Snoring Hummingbird

Snoring Horse

Snoring Duck

Snoring Beagle

Snoring Elephant Seal

Snoring Penguin

Below are the five worst swim team mascots I can think of. There are already enough people calling themselves dolphins and otters. And these are funnier.

1. The Wet Pussies

photo courtesy of m a t t i e u

Cats hate to swim. That’s why this is hilarious. Not the other reason.

2. The Rocks

photo courtesy of Chris_J

Our coach once sent an email to the team that included the phrase, “You are rocks.” We think he meant “You rock.” But are not 100% sure.

Also, we’re in San Francisco. And sometimes we swim in the Bay. And Alcatraz is in the Bay. And some people call Alcatraz “the Rock.”

That makes two really good reasons we should call ourselves after an object that does the exact opposite of what a swimmer does.

3. The Butt Cracks

Everyone has seen a man who wears his speedo a size or two too small. And the resulting inch or so of ass crack that peeks out. This is a recurring topic of conversation in the swimming community, and I want to encourage that.

4. The Octi-Jockeys

5. I’m going to send this last one to our coach as a 100% serious mascot submission, which would make us the San Francisco Missile-firing Raptor Sharks.

Aside from the deaths of loved ones, serious injuries, financial disasters, and war, below is a list of ten things that turn my mood immediately from good to fucking terrible. I will assume you are exactly the same.

Ten (Minor) Things That Ruin A Day:

1. Step on a lego in your bare feet.
2. Realize you lost your keys. Frantically empty entire contents of bag on to sidewalk. Hear a metallic jingle and feel sudden rush of relief. See that it was just a buckle hitting another buckle or something. Realize you really did lose your keys in a second, totally-soul-crushing moment. Then, THEN find said keys. Spend the rest of the day pissed off at keys and bags in general.
3. Read an article about a teenage athlete who is sailing around the world/reinventing ski-cross/going to the Olympics/just fucking killing it in general. Also they’re really attractive. And rich. And sixteen.
4. Something is stuck in your teeth, but you cannot get it out. Nor do you have floss.
5. Attempt to parallel park, don’t quite get the angle right, and turn the process into a five-minute wiggle-back-and-forth-like-a-retard maneuver. Pedestrians watch you the entire time.
6. Justin Bieber.
7. Visit Facebook because you are bored. Hate the inane shit that everyone posts there, but read it for a solid 30 minutes anyways. Somehow finish by being even more bored and also loathing yourself.
8. A giant, spiky booger is in your nose but OTHER PEOPLE ARE LOOKING AT YOU AND YOU CANNOT PICK IT.
9. It’s one of those days where the internet is just lame. All of it.
10. For whatever reason, your asshole is incredibly itchy.

1. Be related to someone who has a birthday. Someone who admittedly does not like “sweet things, or desserts, really.” Remind yourself that you have to love them because they are blood but why can’t they enjoy cake like a normal human.

2. Remember that they love chocolate chip cookies.

3. Read this blog, and then this post. Develop a girl crush.

4. Get all excited to use your cast iron skillet. Then look in the mirror and say, I am not a pioneer. I do not live in the mountains. Calm down a little.

4. Bake the shit out of it.

Ingredients (copied exactly from eatliverun’s original, because it is truly excellent)

2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt (plus more for sprinkling)
2 1/2 cups flour
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips

Mix the dry ingredients.

Soften your butter, whether that means liquefying it in the microwave or on the stove top, or gently warming it but allowing it to stay solid. This is a cookie, people. It doesn’t matter that much.

Beat/stir together the butter and sugar.

Add eggs. Add vanilla.

Add the wet stuff to the dry stuff. Mix in chocolate chips.

Grease your skillet (or pie pan. Whatever.) Pretend you’re baking something like oatcakes or cornpone* for the hungry farmhands who are out in the fields right now. Give yourself a mental slap across the face.

* Is that a sex act yet? Because it should be.

Dump the batter into the skillet and smooth out the top. Generously sprinkle salt (sea or Maldon if you’ve got it. And I bet you’ve got it, if you’re the kind of person who reads recipes on blogs. It’s okay. I do it too.)

Bake at 325 degrees for 45 minutes.

Allow giant cookie to cool.

Stick a candle in it.

DONE.

1. Breathing.

Use this one as often as possible. AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE. Different inflections and different settings vary the hilariousness, but shit. This one’s always a win. Best delivery is usually totally deadpan, and is followed by a reach towards your zipper. For example:

(over intercom) Friend: Hey, we’re outside. Buzz us in.
You: Ok! I’m taking my pants off.

(Arriving late to a restaurant) Sit down, heave a big sigh, and say, “Traffic was insane.” Look around table, toss napkin on plate. “I’m taking my pants off.“

Friend: Want to go try that new cupcake place around the corner?
You: Sure. I’m taking my pants off. 

(At a zoo) Friend: Giraffes really are majestic creatures, aren’t they?
You: I’m taking my pants off. 

2. IT’S MY FAVORITE.

This must be said angrily and defensively, and in the most bitchy-gay voice you can muster. See this video at the 2:00 mark for the perfect example.  When to use:

At Christmas. Every single time you open a present.

Each time someone compliments you on an article of clothing.

At the end of your order from a restaurant. Then again, if that order is delivered to your house.

In response to the question, “Do you like _________?” if you actually do like the thing, but also want to scare that person a little.

3. Christ on a bike.

Use this exclamation in place of Oh God, Jesus Christ, Good Lord, etc. They’re old, they’re played out, and this one is better. Because, imagine it.

4. That’s it.

Said in response to any trifling piece of negative news. Like, “Oh, we forgot napkins.” This one also requires a physical performance that is known as “giving up.” Go limp. Just crumple to the ground and lay down in one of those splayed-out poses bad actors use in death scenes. The best is when your arms are also full: drop your keys and your bags and become an impediment to foot traffic. Giving up is also better in public places like malls and work functions, or at least when a lot of your friends are watching.

5. Every line of dialogue from Dumb & Dumber.

If there is one movie to quote incessantly, it’s this one. Dumb & Dumber lines are a good barometer of how awesome someone is. If they know the line, they are awesome. If they don’t, they aren’t.

And I couldn’t call it the Yeast-y Protein Bowl, because yeast is even worse. You know what I mean.

Hence, the Goddamn Hippie Winter Bowl.

It’s actually pretty good.

Ingredients
2 cups cooked grains (like farro, or wheat berries, or cous cous, or quinoa. Whatever gets your yoga pants in a twist.)
2 cups peas (or an entire bag of frozen peas. If you are lazy. Which I am.)
1 can white beans (or 1.5 cups beans that you lovingly grew and harvested yourself. Hippie.)
1 cup nutritional yeast (Do you already have this in your pantry and don’t even need to go to a specialty grocery to get some? I knew it.)
2 tbsp pine nuts
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp pepper

How To Make

1. Make your carbs. Follow the cooking directions for whatever whole-grain, fiber-rich, organic, shit-inducing ancient Mesopotamian grain you’re going to use. I’m not a mind reader. Chances are you’re going to boil water, then add your grains, then let them soak up the water for a little while. So go do that.

Also, if you’re into toasty nuts, toast your pine nuts. In a pan, with a little bit of olive oil. Good work.

2. Steam your frozen peas.

Have fresh peas? Don’t steam.

Super lazy? Add frozen peas to cooked pasta while it’s still warm. Hope that it’s warm enough to completely thaw out vegetables. Suffer through ice crystals if it was not.

3. Drain and rinse the beans. Mix beans, grains, and pine nuts.

4. Add yeast, garlic powder, pepper, olive oil. Then, THEN add the peas. They’re a little delicate, so pretend you’re petting the back of a sleeping baby bunny with your (wooden, right?) spoon as you fold them in.

5. Spoon that sh*t up and enjoy. The nutritional yeast gives it a cheesy flavor, so if you’re not into yeast, swap in parmesan or your other fave cheese.

But not soy cheese.

That stuff is awful.

‎”The optimal number of bikes is defined as “n+1″ where n = number of current bikes owned unless one is married, in which case the optimal number of bikes is defined as “d – 1″ where d = number of bikes that would initiate a divorce proceeding.”

I like this so hard.

Step 1: Go to a grocery store with your cousin late at night and buy food for your hike the next day. Impulse purchases are highly encouraged. Do not forget the salami.

Step 2: Drive friend and cousin to Muir Woods early the next morning. You will beat the tourists and the inevitable parking clusterfuck. This is worth a few less hours of sleep.

Start the hike, and laugh/make fun of the women wearing high-heeled boots and makeup. You are better than them.

Step 3: Take the Lost Trail to the Panorama Trail, to the Tourist Club, to the Dipsea Trail. Trail names are the best.

Step 4: Stop often to view the Pacific Ocean from the Panorama trail. This makes an excellent excuse for stopping because you need to catch your breath after climbing roughly 3,497 stairs.

Step 5: Eat crackers and cheese and salami overlooking Muir Beach. Best part was watching two boys play with their father on a homemade catapult/seesaw.

Kidding.

Best part was the salami.

Start your new year with Schneider Weisse Day* Eve (January 1st), and Schneider Weisse Day (January 2nd). Because it is so much better than being hungover after a night stuck a shitty bar full of people you don’t like.

You will not regret this.

The History of Schneider Weisse Day

Begun in 1769, in the Bavarian hamlet of Likkensiedikken, Schneider Weisse Day is a celebration of the new year. And of sausage.

That’s pretty much it.

How to Celebrate

1. Buy a jar of Bockwurst. Preferably on clearance, and preferably of the least-enticing presentation possible. If you can find it pickled or cured, in a jar, you’re on the right track.
It should smell like cat food.
2.  Rent a cabin and invite the kind of people who appreciate clearance-rack sausage.
3. Enforce a dress code consisting of
- Flannel
- Down vests and/or jackets
- 1980′s era après-ski gear
- Traditional German lederhosen or dirndls
- Varying amounts of nudity
4. Speak only in exaggerated  German accents. End most of your sentences with “Ja?”
5. Let the magic happen. Whether or not you open and consume the bockwurst depends entirely on how much you and your friends like to place bets.

*This is an entirely made-up holiday. Schneider Weisse is actually a brand of German beer, and has nothing to do with sausage. Other than the fact that is is German. Which means it’s probably all about the sausage.**

**I’m German, so this is not racist.