The Friscalating Dusklight: No one wants to be in my pants right now
Posted on June 24th, 2008 – 4:56 PMBy Michael Rand
As many of you undoubtedly know by now, Juan Rincon was picked up today by Cleveland, which inked him to a minor league contract. It’s been quite the fall for Rincon, who gave the Twins some solid years of set-up work and one very unfortunate moment in the 2004 ALDS against the Yankees. Game 4, Ruben Sierra took him deep. After that blast, Rincon was quoted as saying: “It’s tough to blow a four-run lead in the eighth. No one wants to be in my pants right now, let me tell you, but you try to get the job done.” It remains one of our favorite quotes ever.
To send things beautifully into the night, we would like to ask you dear readers to create some new expressions that we might laugh at and ease into casual conversation. Something like, “She’s three gravy ladles short of a trumpet.”
Do it for Juan. Do it for the pants.
28 Responses to "The Friscalating Dusklight: No one wants to be in my pants right now"
Just because you bought it in Oakdale, doesn’t make it an acorn squash.
My mom said this in reference to my dad and his colleague sharing a hotel room on a business trip (they both use sleep machines due to sleep apnea so they sleep with masks hooked up to a machine)
“Just make sure you don’t tangle hoses”
I like her. She seems glandy.
Say what you will about iron lungs, it keeps the kids off the streets.
You eat like a Sibley County Prom Queen.
If it smells like eggs and looks like eggs, it might be my uncle Morty.
Rendered hog fat, or just plain delicious? Either way, I can’t find my goddamn pants.
Of all the constants in this world, the lovely singing voice of Jim Nabors, TV’s Gomer Pyle, is still the most alarming.
Manteca is Spanish for lard.
Tonight, the streets will run red with the blood of Pat Meares.
You ever tie up a stranger and keep ‘em in your basement, just because it’s a Tuesday? Yeah, good times.
They’re not booing, they’re saying “Goooooood Spooooooorts.”
Call me crazy, but when they come out with Mountain Dew Skoal, I’ll be the first in line.
Give me a sockful of pennies and a loyal dog, and I’ll by God show all you sonsabitches how to put on a dance recital.
Spaghetti and meatballs would have a much different reputation if it was spaghetti and ballmeats.
The radio station in my pants will now pause 10 seconds for station identification.
Do you think Laura Schara would go out with me? I bet she would if she got to know me.
Any discussion of American poetry begins and ends with Nipsey Russell.
Slide, slide, slippity slide.
When the revolution comes, you know who’s gonna be the first one up against the wall? Gaylord Perry.
I have to clean up after dinner and give Piper a bath now.
Like my grandpa always said, “That’s as impressive as a trough full of monkey pee.”
You eat like a Sibley County Prom Queen.
Winner, winner, chicken dinner.
“I’ll be back in awhile… I gotta go give Doug Woog a roast beef sandwich.”
“I’ll be back in awhile… I gotta go mow Robb Stauber’s lawn.”
Thank you, Dave MN, for those moments of entertainment.
Hector? Hell, it killed her.
I think Stu may have used up that back up COW he had hiding in his pants.
Lose some, win some: the Indians now have Juan Rincon, but just traded Clarence Swamptown’s favorite player’s kid to Cincinnati.
Thanks for the link fasolamatt. Hopefully, for the Reds sake, the a-hole gene skips a generation.
He’s never been any good.
His mother doesn’t care for him either.
