We swear we're not lazy, we've actually been busy.

We apologize for the scarcity of posts recently, but we’ve been swamped at our real gig (and as much as we like this one, those Goggle AdSense dollars don’t pay the rent) and unable to blog beneath our boss’s nose. You understand, right? We’re sure the six of you still with us do. At any rate, to catch up we’re going all out with a hot ass August edition of Things We Know.

1.) The Colts should absolutely NOT sign Tank Johnson.
- Sure, Lovie Smith has talked him up to Tony Dungy and he’s a quality DT, but this is not the solution to the Colts defensive problems. He can’t even play for the first eight regular season games. By all means Bill Polian, take a long look at Gerard Warren and Warren Sapp, just keep away from Tank.

2.) Superbad is going to be the shit.
- We’ll be seeing it tonight or tomorrow, but some friends in the industry have seen test screenings and say it may be the best yet from Apatow and Co. “Better than Virgin?” we asked. “Yep, better than Virgin,” they responded. So there’s that.

3.) Michael Vick is headed for the concrete floor hotel.
- All indications point to a plea deal being struck sometime today. In other news, our Vick dog chew toy is on backorder and should be here by the season opener.

4.) You should NOT go see The Ten.
- We know it’s tempting, because Paul Rudd is in it, but you’ll thank us later.

5.) Monday Night Football is tolerable again.
- We’ve always had a soft spot for Ron Jaworski and his Ivy League-style breakdown of film, but we never imagined how wonderful he’d be in the Monday Night booth. He even makes Kornheiser funny again.

6.) If you’re not psyched for this weekend’s Cards/Cubs series, get fucked.
- Both teams are within 2 ½ games of first place in the NL Central, and they get it on four times at Wrigley. This is as good as baseball gets, people, even if it’s two mediocre teams from a shitty division.

7.) The new Madden is – pardon our cliché – the balls!
- We have yet to take the Xbox 360 plunge (though the price drop has us wavering), but we’ve been playing it at work all week and it’s great. Not late 90’s/early 00’s great, but as great as it gets with an exclusive NFL license.

8.) Did anyone else know that The Invasion comes out this weekend?
- Here’s another lesson kids: stop remaking classic films that were just fine to begin with.

9.) Mercifully, John From Cincinnati was killed in its sleep.
- We watched one episode and gave up. Others were more lenient, patient and forgiving, but what did they ultimately gain?

10.) David Beckham still doesn’t have our attention.
- Even though we live in Los Angeles (Santa Monica, really), we couldn’t care less. And, apparently, so could the rest of you.

Benadryl makes your fingers sleepy...

We had a minor allergic reaction this morning to some kind of fruit - what we're not sure - so you'll have to excuse us if we're not operating at 100 percent. On the plus side, we're no longer blotchy and swollen. The downside, of course, is that our fingers feel like little Gilbert Browns banging away. Horrible mental image there, no? We're currently double fisting Red Bulls in an effort to compensate, just the sort of thing a doctor would tell us not to do. Screw doctors.

It's a sad, sad sports world out there

Michael Vick owns the airwaves, the NBA is going the way of the shitter, and the Colts may lose one of their offensive cornerstones. That and we had to get several stitches over the weekend because we're idiots. You'll have to excuse if we're not feeling very chipper. We plan to weigh in on all these issues soon enough, trust us. It just might be a little bit.

What would your memoir be called?

Nikki Sixx, the Motley Crue bassist when the penchant for the needle, has a memoir forthcoming with a title that just tickles us silly: Heroin Diaries. A little too on the head, no? But it got us thinking, what would the memoirs of some of today's most successful athletes and entertainers be called? We're taking a few shots in the dark:

Kobe Bryant - She wanted it, and other tales of how I was wronged.

Brad Pitt - Sure, she has great tits, but how many kids this bitch need?

Tom Brady - "She has my bastard in her belly": How three rings turned my life into a circus.

Michael Barrett - Four years and they didn't even let me keep the mask.

Matthew "Talented Mr. Roto" Berry - Stephen Jackson, karoake girl, and other bad decisions...

Matthew McConaughey - Shirtless: How I parlayed a cheesy mustache into a lucrative career.

Newspapers - Fuck you Internet!

James Blunt - Panty Raid: Pasty white guys built like girls can get some, too.

Mark Prior - We'll always have 2003...

Sarah Silverman - Danica Patrick made me do it.

Aw mannnnnnnnnnn...

Honestly, this whole week with all the E3 shit has really messed us up, internally and externally. We're not sure what we'll have up the rest of today, but if it's sparse we apologize. Not only is it a slow news cycle, but we're on zero sleep.

Beckham is coming, Beckham is coming!

Fuck Gabbo, we Angelenos have something far greater headed our way: the Beckhams! And, thankfully, W Magazine has only amped our anticipation of their arrival with a series of revealing photos of them - in their undies, post-coitus, and, uh, on cars and stuff. This little publicity stunt is quite similiar to a feature the magazine ran on Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie back before Shiloh came to light. Sports at Random has a shot-by-shot recap of the lubed-up super couple, if you're into that. Of course, you could just go out and buy the magazine, couldn't you?

Uh...what the picture says

Our workplace has gone E3 crazy today people, and as such our server has gone batshit. We hope to be back up later today, but we'll keep you posted. Sorry. We've really dropped the ball the past two weeks.

Still not sure what's going on with this headline business, but in case you were wondering, here's what we would've used: We'd love to give Dane Cook the super finger.

On closer inspection, that sounds obscene and horrible, kind of like discovering that Dane Cook will be the centerpiece of MLB's largest ever postseason marketing blitz. It's called "There's Only One October," just as there's only one Dane Cook. Deadspin mirrors our feelings on Cook, and kindly points us in the direction of someone who perfectly articulates just how horrible - and far-reaching - an influence Cook has been.

We've been gone a long time, we shouldn't have left you (insert your own Aaliyah lyrics here)

We know, we were originally supposed to be back on Thursday, but due to some personal and professional requirements we were unable to make good. We apologize - profusely. We'll try and make it up to you with some outstanding content the next few days. Of course, that whole MLB All-Star Game has us a bit enraptured and we might struggle.

Sorry everybody, we're dumbasses

We just realized that in our final post on Tuesday we wrote that we'd be back Thursday. That's crazy talk. We'll be back tomorrow, and we'll hit the ground running. There'll be no running today. No running at all. But we might get the urge to do an update or two throughout the day. We just don't know.

Stephanie Tanner, trading meth for massive cleavage...

We usually stick to what we know, which surely isn't breast implants, but when we encountered these photos a few minutes ago we stopped in our tracks. We grew up on Full House, back before Bob Saget was a dirty old man popping up in awful Jamie Kennedy movies and John Stamos was a washed-up TV actor starring on washed-up TV shows. Because of our connection to the show, this is proof we have offically entered the "old as fuck" zone. Now back to your regularly scheduled blogging...

This way you get a wife and a daughter - brilliant!

Thanks to College Game Balls for leading us to this story, although it's totally fouled up our morning. Apparently, a North Carolina high school track coach is marrying one of his athletes, a 16-year-old runner. The marriage was the end result of this mess, but it's not like they got drunk one night in Vegas and made an ill-advised decision.

During Windy's freshman year, her 38-year-old track coach, Brenton Wuchae, began taking a more active interest in her, offering to give the 14-year-old rides home from practice.

Then came the 2 a.m. text messages, the disturbing e-mails, and - finally - the nuptials. Stories like this are why we are waiting forever to have children. And, if it's at all possible, we will have three boys first so our daughter will have an umbrella of enforcers protecting her from this scenario. We've come a long way from Leave it to Beaver, people.

The worst music video you can imagine

We've officially dubbed this Lazy Video Post Day. If you have a problem with that, write your congressman. We'd do the same, but we've yet to register to vote in California (we don't want jury duty) and we're not sure who runs our district in the backwoods of Illinois. Anywho, don't ask us why, but this song popped into our heads a few minutes ago. Naturally, we rushed to YouTube.

Back in the day, when we were slaving as an usher in a movie theatre, this track used to play endlessly on the deplorable audio invention known as Movie Tunes. We hated it then, we hate now, and we want you to hate it as well.



We're not vindictive, but any song that gets away with "shooby-doo-wop and scooby snacks" has it coming.

Just in case you were wondering...

...why our blog signature is bsanders37...



Yeah, we know the video sucks for the first couple minutes, but our high school and college number was 37 and we were an undersized OLB who played too aggressive for his size. Hope that clears things up. We've only had a few people inquire, but we just wanted to keep things lucid.

Yeah bitch, we're still drinking...

We feel this is of note only because we were once in the presence of this large man while he sipped a 40 oz. beer, toyed with a member of his entourage in a game of golden tee and, later, the breasts of a fellow bar patron. Vin Baker was charged with drunken driving early Tuesday morning. At the time we saw him imbibing (March circa 2006), Vin had already been cut or released by the Celtics, Knicks and Rockets and was on his way out with the Clippers. It was rumored (and later confirmed) that he'd often show up to practice still drunk from the night before.

Now, we are in no position to judge Baker. If showing up to work still drunk from the night before were a crime, we'd have been hauled away years ago. We once showed up to do our community service (collecting Christmas gifts for the Angel Tree) for underage drinking still packing at least a .10. Our heart goes out to the man, who's obviously dealing with some demons that refuse to vacate the premises. Baker's a multi-millionaire who, at 35, managed to drink himself out of his profession.

Now that's sad. But what else does he have to do?

WTF, Ridley? Monopoly?

We don't really have much else to say about the matter other than this: Why the hell is Ridley Scott thinking about turning Monopoly into a full-length feature film? Mousetrap, we could see, but Monopoly? Yee gads.

Random rant, apropos of nothing: Coffee in the summer

It's a balmy 82 degrees in Santa Monica this morning, and we're drinking coffee. Why? Because we're putzes. That, and we have a secret, sensual affair with Starbucks we're ashamed to admit unless protected by a pseudonym. We shouldn't be drinking coffee in the summer. We shouldn't be buying coffee from Starbucks, under any circumstances. But we can't stop it, because the concept ropes us in so brilliantly.

You give them $3.85, they give you enough energy to get through the first two hours of the day. Then, you go back, drop another gallon's worth of gas money, and stay fueled until lunch. Bear in mind throughout this period of time you will nearly piss yourself, spend 30 minutes in the bathroom just urinating, and there's a good chance you'll have pit stains by 10 a.m.

It's a love/hate relationship and this has been a completely useless post. We're sorry, the caffeine is kicking in and we're having trouble finding the home row on our keyboard. Fuck you, Starbucks, you've ruined our lives.

We're back...

We know you were freaking out, but don't worry our days of rest are at an end. And holy balls did we miss a lot of stuff. Turns out LeBron is God, the Cubs are cooked, all MLB managers have lost their minds, everyone is going to die on The Sopranos, summer TV still isn't here yet, Knocked Up is great, Pirates is still going strong, and we just found our book of the complete Freaks and Geeks scripts. We couldn't be more excited. Well, maybe if the Cards could make up a little more ground in the NL Central. Then we'd be positively geeked.

Sorry, folks, we're on vacation

Like Forrest Gump's father, we're taking a bit of a breather. Don't worry, though, dear readers - all three of you - we'll be back on Tuesday with more on A-Rod sticking it to his wife, the Bluejays, and sports in general. Oh, and the NBA Finals might be set by then. Yay for that.