texted me tonight saying: "i wish i used the f word because i want to use the phrase "fuck it do it live... i'm serious, i keep saying it in my head."
(As I type this at Humphrey's desk, I'm incredibly disappointed that Big Rick -- a great Catholic and a legend -- consented to a picture hanging at this very desk. The beautiful family is dressed in white shirts and jeans in corny poses. C'mon Rick, I expect better. And they apparently did this crap every year. Denise actually told me about this Sunday. "I'm sure your mom understands this," she said. "I just tell them take it and get it over with.")
So after hanging at my brother's place, Humphrey moved on to the noteworthy Chip Tarkenton's place for some shots. (Chip below. Yeah, I know he does well, but with a pick-up line like, "Yo, Baby!" who wouldn't?)
Bad idea? Maybe not. Humphrey was on his game. Tarkenton's flexible, female companion Devon was feeding Humphrey shots, in hopes of laying him later. As we eventually moved out toward Ashby and the Block Party on Village Lane, Humphrey was feelin' it. He looked like Ron Burgundy and people were diggin' it.
Here's where things went wrong, at least for me. Humphrey was holding me and my sisters up as we moved through the Manor. The kid had to stop every five seconds and slap high-five with everyone!
After awhile I decided to split ways from burgundy-clad stud. Bad idea? Yes.
See part 2.
Monday, April 12, 2010
The Poll Closed!
The interpretive dance will still be happening. The time and date is yet to be determined but the people voted.
In a landslide (16 votes of 34), the people think Humphrey should do the dance in his daisy dukes and Guido shirt.
Thank you everybody for voting. Without your never-ending support, Hangin' with Humphrey would not be possible.
Cheers.
In a landslide (16 votes of 34), the people think Humphrey should do the dance in his daisy dukes and Guido shirt.
Thank you everybody for voting. Without your never-ending support, Hangin' with Humphrey would not be possible.
Cheers.
Big Rick
What can I say? I met Humphrey's esteemed father yesterday and the man lives up to the billing. He is legendary, and I'm saying this after only one meeting.
Humphrey and I went to the University of Virginia for the rubber match between the Cavs and the Yellow Jackets of Georgia Tech. Humphrey's older brother is a senior pitcher at Tech and pitched quite well in 1 and 1/3 innings. (Runners were already on base when he came in during the 9-1 loss, so the two runs that scored while he was on the mound were credited to the bum before him, I believe. Patrick then smoked slider after sexy slider passed the Cavaliers.
As we watched the game, Big Rick entertained us with tons of one liners. He is a big fan of Wedding Crashers and Chaz, played by Will Ferrell. Rick is strongly considering crashing some funerals.
With a Longhorn pouch in lip, Rick poked fun at U.Va., which is easy but funny nonetheless. He also discussed how troublesome it was raising Humphrey and Patrick with the likes of Chad Atkinson, Drew Sullivan and Chris Lovings in the neighborhood. (They're standing around Humphrey in that order from the left side of your screen to the right.)
If you've ever met either of these guys, you would really feel for Rick and his beautiful wife Denise.
So after the game, we escaped U.Va. and its annoying Whoo! cheers during Dave Matthews Band songs. (I was especially disappointed with a sign in the outfield that read 'Hooland or something like that. The point is that Hoo was abbreviating Wahoo and any good copy editor would have known that the apostrophe should have been facing the left not the right. Top public university in the country?)
We then went to Subway for a delicious early evening dinner. Rick and Denise treated us and Rick was especially pumped to share some Kit-Kats. Humphrey also did a great job of introducing me as one of the people to get arrested on Saturday during the JMU Springfest/Riot madness. Thanks Humphrey! Rick and Denise were great about it and incredibly supportive when I assured them I wasn't actually one of the rioters...more to come on a splendid night in jail.
I would encourage readers to comment on Big Rick. Many of you have known him far longer and can offer some better insight into how Humphrey and Rick compliment each other.
Humphrey and I went to the University of Virginia for the rubber match between the Cavs and the Yellow Jackets of Georgia Tech. Humphrey's older brother is a senior pitcher at Tech and pitched quite well in 1 and 1/3 innings. (Runners were already on base when he came in during the 9-1 loss, so the two runs that scored while he was on the mound were credited to the bum before him, I believe. Patrick then smoked slider after sexy slider passed the Cavaliers.
As we watched the game, Big Rick entertained us with tons of one liners. He is a big fan of Wedding Crashers and Chaz, played by Will Ferrell. Rick is strongly considering crashing some funerals.
With a Longhorn pouch in lip, Rick poked fun at U.Va., which is easy but funny nonetheless. He also discussed how troublesome it was raising Humphrey and Patrick with the likes of Chad Atkinson, Drew Sullivan and Chris Lovings in the neighborhood. (They're standing around Humphrey in that order from the left side of your screen to the right.)
If you've ever met either of these guys, you would really feel for Rick and his beautiful wife Denise.
So after the game, we escaped U.Va. and its annoying Whoo! cheers during Dave Matthews Band songs. (I was especially disappointed with a sign in the outfield that read 'Hooland or something like that. The point is that Hoo was abbreviating Wahoo and any good copy editor would have known that the apostrophe should have been facing the left not the right. Top public university in the country?)
We then went to Subway for a delicious early evening dinner. Rick and Denise treated us and Rick was especially pumped to share some Kit-Kats. Humphrey also did a great job of introducing me as one of the people to get arrested on Saturday during the JMU Springfest/Riot madness. Thanks Humphrey! Rick and Denise were great about it and incredibly supportive when I assured them I wasn't actually one of the rioters...more to come on a splendid night in jail.
I would encourage readers to comment on Big Rick. Many of you have known him far longer and can offer some better insight into how Humphrey and Rick compliment each other.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Animals, eh?
Hangin' with Humphrey was discussed in my popular writing class this morning and what do you know, another blog in the class is related.
Enjoy.
Enjoy.
Belated Highlights from NCAA Championship
So, other than Chris -- not to be confused with Big Chris -- everyone was pulling for Butler on Monday night. Chris pretended to be pulling for the Bulldogs, but it was clear that he wanted his girlfriend's school to win. The anxiety of trying to fit in, but also please his girlfriend (who wasn't even there) was only making him bald faster.
But Humphrey was on his game as usual, like Ricky Bobby and Cal Knoughton Jr.. He immediately took umbrage with Clark Kellogg's feel good sentiment toward Butler.
"There's no losers here tonight," said Kellogg, who should not be commentating the Final Four over the legendary Gus Johnson.
Humphrey said, "Yeah, there is. And they're in 64th place like everybody else because if you ain't first you're last."
He also questioned Coach K's status as the U.S.A. basketball coach. "How can he coach the American team with a last name like shevshevshesheska."
Shake and Bake.
But Humphrey was on his game as usual, like Ricky Bobby and Cal Knoughton Jr.. He immediately took umbrage with Clark Kellogg's feel good sentiment toward Butler.
"There's no losers here tonight," said Kellogg, who should not be commentating the Final Four over the legendary Gus Johnson.
Humphrey said, "Yeah, there is. And they're in 64th place like everybody else because if you ain't first you're last."
He also questioned Coach K's status as the U.S.A. basketball coach. "How can he coach the American team with a last name like shevshevshesheska."
Shake and Bake.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Humphrey Goes Social
He is social in person, why not be social on the World Wide Web. If there was an American Wide Web, he would do that to.
There is a facebook fan page and a twitter to follow.
Cheers.
There is a facebook fan page and a twitter to follow.
Cheers.
"You see that guy over there?"
As promised, I said I would briefly touch on Pat's ineptitude with the co-eds. For those just joining Hangin' with Humphrey, Pat lives upstairs and is an avid sports fan.
The guys told me that he has never even been kissed. I scoffed at this because he is 19 years old and goes to James Madison University. But I felt bad nonetheless and told him I'd help him out the best I could.
Without even putting much effort in, I've already lost patience. Pat is picky. He went to a formal not too long ago with a co-ed that had the hots for him. I met her at the Dickinthe4skins game the other night and found her to be a very pleasant young co-ed. (I even gave her a kiss on the cheek before we left.) Pat won't really say why he hasn't pursued said co-ed, but one can only assume that he is lacking in confidence.
So after chewing him a new one for his failure to hang out more with said co-ed, I decided it was time to be proactive. No more excuses and no more of Pat being that guy that all the co-eds love because he jumps right in the friend zone. IDIOT!
Pat is a cute guy. Don't get me wrong because I'm hard on the rosy-cheeked fella. Look at him. He's a catch.
I know. He makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside too, but that doesn't mean he can't be a sensual lover for some classy co-ed out there.
So, yesterday at Mrs. Greens (a dining location on campus for lunch) and again at dinner at the East Campus Dining Hall, I took matters into my own hands.
I tend to live my life through the classic sports movie Rudy. (If you haven't seen it you're probably not American and should stop reading this blog.) I only watch it about once every two weeks. But there are a couple scenes where Rudy has to introduce his tutor D-Bob to various co-eds around campus.
Much like Rudy, I went around the JMU dining facilities, asking random co-eds to look over at my buddy Pat and wave. Instant success!
"You see that cute guy over there in the blue polo?" I said. "Yeah, that one. Can you just wave at him, humor him a little. Great, thanks. He doesn't have much confidence right now."
I said nothing about how proficient he was, but one girl at E-Hall said, "Wait, so he hasn't gotten laid at JMU?"
"Whoa, easy," I said.
"I just mean, there's so many whores at this school," she responded.
I honestly don't think she meant it as an insult to Pat, but I suppose it's something for the jolly guy to think about it.
If you know anyone who is ready to make a commitment (or at least give him a kiss on the cheek) with a stand-up character that is a sweetheart and total opposite of JMU frat dudes, please let us know. You can either comment here at Hangin' with Humphrey or send a text message with your name or one of your co-ed friend's names to 804-690-0367. He will promptly friend you on facebook.
If he's not really your type, just lead him on and at least you might get a shot with his better looking, pretty-boy roommate Big Chris -- not to be confused with Chris.
Cheers.
The guys told me that he has never even been kissed. I scoffed at this because he is 19 years old and goes to James Madison University. But I felt bad nonetheless and told him I'd help him out the best I could.
Without even putting much effort in, I've already lost patience. Pat is picky. He went to a formal not too long ago with a co-ed that had the hots for him. I met her at the Dickinthe4skins game the other night and found her to be a very pleasant young co-ed. (I even gave her a kiss on the cheek before we left.) Pat won't really say why he hasn't pursued said co-ed, but one can only assume that he is lacking in confidence.
So after chewing him a new one for his failure to hang out more with said co-ed, I decided it was time to be proactive. No more excuses and no more of Pat being that guy that all the co-eds love because he jumps right in the friend zone. IDIOT!
Pat is a cute guy. Don't get me wrong because I'm hard on the rosy-cheeked fella. Look at him. He's a catch.
I know. He makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside too, but that doesn't mean he can't be a sensual lover for some classy co-ed out there.
So, yesterday at Mrs. Greens (a dining location on campus for lunch) and again at dinner at the East Campus Dining Hall, I took matters into my own hands.
I tend to live my life through the classic sports movie Rudy. (If you haven't seen it you're probably not American and should stop reading this blog.) I only watch it about once every two weeks. But there are a couple scenes where Rudy has to introduce his tutor D-Bob to various co-eds around campus.
Much like Rudy, I went around the JMU dining facilities, asking random co-eds to look over at my buddy Pat and wave. Instant success!
"You see that cute guy over there in the blue polo?" I said. "Yeah, that one. Can you just wave at him, humor him a little. Great, thanks. He doesn't have much confidence right now."
I said nothing about how proficient he was, but one girl at E-Hall said, "Wait, so he hasn't gotten laid at JMU?"
"Whoa, easy," I said.
"I just mean, there's so many whores at this school," she responded.
I honestly don't think she meant it as an insult to Pat, but I suppose it's something for the jolly guy to think about it.
If you know anyone who is ready to make a commitment (or at least give him a kiss on the cheek) with a stand-up character that is a sweetheart and total opposite of JMU frat dudes, please let us know. You can either comment here at Hangin' with Humphrey or send a text message with your name or one of your co-ed friend's names to 804-690-0367. He will promptly friend you on facebook.
If he's not really your type, just lead him on and at least you might get a shot with his better looking, pretty-boy roommate Big Chris -- not to be confused with Chris.
Cheers.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
The Next Peyton Manning (Part 5)
I tell Humphrey during his next defensive break that I'm looking into a professor assistant's-ship for next year.
"Ohhhh, Humpin' Humphrey would be awesome," Humphrey says in reference to this Web site.
Humphrey realizes what he said.
"That's just un-American, first of all, and that's just gay."
He's raw and I tell him that that saying isn't just pop culture but offensive to some. He'll eventually come around.
I tell Humphrey that I can't go to his brother Pat's baseball game on Sunday at U.Va. (I'm tempted to mock the Charlotteville school, but for the sake of my grade I'll refrain.) His brother plays for Georgia Tech and they have a series in Charlotteville.
I have to film a game of JMU baseball for a class, so I can't go.
"Tell 'em you have gonorrhea!" Humphrey says. "Or diarrhea. It works every time. Or say you have diabetes!"
Humphrey receives a snap when he gets back on the field. He laterals it back to Zach and then sprints up field to the end zone. Zach slings it. (He looks like a well-tanned Mark Sanchez, just smaller and slightly more homosexual.) It's a beautiful throw, but despite some astonishing speed from Humphrey it is about to be intercepted by the student director of JMU intramurals.
Humphrey is forced to play defense on this pass and throws his hand up. It actually is a great play on his part but he puts all his girth into it and lays the poor UREC mini-czar out.
The dickinthe4skins "(or Americans, as Humphrey puts it) 40 hundred and 7; the French -12 for being queers."
It's getting late. Humphrey has told me, "Let's drink some Malt Liquor and get drunk."
More to come. Next blogs will include Pat's ineptitude with co-eds and a belated account of Humphrey's reaction to the NCAA men's national championship Monday night.
Cheers. God Bless America.
"Ohhhh, Humpin' Humphrey would be awesome," Humphrey says in reference to this Web site.
Humphrey realizes what he said.
"That's just un-American, first of all, and that's just gay."
He's raw and I tell him that that saying isn't just pop culture but offensive to some. He'll eventually come around.
I tell Humphrey that I can't go to his brother Pat's baseball game on Sunday at U.Va. (I'm tempted to mock the Charlotteville school, but for the sake of my grade I'll refrain.) His brother plays for Georgia Tech and they have a series in Charlotteville.
I have to film a game of JMU baseball for a class, so I can't go.
"Tell 'em you have gonorrhea!" Humphrey says. "Or diarrhea. It works every time. Or say you have diabetes!"
Humphrey receives a snap when he gets back on the field. He laterals it back to Zach and then sprints up field to the end zone. Zach slings it. (He looks like a well-tanned Mark Sanchez, just smaller and slightly more homosexual.) It's a beautiful throw, but despite some astonishing speed from Humphrey it is about to be intercepted by the student director of JMU intramurals.
Humphrey is forced to play defense on this pass and throws his hand up. It actually is a great play on his part but he puts all his girth into it and lays the poor UREC mini-czar out.
The dickinthe4skins "(or Americans, as Humphrey puts it) 40 hundred and 7; the French -12 for being queers."
It's getting late. Humphrey has told me, "Let's drink some Malt Liquor and get drunk."
More to come. Next blogs will include Pat's ineptitude with co-eds and a belated account of Humphrey's reaction to the NCAA men's national championship Monday night.
Cheers. God Bless America.
The Next Peyton Manning (Part 4)
Humphrey scores on a touchdown reception, but it's called back for flag guarding. Regardless, Heisman Humphrey poses like the trophy that honors the best college football player in the country.
He totally butchers the pose and throws a leg behind him like a fairy.
He runs to the sideline and tells Big Chris -- not to be confused with Chris -- "I got called for three penalties on that drive and I didn't do shit."
On his next play as QB, he yells, "Pineapple, Bananas!" to signal he's ready before lifting his knee to get the snap.
All of the sudden, it's "18 America and 0 Egypt!"
Humphrey comes back to the sideline during the defensive possession and whispers to me, "I'm fuckin' awesome." I indulge him and nod.
As he cocks his chin high in the air and walks back on the field, he looks back and grimaces, "I think I pulled a groin."
Humphrey, who looks especially stout these days on the field, tries to up his team's GPA rating by showing off Erica's puppy to a male referee...
See part 5
He totally butchers the pose and throws a leg behind him like a fairy.
He runs to the sideline and tells Big Chris -- not to be confused with Chris -- "I got called for three penalties on that drive and I didn't do shit."
On his next play as QB, he yells, "Pineapple, Bananas!" to signal he's ready before lifting his knee to get the snap.
All of the sudden, it's "18 America and 0 Egypt!"
Humphrey comes back to the sideline during the defensive possession and whispers to me, "I'm fuckin' awesome." I indulge him and nod.
As he cocks his chin high in the air and walks back on the field, he looks back and grimaces, "I think I pulled a groin."
Humphrey, who looks especially stout these days on the field, tries to up his team's GPA rating by showing off Erica's puppy to a male referee...
See part 5
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
The Next Peyton Manning (Part 3)
While Humphrey is on the sideline he comments on my Italia Soccer shirt.
"I've been to Italy," Humphrey says at his usual decibel level, far higher than necessary. "It was nice, but if it was between it and America, I'm choosing America. That's the obvious choice."
Humphrey jumps from one point to the next. My correspondent Big Chris -- not to be confused with Chris -- catches an interaction between Humphrey and a co-ed.
Co-ed: "Can we come sit next to you?" she asks while holding a puppy -- half chocolate lab, half corky.
Humphrey: "No, I'm stretching," replies the burly youngster as he does lunges.
Co-ed: Sits down with her pooch anyway.
Humphrey: "How old are you now?"
Co-ed: "I'm seven weeks," she says speaking for the dog.
Humphrey: "Damn, you grow fast! How old is the dog?"
See part 4. (Clearly it isn't easy to condense one night into less than a few parts, but Hangin' with Humphrey is a new publication and we'll work on it. Thank you for bearing with us during our launch. You're a "doll" like the McDonald's cashier Humphrey cooed last weekend.)
"I've been to Italy," Humphrey says at his usual decibel level, far higher than necessary. "It was nice, but if it was between it and America, I'm choosing America. That's the obvious choice."
Humphrey jumps from one point to the next. My correspondent Big Chris -- not to be confused with Chris -- catches an interaction between Humphrey and a co-ed.
Co-ed: "Can we come sit next to you?" she asks while holding a puppy -- half chocolate lab, half corky.
Humphrey: "No, I'm stretching," replies the burly youngster as he does lunges.
Co-ed: Sits down with her pooch anyway.
Humphrey: "How old are you now?"
Co-ed: "I'm seven weeks," she says speaking for the dog.
Humphrey: "Damn, you grow fast! How old is the dog?"
See part 4. (Clearly it isn't easy to condense one night into less than a few parts, but Hangin' with Humphrey is a new publication and we'll work on it. Thank you for bearing with us during our launch. You're a "doll" like the McDonald's cashier Humphrey cooed last weekend.)
The Next Peyton Manning (Part 2)
At 10 p.m. the referee called for the captain of Dickandthe4skins. Humphrey's roommate Zach is the captain.
"I don't know, it's like your dick in your foreskin," Zach explains. "It's like an uncircumcised dick... and it's four-on-four flag football.
"Humphrey and I googled it one night... one of the funniest flag football names was dickandthe4skins."
Zach just explained this, but earlier at the game he told me he would show me what it meant. I told him I'd take a rain check.
Back to the game. Although there is no punting in 4-on-4 football, Humphrey assures me he isn't worthless.
"I can throw like a worm," he says.
In the backfield, Humphrey points out protections like Peyton Manning - just a much fatter, much shorter and non-athletic Peyton Manning. (But Humphrey would out-preform Peyton in those MasterCard commercials.)
Humphrey completes his first pass to a co-ed named Lauryn. He completes his second pass to a co-ed named Erica. "Run fast!" he tells her. "Beautiful!"
Humphrey ends the drive with a touchdown pass to the co-ed Lauryn. (His strike to the endzone looks better than anything a New York Jets QB has tossed since Vinny Testaverde.)
After a failed conversion, he yells, "WATER BREAK!" He swigs the rum and coke, while the defense plays.
"I like to score points," Humphrey exclaims, when asked why he doesn't play defense.
See Part 3
"I don't know, it's like your dick in your foreskin," Zach explains. "It's like an uncircumcised dick... and it's four-on-four flag football.
"Humphrey and I googled it one night... one of the funniest flag football names was dickandthe4skins."
Zach just explained this, but earlier at the game he told me he would show me what it meant. I told him I'd take a rain check.
Back to the game. Although there is no punting in 4-on-4 football, Humphrey assures me he isn't worthless.
"I can throw like a worm," he says.
In the backfield, Humphrey points out protections like Peyton Manning - just a much fatter, much shorter and non-athletic Peyton Manning. (But Humphrey would out-preform Peyton in those MasterCard commercials.)
Humphrey completes his first pass to a co-ed named Lauryn. He completes his second pass to a co-ed named Erica. "Run fast!" he tells her. "Beautiful!"
Humphrey ends the drive with a touchdown pass to the co-ed Lauryn. (His strike to the endzone looks better than anything a New York Jets QB has tossed since Vinny Testaverde.)
After a failed conversion, he yells, "WATER BREAK!" He swigs the rum and coke, while the defense plays.
"I like to score points," Humphrey exclaims, when asked why he doesn't play defense.
See Part 3
The Next Peyton Manning (Part 1)
When I got back to the building tonight, Humphrey was nowhere to be found. It was 15 minutes before game time, so I ran to my place to start a load of laundry.
As I walked back to Humphrey's building, I found him on the side lot drinking a rum and coke. He was well on his way. Clad in a '97 Mickey Mouse shirt and a raggedy ol' hat that says "so many beers, so little time," he was ready to play quarterback. He ran inside and filled one of those drinking receptacles that kids had in peewee soccer. He filled it with rum and coke. We were off.
I don't really follow Humphrey everywhere, but Pat, from upstairs, wanted to watch the game because he is even obsessed with the most amateur sports. (I feel sorry for his future kids if he ever does get laid. He is going to live vicariously through them like no sports dad before.)
Pat and I filled some feminine looking water bottles with Olde English and went to the UREC upper turf.
See part 2.
As I walked back to Humphrey's building, I found him on the side lot drinking a rum and coke. He was well on his way. Clad in a '97 Mickey Mouse shirt and a raggedy ol' hat that says "so many beers, so little time," he was ready to play quarterback. He ran inside and filled one of those drinking receptacles that kids had in peewee soccer. He filled it with rum and coke. We were off.
I don't really follow Humphrey everywhere, but Pat, from upstairs, wanted to watch the game because he is even obsessed with the most amateur sports. (I feel sorry for his future kids if he ever does get laid. He is going to live vicariously through them like no sports dad before.)
Pat and I filled some feminine looking water bottles with Olde English and went to the UREC upper turf.
See part 2.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Interpretive Dance (Part 2)
When Humphrey and I finished the finest dance of our young careers, I found it prudent to e-mail one of my professors in the wee hours. Risks are taken when one decides to hang with Humphrey. Decision making is usually impaired and any decision may be dubbed "American," thus making it good.
So I e-mailed a young professor of mine and told her that a friend and I were going to come to class at 9 a.m. and perform our interpretive dance. Humphrey thought it was a good idea and endorsed it, promising to perform an early morning encore of our show.
I woke up at 7:11 a.m. to a message from the professor.
"Um...ok?"
My head was spinning, which didn't surprise me, because I had hung out with Humphrey. I later was amazed at how that hospitable hobbit (his natural sweater is indescribable, photo below isn't recent enough to do it justice) raises one's game to his level on any given night. I'm no amateur, but me and the big guy nearly crushed a whole keg.
I responded that I didn't think I made the best decision to e-mail her five and a half hours prior. Humphrey and I still probably had another five and a half hours of our altered state ahead of us.
"Now I'm really disappointed. Bring it on," she quipped back.
What?! I can't back down to that. So, I called Humphrey. I texted Humphrey. No answer to either. The interpretive dance had put him in a deep sleep and his paws weren't leaving the body pillow any time soon.
I apologized in my next message that the dance wasn't going to happen on that beautiful Friday morning. I then sheepishly fell back to sleep, too embarrassed to attend class and too inebriated to stand up.
Humphrey has since avoided any acknowledgment of his promise to co-star in the early morning dance show. Please take part in the poll to the left. It directly relates to the future of the interpretive dance.
So I e-mailed a young professor of mine and told her that a friend and I were going to come to class at 9 a.m. and perform our interpretive dance. Humphrey thought it was a good idea and endorsed it, promising to perform an early morning encore of our show.
I woke up at 7:11 a.m. to a message from the professor.
"Um...ok?"
My head was spinning, which didn't surprise me, because I had hung out with Humphrey. I later was amazed at how that hospitable hobbit (his natural sweater is indescribable, photo below isn't recent enough to do it justice) raises one's game to his level on any given night. I'm no amateur, but me and the big guy nearly crushed a whole keg.
I responded that I didn't think I made the best decision to e-mail her five and a half hours prior. Humphrey and I still probably had another five and a half hours of our altered state ahead of us.
"Now I'm really disappointed. Bring it on," she quipped back.
What?! I can't back down to that. So, I called Humphrey. I texted Humphrey. No answer to either. The interpretive dance had put him in a deep sleep and his paws weren't leaving the body pillow any time soon.
I apologized in my next message that the dance wasn't going to happen on that beautiful Friday morning. I then sheepishly fell back to sleep, too embarrassed to attend class and too inebriated to stand up.
Humphrey has since avoided any acknowledgment of his promise to co-star in the early morning dance show. Please take part in the poll to the left. It directly relates to the future of the interpretive dance.
Interpretive Dance (Part 1)
It's early Monday morning and Humphrey is snuggly sleeping in his Pittsburgh Pirates' bed. Though he has granted me full access, I'm not actually standing over him right now, but it's safe to say his hearty frame is wrapped around his body pillow. As manly as Humphrey is, he sleeps like a pampered prince and even sucks his thumb at times.
As he recovers from an active weekend, I can't help but reflect on his latest adventures. While there were many this weekend, Thursday night still stands out.
On the prior Sunday evening a nearly full keg was dropped off at Humphrey's place, but the house wasn't up for any consumption in the early part of the week. Exams loomed. Humphrey focused all week for two Thursday exams that he failed. So instead of buckling down to regroup and right his path as a prospective History teacher, he decided it was Nat-ur-day.
He invited myself and a few co-eds to listen to some country tunes and drink week-old liquid gold. Throughout the early evening Humphrey reminded me countless times that we were American. I can only imagine how devastated the poor guy would be if he ever found out that he wasn't actually American. (I haven't seen his birth certificate, so I can't verify his citizenship.)
As the night progressed, so did the consumption. It was well past one a.m. when the two of us decided to show off our dance moves. Two of the co-eds are dance majors and had asked us to their formal this coming Friday. It was time to show them a little preview for what we will bring to the formal.
Cue Meat Loaf. The stereo system in the common room belted out the American recording artist's scintillating voice. The song was one that Humphrey could truly relate to: I Would Do Anything for Love. I chose it because it's a classic in my mind. My father always played Meat Loaf in the car when I was young and it is as intense as a bat out of hell. I suspect Humphrey wouldn't have been so down to dance to it if he knew Meat Loaf is a vegetarian (a clearly un-American practice).
But it was no time to be picky. We were "Doin' it Live" and there were co-eds to impress. So we broke it down for the nearly eight minutes of musical magnificence. Our elegant movements lit up the faces of the co-eds. Our feet were in constant motion in what is known as "Crazy Legs." It is a dance my older brother Francis made famous during his time at JMU. I've only seen it once at a family wedding, but after showing Humphrey the weekend prior, we were ready to duet.
Our pace picked up as the music intensified and Meat Loaf crooned of "Sex and drugs and Rock 'n' Roll!" Our heads snapped back as our heels kicked up. Our "Crazy Legs" moved faster than Savion from Sesame Street. We were living the dream... the American Dream.
"As long as the planets are turning.
As long as the stars are burning.
(Humphrey addition: As long as nat-ur-falls are flowing)
As long as your dreams are coming true, you'd better believe it!
That we would do anything for love."
As he recovers from an active weekend, I can't help but reflect on his latest adventures. While there were many this weekend, Thursday night still stands out.
On the prior Sunday evening a nearly full keg was dropped off at Humphrey's place, but the house wasn't up for any consumption in the early part of the week. Exams loomed. Humphrey focused all week for two Thursday exams that he failed. So instead of buckling down to regroup and right his path as a prospective History teacher, he decided it was Nat-ur-day.
He invited myself and a few co-eds to listen to some country tunes and drink week-old liquid gold. Throughout the early evening Humphrey reminded me countless times that we were American. I can only imagine how devastated the poor guy would be if he ever found out that he wasn't actually American. (I haven't seen his birth certificate, so I can't verify his citizenship.)
As the night progressed, so did the consumption. It was well past one a.m. when the two of us decided to show off our dance moves. Two of the co-eds are dance majors and had asked us to their formal this coming Friday. It was time to show them a little preview for what we will bring to the formal.
Cue Meat Loaf. The stereo system in the common room belted out the American recording artist's scintillating voice. The song was one that Humphrey could truly relate to: I Would Do Anything for Love. I chose it because it's a classic in my mind. My father always played Meat Loaf in the car when I was young and it is as intense as a bat out of hell. I suspect Humphrey wouldn't have been so down to dance to it if he knew Meat Loaf is a vegetarian (a clearly un-American practice).
But it was no time to be picky. We were "Doin' it Live" and there were co-eds to impress. So we broke it down for the nearly eight minutes of musical magnificence. Our elegant movements lit up the faces of the co-eds. Our feet were in constant motion in what is known as "Crazy Legs." It is a dance my older brother Francis made famous during his time at JMU. I've only seen it once at a family wedding, but after showing Humphrey the weekend prior, we were ready to duet.
Our pace picked up as the music intensified and Meat Loaf crooned of "Sex and drugs and Rock 'n' Roll!" Our heads snapped back as our heels kicked up. Our "Crazy Legs" moved faster than Savion from Sesame Street. We were living the dream... the American Dream.
"As long as the planets are turning.
As long as the stars are burning.
(Humphrey addition: As long as nat-ur-falls are flowing)
As long as your dreams are coming true, you'd better believe it!
That we would do anything for love."
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Humphrey and his Minions
Humphrey is a stout fella from the Richmond suburb of Mechanicsville. The town sounds very country, like a place he would call home. On the average day he professes that he is American 50 times. He is Irish-Catholic and a fan of conservative values. Though he puts on a front that he is an old-school southerner, he appreciates people from all backgrounds as soon as they join him for a cold one.
He graduated from Hanover High School where he wrestled, played football and baseball. He excelled in wrestling, often facing competitors more than 30 pounds heavier (he's put a few pounds on since then). As a punter, Humphrey made people take a second glance. He isn't the dainty, rail-thin pansy that defines the position. He is more of a Sebastian Janikowski-type.
Janikowski
Humphrey
Last night he showed us that he still has the leg. Two years removed from the game and about 20 beers into the evening, Humphrey sent booming punts around the parking lot of Stone Gate Apartments.
In attendance for the day-long festivities were some familiar faces. Many gathered to play cornhole in the first-ever Humphrey for the Homeless Invitational. The event didn't actually raise anything but BACs, but was a success as Humphrey and I won the eight-team tournament with a 5-0 record. We beat his roommates and building mates, including Brad, Pat, Mike, Big Chris and others. (These are all their actual names, but they're fairly common.)
The Players
Brad is from Long Island, N.Y. and, well, he is definitely from Long Island. He loves to have a good time and loves to tell stories. The validity of his stories is uncertain and often as baffling as his decision to shave his abs.
Zach, another roommate, is from Virginia's Eastern Shore, but looks like he came from the Jersey Shore. In the depth of winter, he still has quite the tan. Don't get me wrong, he is cool guy and his girlfriend is pretty cute.
Chris — not to be mistaken for Big Chris — is the fourth roommate. Though he is balding and almost nerdy looking, Chris is actually quite the baller and has a fairly strong build. He is from Northern Virginia and dates a girl at Duke. Yeah... I'm thinking the same thing.
Big Chris — not to be mistaken for Chris — lives upstairs. He is 6-foot-8 with shaggy, dirty-blonde hair. Basically, he puts us all to shame in the looks department, but his lack of football knowledge makes us all feel better. Chris has recently become more of the American dream after being added to the football team. YAY!
Mike lives upstairs and I'm not sure where he is from. He is a smooth customer and dates a girl who goes to Columbia. Mike and Chris often talk about how inferior their minds are compared to their significant others.
Pat lives up stairs with Big Chris and Mike. He is a rich kid from Maryland who loves JMU sports. His fanhood is disturbing at times, but he has a big heart. Pat might have the most crucial thing in common with Humphrey — they aren't the most successful with the co-eds. More will come on their progress in this department.
These are the main players, but others will surface and I'll give you descriptions when necessary.
Cheers.
He graduated from Hanover High School where he wrestled, played football and baseball. He excelled in wrestling, often facing competitors more than 30 pounds heavier (he's put a few pounds on since then). As a punter, Humphrey made people take a second glance. He isn't the dainty, rail-thin pansy that defines the position. He is more of a Sebastian Janikowski-type.
Janikowski
Humphrey
Last night he showed us that he still has the leg. Two years removed from the game and about 20 beers into the evening, Humphrey sent booming punts around the parking lot of Stone Gate Apartments.
In attendance for the day-long festivities were some familiar faces. Many gathered to play cornhole in the first-ever Humphrey for the Homeless Invitational. The event didn't actually raise anything but BACs, but was a success as Humphrey and I won the eight-team tournament with a 5-0 record. We beat his roommates and building mates, including Brad, Pat, Mike, Big Chris and others. (These are all their actual names, but they're fairly common.)
The Players
Brad is from Long Island, N.Y. and, well, he is definitely from Long Island. He loves to have a good time and loves to tell stories. The validity of his stories is uncertain and often as baffling as his decision to shave his abs.
Zach, another roommate, is from Virginia's Eastern Shore, but looks like he came from the Jersey Shore. In the depth of winter, he still has quite the tan. Don't get me wrong, he is cool guy and his girlfriend is pretty cute.
Chris — not to be mistaken for Big Chris — is the fourth roommate. Though he is balding and almost nerdy looking, Chris is actually quite the baller and has a fairly strong build. He is from Northern Virginia and dates a girl at Duke. Yeah... I'm thinking the same thing.
Big Chris — not to be mistaken for Chris — lives upstairs. He is 6-foot-8 with shaggy, dirty-blonde hair. Basically, he puts us all to shame in the looks department, but his lack of football knowledge makes us all feel better. Chris has recently become more of the American dream after being added to the football team. YAY!
Mike lives upstairs and I'm not sure where he is from. He is a smooth customer and dates a girl who goes to Columbia. Mike and Chris often talk about how inferior their minds are compared to their significant others.
Pat lives up stairs with Big Chris and Mike. He is a rich kid from Maryland who loves JMU sports. His fanhood is disturbing at times, but he has a big heart. Pat might have the most crucial thing in common with Humphrey — they aren't the most successful with the co-eds. More will come on their progress in this department.
These are the main players, but others will surface and I'll give you descriptions when necessary.
Cheers.
Why Humphrey?
The reason I'm writing a blog about Humphrey is because I find him to be quite the character.
I likely first met Humphrey (no this is not his real name; he might need a job someday) more than two years ago when I was a sophomore just like him. He claims that he made a visit or two to my modest dwelling (shithole) in Ashby Crossing, while I was living with his childhood friend Chris. Humphrey was just another high school kid who should not have been partaking in college activities yet. He also probably should not have been subjected to my affinity for nudity. But as he would say, "Fuck it. Do it live." (The phrase has no real significance 90 percent of the times he uses it, but it comes from a hilarious blow up of Fox's Bill O'Reilly.)
Now, Humphrey is where I was two years ago. He is living the college life to the fullest, while trying to keep his grades respectable. He enjoys his fair share of adult beverages like any other college student, but has an impressive ability to consume more than the average. He entertains his friends with catchphrases that include, "I'm American!," "Do it live," and "You rascals."
There's a good chance that my fascination with Humphrey has something to do with the part of me that doesn't want to leave this oasis in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. It might also have something to do with some similarities we share: love for country music, love for beer and a desire to make people happy through jokes and slightly absurd behavior.
I hope to write one entry a day and post a poll every few days on the right side of the site. I encourage readers to leave comments on the stories, vote in the polls and advise me on what can be done to improve the site. Bear with me as the site may look different while I upgrade it. I haven't yet found a site(s) that I will try to use as a motivation for this one.
The next entry will tell you a little more about Humphrey and the other characters that associate with this rapscallion.
Cheers.
I likely first met Humphrey (no this is not his real name; he might need a job someday) more than two years ago when I was a sophomore just like him. He claims that he made a visit or two to my modest dwelling (shithole) in Ashby Crossing, while I was living with his childhood friend Chris. Humphrey was just another high school kid who should not have been partaking in college activities yet. He also probably should not have been subjected to my affinity for nudity. But as he would say, "Fuck it. Do it live." (The phrase has no real significance 90 percent of the times he uses it, but it comes from a hilarious blow up of Fox's Bill O'Reilly.)
Now, Humphrey is where I was two years ago. He is living the college life to the fullest, while trying to keep his grades respectable. He enjoys his fair share of adult beverages like any other college student, but has an impressive ability to consume more than the average. He entertains his friends with catchphrases that include, "I'm American!," "Do it live," and "You rascals."
There's a good chance that my fascination with Humphrey has something to do with the part of me that doesn't want to leave this oasis in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. It might also have something to do with some similarities we share: love for country music, love for beer and a desire to make people happy through jokes and slightly absurd behavior.
I hope to write one entry a day and post a poll every few days on the right side of the site. I encourage readers to leave comments on the stories, vote in the polls and advise me on what can be done to improve the site. Bear with me as the site may look different while I upgrade it. I haven't yet found a site(s) that I will try to use as a motivation for this one.
The next entry will tell you a little more about Humphrey and the other characters that associate with this rapscallion.
Cheers.
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