Crazy Krenzel

Sorry, Kids. Haven't been updating as much as I should lately. I guess I've just been busy, preparing for and winning THE BIGGEST FUCKING GAME OF THE YEAR. So stuff it up your ass.

Ok, that was probably unnecessary. Still, it's been a rough week. Looks like it's going to be a lonely Thanksgiving for the Tressmeister. Sunday night, Krenzel came over to celebrate Saturday's big win. We were gonna watch the Simpsons, maybe play some video games, you know, the usual. He also brought over a six pack of High Life, a couple cans of spraypaint, and a paper bag.

Well, needless to say, we got pretty high, which was fun. Then, for some reason, Krenz starts rolling around on the floor, yelling something about how he's covered in spiders. To calm him down I doused him with the bucket we'd been peeing in. Next thing I know he's going nuts, like a China-Man in a bull shop, smashing shit, including my wifes collection of Franklin Mint commemorative plates. Needless to say she was not happy, and now I'm spending Thanksgiving in a Motel 6. The good news, it's got Spank-tra-vision. Still, it's kind of sad, that the highlight of my Thanksgiving is probably gonna be eating a can of pumpkin pie mix, and jacking off into an old gym sock. Fucking Krenzel.

You know what, though? That''s pretty harsh. I'm kinda hard on Krenz, but he's had a rough childhood. His family's had it's share of problems, and hey, the two of us have been through alot. I mean, we won a national championship together. I think lately he's been a little jealous of Troy, and with Holiday's approaching, it tends to compound his depression with him coming from a broken home and all. So Krenz, I forgive ya. And eventually, the misses will forgive you too, and probably me, as well. Maybe we can spend Christmas together, I don't know.

All this drama really brings out the creative side of Coach Jim Tressel. Last night I wrote this poem:

My Krenzel

Your daddy likes his porno,
Now that mommy's not around.
She used to love her heroin,
But now she's underground.
So you stay up late at night,
And you do your coke for free.
Driving your friend's crazy,
With your life's insanity.
Well, well, well,
You never can tell.
Well, well, well, my Krenz-ell.

Camp Tressel: The end of and era

Man am I glad to have those little fuckers out of my thinning hair. Sorry just had to get that off my chest, faithful tressellites. Geez o' frickin' Christ on a bobsled, I had to close the doors early this year at Camp Tressel. Those little inner city fuckers just pushed the envelope a bit too far this year. Usually I keep the doors open till Thanksgiving just so those little fucks get a decent turkey dinner- but Krenzy's in the mental ward for chist's sake and it's only the second week of november. He's normally crying like a bitch to me halfway through and the only cure for that is always thouroughly hazing him and demoralizing his character in front of the whole camp. This year those little bastards beat me to the punch.

First, they started with craping in his cot. That is a pleasure I once enjoyed by myself but these kids get held back alot and got wise to my tricks. Next, they somehow found out that he used to get boners in the Ohio State locker room durring showers (so... maybe they heard that from me, it's just a good warning and it is always funny to see his denial-what a mo!). They came up with a bunch of jokes about that. One kid asked him if he gets a hard on everytime it rains or hears water running, that was pretty damn funny. Next came the cheers "Krenzel! Hard On! In The Shower!"*, that cracked me up at first but really started to break him down. He got really high on meth and anabolic steroids the one night and took one of the ring leaders and snapped the kids neck, we made it look like an accident and the alumni paid the kid's family a ton-so they were probably better off and it was no big deal. Anyway I could see that Krenzel was starting to break.

Thr icing on the cake was soon to come, a tasty icing made out of spite and hatred. If it hadn't led to the tramatic ending that was the end of Krenzie's sanity i would have bough the kids a cake. It was that day that comes every year towards the end of the season when L.T., Laurence "Gimmie The Crack" Taylor shows up with his stupid god damn lightning bolt earing Bing Bling - to tell the kids not to do the drugs they probably sell. Krenzie is always part of part of a play we put on about not doing drugs, he plays the meth addict- too well if you ask me, but who am I to point a finger. He's nowhere to be found.

So we were halfway through the part where I was reinacting my recovery, where I was at rock bottem, held in the arms of a hooker named "One Tit Mary" and we hear screaming coming from the porta john by the mess hall. Dogs screaming with their nuts in a vice is the only way I could descibe it (I know and love that sound). The whole camp gathers round a porta john, the doors strapped shut by duct tape. L.T. goes crazy and rushes toward the portable throne (he was definaley high, he bogarted most of my shit) and rushes it, tackles it and it explodes!. He and Krenz roll aroung the ground in a smoking puddle of feces and cry and scream and blaspheme against gods I never knew existed. Nobody would help them and it finally took a hazmat team and a gruop of specially trained shinks to get the situation under control.

Long story short, it was really awesome and I wish I had come come up with the ultimate zing on Krenzle. Plus one of those hoodrats stole my wristwatch and my favorite bong. So fuck them. Fuck Camp Tressel. I'm done trying to make a difference.

Not for nothin' but this bog is starting to make me feel like Dougie Howser at the end of every episode, but I'll put a .38 caliber round in the head of any stupid greasey wop named Vinny that tries to sneak in through my bedroom window.

* true story ask my about it sometime.

Cool Runnings

So my "wife" invited her niece to come visit, which sucks, because A:She's not hot, and B:Her parents are super-religious and shit. The only thing she's allowed to watch are DVDs from a binder that they pick out for her. Wouldn't you know it,Sunday, in the middle of TV-Land's 24-hour BJ and the Bear Marathon, guess who wanted to watch a movie. Looking through the binder, I didn't find expect to find anything that wouldn't make me wanna drink a gallon of Drano, but then I saw Cool Runnings. I remembered watching a move called Cool Runnings one night with Les Wexner, he's really into Regae, and I figured it'd be a good movie to get high to. We were baked out of our gourdes when we saw it, but I seem to remember it being about a regea concert or something. I think they're might have also been some titties. I guess it mistook it forthis movie, because it wasn't what I remembered. I should have known, because the cover looked kind of gay, but it still had some rasta-lookin art. It's about a Jamacian Bob Slead Team, which makes about as much sense as a Polish Calculator, but you know what...it wasn't half bad. I was a little worried when the Disney Logo popped up at the beginning, but it was surprisingly watchable. Even the whole thing about them being Jamacian was believeable. The thing I had a hard time with was the idea that John "Are you gonna eat that" Candy played a former Olympic Athlete. Supposedly he was a former Olympic Bobsledder, but the only thing I can see that coked out tub of goo pushing is 450lbs. Still I packed a nice fat bowl, kicked back in my recliner, and enjoyed a little quality family time. Ahhh...lazy Sundays.

Umm Bop!

Hey there kidies! Ol' Coach Jimbo is here again to make the internet just a little bit better with my wit and wisdom. My nuts and man nipples are really sore today, kids. I hope it doesn't have anything to do with the other night.
My wife and I were experimenting with some new "techniques". We me this other couple at a club the other night and they really opened up our world. If I wasn't so high at the time I would have thought they were crazy but you can really shake some dust off the old Casa De Amour with a car battery, some tellephone cords, a hammer and some paper clips. I can't wait to get home tonight I just bought a miniture statue of liberty and a mini welding kit.
So our therapist, Stephen ( leave it to my wife to fing a gay marraige councilor, but it was court ordered so... WTF), suggested that we get away from the pets and the kids and hard drugs and spend some quality time together. I was looking though the paper and saw an ad for a cover band that was coming to one of my favorite haunts - Marilyn Hanson! It was pure serendipity, I love Marilyn Manson - my wife loves Hanson ( you got your chocolate in my peanut butter and vice versa). We get there and the lead singer was wearing some creepy makeup and dessed like a complete pussy. He belted out "Umm Bop" the way it was supposed to soud - like Satan! They also did a sugary sweet version of "Beautiful People " and sang "Sweet Dreams" like it was done by a glee club of goth kids. It fucking rocked. Later, I came back from the bar with our tenth round of cherry bombs and the wife was nowhere to be found. I looked everywhere and was ready to smash something when she came stumbling out of the men's room with the lead singer's signature written across both her cans in sharpie marker. How awesome is that? Not very awesome. So thank God we talked to that couple earlier in the night, I dragged her ass out to the car and went straight to the 24 hour hardware store, somehow I only hit 4 parked cars on the way back home. We tried out those "techniques" alright, and you know what. We have found that excruciating pain brings us closer, I like the S and the M. Her favorite thing now is when I sneak up behind her, squeeze her nips real hard and sing "Umm Bop" into her ear.

Trick or Treat

HAPPY HALLOWEEN KIDDOS. Man I had an awesome Halloween...and so did Bucky. You remember Bucky don't you. My cute wil kitty witty. I love Bucky so much. We had so much fun trick or treating too. My real kids won't trick or treat with me any more. they say I'm "embarassing" but Bucky will still go with me. That's cause he's the tops!!! I take him door to door, and I ring the doorbell, and hold Bucky up and he goes "Twick or Treat" in his little kitty voice. OK, seriously, it's just me talking all hi and meowy, but it's still soooooo cute.



Then there's Waffles. My "wife" and her friends all like to get together and dress up their dogs, which to be honest, is kind of gay. Waffles is my wife's dog. He's on the left. She stole my idea, to dress up the pets and take them door to door for treats. How come when I do it people say I'm wierd, but when that bitch does it, it's "cute" and "precious." I'll show them though. Don't be surprised if Waffles finds a razor blade in his apple. I hate that damn dog.

Speaking of horseshit. A few of Coach Tressel's good friends has fallen on some hard times lately. I blame that fucking facist George Bush for junkin up our econmy. I just want you all to know that all of you out there in Tressel's World are special, but Jimbo, this post is for you. Good luck, you're gonna land on your feet. And Keep those feet on the ground, but keep reaching for a rainbow. And remember, that big man in the sky has a plan for all of us,

I also wrote you an inspirational poem:


Standing Tall (On the wings of our dreams)
The world's a cherry pie,
but sometimes you hit the pits
So , don't take shit
from them, from them.
Cause they can't take your dreams,
from you, from you.

Sometimes the world looks perfect,
nothing can be arranged.
Sometimes you just get a feeling,
like you need some kind of change.
No matter what the odds are this time,
nothings gonna stand in your way.
This flame in your heart,
like a long lost friend,
gives every dark street another light at the end.