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About Madjack

  • Birthday 05/28/1968

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  1. Another stupid fuckin Hawkeye.... what the fuck is Ferentz teaching those fucks?
  2. Every morning during football season, we'd walk in there while waiting for the school bus and the Giants would be eating breakfast. Bill Swain, Bobby Crespino, Katcavage, Homer Jones, Robustelli. Homer Jones once dropped a perfect spiral I threw to him. OF course he had his dry cleaning in one hand.
  3. George Brett once told my dad "Fuck you, you wish you can play like I can" What a douchebag. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-ZRwwODYmA&feature=related
  4. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Xipza9joNw&feature=PlayList&p=1B734F7DD1948948&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=49
  5. To be fair - George doesn't seem to have a big vocabulary. I know some guys in KC that worked in his rest. -- big drinker & tipper. -- big temper too. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GS9ft_7UeEw&feature=related
  6. I doubt greenies affected a genneration of players who stayed in the minors becaused they followed the rules and didn't abuse roids... verses the guys who not only kept their careers going longer but broke records in the process.
  7. What's A-Roid say to Mattingly on his way to the HOF? "you missed out on some experiementation...or you'd be in too" ----- ? -- Pete Rose admitted doing wrong too - can he get in the HOF now too?
  8. Could you imagine reunions? "Okay - now how bout one of just the MVP'S" "Coop, pass the potatos to your MVP champion brother - the OTHER one"
  9. Fuckin' Archie... what do you suppose that ol feller gits for a droplette of MVP jizz? DERE'S GOLD IN DAT DERE ROD.
  10. Madjack


    Sometimes if see a pair of siscors or a really large sharp knife - ya know laying out... I gotta stop my initial urge to chop of a digit. -- I don't touch the knife or pick up the siscors or anything ... it just crosses my mind -- so - naturally I go to -- what digit. -- Which one would I go with... and I always end up on a toe. -- I KNOW if I hacked a toe off I'd be fucked... but that's besides the point... that I don't really vaule my toes. Or at least one of them. That's just kinda sad. Sometimes if I'm out at a bar and I notice by whichever unguided evil compells me... that I end up with someone elses lighter is in my pocket. -- Ya, I'm THAT guy... I suck. -- How bad? -- So bad that once I become aware of my infraction... I begin to pocket as many at that point in time as I possibly can... for the remainder of the evening... my single purpose in life is give my stolen loot - pocket buddies. -- I don't concentrait on conversations... I can barely maintain eye contact... I'm working your fucking bic - and it don't matter what you do... - it's going in my fucking pocket. -- I like to return the lighters at the end of the night - with a flourish. One that says... HA-HA!!... this IS your lighter... and stealing it was my entertainment. I have no friends. Sometimes if I'm making an omlete... I talk to it. -- "That's it bitch - bubba-up fo yo daddy... you gettin' a little bit firm? wha? huh? - dat's okay eggritto baby... I'm taking your cheesy filled vulva to Denver... SHALLOTS!!" Sometimes when I'm checking out at the grocery... and say I have an enormously large cartfull... while my grocery total mounts... I try to - as fast as I possibly can -- like it's a race... fill out ALL possilbe pre-total information I can manage on the check - until all feilds are full... then - by reward... I drop my pen - and use both hands - thumb and index - to tune in my bubble gum pink nipple radio dials... I bite and chew my bottom lip like a china man and rock my head up and down like I'm saying - YES-YES-YES.... Some of the more peirced goth high school kids like checking me out espeically. I want to me known as Nipple Guy by Fall. Sometimes I've recently used the alias Fred Zepplin. Sometimes I wonder if General Tso's Chicken and Chicken With Orange Peel are simply some old ladies Mr. Pinkers with a slighly different plumb sauce/soy base. Sometimes I day dream when buying stamps at the post office - waiting in line the long line -- about ordering a pizza from a place i never frequent... order my favorite... and wait for the delievery person wearing a chicken mask on my head - and a carhart tan leather work glove on my cock & balls... nothing elese... cept maybe a poorly self written Sharpee "What? What" faux inked GANGSTA letters arching over my belly button. -- Oh I'd INSIST we didn't order a pizza.. but then *since it'd be a flavor I'd enjoy... I'd try to negotiate a reduced fee. -- don't worry - I'd tip. Sometimes I like to have realtors walk me through store front properties - while I explain that it's imparative that my dojo have enough ceiling space for me to flight kick. - That my purposes of renting the space are to continue my self-invented martial arts. In a studio for my growing class roster for the big match with the Cobra Kia. Sometimes when I'm in a pick up b-ball game - I like to accuse whoever is gaurding me of getting wood. -- and then begin to wink and blow kisses at the defender anytime I square up to the hoop. Sometimes I like to initiate conversations by offering an obnoxiously obvioulsy wrong statement about a sport I know very little about -- and follow any further argument to contrary with what is known as the Uniform Excuse- and begin making up lies about the teams original racist mascott that has since cursed the teams future. For real. Sometimes when I go to the movies and the coming attractions are being shown and if there is a slight pause in a dialog section - in that intial quiet hush of the respectable movie house audience - I like to say "GET YER OWN DANG MILK DUDES -FUCK! PIG! BITCH!..." Sometimes there's too much month at the end of the xanax.* Tommy Womack. mj
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