Their uniforms may say “Jays” on them, but they can’t fool me – those are the cheerleaders for the Winnipeg Blue Bombers.
Why the team took their star offensive end and put him in a cheerleader’s uniform is beyond me, but maybe, just maybe they’re going to use him for that special trick play they keep saying they’re going to run – “Fat daddy, chubby mommy, fumblerooski, Statue of Liberty, swinging gate on 2 on 2″.
Consider this your morning cup of Victory Coffee.
Sure, this video is about soccer, somewhat, but it doesn’t involve watching 90 minutes of sludge, or listening to that horrible vuvuzela.
Have a pleasant day.
Is anyone in Mitchieville interested in the World Cup? Ya, me neither. What a completely useless sport soccer is. Sure, I understand if you grew up and your folks didn’t have any money, or you immigrated here from one of those terribly smelly countries, that you are probably interested in soccer, but as for The Mayor – I can’t wrap my head around any sport where there is absolutely NO ACTION EVER. EVA!!!
Nothing EVER happens in soccer. It’s like 90 minutes of watching fruity dudes who fall down a lot after nothing happened to them, chase a ball that they most likely won’t even try to score with, and then congratulate each other for doing ZIPPO. And then the game ends 0-0. Three shots on goal for one team and four for the other, and the announcer says, “what a thrilling and entertaining game”.
Plus, is there some sort of rule in soccer that if you want to play you have to have extremely greasy hair?
I know there will be some of you that are probably offended that The Mayor just insulted soccer. Think about how The Mayor feels for a second. I use to think you were cool. Now I hear you like watching greasy, fruity dudes who fall down a lot. Ya, feel my pain for a second. Unlike soccer players, I have actual, real pain.
**The Daily What provided the pic
A female runner who won gold in the 800m World Athletics Championship has been forced to take a gender test after accusations that she is actually a he:
South African Caster Semenya, 18, had to take a gender test after doubts were raised about her sex.
But despite the furore, she easily took gold in the final in Berlin.
The teenage sensation has sparked controversy over her strikingly muscular physique.
Today officials at the world athletics body, the IAAF, revealed that it ordered her to take a gender test three weeks ago.
IAAF spokesman Nick Davies confirmed the tests were taking place, though he said the results would not be confirmed for several weeks.
Until the results are confirmed, there was nothing to prevent Semenya from competing in tonight’s final, he said.
He added: ‘At this moment in time we do not have any evidence to stop her running.’
How can a gender test possibly take several weeks? I could do it in 4 seconds. “Pull down your pants — if there is a penis then you’re a guy, if there is a vagina you are a woman. If there’s neither, you are a liberal.” Ta da, look at me, I’m a doctor.
Of course this chick is a dude, it’s as obvious as the weiner that’s tucked into your pussy. His name is Caster Semenya. Don’t you get it? Caster — the short form of *castration*, and Semenya, meaning, *semen* (that’s obvious) and *ya*. Semen? Ya.
To recap: The castration part refers to the twig and two berries Castor had lopped off when he decided to become a dame. Semenya simply means that at one time ya, he had semen. Now however, he is a semen importer and not an exporter. That’s just the way he rides.
Plus, bitch has an Adam’s apple.
Fortunately for you, that’s your fetish.
From the look of things, Bulgaria has a decent chance of winning the women’s shotput in the next Olympics.
Great pic, poor post. Think you can do better? Let’s have it…
This lovely looking woman who is hugging a tree while contemplating smashing someones head in with a tropical fruit, possibly a guava, is Alexandra Kosteniuk of Russia. This 24 year old is the Women’s World Chess Champion, a grandmaster (not like the KKK kind, even though that might be the Grand Wizard–neep neep, Freddy’s the devil), and a mother of one. And she’s pretty hot despite her violent temper and racist affiliations.
Now there’s not a reason in the world for me to post this, but I understand from Google Trends that Alexandra Kosteniuk’s name is the highest rated search currently on the go at 9 pm Sunday night. So what I’m doing is a little hit-baiting, seeing as if I will get zillions of hits by just posting a few pictures of Alexandra Kosteniuk while constantly typing her name. Her name being Alexandra Kosteniuk.
Truth be told, I don’t play chess and I really have no idea how to. But even though I admit freely that chess isn’t my game, I will attempt to make a sexual joke involving chess and Alexandra Kosteniuk. Here we go: Man, Alexandra Kosteniuk is so hot that I’d like to shove a bishop up her ass.
You’re right, that wasn’t funny at all. The truth seldom is.
Alexandra Kosteniuk. Yes, I said Alexandra Kosteniuk.
If you’re wondering how and why this picture represents Sports Week, I suggest grabbing that knitting needle you have in your hand and shoving it straight into your face. Pictures like this are not to be questioned, they are manna from heaven and we should thank any God but the Christian God that they were sent to us.
Let us pray.
Dear Lord and heavenly father, thank you for the picture you have sent down from above. I realize I am a sinner, and a shitty dresser, and I thank you from my pear shaped heart for everything you have provided me.
May you look over me (but not for the next 15 minutes), and especially The Mayor, and give him extra special blessings for being your conduit by bringing me a picture that is worthy of my desktop.
All this in your heavenly name,
Amen
I was going to run a week full of pictures dedicated to the American election, but truth be told, I’m sick as hell with everything to do with that stupid fixed election, so I decided to dedicate this week to chicks with enormous breasts. Goodbye American election, hello American erection. Stick that in your ballot box and hang like a chad (yes, I realize that doesn’t make any sense). Hey, look, a chick with enormous breasts!
The top ranked female tennis player in the world, Justine Henin, retired from tennis today at the age of just 25:
She said she felt it was the end of the road and that her body didn’t heal as well as when she was younger.
Fair enough.
Here’s a little information about what Justine has accomplished in her few short years on planet earth:
Henin captured every major tennis event, with the exception of Wimbledon. She even helped tiny Belgium win its first and only Fed Cup title back in 2001 and was a two-time winner of the prestigious year-end Tour Championships.“Pound for pound Justine is the greatest player of her generation,” said WTA Tour founder and tennis legend Billie Jean King.
I think the most amazing thing about all this, the thing that is so incredible, so astonishing, is the fact that I have never heard of this pug-faced little troll.
It was a sad day in the Reginaldson house last Saturday when my modem crashed and I was left without home Internet access. Sadness turned into gloom when one of Bell Sympatico’s finest minds in Bombay told me it would be a few days before I got a replacement modem. Gloom turned into despair when I got home late Wednesday and I found out my modem was at the Post Office but the damned Post Office isn’t open at 10:30 at night. Despair turned into sheer panic yesterday after I plugged in the new modem and still no connection! A sacrificial offering in the name of Set and another call to Bell this morning and BOOYAH – I’m back.
.jpg)
.jpg)
Logan and I are going with a theme this week which I’m sure the more perceptive of you will figure out right away. It sucks to be Logan btw (heh heh). He may be in Vegas today, but I got to go to Mississauga on Wednesday for work (if there is anything more exciting than a 5 hour meeting at an airport hotel in Mississauga I don’t know what it is). After the meeting my boss took us to supper at a new restaurant called Canyon Creek. After falling in love with my waitress (hi Tia!) I fell in love with a 16oz Pork Chop that was smothered in this tasty ligonberry sauce. I have no idea what a ligonberry is or where it comes from – it sure as hell isn’t native to Belleville – but it is damned tasty! With no Internet access for the week I didn’t have time to find new Female Flesh pics so I stole the pit pics above from our sister blogger Ice. If you find yourself at Canyon Creek this weekend try the Pork Chop and tell them that the guy from Belleville sent you. Oh, the Brownie and Vanilla Ice Creme for dessert is to die for.
Posted in Belleville, Friday Night Female Flesh, Sports babes, Toronto City of Light | Comments Off
I did something I don’t normally do today: work. I’ve been working a Sunday – Thursday schedule for the past 7 years and rarely ever work on Friday. After the day I had I’ve come to the conclusion that working Friday sucks.
I’m sure I’m not the first person to ever think of this and can’t help but think that if we had a Lord Mayor who lived up to his officious sounding title a by-law would have been passed years ago mandating a 4 day, 32 hour, Monday – Thursday work week. I can’t help but think that a *BITCH* Mayor would be more amenable to an easier shorter work week because the women of *BITCH* don’t like work hard and tend to enjoy their down-time.
I have no idea who the golfer in on the left is but she seems to have the perfect form for a female golfer. I have no proof, but I am somewhat sure that the girl on the right is our golfer girl in casual attire. Either way you – you the men of Mitchieville – win. Golf and Girls, the only thing missing is beer and music. Check back later as I’m sure Lisa “Hillary-Rodham” Foggy has a Man Flesh post in the works.
I apologize for stating that there was a photograph circulating on the internet of Jiri Tlusty giving oral pleasure to a fellow male and for suggesting that such photograph exposed Mr. Tlusty’s secret life.
I feel so bad that I would like to fisk my own apology. Please bear with me, as my glasses are fogged up with tears.
I apologize for stating that there was a photograph circulating on the internet …
Quite so. It appears to be all over the covers of newspapers. So, I was wrong to say that the photo was on the internet. This is an error of fact. I can even prove I was wrong:
It appears that the photo was not on the internet, but on the cover of the Toronto Sun. An entirely different media, as different as an orange is from its fellow fruit, the apple. And, of course, the newspapers have it on their websites, too (here for example).
… of Jiri Tlusty giving oral pleasure to a fellow male …
Moving on in my catalog of errors, we now deal with the issues of a) oral, b) pleasure, and c) male.
a) Oral. From the photograph we can see that the tongue to lip contact is suggested, but not emphasized. Perhaps tongue, lip, or maxillofacial would be more accurate. The breast squeezing that appears to be implied has been ignored, too. I am sure the judge at the libel trial will lecture me on my poor command of english at sentencing.
b) Pleasure. There is no concrete way of knowing if both participants are feeling pleasure. There is doubt, or doubt can be created through suitable telemarketing methods. Only interrogation of both parties could establish if both are feeling pleasure. I doubt that Jiri will testify that he was experiencing pleasure when this picture was taken, which will prove that I was wrong.
c) Male. Living in Toronto, close to The Rainbow Village, one should never assume that just because someone assumes the outer attributes of the male role, does not mean that their birth gender is the same. Indeed, the ‘male’ here could be a cross-dressing female, or even a mannequin (such as found here * ). So, we must doubt the evidence of our senses.
Therefore, I was wrong to assume that Jiri was having pleasure whilst doing whatever was being done (certainly not oral) with this creature (possibly not human, and certainly not male) of indeterminate gender.
… and for suggesting that such photograph exposed Mr. Tlusty’s secret life
This, I now sadly realize, is wrong in so many ways. Let me elaborate on just one of the errors in this sentence fragment, to show how crushed in spirit I am. This cannot be a secret life if one is snapping pictures of oneself. You can read all the lurid details here * . Obviously, it is anything but secret. So, I was wrong. Infact, Jiri Tlusty is now a media star, just like Paris Hilton. There is nothing secret to see here.
I am ignorant of Canadian Law. My background is in Roman Law. So when I read in the scary letter I got from Jiri’s lawyer that
This posting is an invasion of Mr. Tlusty’s privacy and places at risk Mr. Tlusty’s ability to make a livlihood with the Toronto Maple Leafs Hockey Club.
This spoke to my heart. Especially after reading that the Toronto team had rallied behind Jiri. Everyone knows about the Roman emperors Maximinus Thrax (murdered by the Senate * ), Aurelian (murdered by his own troops * ), or the two emperors Trebonianus Gallus and Gaius Vibius Volusianus (murdered by their own troops at the same time * ). So that the fact that the team is rallying behind him does not mean that they are rallying behind him, but that they are plotting to get rid of him (which would encompass placing ‘… at risk Mr. Tlusty’s ability to make a livlihood with the Toronto Maple Leafs Hockey Club’).
Another aspect of Roman Law is the privilege that comes with wealth, fame, and power. While Jiri Tlusty does not have power (in the form of a private standing army), he does have wealth and fame. When Jiri unleashes his legal team against me, I do not have the resources to resist him. I will lose in court, and will be ruined financially for life. Having met the first of his demands, that the offending verbage and link be removed, I now face the next assault from his well-financed team. I am doomed. Roman culture is filled with examples of the mighty squishing the weak. Jiri is wise to go after small fish such as myself, and leave the big, powerful entities alone. These non-pictures, that do not show anyone having oral pleasure with anything that could be considered male, are proudly displayed, and continue to be, by those entities that are of our cultures powerful senatorial class. They have the means to fight for their freedom of speech, and I do not. As for an unimportant worm such as myself, I am squished, like the Dacian warlord Decebalus *. I have no wealth, I have no fame, and, or course, I have no armaments.
As I said, I apologize.
I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this.
For your amusement, while you listen to the Lions roar and wait for me to be dragged into the arena, the pertinent linky links:
“Lusty Tlusty” High Sticks Mitchieville
