School sucks. We all know that. Sitting in some stupid chair for eight hours a day listening to stupid adults talk about stupid theorems.
They always said we’d have to use those theorems one day. Like the Pythagorean jawn. Calculating angles and multiplying exponents and stuff, and then Joel Neppler would be like, “Yo Mr. Jenkins! When are we ever gonna use this crap?” and Mr. Jenkins would be all, “Welllllll Joelllllllllll, what about when you have to redo your bathroom one day?” and you’d all be like, “yeah he got a point, we are gonna have to redo our bathrooms one day.”
Well, I gotta tell you, I recently redid my bathroom and all I had to do was give some other guy money and he totally did the whole thing for me.
Check that, my wife gave him money. I gave him lemonade. But whatever, I didn’t see him calculating any missing sides of no triangles. Just laid down a big ole tarp. The biggest, dirtiest tarp you’ve ever seen. I’ve also never seen filthier fingernails on a human. Never. Never ever. Never ever ever.
The only things I liked about school were playing sports and staring at Lisa Federman’s leg in English class. I would stare at that leg alllll dayyyyyy. All I wanted to do was touch the middle of her thigh. Just once. Just one little touch! Was that so much to ask? For just once in my stupid life to touch the sweet, soft leg of a hairless angel? Never did get to touch it though. Never even came close. I recently saw on Facebook that she’s pregnant. I hate her so, so much.
I feel bad for all the stupid kids (and teachers) who have to go back to school this week. Ugh, just thinking about it gives me the chills. The only good thing about going back to school was buying back-to-school stuff, like pencil cases you’d never use and glue sticks and a FRESH pair of milky Diadoras. And obviously (spoiler alert from the title of this article): Trapper Keepers™.
Nothing made you feel more like a responsible young human than spending the first week of school actually writing down your homework assignments and clamping stuff into your shitty, new plastic binder. Then after like four days you’d just shove everything in your locker because organizing stuff is for dorks and slamming lockers is for HUSTLAZ.
So considering nothing is going on in the Philadelphia sports world right now (whatever Matt Barkley, no one cares about you!) – I took a suggestion from my pal Geshk (who has one testicle!) to search Google for the best sports Trapper Keepers™ of all time.
I guarantee if you buy one of these for your kid, they will get beat up very, very badly.
Let’s check ‘em out.
Okay, first of all, why is the referee – who seems to be standing 25 yards behind the line of scrimmage – signaling touchdown when he’s NOWHERE near the goal line? What kind of sight line is that? Also, referees don’t even signal touchdowns, that’s the linesmen’s’ job. That being said, I like that whoever the offensive coordinator is for the Rochester Red Rammers is just RAMMING it in right up the middle.
THAT’S SMASH MOUTH SCHOTTENHEIMER FOOTBALL RIGHT THERE. None of that roll out and sling it around stuff you see in the ding dong SEC. If I had this notebook, I would obviously draw a giant penis on the front of that referee’s pants. I might even give it googly eyes.
Just so we’re all on the same page here, this is a NOTEBOOK, promoting shoes – shoes that are scientifically designed not just for flight, no, that’s not enough, not just for allowing man to defy the laws of gravity, no, these shoes are specifically engineered to dunk a basketball through a hoop. Or as it’s referred to in most elementary school circles, JAMMIN’.
I can’t argue with that. I really can’t. These Rex Chapman Rocket Blasters have literally incinerated the net. Also, is it just me, or is that ball WAY bigger than the circumference of the rim? There’s no way it would fit in there. And how are Rex’s shoelaces not on fire? Dude seriously has the smoothest shins ever. Completely hairless. Also probably incinerated by the hot molten flames shooting out of his footwear.
Absolutely incredible leg extension here from Dan Dierdorf, Jr.
For the young horse lover in your family!
Be it an aspiring jockey or just a little girl who loves to comb the mane of a giant, terrifying mammal. I would’ve paid $100 to see a horse fart in Mr. Jenkins’ face.
ENJOY YOUR LAST WEEKEND OF FREEDOM, KIDS!
YOU TOO, TEACHERS!
THIS IS AN ACTUAL POST ON AN ACTUAL WEBSITE!
(Enrico note: I'm sorry.)