E-mail Time!!

It is ridiculously hot today. I mean, my God. I can handle heat fairly well, but this…this is just not right. It has to be around 237 degrees or so. If I wanted to burn to death, I would pour gasoline on a slip-n’-slide, and play for a while, then proceed to light myself on fire. I don’t need to look like a creepy, sweaty guy, everywhere I go. I thought I got my sweating problem under control. Nope, I still sweat like an Arabian bartender. I have to lean forward when I drive so that my back makes no contact with the seat. This is to prevent the unmistakable, “ sweat mark,” on the back of the shirt. Okay, ladies, you are not going to like this. If you do indeed like this, you are either a hardcore lesbian, or the coolest girl of all time. My important fantasy football draft is this evening, and I have spent all week prepping. It is very hard for a woman to understand how important fantasy sports are to men. I would easily stab someone for making an illegal waiver move. That’s just how it is. I have been a perennial powerhouse in most of my leagues. The only league I have not won is the one I HAVE to win. This league is comprised of the best of the best. Essentially, it’s the Top Gun of fantasy football, and I’m Merlin. Good, but not good enough. Ladies, luck is on your side today. I was just about to start listing my sleeper players, and draft projections, when I received about thirty e-mails that have to be responded to. I will give you a recap of tonight’s draft tomorrow (Best Bet: Friday).

Pat,

Who wins in a fight, Mike Ditka, or Dustin Diamond?

Steve- Manhattan, Kansas


Um, I’m going to go with Ditka on that one. It may be close, but Ditka will ultimately prevail. Dustin Diamond…why am I even acknowledging this question? I love you guys. Not one of you is sober.


Yo,

You rule.

Anonymous (Luke Dennison)


Dude, don’t send an anonymous e-mail if your name comes up when you send it. How are you going to sign it anonymous when it says Luke Dennison as the sender? Seriously, what kind of illegal substances are you people on? I may drink like a Pirate with Black plague, but this is unacceptable. I like insightful, thought provoking e-mails. I like comments on current events, and funny things. You rule just won’t cut it with me. Step it up, or face the penalty of three straight weeks of copied and pasted articled from Good Housekeeping. Don’t think for a second that I’m kidding.


Pat,

What’s happening to your Stros man? They are going to choke, and you will be subject to lots of ridicule. Your guys can’t score any runs for Rocket, and are just a bad team. Stop pumping up the Astros, and admit they are not good.


Rex – Milwaukee, WS


WHAT? Number one, your name is Rex. That alone discredits anything you say, whether it is true or not. Secondly, you are from fucking MILWAUKEE. Aside from Kansas City, you could’ve been from any city in the country, and I would not have worried about it, but no. You live in the worst baseball city in the United States, and you have the audacity to take a shot at a team that is half a game out of a playoff spot? Did you people take your crazy pills today? I should’ve just written the fantasy football piece. This is a joke. I have tons of readers, and only the crazies take the time to e-mail me. I am very close to quitting. One more bad question, and I might actually stab someone with a stick of White Out. I am through with the fun and games. Hold on, I need a shot of rubbing alcohol…okay, let’s move along.


Pat,

Your website is amazing. I wish you wrote more, because I laugh out loud all the time. My question is; what did the homeless do to cause you to turn against them?


Kimberly-San Marcos, TX


Ahhhhh, sweet Kimberly, you have no idea what a relief it is to see a regular e-mail, and not something drug induced. I’ve explained this before, but since I am in no mood for buffoonery, I will gladly answer your inquiry. The homeless are filthy, and lazy carnies as far as I’m concerned. There are shelters, and homes where they can be cleaned, and get a decent meal, yet some choose to stand in their filth, and solicit people like me for alcohol, and drug money. This has always bothered me. Instead of accidentally pissing on my front tire, and getting drool on my windshield, I’d be happier if they left me alone, and got help at a shelter. I can’t drive anywhere in this city without having to roll up my window, or throw a sharp object at someone at a stoplight, and I am sick and tired of it. I have nothing but respect for the ones who try to get their lives back together, but the ones who sit around in dirt, and ask me for money will ALWAYS get a grapefruit thrown at their facial region. Thanks for the kind words Kimberly, I will do my best to try to write more (Big lie).


Pat,

Who are your picks to win each division in the NFL? Also, who do you pick to win the Super Bowl so I can bet my entire savings account on them?

Roger-Venice Beach, CA


Rodge, can I call you Rodge? You are jumping the gun on my predictions. I NEVER release them before my NFL preview column, but this time, I will make an exception. Let’s see here, I’ll start with the NFC.
East- Philadelphia
North- Minnesota
South- Carolina
West- Seattle

AFC
East- New England
North- Baltimore
South- Houston (go ahead, laugh it up)
West- Kansas City

As for a Super Bowl pick, I’m going to go with New England. I don’t see any reason not to pick the defending champs, except for the fact that the odds are against them. I will continue to bet on New England until they give me a reason not to. If I had picked Seattle to win it all, would you have put all your money on them? If so, that would’ve been really funny. Please don’t kill me. That is enough for now. Maybe I will answer a few more tomorrow (Seriously, who am I kidding).

Who knows...

Do you know who I really don’t like? Chat room hardasses. That’s right. The guy’s who pick fights ONLINE. I’ve mentioned before that I am a seasoned pro at Yahoo pool, and I will pretty much destroy everyone at Literati. To play any of those games, you have to be in a chat room, and if that isn’t a circus, then I don’t know what is. There are the 40-year old men masquerading as, “ hot 22/f,” in order to get their willy off during cyber sex. There are people like me, that just say things like, “ I am a few seconds away from kicking a rabbit.” THEN, there is the chat room hardass. Are these guys serious? It’s so maddening, because I know that this guy just finished masturbating to the female elf character on a Pokemon trading card, and he has the nerve to call me a pussy for no reason? I will literally beat him into a bloody pulp with the game board to Risk. Then I will cut him with a broken cd-rom of Sim City. I apologize for that. I got very little sleep last night, so I am not in the greatest of moods. I know I have been slacking this week. I am preparing for not only my many Fantasy Football drafts, but also a massive NFL preview column, that will surely rid this site of all female readers. Then, most likely, I will feel real bad about it, and write about fashion, or something extremely gay, and I will then lose every one of my male readers, which would mean I’d have no more readers. Then, I will get very depressed, and take a whole bottle of Midol, and cry myself to sleep, watching You’ve Got Mail. I love life.

There is something that has always bothered me. Why do we call Jim Beam and Coke, Beam and Coke, and Jack Daniels and Coke, Jack and Coke? Are we closer to Jim Beam? Why are we on a last name basis with him, and not Jack? I mean, Jack is just as cool, if not cooler. It’s just something to think about. I’m going to go have a Daniels and Coke.

I Want to Die

DUDE, I am NEVER drinking again. I know, I know, you hear it all the time, but this time I’m serious. I know, I know. I always say that too. Cut me some slack here, I drank like an East German glass blower last night. I always tell myself that I’m going to just go to happy hour, and catch the game with the boys, and then it ends up being 3:45 a.m. and I am on top of a car 40 miles outside the city throwing racquetballs at farm animals. I’d like to take some time out to thank my friends for covering my tab last night. I lost all of my money in a brutal game of Stratego the night before, and they sympathized and picked me up. Thanks guys. Thank you for this ungodly headache, and a stomach like the kids in The Sandlot at the carnival. How in the name of Billy Ripken am I supposed to work today? I mean, my God. If one person says ANYTHING about going to a happy hour, I will literally slap somebody with a raw fish. In fact, writing this is making feel even shoddier. Alcohol is poison I tell you. Please do not call me a hypocrite at 7:30pm when I am about to take a jager bomb. It’s a vicious cycle, this life of booze. I still haven’t removed my sunglasses, and I believe it’s almost noon. If you think you’re getting a long post today, you are sadly mistaken. I have no idea why I am doing this. Ah, that’s right, to become rich and famous doing the minimal amount of work. Good news, if you Google Pat McLellan flaming homosexual, my site pops up number one. That explains everything. That’s why I received an e-mail from some dude named Eric saying he wanted to kiss my ear at 5:00 a.m. I of course immediately sent a virus to his e-mail, and told him I would step on his foot with a pogo stick. Listen, I DON’T like gay people, homeless, or rabbits. Everybody knows this. Stop hitting on me in e-mails! I really don’t want to have to resort to hate crimes, but if I have to I will. It IS Friday, so there is a ray of hope in this otherwise hellish day. I should be carrying around a scythe, because I totally look like the grim reaper today. I think I saw the Reaper out on my way home last night. I was THAT trashed, so I guess he figured the odds were I would crash into something and kill myself. Better luck next time Reap. Fuck, I’ve had enough. Have a glorious weekend.

My New Career

I feel like I keep having to apologize for not writing more often. The truth is, I have all but given up on writing, and now plan on focusing on my career as a professional poker player. Instead of writing entertaining tales involving Horse pulled buggies, and lots of malt liquor, I am playing countless games of online poker. I may not be Chris “Jesus” Ferguson quite yet, but I am well on my way. I soon will be the greatest that ever lived. A real nice guy named bigjugsarecool765 is currently mentoring me. I figured we would most likely see eye to eye on most things. However, we do disagree on the level of deliciousness of Crown Royal. That is beside the point. I am now sweeping the tables of Yahoo Texas Hold Em’, and BoDog, preying on every victim I see fit. Plus, you have no idea how much poker I watch on television. I am soaking it all in. I am a sponge for poker knowledge. I just know this hard work and dedication will pay off, much like this website has. I have pretty much labeled myself a marketing genius. For once, I may be right. This site went live in February of 2004. I basically told my friends, in which half thought it was really cool. The others beat me like a gay at a hoedown. I decided I needed some sort of marketing strategy. What’s the point of writing if nobody reads it? I went to every sports message board, and chat room, then I whored myself like a 17 year old Taiwanese girl. The number of readers grew, and now I am REALLY awesome. So, I know this hurts my loyal fans that I will be taking up professional poker. I’m good. I mean REAL good. (Ron Burgundy voice). I can still find time to write in between eight month drinking binges, and no limit tourneys. I plan on buying some sort of traveling apparatus that will not only feed my craving for fine liquor, but will also get me from point A to B without me losing feeling in any of my extremities. This is very important to me. I cannot play poker without limbs. This I’m sure of.

I just wrapped up another tournament victory. This is getting out of hand. I am just plain incredible. I defeated this sixteen-year-old girl from New Jersey, who was in her computer class. She was tough, but I came out with the win. The bell ringing for fifth period had no outcome whatsoever on my win, believe me. I was a couple hands away from putting her to shame. Okay, I am going to be honest here. I am NOT really going to become a professional poker player. I just said that to impress you. Poker was actually invented by Satanists in the depths of hell thousands of years ago. The Poker name really refers to the constant sodomizing that takes place in Hades. Okay, I made that up too. I just don’t have it today, folks. Have a good one.

Bad Writing, Dating, and My Book

This is going to be the worst thing I have ever written. I just want to make sure you know this before you carry on reading. I am actually sleeping as I type, which happens to be a talent I picked up my freshmen year of college. I am having one of those days where I can’t think, which ultimately translates to horrific and unentertaining writing. I’ve tried everything; I mean EVERYTHING to get it together this morning, but no luck so far. I’m currently downing my second twenty-ounce Mountain Dew, which usually acts like cocaine to me, but it too has failed. I have received numerous e-mails asking me to write something productive, like a dating column. I mean, me writing a dating column? That’s like Brittany Spears writing a book on manners. Although, I do have extensive experience in the dating world, and happen to be the greatest lover known to man, I do not wish to reveal my secrets. Besides, it would be pretty impossible for the average man to keep up with my complicated approach to women. This is nothing new. Women are fucking confusing. They make mindless simplistic actions extremely complicated, and I don’t know why. Every guy says they just want a dumb blonde with nice cans, and everything would perfect. That is the most moronic thing I have ever heard. There is nothing sexier than intelligence, and wit. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that a dumb blonde with nice cans is bad. I’m just saying that life would be far from perfect. If I can’t hold a decent conversation with someone, then regardless of how they look, I am slapping them in the face and calling a cab. I can hear the e-mails coming in as we speak, “dude, why aren’t you writing about drinking 7 liters of vodka, and lighting a chicken coop on fire?” The answer is quite simple. I have somehow ended up with way more female readers than male. Do not ask me how this happened. I would’ve thought my misogynist viewpoints, and tales of prostitution rings would’ve caused me to have no female readers, and really I thought I would have at least a restraining order or two. So basically, what’s happening here is I am trying to please the majority of my readers. Trust me when I tell you men, that this will NEVER become some Carrie Bradshaw-esque advice column. I will mention the three most important things as often as possible. These three things are sports, alcohol, and overall debauchery.

A female cohort of mine brought up a very interesting unfortunate occurrence in today’s dating world. She called it,” getting trumped.” This is when you are about to dump someone, but they end up beating you to it, and dump you first. First of all, this is very important. The person who initiates the break up automatically has the upper hand in the future. For example, when someone asks them what happened to (Enter Name Here), they can answer with comments like, “I threw that filthy skank to the curb, or I told him he had a package the size of a kittens then dumped him.” Losing the upper hand can hurt your reputation tremendously. Regardless if you had already made the decision to get out of the relationship, the fact that they said it first gives them the right to refer to you slanderously in the future. My advice is to not let the relationship linger at all. Waiting a few days to break the news will possibly get you,”trumped.” For those of you wondering if this will be in my upcoming book that I have yet to start writing, the answer is yes. My initial plan was to just copy and paste from all my posts, and turn it into the best book ever written, but it turns out that probably won’t work out too well. I really want to write a book, but I have a problem with staying on topic, and also eating way too many homemade nachos. As you can see, my expertise in dating should not go to waste. Would you guys buy my book? If everyone that reads this site bought a book, I would be on the bestseller’s list. I’m fairly sure I could swindle thousands more on my promotional radio tour with my unmatched wit and boyish good looks. At the same time, I don’t even have a concept for a book, so a promotional radio tour is out of the question. I have an excellent plan to trick the American public. I will entitle my book, “How to Lose Weight, and Get Filthy Rich All While Watching Reality Television.” Then, when they buy the book, it’s all stories of me drinking too much Wild Turkey, and subsequently throwing inanimate objects off my roof at joggers, or are they called yoggers?

For the record, it is 3:53 and I have yet to eat anything. I haven’t been this hungry since I starved myself for a week before auditioning to be on Survivor. I really just wanted to get one of those cool bandana things, then I found out I could order them online, and quit my audition. I wore it around for a day, then I got hit in the face with a broom for looking, “gay,” and that was the end of it. I told you this was going to be a terrible post. If I wasn’t already a popular Internet writer, this would single handedly crash my website. I apologize for the terrible writing. I promise I’ll step my game up next time. I’m actually lying. The next one will most likely be as crappy if not crappier than this one. Have a great day.

Sorry, for the long delay

I want everyone to know up front that you are very lucky I am writing today. I have an excruciating pain in my lower left testicle. I either involuntarily hit it, or that weekend in Lake Charles when I drank 73 consecutive scotches, and punched the Black Jack dealer in the sternum has finally caught up with me. Regardless of the source, it is getting increasingly more difficult to walk, and I’m sweating like Tim Robbins at a rodeo. This just shows my dedication to my faithful readers. I would much rather be sitting on a bag of frozen peas with a big gulp full of malt liquor, but I’m not. I don’t really have any funny stories to share. How about the Houston Astros? I can just hear the thousands of clicks of female readers closing the web page. LOOK, I’m a male. I am going to talk about sports every now and then. If I’m not mistaken, this site was originally named Sports Rants, and was a safe haven for the avid sports fan, and degenerate gamblers. Only a few months ago did it morph into incoherent ramblings, and tales of drunken escapades in the cornfields of Iowa. I’ll make it up to you ladies. Tomorrow, I will write about something REALLY gay, and then maybe we can have a pillow fight in our pj’s. Feel free to e-mail me with suggestions for tomorrow’s REALLY GAY piece. But for now, it’s all sports you filthy hookers. So go back to your knitting, and Good Morning America.

If someone would’ve bet me three scotches, and a blueberry snow cone that the Astros would be 59-48 after 107 games, I would’ve gladly accepted. Well, maybe if it was bubble gum. I’m not too fond of blueberry. So to backtrack, I would not have accepted the bet. I would’ve made a counter offer for three scotches and a bubble gum snow cone. The point is the Astros are simply on fire, and I happen to like it. Coming off a very impressive July, the team has picked up where they left off, winning the first two out of three games of August from Arizona. That brings me to my next point. Who in the name of Debbie Allen designed their uniforms? They seriously look like something you could buy in a gift shop on an Indian reservation. I’m here to tell you that teal, purple, and black never work together. They aren’t the greatest of teams either. You would think with the addition of guys like Troy Glaus, and Shawn Green, the team would be somewhat competitive. The funny thing is, they are just one game out of their respective race in the National League West. Arizona is 52-57, and one game out of the division lead. If Arizona makes it to the National League Championship Series, I will shave my armpits, and go by Melissa for a month. It’s time I congratulated Andy Pettitte on his insane month of July. Andy went 5-0 with a .90 era. That is pretty ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as the time I sold a kangaroo to a 7-year old for a couple of bucks, and a David Cone rookie card. I don’t even know what I ‘m talking about. I have alienated my female readers, and I have a rash on my back that I’m 64% is fatal, and most likely is a rare form of West Nile. You know what? To be fair, I am going to start segregating my posts into male and female portions. That way, everybody is happy.

Females, and flaming males.

Hey sweeties. Doesn’t your hair look soooo good? We have to go shopping together! Sorry about that, and I wonder why I’m so popular with the gay population. I would’ve thought when I said that I wanted to throw a live grenade in a gay bar, that the gays would not like me very much. I was wrong. Here is an e-mail I received from a Darren in the Big Apple.

Pat,

I know you’ve pretty much based all your columns on making fun of homosexuals, and the homeless, but I’m here to tell you that me and my friends think you are so cute. I bet you’d have a great time out with us, and we can probably drink you under the table. Anyways, the gay men of New York LOVE you!!! Have a great day!

Love Always,

Darren
New York City, New York.


First of all, I’d like to have a moment of silence for Darren. Although, he was a nice man, I had to hit him a few times with a lead pipe for that,”drink you under the table,” comment. I mean, my God, was that just a screaming sexual innuendo or what? I will NOT stand for any e-mail like that. You make out with a couple of dudes one drunken weekend, and all of a sudden you’re gay? I just don’t know anymore. In fact, I am so angry by that e-mail, that I might kick a small furry creature. Nevermind, I am going directly to a local speakeasy to spit off Saved by the Bell trivia to some unsuspecting female.