More like W&smelL

You will please note that the members of Aqua Velva are conspicuously absent from the current Annual Fund Donors of the Class of 2003. Maybe if the administration would make some prudent personnel changes, starting with the head coach of the men's lacrosse team, that list might get a couple more additions. I would also like to add that donor rhymes with boner.

my company softball team's weekly email update

Associated Press, Washington - June 23, 2005

The second annual spring softball season comes to an end for The Trammell Crow company. And while the overall record was disappointing, the Crow Sox finished on a high note with an embarrassing 22-11 stomp of the Kaye Sox. "Man, those suckas deserved the a$$-whoopin' for copying our name!" said Todd SherbaK, the stud 3-0 pitcher for the Crow Sox. The game started with a promising 3 run lead for the Crow team until the top of the second inning when the Kaye Sox scored 9 runs w/o hitting the ball out of the infield, which is now a new intramural world record....not to mention the 13 consecutive errors chalked up by the left side of the Crow infield. While nothing was confirmed, reports immediately circulated whether or not the Johns (whitt and donnellon) will be drafted onto the summer league squad. Those reports were quickly muted when the John's stepped up to spark a 10-run barrage in the bottom of the second. The Crow Sox never looked back and repeatedly tacked on multi-run innings after the inspiring arrival of Lil' Sherbak in the third inning. The crow ladies led the steel curtain defense with raw talent and hustle displayed by Megan, Catie and Leilani. In addition to the dominating defensive strangle-hold, there was an additional high note worth mentioning in the Crow Sox efforts last night. The record breaking home run launched by Andruw "...i can do this all day" Splay, shook the dc intramural league and sent a battle cry out to the rest of teams. The message: Bring on the summer, biotches!. In related news, beverages for the summer league home-opener will be supplied by Chris "my strikeout is already a distant memory" Hembree. Tickets have already been selling fast for the Crow summer opener, so call TicketMaster now!

Waggle's AVC#4 in absentia

Beleive or not!

1) Sophmore year Waggle is excited to go to summer lax camp and show off his new visor that says "On my way to lax practice, bro". His excitement fades when he gets to camp and finds out all tobacco products are banned. He manages to to find a counseler who dips and ends up trading his testicles for a tin of Kodiak. He later regrets this descision when he finds he can no longer effectively sing along to his favorite Crash Test Dummies song.

2) Waggle meets his high school girlfriend when he gets on the short bus by mistake. Always a sucker for babes with Fetal Alchohol Syndrome, Waggle falls fastly in love. The relationship sadly comes to an end when during debate team practice, Waggle wactches his girlfriend lose to a bag of hammers. Waggle dumps his GF for the bag of hammers, to whom he also loses his virginity. His anal virginity (OUCH!)

3) While waiting on the cafeteria lunch line, Waggle tries to tell a funny story about his latest boating experience where his friend, Jonathon Anton, got in a fight with some denim-skirted pregnant rednecks at the Battle Creek picnic area. Instead of amusing, Waggle's story bores his friends so badly they all begin lighting themselves on fire. Waggle tries to save his rep by showing off naked pictures of Cindy Crawford which spent 30 hours searching for in AOL chatrooms.

4) Pissed about missing the Boyz II Men reunion tour when it came through the Calvert County Rec Center, Waggle takes his agression out at lax practice. He kills his first man when his titanium lacrosse stick accidentally goes through his goalie's brain. Waggle atteneds the wake not out of remorse but because the services include an open salad bar and omlette station.

all this Tom Cruise crap has got me thinking...

Top Gun is a fucking great movie. And do you know why it's so great? Because of those bad ass aviator sungless everyone was wearing. Man those things were sweet. I wish I had a pair of those cool looking aviators. Yup, I think my life would be complete if only I had an awesome pair of mirrored aviators.

On a totally unrelated note, my birthday is June 30th, although I'm sure this is old news for everybody.

Time to Play the Movie Name Game

This is a game I like to play where I take current movie listings and substitute the word 'faggot' for one of the nouns in the titles. It's probably my favorite game. Anyway, it's Friday, the boss has already left for the weekend and I'm bored so let's get cracking.

- Mr. & Mrs. Faggot
- The Perfect Faggot
- The Adventures of Sharkfaggot and Lavafaggot in 3-D
- My Summer of Faggots
- Kung Fu Faggot
- Faggot: Fully Loaded
- The Longest Faggot
- Howl's Moving Faggot
- Faggot Cake
- Faggots in Lavender
- Faggotman Begins
- The Faggot of San Luis Rey

and finally

- The Sisterhood of the Traveling Faggots

And we have a winner. I think I'll celebrate by farting in my boss's office.

24 Surly Years Wasted

Today, we celebrate the penquino's 24th year on this earth. Please join me and the rest of the world in wishing it be his last.

The Paterfamilias

Titan of Industry Steve Splay finishes inking The Deal of The Century whilst gazing out the massive window of his vast executive office.

“Creating wealth and advancing society is a satisfying pursuit, no doubt, but I require a greater challenge,” he says to himself. “I grow tired of my enemies. Perhaps eliminating them will provide the adequate level of satisfaction I currently lack.”

Before sallying forth, Steve calls his wife, Lisa, who is a saint. “Hello, babes. How’s the homefront?” he says.

“Oh, good,” says Mrs. Splay, “I’m cooking some delicious pterodactyl eggs and raptor bacon. It’s too bad all of our sons are gone and I can no longer cook for them as well.”

“It is because we did such a good job investing in the future of our children that they are gone. By paying 100% of their four year private school college tuition bills they were able to become successful and productive citizens and move out. We are the ultimate providers. Truly in the realm of child rearing we are without peer.”

“Truly.”

They exchange terms of endearment and hang up. Steve quaffs a diet coke and picks up his double sided battle axe. “When you’re half-Norwegian, half-German and all Lutheran, you tend to know a thing or two about smiting with righteous authority,” Steve Splay says out loud. “My battle axe, Odin’s Fury, will undoubtedly serve me well in my endeavor.”

Steve’s first stop is at the bay front property of Dr. Viedner. “You Southern Maryland rednecks have been giving us North Marylanders a bad name for centuries,” Steve says to the Doctor. “I also caught you cheating at golf. This will teach you to abuse the principles of handicapping!”

Steve slices Dr. Waggle in half.

Mrs. Waggle, emerges from the laundry room to see about the commotion. “Mrs. Waggle, while I am tempted to spare your life, if for nothing else then that it would be a waste of a blonde haired piece of tail, I cannot accept your tacit support for the current state of women’s high school athletic uniforms. To make field hockey and lacrosse players were skirts is demeaning and anachronistic. Your failure to object is unacceptable. Taste cold steel.”

Mrs. Waggle is hacked to pieces.

After wiping the gore from Odin’s Fury, Steve follows the trail of surly yelling to an upstairs bedroom. There he finds what looks like a demented, overripe penguin goring himself on grilled cheese and tomato soup. “Obviously this thing doesn’t deserve to live,” Steve says has he removes another menace to society.

Pleased but unsatisfied, Steve seeks more offensive prey. He finds it in the most derelict of all islands, Long Island. There he encounters a big, red blob that appears to be wearing a cowboy hat and peeing on a dead Chinese hooker.

“Explain yourself, cretin!” Steve commands.

“Um… I’m an Emu?”

“More like you’re an only child you never learned the limits of decency and self-respect. Have fun being a dead Emu.”

Steve splays the Red Blob in twain.

“Not my Joey!” says a woman in shrieking, provincial Longislandese. She drops a box of donuts destined for the Red Blob's belly and runs at Steve.

“Here is clearly the wench who has failed to impart proper morals to her son. Perhaps now you will see the futility of parochial catholic education. Why don’t you feast on this?” Steve says as he cleaves in to Long Island Jane Vitoe’s mandible.

“Nobody messes with my fatty!” says a greasy mustachioed wop barreling into kitchen turned abattoir.

“Oh no!” Steve says to himself, “My worst nightmare! A lazy union worker bent on socializing the economy!”

Steve sizes up his adversary. “So, you think you can out mustache Steve Splay! Such affrontery doesn’t even deserve a response from my weapon!”

“Ha ha ha,” laughs Long Island Paul Vitoe, “You can not beat me without a weapon. I was in the ‘Nam!”

Steve is nonplussed. He recognizing Pauly Veets for the sniveling coward that he is, knowing that he probably spent his entire time in Vietnam hiding behind radio towers and stealing beer rations from the quarter master.

A wry smirk creeps onto Steve’s face as he formulates a cunning ruse. “Gee I don’t know, Paul, I guess it’s going to be tough. Hey, by the way, did you hear they’re giving automatic raises and increased benefits to all city bus drivers who pick up an extra shift in the next 2 hours?”

“Santa Maria! That means I can bilk more money from the hard honest work of taxpayers. Where are the keys to my bus?!” Paul says with excitement.

Earlier that morning Steve had rigged Paul’s bus to explode if he fails to pick up minorities on his scheduled stops. Ten minutes into his shift, LIPV’s bus blows up, littering Queens with charred wreckage and dago mustache gel.

Triumphant though still bored, Steve calls his youngest son to let him know he has rid the earth of its most notorious scum.

“Hello son, what’s new?” asks Steve.

“Just hanging out, flanked by three fatties. You know, the usual.” Andruw replies.

“Nice work. Unfortunately things aren’t so excellent with me. Unlike when I would derive great pleasure from vicariously enjoying your domination of both the athletic and academic arenas of high school, I have recently killed several of my most abominable foes and failed to obtain lasting satisfaction. Any suggestions?”

“Why don’t you play a round of golf? Then come home, read a book about the Civil War and eat a box of Cap’n Crunch?”

“Magnificent idea. Hey who’s better than us? Wait, I’ll answer that for you. Fucking no one, that’s who.”

The End.

El Pato's Believe it or not

1) Me and a friend decided late at night to convince another friend to let us use her hot tub. We snuck in despite her protests and sleeping family. Unfortunetley, instead of our hot friend coming out and getting in the hot tub with us, her Dad came out. Though not drinking at the moment, I was drunk, and I freaked out. I tried to run away barefooted and slipped down her gravel driveway. I cut the hell out of my hip and spend he rest of the night bleeding all over the inside of my friend's car.

2) After wrestling season ended my junior year I went out with most of the team to Harold's Deli in Edison, a restaurant famous for their rediculously oversized portions. We go there because we were finally done cutting weight (I was down to 160lbs) and were looking forward to gorging ourselves. Being the competitive maniacs that we were at the time, we all got into a contest to see who could eat the most. I tried to finish off a bacon cheeseburger the size of a basketball and get really really sick. I threw up all over the parking lot, cursing the the sport of wrestling.

3) I got drunk for the first time at at a party in my friend's house. I ended up in his shower with my clothes on and then walked around the party sopping wet letting everyone know "The shower is cold, and wet." Later on while blacked out I peed in the corner of my friend's parent's bedroom. All of my friends put "Spey PITC" in their yearbook quotes, which stood for "pissed in the corner."

4) After scoring two touchdowns and having what was to be the best fotball game of my life, I went out with the team to a house party. My stock was unusally high and I start up with one of the cheerleaders. Once we were alone, I move into what I assume would be a sweet make out session. Instead our teeth painfully hit before our lips do and extreme awkwardness ensues. I go home embarrased and alone.

AVC#4 BELIEVE IT OR NOT!

This week, we are all going to post entries with 4 short stories on them. One of them will be true, the other 3 will be false. Each person tries to guess other person's false stories, and whoever guesses the most true stories wins. In the likely event of a tie, whoever writes the most entertaining fake stories will be crowned champion. Now given that we've all at least heard each other's good college stories (and more probably were actually part of them), all four of the stories will be limited to events that took place (or that we will claim to have taken place) in high school.

A few things to remeber:
1) make sure you never told the other two of us the true story before (that means no prom stories vitoe).
2) make your fake stories virtually identical to a true story but change one key detail to enhance believability.
3) keep the stories breif. AVC's should never be boring.
4) feel free to encourage others to play at home.

So as soon as waggle announces the winner of AVC3 we can get started.

Some Housekeeping

1. El Pato, can you provide another picture of Keith Hernandez, circa 1987, as to verify the existence of said mullet, as I cannot tell from that picture.

2. Dosh, it has become very obvious that Long Island Jane Vitta is in some type of menopausal state that has caused her to go through all her old pictures and show them to you. While I certainly do not object to this type of family bonding, that does not mean I, or the rest of the world want to see pictures of a young you with your equally fat, equally worthless, and equally red cat. Please knock it the fuck off.

3. Fuck JP.

It's neck and neck!

Here I am with Keith, who is sporting a phat stache and a dago mullet. I do believe that is 200 points and puts us a tie, Mr. Veidner. When deciding how to break this tie, oh wise and just arbiter, please remember that I was not in a redneck paradise like Southern Maryland and as such should have my degree of difficulty taken into account.

Vidosh you once again failed miserably.

This should pretty much make it back-to-back for Veidner.