They have a marathon in Boston at some point every year.
I don’t pay attention. Running that far is for idiots and people who can’t afford rice.
Oh! Look! I beat my personal best!
Oh! Look! I can buy my starving Ethiopian family a bag of rice by pawning this medal!
Oh! Look! I proved something to myself!
Who gives a shit?
Running is boring and you’re a dick.
When the L.A. Marathon is going on, I make sure I get real good and loaded the Saturday night before so I’m not out in the city streets on Sunday morning, which are all closed in my neighborhood, waiting for some fat fuck to prove to himself he can labor through 26 miles without dying while making sure no one can drive anywhere.
Good job. You pulled off an impressive 10 hours and 48 minutes.
Way to go. You showed ’em all.
In other words, marathons are for douchebags who have no friends and nothing to do.
Oh, and then there’s the one in Boston, which happens to be even douchier because it’s full of insufferable pricks from Boston.
We’re ganna win da serieeeeees! Go Sawks!
Kevin Gahnett ain’t cheap. He’s da greatest powah fowahd of all time!
And so forth.
I mean, how could you possibly douche up the Boston Marathon any more?
I’ll tell you how. You let a [intlink id=”35″ type=”category”]Minnesota Vikings[/intlink] fan enter — this Minnesota Vikings fan.
He also does parties.
If you’ve ever got a real sausage fest going, where you’re almost completely out of booze and you’re wondering how you could possibly douche the place up just a little more, just call Kermit. He’ll be there with his running shorts, Favre jersey and Vikings hat on within the hour.
From Will D.