Beer Pong gives you herpes.

Unprotected beer pong play is the cause of a significant increase in the transmission of herpes simplex virus-1 (HSV-1), which causes cold sores. According to the Center for Disease Control, reports of the virus are up 230-percent from 2007 in people ages 17 to 21, and it’s all from sharing cups. Because of the dramatic increase in the illness, universities and parents are beginning to take notice.

From Bannedinhollywood.com:

“This epidemic is something we should pay close attention to. We’re aware that we cannot outright prevent [beer pong], so we have provided new red cups available to all students in the dorms,” said President of Arizona State University, Michael M. Crow.

And you can always play a different game. According to CDC spokesman, Dr. Cole Desorio, “Flip cup is great because each individual has their own cup. If it’s absolutely necessary to play beer pong, use the waterfall method. Many young adults, when asked if they practice safe pong, responded that they rinse the ball after it bounces off the table.”

First of all, it’s awesome that a doctor at the CDC knows what “waterfall” means. Second, how f**king dumb do you have to be to think that washing off the ball is going to make a herpes-lick of difference when it comes to spreading diseases from one person to the next. C’mon people, you’re smarter than that! You know, or not…

I was watching the Yankees while running last night and didn’t recognize this man:

It’s Yankees slugger Jason Giambi.  Sporting a mustache.  Not sure why, but he just became more bad ass than ever.  Unless you’re a cop or state trooper, it’s nearly impossible to pull off the look.

Some people can…

Some people can’t…

Some should never try to grow one again…

No matter what, the ’stache deserves respect and should be feared at all times.

Last year I ran the Rochester Half-Marathon. Naturally, progression would have me running the full marathon in September. I’ve been training for some weeks now and have decided…Rather than run the marathon, I shall ruin the marathon.

I mean, what’s easier? Running 26.2 miles on a Sunday morning, or practicing handing out cups of vinegar to the race front runners?

Don’t get me wrong, ruining a marathon will be hard work. Chipping potholes throughout the course with a pickax is labor intensive. But endurance ruining is all about pushing through the pain.

My training starts bright and early with a full breakfast of espresso, some diet pills, and a small bag of rock candy. It keeps me edgy and volatile when I’m in the thick of disrupting a tight race. Also—and I can’t stress this enough—it’s very important to stretch properly before and after yelling derogatory remarks at Kenyans. You don’t want your legs cramping up on the way to the escape route.

After you’ve been ruining a marathon for a couple hours, your body will just take over and you won’t even realize that you’re spoiling the day for everyone. I call that getting in the “ruiner’s zone.” It’s like my arms and legs could just keep dumping buckets of cooking oil off a 490 overpass forever. When you get there, more than ever, it’s important to keep focused and not let your mind wander. You’ve got a lot of race to wreck, and you’ve got to keep your mind sharp for what’s coming up ahead.

It’s good to make a checklist in my mind, so I don’t get distracted on race day. Are there any cables or streamers around that I can use as trip wires? Do I hip-check the guy in front of me or stop abruptly and trip up the three people behind?

If I make all the right decisions, and really push myself, I could ruin this marathon in record time.

I’ve been setting small, manageable goals for myself, starting with printing out “Marathon Continues to the Right” signs and pasting them up by the on-ramp to the interstate. Once I’m comfortable with that, I’ll work my way up to a larger goal, like loading up on carbs and dairy so I can vomit all over the finish line.

Race day is coming. No more excuses. No more letting my own fears, or Sandy’s sobbing pleas, or the combined efforts of city and state law enforcement agencies get in the way of me accomplishing my goal. No, sir. Not this time.

I’ve trained too hard for that.

How can this…

Become this…

Or, *puke* this…

It happens when you get addicted to what you think may be a good thing.
In this case I’m talking about Botox and/or plastic surgery.

I am 100% anti cosmetic surgery.  Now, I’m not heartless.  If you need reconstruction surgery or if you have to go under the knife to save your life, I get it.

What I don’t get is the “cosmetic” part of cosmetic surgery.  I can see getting it done once or twice (see pic 1), feeling like it’s doing something for you so you go in more often (pic 2), until you’re a full blown addict looking like pic 3.

Sandy wants to get rid of a couple of wrinkles around her eyes and asked if she could go in for botox.

Guess how that went over with me.

Am I in the wrong for preventing her from doing something cosmetic that may boost her self esteem?  Do I just not get it because I’m a guy?

Have you met Spezzano and Sandy?

Today, they are my 97% enemy, 3% wife.

In case you weren’t aware I’m a HUGE fan of LOST. Last night was the two hour season finale. Last season’s finale was some of the best television I can ever remember watching, so I had high expectations for last night.

There was just one problem…I ran in Corporate Challenge last night at R.I.T. (27:59, thank you very much) so I didn’t get home until after 10:00, hence missing the first hour of the season finale.

No worries though, it’s 2008 and through the power of technology I will watch it on my schedule. The plan is to download the episode through my Xbox and enjoy some LOST goodness in Glorious High Definition and Dolby Digital 5.1 Surround Sound. (I know, I’m a geek.)

So, as I’m getting ready for work this morning I’ve got S+S on like I always do, and what do I hear? SPOILERS!!! They start rattling off all of the stuff that went down on last nights episode. NOOOOO!!!!

I’ve never wanted to fire anybody, but this morning I wanted to fire all of them.

HOW FRIGGIN’ RUDE!!!!

If you saw it, by all means avoid me today. No more spoilers. I mean it. This is NOT a joke.