The Pen Fifteen Club was established in the summer of 2007 out of shared love for all things dealing with spite, embarrassment, and shame.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Brain Droppings by Drew Bledsoe
Fridge here. On a recent archaeological dig, Ron Von Don and I unearthed a secret diary written by one of New England's favorite sports heroes of all time. What follows are some one-liners written by former Patriots quarterback/role model/model American Drew Bledsoe. Enjoy:
Brain Droppings by Drew Bledsoe...what a cool title for my diary. Its the same two letters but in a different order! BD by DB. I hope no one thinks I'm calling myself a dumb-bell with the initials DB though!
I don't care what people say, Terry Glenn has the softest hands of any man who has ever touched me.
I had a QB Club '95 tournament on Super Nintendo at my house last weekend, but nobody showed except Rick Mirer.
Whatever happened to Eve 6?
How come no one wears denim overalls with one strap unbuckled anymore?
Note to Bledsoe: Get battleship tattoo on chest.
I think that French Stewart is a comedic genius! I know I can't squint and talk at the same time.
Is raw venison considered a performance enhancing drug? I hope this doesn't affect my chances at the Hall of Fame.
Tom Brady's got such a high pitched voice. He sounds like a squealing pig when he's calling audibles. My linemen like my deep voice "OMAHA, OMAHA, 53's the Mike!!"
Speaking of Brady, I don't know why he's always going for the skinny chicks. The looser the waistband, the deeper the quicksand.
I contend that dial-up internet is far more useful than the cable or DSL stuff. It is much more challenging to hold back when I'm watching porn and it takes 15 minutes to load one thirty second scene.
I still pop cedar when I see Farrah Fawcett, even when she's on the intro for Tales from the Crypt.
Grilled cheese and tomato soup makes me feel better when I'm feeling blue.
Hybrid cars are for poor people who can't afford gasoline.
Why do we need nuclear warheads? Doesn't the government know they could just let me stand on the beach on the east coast and throw grenades into Iran?
How come no one likes my Zubaz pants?
Any stadium that uses a cannon to launch promotional items into the stands hasn't seen old DB get his mitts on a balled up t-shirt.
Charlton Heston is my President.
Labels:
archaeology,
diaries,
Drew Bledsoe,
Quality athletes
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