Hotdolocaust 2010

After weeks of anticipation leading up to tonight’s Larimore v. Perdue heavyweight hot dog eat-off, I seriously underestimated the difficulty of eating a gluttonous amount of franks. Luckily enough, I wasn’t the only one.

 

No, not this kind of Frank, dick.

 

We ended up making 48 hot dogs, kept the time at 12 minutes, and sat across from each other ready for battle. Ding, ding, ding, the battle commenced. I got through the first 2 hot dogs (with buns) relatively quickly and easily, but was dismayed to see Mr. Larimore chomping away on numero tres already.

That’s okay, though, I knew he would pull away in the beginning with his unbelievable speed. We traded the next few weiners, and at the halfway point Larimore was still ahead by almost a whole dog. It was at this time that the consumption of the buns and the flavor of the hot dogs became a serious issue, and the water I was dipping my meat and bread in for extra lubrication became absurdly gross to look at, challenging my gag reflex and flushing away my will to continue.

 

I would still rather drink that hot dog flavored water than be subjected to Limp Bizkit's terrible music. There are certain truths I hold to be evident, and the primary one is Fuck Fred Durst.

 

“3 minutes left” came the call from our timekeeper, the lovely Ms. Kelsey Katsanis. Larimore is up somewhere around a bun, and my senses are muddled. My gullet has long been stuffed, and mastication has become near impossible. Larimore is looking equally sloopid, well on his way to praying to the porcelain gods. It is at this moment that I resign myself to defeat, on the cusp of throwing in the proverbial towel and calling Larimore the  better man.

 

Forbidden love

 

“1 and a half minutes”, and I’m still half a hot dog down. Larimore is looking whiter than Sammy Sosa, and its time to, as they say, “Man up”. Without regard to my intestinal well-being, I muscled through another 1.5 dogs, putting me up 9.5 to 8.5. It was at this moment Drew Larimore tapped the table, indicating concession.

 

Actually, Drew just puked when I showed him this.

 

“Thumbs down”, “Horrible”, and “My stomach felt like it was going to reach out and punch me” were Mr. Larimore’s comments regarding tonight’s competition. While it was nice to defeat the walking wonder that is William Andrew Larimore, I was more ashamed that we only downed a combined 18 hot dogs with buns. I have no idea how Joey Chestnut could down 64 of those bad boys in the same time frame I almost exploded from less than 10. That is a craft, folks. Plain and simple.

 

The Gastronomical Zeus, a God among mere mortals.

 

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2 Men. 12 Minutes. 72 Hot Dogs.

Ali-Frazier. Balboa-Drago. Foreman-Competing Grill Salesmen. History is littered with great bouts of fortitude and will, where one man stands against another and they do battle. Tonight, October 14, 2010, you can add another to the great events in history:  Larimore-Perdue I.

Passion, Dedication and Gluttony are three words that will define tonight’s Clash of the Gastronomical Titans. It has been 55 days since Drew Larimore downed two pints of ice cream in less than 2 minutes, tossing his contenders to the side with a voracious eating style and gargantuan tongue en route to the 2010 Mayfield Ice Cream Eating Championship.

 

My counterpart this evening, after his August 20, 2010 conquest. Note his trophy/hat, as well as his ironic cut-off UFC shirt. Also, his beautiful punch-drunk face.

 

As his trainer/manager, it is my duty to keep him sharp for future competitions. Thus, tonight, we shall compete in a hot dog eating bonanza a la the famous July 4th Nathan’s contest. Ideally, no Asians will be arrested, and nobody will have an “upheaval”. Neither can be guaranteed. The event will commence at 11:50 pm ET. Pictures are to follow.

 

Artist depiction of Drew Larimore after tonight.

 

NFL Week 6 Breakdown

Seattle (2-2) at Chicago (4-1):

Well, the Todd Collins era is over in Chicago after a blowout victory over the Panthers. Ol’ Diabeetus is back under Olin Kreutz’s ass, and they host Pete Carroll’s Seahawks, notably of “cannot win on the road” fame. Seriously, going back to the end of 2007, the Seattle Seahawks are 3-18 in their last 21 road games. Also, after last week’s 27 fantasy point bonanza, Matt Forte could be fittin’ a go ham after Cutler jumps on them early.
Prediction: Chicago 27, Seattle 13

 

Aforementioned ham Matt Forte might be fittin a go

 

Miami (2-2) at Green Bay (3-2)
So, you just couldn’t live up to Favre’s 289 and counting straight, couldya Aaron Rodgers? You’re just a pussy with a soft head. Concussed my ass. ‘Member that time Ol’ Favre’s daddy died and the next day he went out and threw 4 TD’s? DOYA, BOY? Well, all that aside, Matt Flynn, last seen in Baton Rouge as “The QB who succeeded the Sizzurp King at LSU”, gets to play in Rodgers’ concussed stead. Considering John Kuhn and Brandon Jackson are about as effective as Stephen Hawking in a Macarena-off, Matt Flynn’s going to have to do some passing. Hello, Vontae Davis!

Prediction: Miami 23, Green Bay 17

 

King of the super-duper hyphy hyphy hyphy

 

San Diego (2-3) at St Louis (2-3)
I’m really pulling for Sam Bradford to lead the Rams to 7-9 and win the NFC West, but this is a classic San Diego “Oh wait, we really are talented” blowout where Philip Rivers throws for 400+ yards. I’ll give the Rams a puncher’s chance because San Diego’s defense has gaping holes and, well, Norv Turner is their head coach.

Prediction: San Diego 34, St Louis 24

 

The Norv Turner Face, an exquisite portrayal of human ineptitude

 

Baltimore (4-1) at New England (3-1)
The New, Old lunch-pail Pats make their debut against arguably the most proven team in the NFL, in Foxborough. Hmmm….I don’t care how obscure their white offensive utility men get, they don’t have shit in the way of a defensive backfield. Boldin, Boldin, Boldin.

Prediction: Baltimore 31, New England 27

 

Bill Belichick, Hipster. "Yeah, we've got this new white playmaker, he went to this really obscure D-II school called Chadron State, you've probably never heard of it."

 

Detroit (1-4) at NY Giants (3-2)
Dear Jahvid Best, be healthy. Sincerely, Fantasy owners everywhere. So, is Hakeem Nicks the new Plaxico or is Houston’s pass defense that horrendous. Guess we’ll find out.

Prediction: Detroit 30, NY Giants 21

Atlanta (4-1) at Philadelphia (3-2)
So it looks like Week 3 MVP and animal rights activist Michael Vick will miss his old team when they come to town. Too bad, would have been nice to see him catch up with the 3 players still there from his regime. Anywho, Kevin Kolb gets another opportunity to show he’s more deserving of love than Santa Claus, and Roddy White gets to show whether he can Maurice Clarett anybody else.

Prediction: Atlanta 20, Philadelphia 17

New Orleans (3-2) at Tampa Bay (3-1)
I can almost see Tom Jackson creaming his pantsuit if Tampa were to win this one. Eww. However, as enthralled as I was watching Carson Palmer lead the Buccaneers to victory last weekend, he never was on the team, he just looked like it. This week, they get everyone’s favorite birthmark, Drew Brees. By the way, if you know any baby boy “B” names, Drew would love your suggestions. Alas, I don’t think he’s going with Boz.

Prediction: New Orleans 26, Tampa Bay 18

 

Brian Bosworth, and his mullet, are great American heroes. Bosworth Brees, that kid would be the tits.

 

Kansas City (3-1) at Houston (3-2)
The two darlings of the AFC’s first five weeks square off. We’ll have to see whether Arian “Really, you forgot the D” Foster can run well enough to prevent Matt “My eyes are currently dollar bills after seeing what Eli fucking Manning did to you guys last week” Cassel from winning this game. Sleeper pick for game of the week.

Prediction: Houston 31, Kansas City 29

 

Seriously, this fucking guy, Houston!

 

Cleveland (1-4) at Pittsburgh (3-1)
Poor, poor Colt McCoy. If he is standing at the end of the 3rd quarter, the Browns may have a chance. No, not for this game, of course. For the future. What are you, high?

Prediction: Pittsburgh 27, Cleveland 10

 

Roethlisberger returns. Hide yo kids, Hide yo wife, and especially hide yo college-aged daughters. Words of wisdom from Mr. Antoine Dodson.

 

NY Jets (4-1) at Denver (2-3)
Why is Kyle Orton the league’s most prolific passer right now? *shakes my head* Well, Denver is in for a rude awakening as long as Sanchez doesn’t go all Delhommey on the Jets. Bet the Jets, hard.

Prediction: NY Jets 24, Denver 16

Oakland (2-3) at San Francisco (0-5)
If San Francisco loses this game, Mike Singletary might turn into a new Zodiac killer, except not subtly and with more biting. I fear he may start breathing fire and slaughtering entire villages. Please, please, Alex Smith, don’t have that blood on your hands.

Prediction: San Francisco 30, Oakland 17

 

Tell me that guy wouldn't kill people. He may be a descendant of Godzilla. He even looks reptilian.

 

Dallas (1-3) at Minnesota (1-3)
Britt Farr say he gohn sit if his elber gits anee werse. Dem Cowboys need thissum. Randy Moss, whoooo!!!!

Prediction: Minnesota 28, Dallas 25

Indianapolis (3-2) at Washington (3-2)
Now that Donovan McNabb has avenged himself in Philly and Peyton Manning is pissed, we can be all but assured Washington’s in for a good ass-whoopin’!

Prediction: Indy 38, Washington 24

Tennessee (3-2) at Jacksonville (3-2)
How can Jacksonville win this game? Better question, how can Jacksonville get to host Monday Night Football? Irrelevant on both accounts, just know that never bet against a guy who is 5’7”.

Prediction: Jacksonville 24, Tennessee 23

The State of Basketball in Cleveland

“The Shot”. May 7, 1989. Michael Jordan drains a game 5 clincher over Craig Ehlo, the defining basketball anguish of Cleveland. I was born the next day.

“The Decision”. July 8, 2010. LeBron James tries to single-handedly kill Cleveland by announcing he will join Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh as part of the Miami Heat.

In less than two weeks, LeBron James will take the floor with a new set of teammates in a new home arena. It will be the culmination of The Summer of LeBron, a media spectacle of narcissism and celebrity never before seen, and Mr. James’ talents will officially hit South Beach. Dwayne Wade, Chris Bosh and a cornucopia of Toni Kukoc-Derek Fisher wannabes will take the court with the self-proclaimed “King” as they embark on history. Somewhere in the stadium, Pat Riley will rub his hands together greedily, watching the shiniest toy he’s ever had to play with, a 6’9”, 260 lb freak of nature that falls somewhere between a berserker Bo Jackson and Julius Erving, which came fully equipped with the last two MVP trophies and a renewed hunger given the backlash “The Decision” brought on his image.

 

Mike Miller, Udonis Haslem and Mario Chalmers' summer reading: "How To Ride the Wave By Not Fucking Everything Up" by Toni Kukoc. In stores now.

 

1,243 miles away, there will be another sight to behold. New coach Byron Scott will be amongst 20,000+ Hiroshima ”The Decision” victims as he tries to lead a team that has been singularly focused on one individual for 7 years defeat another NBA team with Antawn Jamison and Mo Williams as their best players. The 2010-2011 Cleveland Cavaliers will debut, and the fans will cheer, and, basketball Gods willing, they might even win the game. But the war has already been lost.

 

Actual picture of Cleveland, 7/10/10. No, that's not Lake Erie, asshole...

 

LeBron came, gift-wrapped, The Chosen One for a desolate city, in 2003. Seven years later, he left, in dramatic fashion, announcing his intentions on national television. We had him, had 7 inspired seasons of hope, joy and ultimately, heartbreak. Somehow, someway, LeBron left Cleveland in worse shape than he found it, vacating his throne for greener (and warmer) pastures.

In the NBA, if you don’t have elite players, you cannot hope to win championships. In the last 30 years, only one team has won the NBA championship without an MVP-caliber player, the 2003-04 Detroit Pistons. Besides the exception, the NBA since 1979 has been dominated by: Kobe’s Lakers (99-02, 09-10), Allen/Pierce/Garnett’s Ubuntu Celtics (08), Shaq/Wade’s Heat (06), Duncan’s Spurs (99, 03, 05, 07, ?), Jordan’s Bulls (91-93, 96-98), Olajuwon’s Rockets (93-95), Isiah’s Bad Boys (88-90), and the Bird-Magic rivalry (79-88). And besides the champions, there are all the Barkley, Malone, and Nash’s of the world, left in the ringless cold for all eternity.

 

Also, not winning an NBA championship may result in shitty parenting. Consult your doctor.

 

In effect, I’m telling you Cleveland is screwed for the foreseeable future. Even if they get lucky with all the lottery picks the Cavs are bound to land in the next few years, they will need either a) a scoring-athletic talent equal to or exceeding LeBron James-Kevin Durant, or b) the next great big man, a la Dwight Howard, to even be able to contend on any significant level. If they don’t bag a whale of Kobenian value, all Cleveland can do is spend the next 12 or so years weeping as LeBron’s titles add up.

Yet the fans will still cheer, and Cleveland will still exist, even if our sports teams only deliver a series of disappointments more gut-wrenching than teen pregnancy and more consistent than a child-support check. There’s always next year, and there’s always next beer, and I will be there. 21 years young, this summer took a lot of the youthful hope and innocence sports affords away from me. I am wizened, and am also no longer sure I will see a championship for my city, but I believe for the sake of believing. Some people follow in false prophets, blindly on faith. Such is my relationship with the sporting landscape. Maybe it’s not real, maybe there will never be fulfillment, but it gives us a reason to believe.