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The Unknown Blogger




Where's the Beef?

burgerIf your burger is as big as your butt and both are large enough to have their own zip code, it might be time to give Jenny Craig a call. I like a good cheeseburger every now and then... OK, maybe every couple hours but I think the number of patties you can have in your burger is getting a little out of control. I walked into a burger joint which shall remain nameless and one of the options was to have my burger with as many as four hamburger patties - that's over a pound of meat! Add three kinds of cheeses, bacon, mushrooms & onions sautéed in butter, a dab of mayonnaise and a side of fries and you're ready for a heart attack before you can finish your hot fudge sundae. Four patties? C'mon! Who needs that much meat between their buns? Eww. Don't go there. Four patties may seem harmless to you but it wasn't long ago when a two-patty hamburger seemed decadent and risky like sex without a condom. Then it was three patties and three pieces of cheese with bacon and people began to think of it as a challenge like, “how can I open my mouth wide enough to fit in all that red meat?” And while it may not be a conspiracy, I think four patties in a hamburger is as innocuous as the tip of an iceberg. I know as free-thinking humans and as consumers we can practice a little self-restraint but do restaurants have no shame? Will they just keep serving us whatever they think we'll eat no matter how unhealthy? What's next? A two-pound cheeseburger wrapped in bacon, rolled in beer batter, deep fried into a wad the size of a basketball and bounced over to your table? Wait. That actually sounds kind of fun and tasty. With America playing host to some of the fattest people in the world, I doubt what we need is a bigger burger. The Center for Disease Control and Prevention indicates obesity in adults has increased by 60% within the past twenty years. Obesity is associated with many diseases, including heart disease and obesity-related deaths are on the rise, second only to tobacco-related deaths. So there you have it. If you like a good cheeseburger, fries, milk shake and an after-dinner cigarette, there's a good chance you'll be dead by the end of this blog post. I'm not saying restaurants that serve ginormous burgers are the root cause of obesity in America or that eating a burger now and then will kill you. But as consumers in the literal sense, shouldn't we be a little concerned about not only how much we're being offered to eat but maybe larger issues like the consequences of the industrial agricultural complex bringing all this meat to our plate and why we're so blissfully unhealthy as a result? Now if you'll excuse me, all this talk about burgers has made me hungry. I think I'll go over to this new restaurant I heard about called Billy's Big Ass Burger Barn. They make a burger so huge, they use a wheelbarrow to bring it to you and a pitchfork to dump it onto your table. Oh, and don't worry about the resulting meat blindness. I hear you regain your sight after your fifth bowel movement. Bon appétit!
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Girls Gone Wild

girlsgonewildA woman talking dirty in the bedroom is pretty hot but two women talking dirty in a restaurant... not so hot. Unless, of course, you happen to be eating at a gentlemen's club. The other night I took my 6 year old niece and 8 year old nephew to eat dinner at a kid friendly restaurant. We were having a great time until two hookers from hell showed up. OK. I don't know if they were hookers but only hookers or sailors can cuss like these two women were cussing and neither of them were wearing sailor suits. WTF? Now I'm not saying I've never used profanity but the way these girls were casually cussing while enjoying hor'devours and cocktails, I thought maybe I accidentally had taken my niece and nephew to happy hour at Sugar's Uptown Cabaret and my sister has emphatically warned me to never take her kids to my regular eateries. Here's a partial transcript of the hookers from hell dialog that took place within earshot of my darling little niece and nephew: Hooker #1: I told Bill he's BLEEPIN' crazy if he BLEEPIN' thinks he can ever BLEEP me while I'm past out from BLEEPIN' drinkin' Jäger shots all BLEEPIN' night. Hooker #2: BLEEP that! I've seen that BLEEPIN' Bill and I wouldn't BLEEPIN' BLEEP him even if I was BLEEPIN' wasted after 20 Jäger bombs. Hooker #1: Right? Hooker #2: BLEEPIN' straight up BLEEP. Hooker #1: Where's that BLEEPIN' waitress with our BLEEPIN' Jäger shots? Hooker #2: She's probably getting her BLEEP all BLEEPED out in the BLEEPIN' kitchen or somethin'. BLEEP! Hooker #1: Oh my BLEEPIN' BLEEP itches so bad I can't BLEEPIN' stand it! Hooker #2: Your BLEEP still BLEEPIN' itches? I thought you went to the BLEEPIN' doctor and the BLEEPER gave you some BLEEPIN' cream for that BLEEP. Hooker #1: BLEEP that BLEEP. I went to see that BLEEPER but he BLEEPIN' weirded me out the way he kept BLEEPIN' staring at me so I just got the BLEEP outta there and told him he needed to see a BLEEPIN' shrink because he was like a BLEEPIN' perv or some BLEEP. Hooker #2: That's BLEEPED up. Isn't he the BLEEPIN' cute one? Hooker #1: Well yeah but BLEEPIN' your doctor is BLEEPIN' messed up, girl. Everyone knows doctors can give you the BLEEPIN' crabs. I think you get the BLEEPIN' picture. The whole restaurant was pretty loud and my niece and nephew were in a world of their own, cracking jokes, debating endlessly about who would win a farting contest between Sponge Bob, Oscar the Grouch and their uncle Unknown Blogger. So I'm not sure how much of the hookers from hell conversation they heard but I wasn't going to take any BLEEPIN' chances and asked the BLEEPIN' waitress if she could BLEEPIN' move us as far away as possible from these BLEEPIN' chicks. OMG! Cussing in public is contagious. I'm not sure if it was the Jägermeister that was talking or if these girls talk like that all the time. But my two cents is that neither men nor women should cuss in public, particularly if children are around taking notes. "Excuse me uncle. How do you spell BLEEP, what is it and how can it give you crabs like from the sea?" Gosh.  I wonder what happened to those potty-mouthed, Jäger swilling girls that night.
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Got Tattoo?

tattooSo I’ve been out on vacation and one of the things I did was visit an outdoor water park which, let’s face it, are basically one big, giant toilet bowl.  C’mon now.  Don’t tell me you’ve never peed in the pool. Anyway, water parks are a great place to people watch, particularly if you enjoy looking at 50,000 half naked people flopping around, many of which who have no business being in a skimpy bathing suit. I did notice that lots of people seem to be sporting tattoos these days.  Even the twelve year old that I bummed a cigarette off of had a tattoo on his right arm that read, “Mommy” with a heart on it.  Bitchin’! I myself do not have a tattoo as I faint at the sight of needles, particularly those that poke my body a couple thousand times a second for hours at a time, potentially spreading incurable diseases like hepatitis C.  But if I did get a tattoo I would hope I’d get one that didn’t suck as bad as many of the tattoos I’ve seen.  I’ve seen so many bad tattoos lately that I’m almost tempted to get real drunk, dip into my stash of barbiturates and go into my local tattoo parlor to have them give me a tattoo that reads, “Your tattoo sucks!” I just don’t get why people choose to have ink permanently placed on their body, much less the thought process behind their design choices.  If they want to make a statement, why not just put their message on a t-shirt instead.  That way when they come to, sober up and don’t like what they did at 1am the previous morning, they can easily take off their t-shirt and give it to Goodwill.
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Texting Junkies

text.jpgIn a previous post I wrote about my pet peeves with social networks but I felt it only fare to comment on people who are addicted to texting via their cell phone.  So, here is my top ten list of “you know you’re a text message junkie if…”

10. You text or tweet someone useless information (i.e., “I’m hungry,”” I’m happy,” etc.). 9.   Your first response when someone asks you a question, in person, is to grab your cell phone to text them the answer. 8.   You constantly look for deals on cell phone plans with unlimited texting even though you just signed a two year agreement. 7.   You dream in text messages. 6.   You don’t own a landline telephone. 5.   You know all the abbreviations for common text words and phrases. 4.   You have trouble writing or speaking or otherwise communicating with human beings. 3.   You created your own website called www.ILoveTexting.com. 2.   You call 911 anytime you misplace or lose your iPhone or Blackberry. And the number one sign that you're a text junkie is...  You text people that are sitting three feet away from you and they text you back and this can go on for hours without anyone speaking to each other.
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Social Hell

social_hell.jpgI’m so sick of Twitters and Facebookers.  Get a life. Ironically, those who tend to complain about what gets Twittered or Facebooked are the most flagrant abusers of social networking etiquette.  Present company excluded, I’m sure. Do we really need to read Facebook posts or Tweets like: “Just got up and boy am I tired – 7:00AM” “Having some really great coffee – 7:10AM” “Did you know coffee comes from coffee beans – 7:12AM” Who cares! And another thing… parents should be forbidden from using Facebook and Twitter.  I’m sure before Facebook and Twitter were around we all had the misfortune of being stuck hearing endless stories by parents blathering on about their kid did this and did that and how cute they are when they poop and blah, blah, blah.  But now armed with digital guns like Facebook and Twitter, we can all look forward to endless blasts of text, photos and videos of children who, quite frankly, only a parent could love or care about. Then there are the narcissistic, sycophants that love to tell you where they are and who they’re with. “Hey everyone… look at me here at the top of the Eiffel Tower sipping champagne with Nicolas Sarkozy – 3:22PM” I usually tweet back something like, “JUMP!” While not everyone behaves like this on social networks, it only takes one or two to make me want to unplug the whole damn thing.  If this is the best that virtual socialites can come up with, then give me less tweets and pokes and a lot more of nothing.
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Pray Tell Prejean

carrie_prejean.jpgAs you may or may not know, Miss California contestant Carrie Prejean was asked a question by Perez Hilton regarding gay marriage during the recent Miss USA pageant.  You can see her response here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XMvviFbkf0 Whether you agree or disagree with her answer is really not the issue.  The real issue is do you think she's hot?  I think she's really hot but that's just Satan trying to tempt me.  Oh, I kid Satan. The good Miss Prejean claims to be a Christian and that's just fine and dandy.  I was raised Catholic so judge not lest ye be judged I think applies here.  Instead, I simply question Miss Prejean's sincerity. Prejean recently released a statement that, in part, reads: "My comments defending traditional marriage have led to intimidation tactics that seek to undermine my reputation and somehow silence me and my beliefs, as if opinion is only a one-way street. I am a Christian, and I am a model. Models pose for pictures, including lingerie and swimwear photos.” Never mind how she chooses to frame the issue. What would Mary Magdalen do? Photos surfaced on thedirty.com of a topless Miss Prejean that she or her spokespeople claimed were taken when she was only 17.  It was later confirmed that the photos were taken, in fact, when she was 18 and with her full consent so she had to backpedal on that one.  I don't claim to be a deeply religious man but I'm pretty sure thou shall pose semi-nude in panties, smiling and looking directly into the camera is not one of the Ten Commandments. A Miss California Pageant official recently confirmed previous reports that Prejean received free breast implants, organized and paid for by the pageant, weeks before the Miss USA competition – presumably because Christians with big boobs have a better chance at winning pageants, just like it says in the Bible. Last year Prejean modeled lingerie for the E! network's pre-Oscar "Countdown to the Red Carpet." Carrie was dressed in a bra, underwear and stilettos.  I think Miss Prejean is cool on that one because in reading the Ten Commandments and scouring my pocket Bible, I could not find anything on thou shall not wear a bra, underwear and stilettos on E!'s Red Carpet. Again and for the record, I'm not judging Carrie for all of the above.  But if being a Christian means walking around in your underwear, posing semi-nude in photographs and getting free boob jobs, then I guess I'm going to Hell. But maybe it's not too late and I can be saved.  Can someone lend me a pair of stilettos and a thong and be brave enough to film/photograph me?
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Will Blog for Tips

tipjar.jpgAlthough they’ve been around forever, I don’t understand why tip jars are necessary in coffee, sandwich or ice cream shops. I assume by the very nature that people work in a place like a sandwich shop that they don’t make much money but panhandling at your job?  C’mon! Why should we stop at the aforementioned establishments?  I don’t feel I get paid enough.  Would it be completely acceptable to put a tip jar on my desk at work?  Why not put out tip jars at the cashiers' checkout line at local supermarkets?  My proctologist does not have a tip jar and if it’s anyone who deserves a tip for poking around back there with a flashlight, it’s him. Then there’s the whole awkwardness of giving someone a tip.  I’m sure most tippees prefer large bills and not change.  Want to see time stand still?  Drop noisy quarters, nickels and pennies in a tip jar and you might as well have farted in the jar and received less guilt to boot. I particularly love the times when I go to put a damn good tip in the jar with dollar bills or a five spot and the schmuck wasn’t even looking.  So I fish out the tip and wait until I have tipper-to-tippee eye contact.  I get in a lot of fights that way.  People always seem to miss the insertion of the tip and only catch the fishing out part. The best tip I could give these people probably would not be taken in the spirit in which it was given – become an exotic dancer.  Now that’s where the real money is at!  No tip jar needed and patrons usually don’t stuff coins down your g-string.
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IWACS

mrphone.jpgThe other day I was relaxing outside at a local pub, soaking up the sun while soaking my liver and I witnessed one of the saddest, funniest things unfold before my eyes. There was a person driving a beat up Volkswagen beetle and while talking on their cell phone drove right into, of all things, a telephone pole. The vehicular/cellular challenged dunderhead was looking straight ahead so it wasn't like he wasn't watching the road. Instead, he apparently was suffering from a very common phenomenon known as idiot-with-a-cell phone syndrome or IWACS for short. Just because you have a cell phone doesn't mean you have to use it all the time, wherever you are, no matter what you're doing. Many people have just turned into walking cell phones. Talking on your cell phone while driving should be an obvious example of what not to do while traveling at 55 miles per hour but let's let that one go. And if you don't think that's an accident waiting to happen, you could be an IWAC. Instead, let's talk about the person who thinks it's absolutely imperative that they take a call while in line at, say, the bank. They endlessly blather on about what they just ate, where, how much it cost, who they were with, why they ate there, how they now have a case of the farts, etc., etc. etc. After about five minutes of mindless chatter, I just want to take their Motorola RAZR and slit my freaking wrists. I still get a kick out of those people who don't trust their technology and feel they have to talk really loudly while using their cell phone as though the person at the other end may not be able to hear them on such a tiny phone. I mean if you're talking to the point of screaming, why use a phone? At that decibel level, the person can probably hear you without the phone. CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW? Why do some people feel they must be in constant communication with everyone on the planet? If you're an IWAC, I have a suggestion for you. Why not do away with your cell phone and learn to be clairvoyant? No pesky phones with dead zones and costly contracts. Just enroll in Madame Babushka's Clairvoyant Academy and you'll be communicating with anyone you wish, whenever you wish, even dead people. “Hi uncle Sylvester. What's hell like? Is it hot? Is it a dry heat or just really humid?”
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Weather Happens

traffic.jpgWill the lord baby Jesus please descend upon Austin, Texas and give everyone who can’t drive in “bad” weather, a brain. I’ve driven in many cities around the world and Austin, by far, has the most dumbass drivers when it comes to a little, tiny bit of rain on the road.  Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you people? Driving in the rain this morning, it took me 45 minutes to travel 100 yards.  And by the way, you drivers who don’t like to use your indicator and jam your car into a line that’s not moving, well, if you ever have the chance to drive yourself off a cliff like a scene from Thelma and Louise, please be my guest. For example, in Mexico, come rain, snow or sunshine, they drive like it’s a big game of bumper cars, literally bumping their taco wagon against yours but at a self-organizing pace that would boggle the mind of many mindless Austin drivers.  Yet as chaotic as traffic in Mexico may be, it moves with surprising speed and fluidity. Consider this an open letter/blog to all Austin drivers who can’t seem to function on the road when weather happens.  If it’s raining, sprinkling or maybe even if there is a little morning dew on the roads, call your boss and tell him or her you’re not coming in today as a public service to Austin roadways and to those who otherwise can drive and chew gum at the same time.
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Love Thy Neighbor, Hate Their Dog Part 2

So it has been awhile since I blogged about my neighbors the Dunderheads and their yapping, 24/7 dogs.  See previous post for background. The Dunderheads continue to seem indifferent if not deaf to the incessant yapping of their dogs that I fondly refer to as Yapper1 and Yapper2. At my wits end, I decided to be the good neighbor and take a civil and mature approach to the situation - I crank called the Dunderheads for two weeks straight.  When they would answer the phone, I'd play them yodeling music from my vast collection of yodeling classics.  This plan seems to have backfired as now Yapper1 and Yapper2 have coincidentally developed a yodeling style of yapping (i.e., a barking yodel).  Curse you Dunderheads! Desperate to silence Yapper1 and Yapper2, I quickly switched to plan B where I stuffed ex-lax® into cheese balls and slipped them under the fence, hoping the mangy mutts would eat them and crap uncontrollably inside the Dunderheads house.  Then when the Dunderheads returned from work, school, wherever, they'd get fed up with the smell of yapper poop and the constant associated clean-up.  It made perfect sense at the time. Several days into plan B and during a drunken, 1am eating binge, I accidentally used one of my cheese ex-lax® concoctions to make some chili con queso that nearly drove me insane with diarrhea that lasted for four days. Needless to say, plan B was a bust. Dehydrated, weak and delirious, I moved to plan C where I released three rattle snakes into the Dunderhead's backyard, hoping they'd fatally wound Yapper1 and Yapper2.  I found the rattle snakes through Craigslist and purchased them from a man in Wimberley.  Once again my plan failed. This time I was bitten by one of the rattlers while I was releasing them into the Dunderhead's backyard.  Luckily Yapper1 came after me while I was semi-unconscious in their backyard and started feverishly sucking/gnawing on my leg where the rattler had bitten me.  This apparently sucked some of the snake venom from my leg and allowed me to escape to my car so I could drive myself to the nearest emergency room. Dehydrated, weak, delirious, poisoned, a loss of feeling in my right leg and feeling my diarrhea return, I arrived at the emergency clinic and instead of hitting the brakes I accidentally hit the gas and drove my car into the lobby of the emergency clinic.  By the way, if you for whatever reason have to go to an emergency clinic and you don't want to wait in line, I highly recommend you drive your car through the lobby because you go straight to the head of the line. When I came to, I apparently had been transferred to a county hospital.  I woke up handcuffed to the bed railing and for a short while was visited by my dead, alcoholic uncle Sylvester and an officer from the Austin police department who never seemed to be wearing any pants. To be continued...
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Love Thy Neighbor, Hate Their Dog

yappydog.jpgThe neighbors that live next door to me have a pair of small dogs that bark 24/7. Actually, the dogs don't have a real bark - it's more like a "YAP!" "YAP, YAP, YAPYAP, YAP, YAPYAP, YAPYAP, YAP, YAP!" I just pulled a chunk of hair off of my head just thinking about them. I don't mind that the neighbor's dogs bark - they are dogs and dogs bark - I get it. What I don't understand is why anyone would let their dogs bark for hours on end and not be annoyed. So as to protect their identity, I'll fictitiously refer to the neighbors as the Dunderheads and to their dogs as Yapper1 and Yapper2. Yapper1 and Yapper2 are the kind of dogs who need no excuse to yap. I could understand if the incessant yapping was due to me climbing over the Dunderhead's fence naked with my hair on fire holding a pitch fork which I have thought of doing after being driven to the brink of insanity due to their yapping. But no, they seem to yap just to yap. I mean try as I may, I can't get inside their little heads to understand why they constantly freaking yap but it probably goes something like, "hey, our idiot owners are the Dunderheads, YAP, YAP! Look at us, we're outside... YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP!" Yapper1 says, "hey Yapper2, look at me. I have a dingleberry stuck on my fur!" To which Yapper2 replies, "HA, HA, YAPYAP, HA, YAP, YAP!" And then they both happily run around the Dunderheads backyard for hours singing, "YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP... YAP, YAP!" If you've ever had a similar situation where your neighbors are idiots with 24/7 yapping dogs, then I'm sure you've contemplated many hideous scenarios of how you could rid yourself of them forever. I use to focus solely on how to get rid of the yappers but I kid you not, these are not the first pair of yappers the Dunderheads have owned. Before Yapper1 and Yapper2 there were Yapper0 and Yapper00. After years of tormenting the neighborhood, Yapper0 and Yapper00 mysteriously disappeared and no, I had nothing to do with it. For weeks thereafter I enjoyed the peace and serenity that comes with being able to sit in my backyard silently experiencing nature as God intended. You can imagine my surprise when weeks later Yapper0 and Yapper00 were replaced with Yapper1 and Yapper2. C'mon!!! Not all freaking dogs yap so what are the odds they can or would find another pair of yapping dogs more annoying than the first pair of yappers? I realize now that I must focus all my energy on not just getting rid or the yappers but the Dunderheads as well. Stay tuned for another post outlining my glorious plan.
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What's That Smell?

evo5000-mask.jpgIs it me or are people farting a lot more in public? I was in a department store the other day and as I turned into the woman's underwear section, a beautiful woman, presumably in her late twenties, hurriedly passed by me as she exited the section.  I took a couple more steps and was greeted with a waft of air so foul I was actually frightened. I slowly turned my head to see if I could catch a glimpse of the fleeing farting femme fatale and to my surprise she was looking back at me with a smile and gave me a Sarah Palin like wink. It's then I realized, I'D BEEN SLIMED. Over the past couple weeks I've noticed public farters, or PF's as they're known, come in all shapes and sizes and vary in levels of discreetness. Some prefer the ever popular stealth, silent but deadly and vanish before they can be seen, leaving some to second guess that maybe they themselves have cut the cheese. “Gosh! I don't see anyone around so that smell must be me.” While others lack any sense of flatulent decorum and lift a leg so as to better release their thunderous noxious gas, furthermore not caring if they are seen, heard or smelled. It's as if they mean to say, “That's right, I'm a PF and what are you gonna do about it?” Don't get me wrong. I'm not a fartist. People are entitled to their gas but can't we agree to release our flatulents the way God intend, in the privacy of our own home and into a Tupperware container for safe keeping? So please, PF's, take some Beano before you go out in public and remember that silent but deadly is not golden.
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The Unknown Blogger’s BIGGEST Pet Peeves

ballcap.jpgWe all have those things that get under our skin and make us crazy! Here’s a short but potent list of mine:
  1. Men in Crocs Saw one at lunch today. It just looks stupid. Ladies- can you not send your man out of the house in something appropriate. Which brings me to another—
  2. Grown men with their ballcaps on backwards- isn’t there an age limit for this? Oh and….
  3. Men in nice restaurants with ball caps on. Why do I even need to bring this up?
  4. People who say “if you don’t like the weather here, wait five minutes.” I’ve lived in 12 different places…they say that EVERYWHERE.
  5. Videos and commercials with women walking in slow motion while fans are blowing their hair. Think Beyonce and Pussycat Dolls. Overdone and not sexy.
  6. Myspace and facebook pictures of a group of girls all with alcoholic beverages in their hands. These pictures are on EVERY girls’ myspace. it screams “the only way I can hang with these ho’s is if I’m hammered.” Is it just me or are girls all alcoholics now?
  7. People who say “if this helps just one person it will be a success”. No it won’t. If you undertake any project and it helps just one person it is a massive failure and a waste of time.
  8. People who are always cold. Eat something!
  9. All these different handshakes. Chest bumping, butt bumping, high fives, low fives, finger snapping….JUST TAKE MY HAND AND SHAKE IT LIKE A MAN.
  10. Fantasy football. Can I watch a game without all this stupid information scrolling everywhere, just so you can lose all your money, and just because you were never picked to actually play IN a real game of football?
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