Showing posts with label bitter peyton manning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bitter peyton manning. Show all posts

Saturday, January 26, 2008

O Brother, There Art Thou

[Theme to Naruto ringtone]

Eli: Hello?


Peyton: 'Sup Dong Wong DeMarco.

Eli: What do you want, suckbutt? I'm trying to watch old episodes of Goof Troop.

Peyton: Heard the news? I'm coming to watch my lil' brudda play in the big game. Need a quick pep talk? A cell phone plan? A credit card? Flood insurance? Tasteful decor for your living room?

Eli: What? I told you to stay away, Pey-Pey. You know how I play when you're around.

Peyton: Can't just let you tie the Manning Family Record for Super Bowl titles that easy. Gotta pay your dues. I had to wait a bit longer for mine.

Eli: You're just gonna let Brady win? Is that it?

Peyton: That asshole already has more rings than I'll ever get. What's one more?

Eli: I'm gonna tell dad! He'll set you straight, like that year he made you sleep under the sink when you put the milk back in the fridge with only half a sip left.

Peyton: Tell him all you want. He'll be right next to me in a big Oreo costume. We'll be walking up and down the aisles selling programs and beer. We move product, youngin'. That's grown man business.

Then we're gonna pass out masks of my face to Patriots fans at six bucks a pop. Ruin Romo had a good ring to it, so this'll be Make Eli Cry. A whole stadium of Peyton faces staring you down. It'll be like that scene in Being John Malkovich where everybody is Malkovich.

Eli: You know I don't watch grown-up movies!

This isn't fair! I want my ring like Peyton has! He won't share his!MMMMOOOOOOMM!!!!

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Commercial-Filming Season Begins a Little Early This Year

(Sprint cell phone plays Radiohead's "Exit Music (For a Film)")

Peyton: (looks at phone) Shit.

(Thom Yorke: "We hope... that you--")

Peyton: Hey, kid.

Eli: Oh man tha' was AWESOME! Idn't winning playofff gamezzz FUHn?!?

Peyton: Are you drunk?

Eli: (giggles) Coash gah me a zix of Sima.

Peyton: Uh huh.

Eli: DOOOOD we beeet DALLAS! Nummer one seed in the ho' conferen! IN DALLAS! An ya know who din't throw an intershepshun? Guess.

Peyton: You?

Eli: No, ME!!!

Peyton: Must've been a nice chance of pace.

Eli: It totally was! Soooo weird! I'm don't feel like crying at all!

Peyton: That's great.

Eli: Oh. Oh. Oh man I'm sorry. I din't ass how your game wen. You gettin' rehddy fer the Pastyruts nest week?

Peyton: Uhhh...

(phone beeps)

Peyton: I gotta get that. Talk to you later.

Eli: Sure, just give me a ca--

(click)

Peyton: Hello?


Archie: That was awesome! You were in the playoffs! Is losing there any different from losing in the regular season?

Peyton: Sigh...

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

KSK Kollaborative Kaption Kontest

KSK Reader Raphael was good enough to send us this Hi-Def screen grab of Peyton Manning on the bench in the midst of the Colts' loss to San Diego on Sunday. Yes, we're still talking about the Sunday night game, especially since last night's game was like watching painted grass drying, while growing. Anyway, we've decided to open this up to the floor. The ground rules:

1) No references to AIDS, the jungle, or sub-Saharan Africa, and
2) Just kidding, there are no ground rules.

We'll kick it off, then you can slice like a fucking hammer in the comments.

"Hey, Jim. Jimmy. Jimmy! Do I have anything in my teeth?"

Monday, November 12, 2007

Craphonso! (Colts Lose Two In A Row)

Those sweet, sweet tears you hear being cried from the Hoosier state? Enjoy them. Bathe in them. Dump buckets of them on your lawn and watch it grow. The Colts have just lost two games in a row and I'm so happy about it. I am downright goddamn giddy. UM will have a big lifestyle change forthcoming as a result of this game, but he can tell you about that later.

Peyton threw SIX FUCKING PICKS in this game, which is six more than the career NFL totals of all the contributors of this blog. Watching Peyton get annoyed when he'd have to call for the snap twice (when Saturday didn't see him lift his leg up the first time) was fun enough. But watching him at his worst doing what he does best was the best, that was a little slice of heaven, almost as good as getting my balls licked.

I'll always contend that hating the Mannings is the most fun because it's all over their fucking faces when calamity strikes. They start as mildly annoyed, then grow to hate life as the day goes on. Watching Peyton with that "I just gurgled my own tartar sauce" face on the bench led to this exchange on my couch:

Her: Wow, look at Peyton. The Fetus Head is having a rough go of it.
Me: Yeah, right now he has a real de-fetus attitude.

Norv Turner got his ass bailed out by Vinatieri, whose push from 30 yards was the perfect climax to an entertaining game. Additionally, and I know it's been said before, but Norv frightens children whose parents own HDTVs. I truly believe this is God's way of punishing me for not giving a shit about the wildfires. I bet Norv could hid about $500 cash and three ounces of blow in the various crevaces of his face, making the Chargers' location (just minutes from the Mexican border) more than ideal. It's not like you can search a guy's face. With the steriod-laden Shawne Merriman returning to form, the team could not have asked for a better mule.

Oh, and was it raining during the game last night? I never heard them mention anything about that...

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

Bitter Peyton Manning’s Kentucky Derby Jambaroo!


The New York Post recently reported that Peyton Manning attends the Kentucky Derby every year with Kid Rock, Dennis Hopper, Travis Tritt, and George Strait. Rock told the Post:

“It's kind of a little clique of us that you see every year. You have to understand the levels of whiskey involved. One time I ended up in a freestyle battle against Meat Loaf.”

Well, wouldn’t you know it, KSK was able to transcribe this year’s historic meeting. Here’s what happened.


Kid Rock: Who’s ready to fucking party?!

Manning: I am ready. I am more prepared than any of you for this party. I studied tape of Wisconsin students for the past two weeks. I’ve got all their tendencies down pat.

George Strait: Then let’s get to drinkin’!

Travis Tritt: Yeah, let’s watch the horses and have some fun!

Kid Rock: (whispers to Manning) So, what do you think? They’re both nice.

Manning: (drinks) I don’t know. They’re more or less indistinguishable.

Kid Rock: (drinks) C’mon, man. You need this. How long has it been?

Manning: (sighs, drinks) A year.

Kid Rock: (drinks) A year! C’mon, man! You gotta let him go!

Manning: (drinks, crying) You don’t fucking get it, man! He saw a window into my soul!

Kid Rock: (drinks) I know heartbreak, my friend. Trust me. I too had a special someone.

Manning: (drinks) Oh, you mean that little midget of yours?

Kid Rock: (drinks, lunges) Don’t you fucking talk about Joe C. like that!

Manning: (drinks) What are you gonna do about it?

Kid Rock: (drinks) Bawitdaba.

Manning: (drinks) What does that even mean?

Kid Rock: (drinks) Bawitdaba, bitch.

Manning: (drinks) Seriously, that's just gibberish.

Kid Rock: (drinks) I’m a cowboy, bitch.

Manning: (drinks) No, you’re not. You’re from fucking Michigan.

Kid Rock: (drinks) Bawitdaba.

Travis Tritt: (drinks) Now, now, you two. There’ll be plenty of time for fightin’ later on. Let’s go try and find Randy Travis, Alan Jackson, Clint Black, Ronnie Milsap, and other similar artists.

Dennis Hopper: (does a whippet) This place is so full of… energy, man.

Manning: Jesus, who brought him? He fucking creeps me out.

Hopper: C’mon, man. Just relax. Just let the atmosphere... absorb you.

Manning: What does that even mean? None of you people make any goddamn sense.

Hopper: (does a Quaalude, pulls knife) It means you do what I say, bitch.

Manning: I thought we said no knives this year.

Hopper: When you rape Diane Keaton, you get to do whatever you want.

Manning: What?

Kid Rock: (drinks) C’mon, let’s go watch the race. Who you guys got? I got Imawildandcrazyguy, because that’s totally me.

(Street Sense wins)

Kid Rock: Fuck this, man. Where’s Meat Loaf? I want to fucking BATTLE.

Meat Loaf: I’m glowing like the metal on the edge of the knife!

Kid Rock: Don’t you sing that fucking song, fat man.

Phil Rizzuto: Ok, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker here.

Kid Rock: And no Rizzuto! That’s fucking cheating!

Meat Loaf: Very well. I shall seduce you with a 9-minute minisuite!

(both men get up on a stage)

Kid Rock: Pass me the mic, bitches! Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhh!!!!!!!
I’mma fucking party tonight
Got a Party Ball with cold Coors Light
No bitch ever tells me no
Got drunk once and nailed Sheryl Crow

Beat that, ass face.

Manning: (over in the corner) Oooh, Randy Moss! Oooh, the Pats are the team to beat! Well, la di fucking da. Who fucking won the Super Bowl this year, you fucking cunts?

Travis Tritt: (drinks) Are you okay, Peyton?

Manning: I’m fine! Those mint juleps are too fucking sweet.

Travis Tritt: (drinks) Kid told me about what happened with Kenny. If you ever want to talk, I just wanted you to know that if you need someone to talk to. Or to do a duet with…

Manning: I appreciate that, George.

Travis Tritt: Travis.

Manning: Whatever.

Hopper: (corners Strait in a stable) So Coppola has this big fucking heart attack, and then it’s like fucking anarchy, man. These Cambodian fuckers take me to a shooting range, and they let me machine gun a cow for, like $10. You ever machine gun a cow on ether?

Strait: (terrified) Uh, no.

Hopper: It’s fucking great.

Meat Loaf:
Objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are…
Objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are…


Random Man In Crowd: Do “I Would Do Anything for Love,” asshole!!!

Meat Loaf: I won’t do that, you fuck.

Random Man In Crowd: You melodramatic fat shit.

Manning: I love this song, man. Objects in the rearview mirror really do appear closer than they are.

Travis Tritt: Wanna go in that handicapped bathroom?

Manning: Sure.

Kid Rock: Hey, where’d everyone go? I’m Kid fucking Rock! Nobody parties harder than me! I fucked Pamela Anderson a decade too late! C’mon, man! Fuck. This party blows.