Just because I’d do unspeakable things to Albert Pujols for far less money than it would take for me to do them to any other man (and we’re talking millions vs. billions here), it doesn’t mean that he is, in fact, my #1 man crush. Nope. AP makes my world turn, yes, but he doesn’t invoke those pure feelings of affection. For me, it’s good ole “Ocho Cinco.”

That’s right. Chad Johnson. Not my favorite athlete…but the one dude I wish I could call up to ride bikes with. Never mind that “eighty-five” en Espanol is actually “ochenta y cinco”…it’s all good. He shaved the mohawk cuz they lost last week (and you know he didn’t want to see that go, but the wager was quality). He’s 100% colorful…fun to the point that he called out Ray Lewis this week (the baddest man in the NFL), and Ray was cheezin the whole time he responded to it. He can’t be mad at my guy.

Oh yeah, he’s also a money performer, although this season has not been his best. His coach told him to chill at the start of the season, but he’s announced that he’s gonna be ignoring that advice from now on. Look for CJ to crank up both the TDs and the celebrations right through the playoffs.

His work ethic is strong (although the humility angle in this link may be overplayed…I saw him declare himself the “best receiver in the NFL on TV this morning).

Most importanly, the dude loves his team and (in spite of his personal antics) is programmed to win games. Example? This was after they lost a game last year to the Jags.

Here’s to you, Ocho Cinco…can you come outside and play kickball?

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Happened to me this morning…

So you went out last night because you’ve got a 4-day weekend (canceled classes are beautiful). You hit the bar with your peeps and decide that it would be a good idea to supplement your beer supply with several rounds of shots taken with your homeboy who used to play O-line at Missouri. Sure, you can keep up with him.

Wake up at 8. You’re feelin real good. Surprisingly good. No headache. You start gettin shit done. Work around the house for a couple hours. Then it happens.

You don’t even notice the fart when you emit it, but it hits you fully in the face. Then you realize you just farted, and it was something that could only be the result of some sort of evil jedi power. It’s the opening shot of the aftermath. You straighten your body and make a face as if you’ve just completely befuddled yourself. You feel like you somehow just contorted yourself such that your ass was an inch from your face when you let rip (man, this dude is REALLY feelin’ it). Then (and this is the good part) you actually move away from where you were standing…as if your ass isn’t gonna follow you wherever you go. In your head you’re asking, “Why did I just do that to myself?” Then you walk away feeling like a true warrior.

One of life’s most golden 10-second moments. That and the orgasm (or as the Spankster used to call it, the “female-induced orgasm”).

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