Tressel's World

Travelin' Man

2007-05-24T15:04:00.000-07:00

Hey there, Tresselheads. It's me Tressel, Coach Jimmy Tressel. Missed me? I bet you did. I've had a whole big bunch of soul searching to do this year and decided to just hit the road and see what this great country of ours is all about. I roughed it in a Winnebago with the kids and Mrs. T. Some legal problems I ran into also made it a good time to disappear.

I left my laptop at home but got some great shots on my digital camera:

That's one mother of a trophy they'll never take away from me. Anyway that's all for today. Feel free to ask some non-football related questions and i'll try and answer the worthy ones. Have a safe memorial day fuckers.

Half-Time Quckie

2007-01-08T19:18:00.000-08:00

Muther fuck this fucking fuck shit cock sucker muther fucker!

Season's Beatings

2006-12-23T20:14:00.000-08:00

Merry Christlombus, Tresselnation. It's me Tressel, Coach Jimmy Tressel. Hey jerks - I know it's been a while since I've posted, but your beloved, well hung, favorite coach has been busy as a bee lately, so suck it. I just finished wrapping presents and making Christmas cookies with Mrs. T. Well actually I made her get buck naked, wrap the presents with her tits and then I slathered frosting all over her ass - bent her over the kitchen counter and went to town - rodeo style. This time of year really brings out the best in people. Just the other day I was getting high with that picklewipe Krenzel and I packed him a bowl full of potpourri and I decided to tell him mid inhale. Now don't go saying that the coach is getting soft, he puked for a good twenty minutes straight it was comic gold.

What did the blind, dumb and deaf kid get for Christmas?

Cancer.

Oh! Big news kids. I've kept this on the low low for months. I just got off the horn with the kids over at Rockstar Games and Grand (Fuckin') Theft Columbus is a GO! This is going to be the most skull smashing, brain splattering, violent video game ever. It stars your sweetassed coach and a whole cast of your favorite Buckeyes. Basically the storyline is that me and Maurice fight and blast our way through a post apocalyptic Columbus, Ohio. The ohio state locker room saves me and the team from a deadly, nuclear blast. We smash zombies heads in, party with hot chicks, stab hookers and eventually go on a killing spree straight through Michigan, like Sherman's march to the sea, but with hot chicks wanting to blow us the whole time. We gain mutant powers, get sweet weapons, and bang hot chicks. Well I don't want to say too much and wreck it. They sent me some rough screen shots so I'll give you a little taste.

That's all for now kids. I've got work to do. I've got to go and jingle my bells against Mrs. T's sleigh. Have a great holiday and remember to keep it wet. Also remember to burn the bridges behind you to light the path ahead.

Why do Squirrels swim on their backs?

To keep their nuts dry.

Bo Knows

2006-11-18T08:17:00.000-08:00

My prediction:
Ohio State 87, Michigan 0.

See you fools at the party after our big win.

Rasbery Scones!!!!

2006-10-26T16:20:00.000-07:00

Blah Blah. Fuck shit damint. Razamtaz gobbledy gook. Titties. Big ole titties. Hovercrafts. Random arcane Ohio State Buckeyes Reference. I just did so much blow. Ha ha ha. Sweater vest. Fuckin' some hos!!!! Maurice Clarette. Make fun of retarded people. I just smoked weed!!!! Rap-ity dap dap. Wooo. Now I'm a gangstah Rapper. Blah Blah. Krenzel's a homo.

Varias decenas de civiles han muerto durante una operación de la OTAN contra los talibanes al sur de Afganistán, en la provincia de Kandahar, han informado hoy medios locales y testigos que elevan a 63 la cifra de fallecidos. La Alianza, por su parte, ha reconocido que en los bombardeos murieron civiles, aunque no ha precisado el número.

More hovercrafts. Troy smith is black!!!! Fuck you Charlie Weiss. Robots. Blah Blah Blah.

Durb a durb, durb durb durb durb.@!@!@!@!@!@#!#3838382041u0hjafdil;fnd ao;894urqo0tj3qpovhohjvo;anc voahvo cna. Justin Zwick.

Michigan. Hey why do some clouds look like people and some clouds look like nothing.

I'm gonna go blow my fucking brains out....

Beach Body Blast

2006-10-20T09:27:00.000-07:00

Hey there you tubby tubs of tub tub goo, it's me Tressel. Coach Jim Tressel. With the holiday season fast approaching, many of you have only one thing on your mind: "How can I look good on the beach?" Well I got news for you: there's only one way a sagging flesh mutant is gonna stop throwing up every time you she looks in the mirror. Put down that bag of Doritos® and picking up a medicine ball. It's time to get ready for Coach's Beach Body Blast!

What's the matter, fellahs? Are you're tits bigger than the Mrs.? Well get a load of this! I'm gonna give you pecs harder than Chinese algebra, and soon you'll land a wife with bigger jugs. What's wrong honey? Saggy pooper? Droopy hoots? Let me guess, ever since you had those little rat bastard fuck-spawn pop out your muff, your husband won't bring home the D? It's probably cause the only thing looser than your snatch is that brick of cottage cheese you call an ass! Lock your kids in a cage and hit the the track for chrissakes. I'm gonna make your thighs supple, your abs rock hard, and your buttocks taut and firm. Soon he'll be pumpin so much spooge up your beave, you're gonna need to wear a diaper! HOT FUCKING DAMN!!!

It is not acceptable for men or women to have chunky asses. No. Do not settle for mediocrity!

The Ohio State Buckeyes are the number one team in the nation right now, and let me tell you something else, they look great naked! This is all thanks to my patented system of body shaping exercises, and stretching techniques. No free weights, and no diets! That's right, eat all the carbs you want, drink beer 'till you puke, and do so much blow you wake up in a stranger's bed with blood on your ass. It doesn't matter as long as you follow my simple 44 minute a day routine and corresponding vitamin regiment. Are you ready to get sexy?

Ok maybe there are a few diet restrictions. Here's how it goes. Eat whatever you want, as long as you stay away from bacon. The only time you should eat bacon should be in accordance with the following breakfast regiment, which is to be observed prior to your 4 mile run on intermittent Tuesdays and Thursdays during daylight savings time, and Wednesdays and Fridays the rest of the year.

A half boiled egg (for the best half boiled egg recipe see my book – Coach Tressel's Secret Meals for Success and a Happy Love Life, Volume 4: EGGS!!!

A bowl of granola. It's not just for dirty filthy hippies.

Bran. At least two bowls of any bran-based cereal. Basically you should stop and dump every 1.25 miles throughout the course of your run.

Chives.

And of course 1/4 lb of bacon

Ok, that's the only dietary restriction, and if you observe this rule, the pounds should melt right off. I put Troy Smith on this diet last year, and guess who's the number one prospect for the Heineman? Fuck you, Charlie Weiss, you fat tub of goo!

Other than the 4 mile run, the only other exercise you need to perform is 44 minutes of one of the 3 following routines at least 5 days a week, but no more than 6. This is what the team and I do, but as long as you hit all the major muscle groups with appropriate periods of rest in between it should work fine.

Monday Wednesdays and Fridays - Chest and Legs:

12-24 Plumb Bobbers, 3-4 sets

12-16 Squat Pumps, 4-5 sets

14-22 Iroquois Twists 1 Set

20 Hay Balers 2 sets

Tuesdays, Saturdays, and Thursdays or Sundays (Optional) - Back and Triceps/Biceps:

10-12 Mexican Pull-ups 3-4 sets

10 minutes of Jumping Jacks 2 sets

10-12 Turkey Rubs 4 sets

20 Hammer Jerks 4 sets

12 Polish Windmills 2 sets

In between all of these I do either a set of HongKong Pushups(20-30), or a set of one-armed sit-ups(10-20). Depending on whatever part of me feels fat that day. The only exception to this are the two days a month I do Power-Crunches. Ladies and Homos, I suggest you do these on a more regular basis, especially if you've had a few kids. What's a power-cruch you say. Basically it's regular crunch except you bite down on an unpeeled banana, and in between reps, you tense your anus, and/or vaginal muscles. It helps flatulence control, and I know for fact, it did wonders for Mrs. Tressel when I made her get back in shape after our last baby.

People, I can't stress this enough: you need to stretch properly. You don't want to pull a hammy and wind up with Turkish elbow? What good is it having rock hard abs, or winning a national title if you're too sore to fuck all night like a filthy sea otter? Also, change your underwear!!!! Especially you husky men. I can't remember how many offensive linemen have missed games because of a case of sack rot. And don't strain yourself, otherwise you're likely to bust a tube and wind up with wrestler's knob. Also, have fun. Mix it up a little. Do a little lugeing for cardio here and there. No, "jacking it" does not count as cardio, though it is a good cool-down. Yep, if you follow my advice, within 10-12 weeks you should have the hard body and flexibility you once only thought to be possible through injections secret government growth hormones or yoga.

Oh I almost forgot, vitamins. Lots and lots of vitamins.

Bowl Games

2006-09-28T21:02:00.001-07:00

Hey there tresselnation. It's me Tressel, Coach Jimmy Tressel. The coach has been busy lately, real busy - bringing home big wins to all my faithful supporters. I have barely had time to smack the old flesh gavel on Mrs. T's forehead for a relaxing game of "order in the court". This season's been tough on me - and those deadbeat, picklewipes in the front office at the Big Ten won't let me cruise my awesome, new hovercraft on the sidelines, what the fuck do I have to do for these people - die on a cross? It's just a hovercraft, people.

So yeah, swain's been exposed as a fake. The real Swain stepped up and called out his imposter. The real Swain really writes about malls and probably doesn't even know my name (check the end of the last post's comments). The real Swain might be half a mo in real life, but the fake swain is ten times the mo he is - hiding behind him. How could anyone have the balls to impersonate someone else just to entertain themselves? Why would they do that? It's sad and totally blows my mind, really.

Did you you guys check out the prank I played on Grandpa Joe P. last week? We had coffee the morning before the game like always. This time I had to get him back. Last year he had me listed in my community as a sexual predator, true enough but it cost me a ton in legal fees. Christ that guy is old, Paterno has cancerous growths in his colon older than me. I pulled the ol' point and say "Isn't that David Hasselhoff?" He looked and I dumped some Visine® in his java. I knew he wouldn't make it to the end of the game without running to the can. I would be worried about some retribution but that old bastard will be worm food by this time next year.

Grandpa P. always travels with an old fart, safety toilet wherever he goes. Too bad that's the only "bowl game" he'll see this year. Well kids, I've got some "undercovers" work to do before saturday. I'm working on some sweet rhymes, be patient. You keep it real and I'll keep it realer.

Just beacause your rhyme was tight Maurice I will post it here. I know you've got the time so please bring the rhyme, son. It was brilliant.

Straight outta C-bus, crazy mothafucka named 'rice
Down but not out, 'cuz my problem's wit' police

I wuz blazed in my mercedes
So my recollection's hazy
of when da cops took me down
Like a movie by Scorsese

Tweakin' high and drunk
Wit' an AK in my trunk
If they'd a waited one mo' hour
I'd a shot another punk!

Q & A Once Again

2006-08-30T04:52:00.000-07:00

Hey kids. It's me Tressel, Coach Jim Tressel. I've been really busy preparing for another awesome season sure to be full of kicking the weak, sub-par asses of all that stand in my way. So yeah, I guess I haven't had all that much fun lately. All work and no play blah, blah, blah. Between practices, press conferences, shoving footballs up asses and serving up some of my signature ass kick salad today, I thought I might open up the "World" to a little Q & A. Remember no football questions, ask about Ann Coulter's clenis or why Krenzel's afraid of tranny midgets or why Ken Blackwell can only bust a nut when he's with an Asian hooker with an underbite and crooked boobs. Ask anything - just no football, Jimbo gets paid to talk about his mighty Buckeyes, and I doubt any of you could even afford to pick up my bar tab on a Wednesday, so go ahead and ask, find out more about the man behind this this big, red, intergalactic, ass kicking machine. Saturday should be a walk in the park. Remember always bet on red, I do... you should see my house.

Coach Jimbo, Celebrity Insider

2006-08-23T20:01:00.000-07:00

Hey there Hollywood gossip nuts! It's me Tressel, Coach Jim Tressel. Gearing up for the new Buck's season is really wearing me thin. So I thought I'd pull my foot out of some scarlet and grey asses and try a new little segment on Tressel's World called Coach Jimbo, Celebrity Insider.

Sure was hot this summer, but if you ask me it got way hotter when Step Up hit the theaters. The Coach has one word for this film, steamy. Take one dreamy street dancer/janitor/soon-to-be meth dealer, add one prissy little ballet dancer fighting for mommy's appoval - stir gently and you've got a jar full of cinematic magic. A plot this original hasn't been done since ummm umm Footloose, Dirty Dancing, Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights, Breakin' 2: Electric Bugaloo, Save the Last Dance, Chorus Line, Fame, Saturday Night Fever and Lambada.

Twins or seperated at birth?You saw it here first kids. Chad Smith, Chili Pepper's drummer and Will Farrell. I've never seen them in the same room together, have you? Speaking of douche bags, if Britney ate a bunch of corn, peanuts and tater tots(to hold it all together), took a mighty dump, dressed it in a wife beater and rapper hats, bought it a car and let it drive around town, could it become any more popular than her hubby Kfed? Yes, the answer is yes.He sure is talented though. Speaking of tits have you checked out the shot of Linsey Lohan's side boob?I would knock the freckles off of those sweet, meaty, sweater kittens. Side boob it totally the new under boob. but not as good as boobs pushed-against-glass-view boobs. Speaking of molestation Don Vito got caught with his fat hands in the wrong 12 year old's pants at one of his nephew's events in Colorado.Viva La Opps. Lazy eye? That fucker packed its bags and left town, Uncle Don. Speaking of ballsacks, reports that (old scrote-chin) Ben Affleck fathered a child before his marraige to Gardner are swamping the interweb. Insiders say that they have uncovered secret medical reports stating that the child, a boy, was born with a face that looks just like a ballsack. The mystery baby's name? Swain.The rare disease is now known as Swain's Disease or in less clinical circles as "sack face". That's all for now Bilbo Douche Baggers, I've got to invent all new ways to shove footballs up these kids asses - success starts with motivation. Motivation sometimes starts with your Coach Jimbo's foot and someone's ass. Until next week. HUT! HUT! RED 52!

Oh and if anyone was worried about Mo, don't. I'll have him out in no time. He's got a friend on the inside. I seriously own this friggin' town.

Cockblocked By My Blog or How I Almost Nailed Ann Coulter

2006-08-14T13:06:00.000-07:00

Damn it, hey Buckaroos. It's me Tressel, Coach Jim Tressel. I keep it real here, I'm not pulling any punches with you kids. Except for when Mrs. T found out about the "world", everything was great. Cockblocked by my blog? Yeah it happened.

So last Friday Kenny Blackwell called me up last minute to go to some boring republican fundraiser at the Ritz downtown. I was going to tell him to go blow himself but then he mentioned something about an open bar and hookers and a bag of blow he snagged off of his PR guy. He said he'd drive - I said ok, whatever blah, blah blah....

We get there, I shake the sweaty palms of a bunch of half dead stiffs in suits who can't wait to tell me how great I am. You know, the usual garbage that I have to endure at these damn things. So after about six jack mannhattens this blond broad who kind of looks like a bird walks up to Kenny and the Coach (that's our handle when we karoke) smoozing it up with the regular assault of compliments and bullshit. She called me her hero or some crap so I asked Kenny who the skank was and he was like - Ann Coulter you jackass. Then I gave him a purple nurple and didn't let go until he named five breakfast cereals. Apparently she's some crazyass republican chick who loves the jesus a bit too much and doesn't know how to keep her piehole shut. I only watch sports and cartoons so I was frigin' clueless.

Kenny lined up four shots of 151 and then dared me to try and nail the broad. I figured it would be a challenge and took the bait. Those crazy religious chicks are always way slutty whores anyhow. So I strolled over to her, said some stuff about jesus and told her about Camp Tressel. We had some drinks, she flapped her gums about some war in the middle east that is apparently going on or something and then she dangled her room key in my face and grabbed little Jimmy and made me name five breakfast cereals before she let go.

Bing bang boom, back to the room. She said something about making herself more comfortable and left the room and came back in an outfit identical to the one I wore in New York. It was on. I was trying to get the thing off while she was licking my ear and talking dirty. I got my hand down her pants and was ready to use a technique I invented called the Columbus landslide when she whispered into to my ear "I'm going to rock your world". I replied "Rock Tressel's World baby, rock that world".

That's when things went south. Then she said "That's that awful fake website someone writes about you." I was like oh my people write coachtressel.com for me I know its kind of lame I think they do my myspace page too, they make me look like an asshole. She said, "No Tressel's World on blogger, it's an abomination." I don't even know what abomination means but she was starting to piss the old Coach off. I told her Tressel's World is my world baby you're going to have to leave.

She made a big stink about the room being hers so I called hotel security and had her ass removed, we're in Columbus. I think it might be legal for me to kill people here. Anyway the situation sorta licked nuts, but I got Kenny on the horn and he had some ladies with him, I had a free room and we made the best of it.

Jimbo Takes Manhattan

2006-07-22T17:08:00.000-07:00

Hey Kids. It's me Tressel, Coach Jim Tressel. Fah Get about it! This weekend I made a trip to the Big Apple for a little recruiting. Too bad all I recruited was crabs, and some dank schwag. I went and saw Avenue Q. It was OK. I like puppets.

I got a hot tip on a Tailback at Marcus Garvey High School in East Harlem. Now I don't know much about New York, but from what I've heard there are quite a lot of street gangs. Now I've reached out to troubled youths, Maurice Clarette, Troy Smith, Andy Katsemoyer, but I've never had to deal with New York Street Gangs. To prepare I rented The Warriors from Blockbuster. I also listened to Mase's Harlem World. I watched it over and over and over. As you can see by this outfit, within a few days I was fully able to assimilate into New York gang culture, thanks to this movie. At least I would have been, except I got picked up in the park on my way uptown. I made the mistake of getting off the subway on Park Ave. to get a Choco Taco from an ice cream vendor.

Ah well, live and learn.

Et Tu Brutus?

2006-07-21T14:41:00.000-07:00

It's Always Sunny In Columbus, Ohio

2006-07-11T10:19:00.001-07:00

Hey there sports fans, it's me Tressel, Coach Jimmy Tressel. Hope you all had a great fourth of July. Mine was pretty sweet until the boys in blue showed up and started hassling me about an incident involving my neighbor's dog and some badasssed bottle rockets I stole from some kids down the street. Gee wiz, people are so uptight sometimes.

So the other night, I hit the town with my favorite OSU booster Bob. He's an ok guy but he likes to party. He promised to hook us up with some classy call girls so I said I'd catch the bill at dinner. He picked out a sweet little redhead with big cans for the coach and a little Asian one for himself. About eight bottles of wine into our meal things were going swimmingly until our waitress totally flaked out. I know that decent customer service is a thing of the past now a days, but Bob only grabbed her ass like twice. She was Indian or some kind of Spanish and didn't even recognize who I was. So I dumped some wine on Bob's hooker and asked the waitress to go in the back for some soda water, then we split. Bob grabbed the girls and I grabbed the Make-A-Wish kid and we jumped in my dodge omni that I tricked out to look like a buckeye helmet.

Oh yeah, I got stuck with one of those Make-A-Wish cancer kids for the day and had to bring him along. I thought we'd do something for the kid so we decided to get high and go to Lazer Planet, one of those laser tag joints. My old cat Scarlet had cancer and I had to crack it in the head with an ashtray and toss it in the fireplace with some gasoline for a Viking burial. It still makes me sad sometimes thinking about those fuzzy paws and those curious little green eyes (and all that sizzling, yuck). So I've got a soft spot for those creepy little cancer kids.

We get there - get suited up and were having a great time until the kid kept lighting me up in the back. I told him to get lost, he was totally messing up my score in the rankings. Out of nowhere the little bastard kicks your favorite coach flat in the old sperm wallet. After I recovered I got up took my belt off and strapped him to a post. I must have scored like 800 points on him before I got back to my regular attack. Needless to say "Boba Fett", that's my laser tag handle, ranked numero uno. We split and headed for the Holiday Inn. I pretended to look for the kid for a couple minutes so the girls wouldn't think I was a jerk.

We got there, ordered some bubbly and cheeseburgers, then tore the room apart and made it into an obstacle coarse. After a couple rounds of naked freeze tag and a game I call Goblin', it was time to turn the lights low and get down to business. All in all, it was a darn good time.

So here I am at Casa de Tressel looking to just wind down and relax. I walked in the door and Mrs. T was steaming. She was barking something about the Make-A-Wish people calling the house all morning. All I wanted to do was stop the cast of Stomp from performing in my skull, I gave her some cash and sent her ass to the mall. The phone's off the hook now and I'm getting ready to catch up on some cartoons I TiVo-ed, drink some orange pop, eat some cheetos, and relax.

What a night. I bet that Make-A-Wish kid is wishing he didn't kick me in the nuts. Gosh, I'd better get that belt back soon, my kids gave it to me last Christmas. The belt buckle says Big Jim.

Peace.

Yeah... whatever.

2006-07-01T12:45:00.000-07:00

Hello neighbor, it's me Tressel, Coach Jimmy Tressel, some of you out there in Tressel's World have been complaining about the coach not posting enough. Well let me lift my balls up off your chin long enough to explain to you that I have this team that I coach called the Ohio State Fucking Buckeyes, an interplanetary force of cosmic destructive awesomeness, don't forget that. I figure that if I get another bowl game under my belt Jimmy T"s going to be getting some Hollywood pussy, at least a Desperate Housewife or two. That's why I've been working extra hard this year.

Have you ever had to punch your nextdoor neighbor in the nuts just because you slapped his wife's fat ass and passed out in his yard, woke up next to his teenage daughter and made sweet love to her behind their garage while the sun gently rose to start a new beautiful day and maybe gave her the clap? I have.

Is anyone watching any of this world cup nonsense? It's hard not to. The games are on like four channels. I was stoned out of my gourd last week in some chick's dorm room watching a game on the Spanish channel. I kind of got into it for a second but then I realized that I was just high and the chick and her roommate were both on the soccer team and I was hoping to get some action off the roommate. It was kind of like when you're surfing the porn super highway, you know the interweb, and you see a picture of some skank who has a weird vagina (a really meaty one, maybe a clenis or just one of those big ones that goes from the ass to the belly button) and you think that's hot, just because it's weird. But then your like no - that's just weird. That's how I felt watching soccer.

Sure I'll have my agents go kidnap some Scandinavian kid who plays soccer when I need a new kicker, but that game is way retarded. Think of the guys who played soccer at your high school. They were usually skinny or short, had bad skin - goofyassed haircuts and were most likely foreign. No son of mine legitimate or not will ever play that girl sport. What self respecting sports fan could appreciate a sport responsible for promoting the mullet?

That's all for now kids. The Coach has grown up stuff to do. I'm keepin' it loose so keep it tight, ladies leave the door unlocked I'll be by later tonight.

Stephen Colbert's Ear

2006-06-02T01:04:00.000-07:00

Hello earthlings, it's me Jim Tressel, Coach Jim Tressel. Just here to share some wisdom and rhymes with all my little b(f)ucknuts. Did you know that my dick is so big that my dick has it's own dick and it's dick is bigger than yours? My dick is so big it doesn't even return Spielberg's calls. There's a new movie coming out this fall called Godzilla vs. My Dick. One time I fucked a car wash and I gave it stretch marks. I pay my dick rent. Shucks, my urologist keeps a ladder in his office. My dick is so big that when I make it angry, it rips it's shirt off, turns green and it beats me. Sit back & buckle up and while I drop some sugary, rhymic treasures upon your common, simple, suburban lives. Don't hate the players or the game, just hate youself if your strategy's lame. My shit's tight like Mary Kate and Ashley circa. 1987 tonight. Feel the the flow, sniff some blow and let me roll.

i bust big scarlet & grey nuts
on dirty, slutty co-eds butts
i'll break your weak-ass leg
like i'm breakin' an egg
scamble your punk-ass face
while i rock this stinkin' place
yo mamma's got a crocked titty
like stephen colbert's ear
so make me a sammich
and get me a beer
i come correct - right
that's why my shit's tight
you didn't know your girl cries
when i lick her tender thighs
punks scatter to the walls
they know i came to break balls
you're on your broke-ass knees
while i'm countin' my cheese
cuz it's a breeze
i uses to nail condoleez-a
your girls a nasty dog
she's got ticks and fleas-a
let the haters keep their hate
couldn't lick my plate
booster money keeps my boys
from going upstate
coach jimmy t. is up in this hizzy
laddies get undrizzy
laddies get bizzy
then they get outzy
cuz jimmy's got cloutzy
sit on it - spin around
shut your mouth
after i punch the clown
don't let the door hit ya
where jimmy just bit ya
peace.

Soul Patrol

2006-05-26T14:07:00.000-07:00

Word up ho, it's me Jim Tressel, Coach Jim Tressel. I've been so busy with stupid work stuff lately. It seems like every time I try to sit down and relax, some moron screws shit up and I've got to go and serve up some of my signature ass kick salad. Gee wiz, it just got to be too much so I decided to slow it down a little. I locked the door to my office, cleared all the spank mags off of my desk, got out my pencil and lit up a joint. So before this pile of awesome hits wax, here's my newest slice of lyrical street wisdom.

makin' queens of the galaxy scream
look at my pants they're starting to steam
sometimes I like em' chubby when I'm drinkin' jim beam
got more sweat on my hog than Barbarino or Epstein
so welcome back, put you face on my sack
here's a razor-shave the hair off my back
dropped my pants-now its time to attack
I'm droppin bombs on your face like a kid in irac
the big red vest is better than the rest
my hands are tired from signin' big ol' breasts
please give it a rest if that bush is a mess
The coach's got no time to mess with a crow's nest
believe what you hear-the rumors aren't fake
my dick's like a snake thet swallowed a rake
all the pretty ladies can't wait to partake
if I don't slow down my dick is gonna break
peace.

DaVinci Code Fever

2006-05-22T05:54:00.000-07:00

Hey there fellow cinematequees, it's me Tressel, Coach Jim Tressel, and like most of you out there in Tressel's World, I've been suffering from a severe case of Davinci code fever. Now, I'm not officially a literary critic, but I do happen to mold young minds in one of the finest academic institutions in this great country of ours, and as such, I feel that I have a certain penchant for the art of the written word. After all, I write a blog. It is for this reason that I can make the following assertion...Dan Brown is a genius!

I mean it. This guy is a hell of writer, and might I add, it's about time people woke up and realized the treachery of the Catholic Church, and it's shadow organizations like Opus Dei. Kudos to you Dan Brown, for having the courage to expose their treachery.

But I digress.

Enough politics, I loved the book, but as for the movie....I really loved it! This is the must see movie of the year. Tom Hanks delivers yet another stellar performance in a movie chock full of edge of your seat excitement. Seeking to escape the oppresive summer heat? Well, this isn't the movie for you, because the chemistry/sexual tension between Hanks and (Audrey) Tatou sets the screen a' sizzle! This is far and away his finest performance since Forest Gump, which If you remember, I also gave two Bucks up,(because after all, life really is like a box of chocolates).

This has to be director, Ron Howard's finest film since Grinch. When is the academy going to give this man his due? Yeah, I know he already has an Oscar or two, but seriously, they should deify this guy. I mean it, he's the Frank Capra of this generation. Just give him an Oscar everytime he makes a movie. That's what I say.

Well, that's all for now. Until next time, pass the popcorn!

Looking Back, Looking Forward

2006-05-17T07:34:00.000-07:00

Hey there, Buckaroos! Last weekend, I was over at Ken Blackwell's House looking through his medicine cabinet hoping to score some pain killers when I found a bottle of penicillin. It sure did bring back some memories. It also made me think about One Tit Mary and how our relationship has grown over the years. She's the hooker that found me face down in the gutter and taught me how to open up my heart and express the things that were trapped there for so many years. She also taught me how to cook up a mean batch of crack cocaine. This poem's for you, you nasty old ho.

An Ode to One Tit Mary

For a prostitute
I am absolute
though your teeth are few
that your heart is true

Having only one tit
never slowed you a bit
you've always come through
when my balls were blue

You walk with a limp
cuz, now I'm your pimp
keepin' it so sleazy
you make pimpin' easy

So get my 300 by nine tonight bitch
or they'll find your old nasty rotten whore ass in a ditch

Now Pinch Hitting for Mrs. T...

2006-04-30T07:02:00.000-07:00

Tressel here. Coach Jim Tressel. How are all my little Buck Nuts? Good? Yeah, well I've been sleeping at a goddamn Motel 6 for the last few days thanks to this stupid blog, so you can all rot in hell. I hope you guys enjoy this. I hope it was worth it. Because apparently Mrs. Tressel doesn't enjoy the World.

I guess she found a link to this blog on some message board for baking, or laundry, or cooking dinner, or whatever the hell it is she does for fun when I'm at work paying the mutha fuckin' bills. Needless to say, she didn't take to kindly to the photos from Spring Break.

But I guess that's the risk you take with this new and exciting medium that is the blog-O-sphere. No-Holds-Barred Truth, that's what this blog is about. I'm not pulling punches. I'm not holding back. There's a truth inside me, and it needs a place to breath. This blog is that place.

That being said, what a crazy weekend. So with the Mrs. not talking to me, I needed someone to take to Ken Blackwell's Key Parrty/Fund Raiser this weekend. I've said it once and I'll say it again, thank god for prostitutes. Sure enough no one attending, not Bob Taft, not Wally O'Dell, and certainly not Ken Blackwell or any of Ohio's other prominent Republicans noticed. Let's just say Shanta earned her twenty bucks. Unfortunately she gave everyone crabs. Still, it's not like its AIDS, and it's certainly nothing a little topical ointment can't take care of.

Honey, if you're reading this. Let's stop the fussin' and get back to mussin'. I miss you.

I also need you to pick up my drycleaning.

Penny Pinchin' Pointers

2006-04-26T16:33:00.000-07:00

Hey there truebelievers, it's me, Tressel, Coach Jim Tressel. This week, I'm going to start a new segment I'll be calling Coach's Penny Pinchin' Pointers for Particular Pals. I'll be sharing all kinds of new and exciting ways for you to stretch that dollar the extra mile. Lord knows we could all save a few bucks what with the price of gas going through the fucking roof and all.

So just last week my wife put filters on our AOL to keep me from being able to download pornography. I know, I know, what a cunt. Well, rather than spend tens of thousands of dollars on Pornographic videos and magazines like I did in the old days before the internet, I came up with a little scheme to get a nce spank without breaking the bank.

I visit fertility clinics pretending to be interested in making a deposit. Not only do I leave with an extra hundred bucks, but I also take the porn with me, by sneaking it out under my jacket. Now, I know what you're thinking, "But coach, I don't want my seed out there floatin around. What if some kid comes knockin' at my door in 18 years wantin some money or a hug or something?"

Don't worry, I already thought of that. Keep in mind I don't want any more illegitimate children, myself. That's how I wound up addicted to porno in the first place. Believe me, I could get a real woman if I wanted to. I just can't afford the paternity suits. Also, I got an image to maintain. What I do is real simple. I sneak a couple mayonaise packets in my pocket. Simple, easy, and effective. It's also kind of funny when you picture the look on Susie Man-haters face when she shoots a load of Helman's up the beave instead of Coach Jimmy's man-juice. Ha! Nine months and out pops a tuna on Rye!!! Better yet, next time marry a real man, instead of some Nancy who shoots blanks.

That'll teach ya, to bypass naturual sex!!! Man, there's nothing more beautiful than a man and a woman fucking. Mmmm Mmmm. Nature.

Well, that's this week's tip. Tune in next week when I'll tell you how to feed a family of six with just a box of Shake 'n Bake and a half cup of Crisco. Mmmm Mmm can't wait. See ya then, and keep on pinchin'!!!!

:)

Scarlett vs. Who Gives a Flying Fuck

2006-04-25T04:49:00.000-07:00

Hey kids, it's your old pal, Tressel. Coach Jim Tressel. Yeah, I know it's been a while since I've updated. Sorry I guess I've just been busy coaching the greatest football team that ever emerged from god's vagina. Hey! Who likes ice cream. So, yeah last weekend....about that giant waste of time you assholes call an excuse to get drunk, the Scarlett and Grey Game. whoopity fuckin do. Seriously, who get's off watching a team play themself? It's a fucking scrimmage you jerk-asses. The real deal don't start till August, so simmer down for I bust out my thongs and serve up some ass-kick salad. So who were you cheering for? "Oh, I just like to see our boys out there givin it their all." Hey, fuck you. You just want an excuse to eat bratwurst and drink Beast in the back of your lame ass Winebago, maybe score some underage cooch with the offer of some contra-band skunk brew. Did you even pay attention to the score? Oh, wait, there wasn't one. You people make me sick. I had to be there, It's my job, but you dicklicks could have been out enjoying a beautiful spring day. Riding bikes, or hoovercrafts, rock-climbing, going to Home Depot, whatever it is lame-ass whiteys do on their day off. Still, make sure you buy plenty of our new jerseys. Every jersey we sell goes to my favorite charity, The Buy Jim Tressel a new Hoovercraft Foundation.

So what's with this band OAR. They fucking suck. I guess it stands for Of A Revolution, but my guess is, the only revolution these cheese dicks are interested in pertains to rennovations at their local Gap. I've always said, the only thing that sucks more than Dave Matthews is people who want to be Dave Matthews.

I think they should be called TWG...Turds With Guitars. Seriously. What about these guys says revolution. Oh yeah, like, I'm gonna listen to a bunch of Frat Douche's try and play reggae music, and that's gonna inspire me to overthrow the corrupt oppressive regime that won't legalize pot. Way to rage against the machine there, boyos. Bob Marley's tumor ridden, maggot infested corpse is wailing in his grave. God, bring on the Steeley Dan for Chrissakes. How come all those guys from Skynnard had to die in a plane crash,(at least the one's that didn't suck) but these scrotes are still struttin' around my town bogartin' all my snatch!

That song, Crazy Game of Poker...it fucking sucks. How can you jam for 20 minutes about a game of poker. If these fuck-holes ever attended one of my crazy games of poker, they'd probably get stabbed...or shot. It's re-fucking-tarded. It'd be one thing if this poor excuse for a Steve Miller Band could actually play their instruments, but they suck. At best, I would describe them as a Spin Doctors tribute band.

Speaking of assholes...

I was watching the NBA playoffs this last week, and I just want to say, fuck you, Brent Musburger! Go Cavs.

Down and Out on Spring Break

2006-04-09T08:16:00.000-07:00

Tressel, here. Coach Jim Tressel. Man, what a couple weeks I've had. Haven't updated much in the last two weeks. I was headed down to the Winter Music Conference in Miami Florida. Wanted to show off some of my fat beats, switch my plates with my good friend Carl Cox. Some of you might know of me by my stage name, DJ Galactic Star Crunch. Unfortunately I never made it there. That's cause, like a dumbass, I agreed to carpool with Skeete, who was headed down to Panama City for Spring Break. Needless to say, I wound up partying with him for two weeks and doing quite a bit of drugs. Most of the last two weeks is a blur. I remember very little between March 28, and yesterday morning at about 3am, when I woke up face down in a pool of someone elses vomit, wearing nothing but a sweater vest, in a parking lot of a Chick Fil-A in Huntsville, Alabama. There was a syringe in my arm with half a speedball still in it. Needless to say, I pushed the rest through, cleaned the blood off my ass, and then after waiting in the bushes for an hour, beat a trucker unconsious, took his pants, and wallet, and hopped a Gray Hound to Ohio. Needless to say I'm now home safe, back with the misses, in Columbus. Wouldn't you know it, but tucked into the front pocket of my sweater vest was a disposable camera. Here a some of the pictures. I don't know what the fuck I was on, that I decided to wear this shirt, but I do remember that the woman behind me could bounce on a stick o' meat like nobody's business. Man, the things that lady was willing to do for beads, there's nothing like an experienced woman.

Still, one of the best things about going down to spring break is reaching out to the young people. Check out these skanks. All I remember about these girls is they really liked to listen to OAR. What a fucking terrible band.

Somehow, I'm not sure how, but somehow I wound up on a boat.

Did I mention I did a lot of coke?

So needless to say, it's a miracle I'm still alive. I think next year, I'm gonna take it a little easier.

Some Space Poetry

2006-04-01T00:28:00.000-08:00

Yeah, what's up, fuckers? It's Tressel. Coach Jim Tressel. Last week I was up in Cleveland on a recruiting mission. Caught a free Andrew Bird Show up in Cleveland. It was fun. Fuck you. I had so much inspiration. I wrote some poetry.

space, space. So fuckin big.
I'm a worm, you're a pig.

Space space so fucking deep.
I think about you in my sleep.

Writer's Workshop

2006-03-25T17:41:00.000-08:00

Hello world, it's me, Tressel. Coach Jim Tressel. I kinda got a problem, and I was hoping some of you out there in Tressel's World could give me a hand. As many of my avid readers may know, I'm currently working on a screen play. It's kind of a sci-fi musical, but I don't really wanna confine it to genres. Any how, the basic premise is in the year 3,000 AD, the future, there's this football Coach. He's an android. The thing is, he has a microchip that lets him feel emotions, and because of this microchip, he won't go pro, even though he should, you know, for the money. He doesn't though, cause he cares about the kids, cause of his chip.Then one his kids get's busted by the Intergalactic Space Police for taking money from a booster rocket, and he's kind of in the dumps about that. He's really tormented. So I'm kind of stuck in this scene where he confronts his creator, a scientist. He's mad, and he wants to express his anger, but he's torn, because it's his creator.

COACH: Why did you make me love. All I want is to be free. Free of emotions. Free to go pro. I could make so much money. Oh why, oh why did you make me care.

SCIENTIST: It is because I care for you, that I made you love. Look inside. You know that what I did was right. I made you love, because I love you.

COACH: But what is the point of love, if all it brings you is pain.

SCIENTIST: Love has brought you more than pain. What about all the beautiful queens of all the alien races of the galaxy. They all want you to pleasure them. Could this be without your humanity.

COACH: They only want to be with me for my sexual stamina. My robotic cock. They could care less about my heart. My fake, silicon heart. How it burns beneath my vest. My sweater vest.

SCIENTIST: I care about your heart. And your vest. It doesn't look stupid.

So basically I think this could go one of two ways.

Option 1: the Coach punches the scientist in the chest and rips his heart out. Then he kicks him out of an air-lock. Personally, I think it's the most realistic contingency, and it also provides a good plot twist. I forgot to mention this, but the scientist is also the President of Jupiter, so kicking him out of an airlock means coach is in a lot of trouble. I mean from there it would get really exciting, and basically it writes itself.

Unfortunately I wrote this really great musical number that Coach and the Scientist could go into. The Coach would sing about the paradox of his humanity and his imortality, his longing to be free, and the Scientist would sing about how he's always wanted a son, and now he kind of has one, but it's too bad his son is angry at him. It ends with them embracing in mutual love and forgiveness. It's a tear jerker, but it results in some serious writer's block.

I don't know. What do you guys think would make a better story?

Look at my fat fucking cat!

2006-03-16T15:59:00.000-08:00

I'm really worried about the Buckster. Ever since his old lady skipped town, he's done nothing but eat Ringdings and watch Maury Povich. Speaking of which, that Maury Povich is a sick fuck. Truly the most evil person on this planet, yesterday's episode was "My Baby's Daddy, just Might be my Daddy." I'll be honest, it made me want to put a gun in my mouth, that's how fucking sad it made me feel for humanity. But that was a breif stint of suicidal tendency. Bucky's been on suicide watch for the last three weeks. Clarette doesn't help much; he's been hanging around alot, as well. The other day I came home from a recruiting trip, and Bucky and Clarette are on my couch, eatin' Ringdings, drikin' Shclitz. The place reeked of skunk-ass dirt weed. Enough was enough. I was like, "Get a job....both of you! Quick mopin' around and feelin sorry for yourselves already." Man, the two of them are just not good for each other at all. Talk about your co-dependencies. I think Maurice and Bucky have both pretty much given up. Maurice said he's just gonna eat Hostess snack cakes until he's fat enough to qualify for workman's comp, an Idea I think he got from an episode of Maury Povich. He's also talking about jumping in front of cars and suing the people that hit him. Another idea from Maury Povich.

Can cat's file for workman's comp? How do they fill out the forms without opposable thumbs. That sound's like another episode of Maury Povich. "My cat is so disgustingly obese, he want's to file workman's comp." Could be good. Those two need to get laid, seriously. Only problem is I don't think the Buckster could find his pecker.

Pray for them.

My Lyrical Street Science is Tight – So Are My New Pants

2006-03-15T14:44:00.000-08:00

Word up, Tresselnation. It's me Jimmy T, here to drop some more wisdom on your dumb, cornfed asses. That Q&A session really wore me out and killed the sweet tussin and listerine buzz I had going yesterday. Obviously I had to get out of the house, so I went to the mall to by some new pants. There's nothing like new pants to put a little zing in the coach's step, well almost nothing. Man, did I find some sweet pants.

Today I got bored so I stopped by the office in my new pants. I picked up my mail, slapped some coed chicks on the ass, played some Unreal Tournament on my laptop and generally just broke balls for a few hours. But I did it with a whole new confidence and finesse. It seemed like every chick I walked past was zoning in on the way these pants perfectly frame my package.

I felt so good that when I got home I did a couple whipits and chased the misses around playing her favorite game "Order in the Court". Once I was done swingin' the old meat gavel around I went straight to the studio to lay down some tight lyrics. Because I love my new pants so much I'll share this with you.

NEW PANTS

pants pants
my new pants
as I strut past
ho's are late for class
it's just the way I wear it
never droopin' like Clarett

they make my crotch bulge out
hear the ladies shout
all the pretty heads turn
checking out my unicorn

I don't keep the ladies guessing
they all need some sweater vesting
they can't stop ingesting
my ass kick salad dressing

pants pants
my new pants
pull yours down
and we'll do a little dance

you know you're a freak
don't be shy give me a peak
gotta check out the goods
before the bed springs go squeak

pants pants
my new pants
check it, bitch

Whoever wrote this book should be tied to a tree and have there balls eaten by a goat with herpes. What's wrong with people?

More Tasty Tidbits

2006-03-12T12:22:00.000-08:00

Wake up, fuckos! It's me, Tressel. Coach Jim Tressel. I'm going to do this big stinking pile of crap called the world a favor and open this blog up to a little Q and A time. And no, that doesn't stand for Queers and Aardvarks, although they are certainly invited to participate. It stands for Question and Answer. One rule, no football questions. That's what the call-in shows and press conferences are for. Ask me about my screenplay, ask me about my rap career, ask me about my cat. I'm willing to make an exception in regards to Clarett. I'd like to set a few things straight. So bring it on, bitches!!!

Oscar Recap

2006-03-06T12:46:00.000-08:00

Hey Kids, It's me, your old pal, Hollywood Insider, Coach Jim Tressel. Well, another Oscars has come and gone, and I must say, yet again a perennial Tressel favorite has been snubbed by the accademy. When is Tim Allen gonna get his due? So what if he's a Michigan fan, have you seen Jungle to Jungle? I'll tell ya, thee don't make 'em like that anymore. That new movie, Shaggy Dog looks pretty good, though.

Ha, I'm just kidding. Tim Allen totally sucks. Remember Home Improvement? That thing was gayer than Truman Capote holding a three dollar bill in the back of Krenzel's PT Cruiser. Speaking of things that are gay, if I hear one more Brokeback Mountain/"I wish I could quit you!" joke, I swear I'm gonna put my fist through someone's fucking head. And what's the deal with Felicity Houghman? Is she a dude or not? One night I was rubbin' one out to her while watching Desperate Housewives, and then during the commercials, I see a preview for this Trans America movie. Does that make me gay? Answer carefully, if you don't want a big bowl of my patented Ass-kick Salad.

Gotta say, how is it that the 3-6 Maffia won the Oscar? I've farted better raps than that, and Dolly Parton has nice cans, so how's that for Injustice? Crash, you can suck it. Maybe my rap act needs a little interpretive dance. Pete Carrol may be bumpin' elbows with the Stars, but Coach Jimmy is bumpin' uglies...

All in all, I gotta say the highlight of the night for yours truly was the four-way I had with Tom Hanks and these two broads. That's what a Fiesta Bowl Championship'll get ya. The broad on the right had some nice cans, didn't she? Coach likes him some pancakes.

Well, that's all for now. Until next time keep it on the QT and very hush, hush.

My Balls Itch!

2006-03-02T13:41:00.000-08:00

It's true they do. I gotta powder them donuts.

Jilted

2006-02-26T18:29:00.000-08:00

Fucking bitch.

I spent easily ten grand on this fucking wedding. Ten grand. Do you know how many snack packs that is? That twat bailed on my Bucky. Ten minutes before the ceremony and she goes missing. How could you bail on a cat like Bucky. Made me look bad in front of Dr. Dre, and now guess who's probably lost his record deal? Needless to say the Buckster didn't take it well...

Still, all in all I made a new friend. Let's hear it for Kristin who made the journey all the way from DC, or wherever the hell it is she's from, just to be in the wedding. The wedding that didn't happen. But that didn't stop us from having a good time.

And one celebrity stuck around for the good time. Saturday night Ludacris, Kristin and I thought we'd try and cheer Buckster up. We took him out on the town to some of my favorite Kareoke bars. Here's Ludacris and I doing "Grillz".

Of course none of this fixes the fact I'm stuck with 248 chicken dinners. Or the fact that Bucky won't stop drinking Schlitz and listening to the Cure. Look what that cunt did to my Bucky...

He looks like Nick Nolte.
Ohhhh you know who I blame for this. That Waffles!!! I'll bet he had something to do with this. He's always trying to hurt my Bucky. Yet, I gotta hand it to him. He looked pretty smart in his tux.

If I ever see that cat again, I swear to god I'll fucking wring it's goddamn neck. I mean it. I'll throw it in a sack and drown the little cum dumpster.

Reachin For That Rainbow, Ridin' That Storm Out

2006-02-23T06:48:00.000-08:00

Hey kids, It's me Tressel, Coach Jim Tressel. As many of you out there in Tressel's world know, I'm a dreamer. As a boy, and later as a young man, I dreamed of one day coaching a team to a national title. Well, been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Now, I'm all about this rap game. Don't worry, I'm still gonna coach the Buckeyes, but artistically I need to express myself, especially during the offseason.

Troy Smith introduced me to Ludacris, I guess they're friends. I was originally going to ask Ludacris if he'd rap at my cat's wedding, which is this weekend, by the way. Ludacris said he'd probably be able to make it. Then I asked if he'd like to hear a song I'd been working on, and to put it modestly, minds were blown. He's like, "dawg",(that's what they call people they're friends with), "your science is tight." He said I should rap, and I realized that this might be the perfect opportunity to launch my hip-hop career. So I, Coach Jim Tressel, will be making my debut as both MC and DJ at the wedding of my two cute little kittie witties, Bucky and Arby.

Check out this sweet rhyme. I've been working on it for a few weeks.

Word up, son, how you like me now?
Come on in the back and I'll show you how,
We put bitches butts,
and ma niggaz nuts,
out on the floor,
I'll switch my plates if you want some more,
then get ya punk ass down to the general store,
cause they glues,
and they got shoes,
but theres only one mutha fucka whose got the moves,
and it's me,
Coach Jimmy T,
The baddest pimp daddy you'll ever see.

Check out this sweet picture of me backstage with DR. Dre after the Ludacris show at Newport.

Ludacris played my demo tape for Dr. Dre (also coming to the wedding), and he said that if he produced this track he might use some REO Speedwagon samples for a hook. What do you guys think? I call it Reachin for that Rainbow.

And the winner is...

2006-02-17T06:21:00.000-08:00

Well, I picked a name for Bucky's Fiance...Arby. Which works out great, kind of ironic, cause I just took Mrs. T there for our wedding anniversary. Ah....young love. So congratulations to Kristin, who will be attending the star-studded Gala that is the Tressel Family Kitty Wedding.

Man, I am so stressed out planning this thing. Can you guess how much a wedding costs? I would have guessed that because it's a wedding for cats, it wouldn't cost as much, because technically they're not real people. Wrong again, Jimbo! Apparently they are real people, because planning this wedding is costing me some real mutha fuckin' cheese.

Mrs. T's been on my ass lately. I guess she's pissed about how much money/time I'm spending on this wedding. I'll bet if it was that stupid dog of hers, she wouldn't mind. Ha, as if anyone would want to marry Waffles. That stupid dog! He's so ugly, I'll bet he has to pay for sex...just like Gene Smith. Not like my Bucky, though. I doubt marriage is gonna stop the ole Buckster from gettin his mack on! Yup, you can't tame the Buckster, he's a real sex-machine, just like his old man.

Check out this cake.

Yup nothings too good for my Bucky. I love my kitty.

Happy VD day!

2006-02-15T07:47:00.000-08:00

Dreams do come true!

Guess whose wife got him a little surprise Valentine's Day gift. Yupp, it's Tressel, Coach Jim Tressel, Hovercrafter!!!!

I guess she forgives/respects me for locking her in the Closet.

I would have written this little Valentines day post sooner but I was busy all day yesterday with my new present, Hoovercrafting all over campus, and all last night Schtupin' Mrs. T for her thoughtful gift. Let's just say my gift to her, a case of Old Miluakee and a box of rubbers, were put to good to use. I also gave her a backrub. Now that's romance! Take notes out there fellas and remember I'm more than just football. I can be quite the charmer when I put my mind to it.

Tressel Romance Tip #341: An adult film paired with a backrub and some cheap domestic beer can really set the mood for a night of hot, ball-draining love-making.

And speaking of romance I'll be announcing the winner of the "Name Tressel's Pussy" contest sometime tomorrow. You have until Midnight tonight to submit your entries. Remember a trip to the Tresselrosa for the uber cutie kitty wedding is on the line, so leave an email or a link to your website, or for chrissakes a name, or something.

Heh, I said entries.

Gettin' Some Pussy

2006-02-12T07:49:00.000-08:00

Look what the cat dragged in...another cat. Yuppums, my cute little kitty, Bucky brought home a little girlfriend, and those two like to fuck...alot. She doesn't look too clean though. That's why I, Coach Jim Tressel, had to give her a bath, and believe you me, it wasn't easy. The only thing that hates water more than a cat, is a dirty hairless cat. Still ugly as this bitch is, can't say I blame the Buckster. Coach Jimbo likes his pussies shaved too. Still, I've never seen him like this before. All he does is fuck that cat. Reminds me of Mrs. T, and myself once. It's like they're in love or something.

Which you have to admit is pretty goddamn adorable.

So I think after a proper ceremony I'm going to welcome her into the Tressel family. We're gonna have a wedding and everything, but first we need two things.

A minister who marries cats.
And a name for my new daughter-in-law

Oh, this is going to be the best wedding ever! Maybe I'll have it on Valentine's Day. That would be so romantic. And you know who's not invited? Waffles. Ohhhh I hate that dog.

So I want all you out there in Tressel's World to submit your ideas for names. As for me, I'm completely dumbfounded. So its up to you, Tresselteers! The winner will get invited to the wedding. Hell, if you're ordained, you can perform the ceremony.

Enough is Enough

2006-02-11T07:17:00.000-08:00

I've canceled the Spice Channel, and for that matter, all cable. It's just the big four and PBS. I've got to stop masturbating.

Federal Agents, Mad Cause I'm Flagrant

2006-02-07T15:47:00.000-08:00

Tressel here. Coach Tressel, if you do. And you will, if you don't want a helping of my patented ass-kick salad.

Straight up with y'alls gangsta-ass bitches
I'm the Coach with the Roach, that keeps em in stitches.
You best not mess with Jimmy T,
There ain't nothin you chumps can pin on me.
I'll smoke your herb and stuff your bitch for free,
Cause you know I'm exactly who you want to be.
Don't hate the playa' just hate the game,
cause i do it all in Jesus's Name.

A little celebratory rhyme for beatin' the rap.

I couldn't talk about this until now, because my lawyers said it would be a "bad idea," but fuck them. This is such a good story. Last weekend I had all these flat-footed fucks all up in my biznits, showin' up here at the Tresselrosa with a warrant pullin their CSI bullshit. They're all like “The forensic team will need to drain your pool, Mister Tressel,” and “This investigation of your home is a serious matter, Mister Tressel,” and "you have the right to an attorney, Mister Tressel." Nevermind the fact Mister Tressel was in the middle of a little alone time with little Tressel, hell, Mister Tressel could barely find time to rub one out with all the bacon nosin around, I had to duck into the laundry room with a copy of National Geographic and a bottle of Jergens.

Seriously I need to stop masturbating.

Anyway wouldn't you know it, but Johnny Gumshoe had to go and find that hooker Troy Smith accidently strangled. So as it turns out, dead hooker parts turning up in the mulch pile are a slightly bigger deal than I anticipated. I mean dead hookers are what wood-chippers are for, am I right or am I right? It's not like I left her in the fuckin' pool. I thought I was being responsible, but I guess not responsible enough for ole Gene "my son is a coke whore" Smith, Athletic Directory, who felt the need to bring this up to the board of Trustees.

Fuck that guy.

I mean, yeah, things got a little out of hand around ol’ Jimbo’s place during the Fiesta Bowl Bash, but c’mon, it was like a month ago. Fucking get over it. That prick's probably the one who called the Feds in the first place.

Bottom line, I spent a lot of time smoothing shit out with the boosters this week, not to mention I got Gene "I think I'm so high and mighty cause no one knows I like to beat off to amputee porn with a trashbag over my head" Smith, Athletic Director on my case.

Fuck, do I miss Geiger. He never used to give a shit about dead hookers.

Yeah, so Thursday, I was craving some serious stress relief in the form of a fat sack of cheeb. Normally, Krenzel’s my go-to guy for some tasty herbage. He usually rounds up some serious skunk and doesn’t mind stopping by the ol’ Casa Jimbo to smoke me up free-of-charge. I think it's cause I have the NFL network.

But this week he was bone dry, so I cruised by the Hayes Center to see if I could get a pinch out of T. Smith’s bag. No such luck. Troy told me to acks A.J. Hawk, who told me to ask Santonio, who finally told me that Clarett met this guy in the pen who would hook you up for a tossed salad or some OSU Football Tickets. Guess who's goin to openin' day? Sorry make-a-wish kid, Coach is Jonesin'. Try Disney World.

Now, me and Mo haven’t talked much since ‘the incident,’ but by then I was hankerin' so hard I figured it couldn’t hurt to call him just once. Shit, it was either him or Herbstreit--who despite his name, is a total douche when he’s high.

Anyway, so I wind up all the way over at his shithole apartment off Chittenden and North 4th, where he gives me a free rip off his 4-footer and we watch some Golden Girls on Lifetime. Now I’ll smoke anything in a drought, but these lungs are used to the kind, you know? I mean, I'm a National Champion, a Coach of the Year, I got standards. Anyway, so now I’m stuck with a whole quarter of this shit, I’m completely tweaked, with an Athletic Department board meeting in half an hour.

Well I’m sure you can imagine how that went. In the bathroom beforehand, I realized I was all out of Visine, and my eyeballs were completely fried, like the worst pinkeye you've ever had. I couldn’t concentrate at all. My fuckin' heart felt like it was gonna explode. I just sat there the whole time thinking, ‘They know…they know…they all totally know…’ I kept my head down, hoping I wouldn’t have to talk, but then Gene "my breath smells like shit because I'm rotting from the inside out" Smith piped up and was all like, “So what’s up with the dead hooker situation, Jim?” Everyone was just staring at me for what seemed like at least an hour, and as I was searching for an answer, which sucks because I was totally ready for that, and totally had the best comeback, but I was drawing a blank, you know? That’s when my hand slipped down into my pocket, as they usually do when I'm nervous, and I suddenly remembered that I had a quarter-ounce of brick-packed, meth-laced Mexican dirt weed on me in the middle of a board meeting.

Now a lesser man might have completely lost his shit in a situation like that. But this is Coach Jim Tressel we’re talking about here, kiddies. The fuckin' chosen one. So I just told those assholes that we’d distract the press from the hooker thing (which thanks to more well placed opening day tickets, is still just an allegation, and not a full indictment) by leaking another Maurice Clarett armed robbery story. He still hasn't returned my copy of The Guyver, so we embellish and say he broke into my house and stole some electronics. While we're at it, maybe pin the dead hooker thing on him too, that way Troy Smith doesn't have to sit out...again.

Serves the prick right for selling such shitty grass. So all in all, I guess my week shook out OK.

Coach's Super Bowl Brown Betty

2006-02-02T19:42:00.000-08:00

Hey there kiddos. Here's a little recipe I've been working on and finally perfected, just in time for the superbowl.

1/4 c. butter, melted

1 1/2 c. dry bread crumbs

4 or 5 tart apples, peeled & sliced

3/4 c. brown sugar

1 tsp. cinnamon

2 tbsp. lemon juice

1/3 c. water

Dash salt

An pinch of sass

Mix melted butter and dry bread crumbs. Combine apples, sugar, cinnamon and salt. Put part of bread crumbs on bottom of greased casserole. Add layer of apples with bread crumbs, alternately, crumbs on top. Pour combined lemon juice and water over all. Cover and bake in moderate oven, 350 degrees, for 1 hour. Uncover and bake 1/2 hour to brown. Makes 5 generous servings. Rhubarb or berries can be substituted for apples.

Whether you're rooting for the Steelrs or the Seahawks, one things for certain. Your tastebuds will cover the spread! Bon Apetit.

Professional Tresseling

2006-02-02T08:46:00.000-08:00

What do a woman and kentucky fried chicken have in common? Once you're done with the breast and thigh, all you're left with is a greasy box. Troy Smith told me that one. He sure does like chicken.

Speaking of greasy boxes, guess who's back? I'll give you two hints, she likes dogs, and she used to let me stick my dick in her.

My wife finally showed up. Turns out that she got locked in a closet during the big post game party at my house. It's not that bad - I'm eating pancakes every morning and I'm wearing clean underwear again. It has put a bit of a damper on dating, though. Coach Jimbo loves him some humps and lovely lady lumps. Don't get me wrong, I've always been discreet, but it was nice to just be able to get a little strange in my own house. Whatever, at least the driveway is getting shoveled now.

Man, life is boring when you can't ram a football up someone's ass every Saturday. I've been thinking about trying my hand at stand up comedy. Why not? The kids always laugh at Coach Jimbo's jokes. I'll usually inflict some kind of bodily harm if they don't, but it wouldn't be fun otherwise.

How does Pete Carroll find sheep in tall grass? Very satisfying.

I think I've always had it in me. It just comes naturally. Speaking of retards - have you ever noticed how all retards look alike? I think they all must have the same dad. This guy must really get around, though. He's getting laid like every night. So ladies, if you're ever in a bar late at night, and some guy comes up to you with a huge forehead and drooly, droopy-ass eyes and introduces himself as Donny Syndrome, get the hell out of there!!!

Take my wife... A. J. Hawk does while I film it. But seriously folks, do you know what the cannibal did after he dumped his girlfriend? He wiped his ass. Man, it's just too easy.

I called up a prostitute the other night for me and the boys. A pretty average Tuesday night, right? Well she shows up and she had a runny nose, so I asked her if she was full. Whatever. Maybe that wasn't so funny, but when I said it, Craig Krenzel blew a line of coke right off her tits.

I just bought a new car. My wife will probably hate it, but fuck her. She'll end up back in the closet it she flaps her cakehole. It's got some serious bumps in the trunk, so I've been crusin' for pussy all week bumpin' to the song "grillz". That's where I'm headed right now. Oh, just so you don't feel like you left empty-handed - why do women have vaginas?

So men will talk to them...

Is this thing on?

Celebrity Playlist

2006-02-01T05:53:00.000-08:00

Tressel, here. Coach Jim Tressel. So as many of you in the Tresselnation may know, I recently got one of those ipod videos for Xmas. Love it. Seriously it's up there with penicilin (something I also use alot of), as perhaps the greatest invention of the last hundred years. Add Two-a-Days to that list as well. Anywho, I heard Death Cab, one of my all-time favorite bands, had a celebrity playlist. I decided to check it out, and I must say, it was pretty good, but it got me thinking. Why don't I have a celebrity playlist? What the fuck did I ever do? Just win a national championship? Beat Michigan? Fuckin Cooper couldn't beat Michigan!

So here it is. My Celebrity Playlist. Steve Jobs, if your listenening, how 'bout it?

Trapped Under Ice -Metallica: The baddest-ass fucking band, back when they used to be bad-assed and not a bunch of primp and primmed pussy willows. Now-a-days, they couldn't even open for Grim Reaper, but once upon a time, this band could rip your fucking heart out and show it to you before you died...with music.

Numba One Stunna - The Big Tymas: As far as Crunk goes, this is the crunkest. How can you not love a song with lines like, "James Bond, Jackie Chan, and that Bitch MacGuyver," or "I like to get 'em in the ass while you beat up the pussy." Genius. I keep trying to get the OSU marching band to learn this one for gameday.

Rocket Queen - Guns and Roses: How often do you find a song that's good to both fuck to, and lift weights to? This is one of them.

Soul Meets Body - Death Cab for Cutie: The softer side of Coach loves himself some Death Cab. I don't know what it is about these guys. The lyrics are so honest.

Computer Love-Kraftwerk: Fred Armisen had a Kraftwerk song,Pocket Calculator on his playlist. I gotta say, I thought that was pretty cool. This is another good song off the same album. Sometimes I like to put on a black leotard and really explore my space.

Trucker's Atlas - Modest Mouse: Not a big fan of their new album, but AJ Hawk has been into them since forever, and he turned me on to their older shit. Fuckin' Kick ass song.

More than a Feeling - Boston: This used to be me and Mrs. Tressel's song. What happened to us?

Clampdown-The Clash: This song is about not taking shit from anyone. Fuck you, Charlie Weiss.

Modeling Sucks-Handsome Boy Modelling School: Another band that used to be sweet, but now they sold out and totally suck. Still, this is one of the funniest tracks off of one of the great albums in Hip-Hop history.

Some Girls-The Rolling Stones: "Black girls wanna get fucked all night, but I ain't got that much Jam." I know how you feel, Mick. Now fucking retire already. You and Paterno, I swear.

Brother Love's Travellin' Salvation Show - Neil Diamond: The Jewish Elvis. The man is a god. He still rocks btw. Good to see him team up with Rick Rubin.

Entertain-Sleater Kinney: These chicks are hot. Guess what? I fucked 'em. True story. Good music to work out to.

Strawberry Letter 23-Shuggie Ottis: This song always reminds me of that scene from Jackie Brown, where Sam Jackson stuffs Chris Tucker in the trunk drives around, then shoots him. I've always wanted to do that to Chris Tucker, but I guess Krenzel will have to do.

Against All Odds-Phil Collins: Say what you will about Phil Collins, this song has gotten me through some tough times.

Little Sister-Queens of the Stoneage: I couldn't end the list with Phil Collins. Had to go out on a rock-out. Dig the cowbell.

Well that's it. That's my mix. Hope you like it. If not, fuck you!!! Check back later for updates. I might add some songs.BTW, special thanks to all you Michigan fans who left Coach Jimmy some love the other day. I don't care what they say, you're not all fags, at least not in my book. Wait...yes you are. And to my fellow chronic masturbators, you gotta stop, seriously. I'm trying. Lord, I'm trying. Also, the wife's still MIA. I'm starting to worry. I'm out of clean underwear and canned soup.

Lazy Sundays

2006-01-29T17:36:00.000-08:00

Yeah, so since the season's been over I've been kind of well....bored. Take for instance, today, the first weekend without any football since August. I woke up at 10, punched the clown, rolled back over went back to sleep, then woke up again at 1, layed in bed for a while, channel surfed for about an hour, man, putting a TV in our bedroom was a mistake, and getting the Spice channel, was probably an even bigger one. I've been slammin the ham so much lately it looks like a goddamn rasberry. I don't mean to mix metaphors, but seriously, I got dandruff on my doodle. It's only been a few weeks since the Fiesta bowl, and I am B-O-R-E-Fuckin' D!

Has anyone seen my wife, by the way? Last time I remember seeing her was during the post Fiesta party. I'm out of clean towels, and I'm really starting to worry about her.

The other day I decided I was going to start writing a screenplay. It's a Sci-Fi Musical set in the year 3000, the story of an android football coach, who develops emotions. Everyone thinks he should go pro, you know, for the money, but he stays in college cause he cares so much about the kids. He's very selfless, and giving, due to a microchip his creator gave him. Also, in the off-season, he spends his nights pleasuring the queens of all the great powers of the galaxy...sexually, but by day, he fights zombie space pirates. I've kind of hit a wall, though, because if he's in space, how can there be night and day? Sort of mind-blowing, isn't it. Do you get jet-lag in space? If you're an android, do you even have to observe the rules of night and day? Maybe I'll ask my good buddy Dick Goddard.

One thing's for sure, I'm no Ray Bradbury. God, I wish the off-season would be over! The other day I ate an entire half gallon of chocolate brownie fudge ice cream. It was non-fat, but still, I feel like such a load. I tried to go out for jog with my new ipod, but I can never seem to make it more than two days in a row. I'm so lazy. I've got to stop jerking off. Once a day, Tressel, that's the limit.

On the bright side, SNL is getting pretty good. I really like the new cast. That Andy Samberg sure is a card. I love the sweedish chef ring-tones sketch. Man, that'd be sweet if you really could download those. Maurice could always do a pretty good swedish chef imitation. I can't imageine why he couldn't make it work with the Broncos, the kid was pretty good at impressions. His Mr. Burns was dead on. Maybe I should go visit him. I wonder if he could help me with my screenplay.

At the very least he could help me pick a title. So far I've narrowed it down to few options:

Space Coach Coast to Coast

The Coach Who Should Go Pro, You, Know, for the Money, But Won't Cause He Cares About The Kids, Due To His Microchip, In The Year 3000

Jimmy Get Your Laser

Intergalactic Sextastic Robo-Coach of Many Colors

Fuck You, Charlie Weiss

Is it just me or is this year's Dancing with the Stars not as good?

I know I should update my blog more, seeing as how i'm so bored, but sometimes I don't think anyone reads it. I never get any comments. Does this mean no one cares what I have to say? Read the title, I got alot of things to say. So what if they're not about football. Fuck you guys.

I started baking my own bread. It's a lot of work, and makes a mess, but it sure makes the house smells good. Kind of makes me horny. Hey, I wonder what's on the Spice channel...

The Spoils of Victory

2006-01-10T15:04:00.000-08:00

Sorry I haven't updated lately, Tresselnation. What's that smell? THAT'S SWEET FUCKING VICTORY, BABY! Actually that's me, I haven't bathed in four days... but boozing in my scarlet and grey hot tub with hot naked coeds probably counts as a bath.

I am so wasted.
I'm on day ten of one of the sweetest benders ever. I sent my wife on a two week cruise (or maybe locked her fat ass in the coat room with a gallon of water, two boxes of Wheaties, some crossword puzzels and a flashlight). I didn't want her to spoil the party we've been having over here at Casa de Tressel or as the boys have been calling it this week "The Pussy Center". Dr. Jimbo has been doing alot of breast exams this week.

Some how part of our sectional and one of Troy Smith's hookers ended up at the bottom of my pool. But that's why I have a maid. She's been working extra hard this week clearing away beer cans, ash trays, drug paraphanalia and dead hookers.
Speaking of pool we put the pool table out in the front yard and harrassed the neighbors with taunts and beer bottles until yesterday when federal marshals set fire to it. Well, I was entertaining some young ladies at the time so I don't know if that is what exactly happened, but that was A. J. Hawk's drunken, drug addled version of the story. So who knows? Hawk has been so out of it he hasn't realized that we shaved his eyebrows and stupid hippy hair three damn days ago. He looks like a fucking dolphin.

It's just like my days at the out frat house but with less rape, humiliation and latent homosexuality. Well I've got to go light a bag of dog shit on fire and throw it into the open (o.k. broken) window of Krezel's dumb PT Cruiser. That joke never gets old. Hey It's my turn to do a keg stand - see ya jerks.

Half Time Quickie

2006-01-02T15:35:00.000-08:00

Ordinarily, I'd use half-time to motivate my players. Pat em on the back, or serve em up some ass-kick salad depending on how they're playing. But since I haven't been updating as much lately as I'd like to, and It's my New Years Resolution to blog more, I'm bringing all you Tressel-teers a little Tostito's Half Time blog-post.

First of all, 21-7? I thought this guy was supposed to be an offensive genius. Did you see that sack by AJ Hawk. He stuffed him just like he stuffed his sister the night before...which was hot. He taped it for the whole team. Right before the game we all got in a circle, prayed and then beat off to it. Except the muslim kids. They had to wait outside the locker-room cause they're not real Americans. I'll tell ya, I wouldn't mind stickin it to that little cutie. She's Catholic though, so AJ's gotta put it in her pooper so she stays a virgin, no birth control either. It's crazy, but you know how they are, not exactly the most rational religion. Body and blood my ass.

Yeah Charlie Weiss is suposed to be a genius. I'll tell ya, I don't care how many Super Bowl rings that Jesus Lovin Jaba has on his fat little donut grabbers, there's one thing I see every morning in the shower, that that tub o' goo never will, and that's my very own cock. Guess he's just gonna have to sit in the corner and watch his team shower, like the sad little Virgin Mary he is.

On a serious note, I want all of you out there in Tressel's World to say a little prayer for my buddy Maurice. He's goin through some problems right now with the law. I had him over for Xmas Eve dinner last week, and yes, I counted all my silver-wear, but as he was leaving my house, after the cavity search, he said, "Coach, I think I'm gonna go to Europe to play ball. I'm gonna get my career back on track." And I said "Go for it Maury." And he said, "Can I borrow $800 for a plane ticket?" and I said, "Sorry bud, I got credit card bills out the wahoo from Christmas, but good luck and enjoy those Dutch hookers."

I guess I should have loaned him the money.

TOUCHDOWN JESUS, you can suck it!

2006-01-02T11:14:00.000-08:00

Look at this sorry sack of shit. That John Tesh-looking motherfucker is my nephew Steve. That's not pussy whooped, that's a vaginal nuclear devistation. He used to get all kinds of tail before he met that little bitch, Misty. That kid was getting laid like carpet. Misty showed up and put and end to the Poon Train, which is a shame because he used to hook old Uncle Jimmy up with some sweet pieces of ass. Misty's had his nuts in a jar since Clinton was in office. Poor Steve spends his weekends "redeorating" and shopping for antiques and rare cheeses. I had a long talk with the kid and he did admit that they do a some light swinging and misty has no gag reflex. So whatever, I guess to each his own. But that bitch went to Notre Dame so I'm having her killed if we loose today.

FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME! FUCK YOU! NOTRE DAME!

Prepare to get fucked right in your fucking face today Notre Dame...

Goin' to Clam Canyon

2005-12-19T06:28:00.000-08:00

Man, what a month this has been, huh. Just finished my Christmas shopping last night. Got the wife an Xbox 360 and some edible panties, as for Bucky, I got him a brand new scratching post. Should be a good time. Now that that's all taken care of it's time for a little Celebration. I'm goin' to Clam Canyon!!!

Boy I sure do love goin down to Clam Canyon. It's my favorite place in the whole wide world. The wife always hates it when I go there. She complains about the smell, and the mess. That's why I usually go without her. I don't know what it is about Clams. Maybe it's the way the juice runs down my chin. Sometimes I like the team to go with me. A couple of em just like to sit and watch, see how many Clams coach can take on at once, some of em like to join in the fun. Those clams are tough to pry open, that's when I need a little help from number 47, but man, once I get my tounge in there and start slurpin, it's nothing short of heaven. They also have dollar drafts and all you can eat Jalapeno Poppers. I'll tell ya, it's a good time.

Then after dinner, I'm gonna get some pussy.

All I want for Xmas....

2005-12-12T18:47:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa,

It's me, Tressell, Coach Jim Tressel. I'll bet you're wondering what I want for Christmas. I've been such a good boy, and what I really want is...a Hovercraft. I know I ask every year, and usually I get something else, a sweater vest, a sack of porn, an anger management book, but this year has gotta be the year.

I've been so very good. I've cut back on my driving indiscretions, I've wasted even more hours down at that shithole Children's hostpital, I even stopped feeding Bucky tuna, because it hurts Dolphins. I'm 9-2. My players don't touch roids...what the fuck o do I have to do. All I want is a hovercraft.

A hovercraft is the perfect vehicle for smiting my enem.... I mean delivering Wheels on Meals. It's gonna be a nasty Winter, how else am I going to deliver hot soup to all those Geezers? With a car? Yeah, right. Maybe in the future when cars can fly. Until, then, a hovercraft is clearly the answer.

And if you don't bring me a hovercraft, you better not show your goddamn face anywear in the greater Columbus area, or I'll bust your mouth open like a goddamn pinata. Hola, Papa Noel. And for Christ sakes, no more sweater vests, I already have like a hundred. I mean it, if you fuck up, I'll go hebrew.

Love,
Jimbo

Crazy Krenzel

2005-11-23T04:46:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-15T22:10:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-14T15:23:00.000-08:00

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!

2005-11-10T13:13:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-01T18:10:00.000-08:00

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.

Tasty Tidbits

2005-10-27T08:31:00.000-07:00

Hey kiddies... Welcome back to this week's Tressel" World, with your host, the mighty, the handsome, the well hung – COACH JIMBO TRESSEL. Boy have we got a show for you tonight, kids. In case you missed Fox Sport's "Behind The Vest" let's take a little look at the heart that bleeds red and grey and beats under this red vest everyday for you lazy bastards. I will now answer your most likely stupid questions.

Yes go ahead, the blond in the back with thehuge cans.

" Mr. Tressel tell us about where you were born and maybe a little about your parents."

Well sweet tits, I'm not sure exactly how I was born. I came to earth in a giant egg that fell to earth and was raised by a nice black couple, George and Mam, the Popadopolus'. They taught me how to not abuse the special powers that I have from being born under a different sun. They had a daughter who kind of looked like cousin Geri from the Facts of Life (google it). I accidentally killed her with a rake. Next question, please.

No, no, I meant the other fat guy with the body like a weeble wobble. Go ahead, fat body.

"You must have some amazing stories from when you were a kid. Coach, could you share one with us?"

Well funny you should ask, you fat fucking pig. I was at my court ordered therapy session the other day and was telling the cock sucking shrink about a funny story from high school. It goes without saying that I was the quarterback of my high school football team "the Flowville Tarpons". My parents quicky replaced my first sister with another one named Marsheiqua. The rival football teams quarterback, who I will just refer to as NoDickFuckFace was porking Marsheiqua just to try to steal my playbook. Well, when Ol' Jimbo smells a skunk, it's time to TCB. I took my favorite football and bashed Marsheiqua's nose right the fuck in, who's gonna pork her now, right? Then it was time to settle the score with NoDickFuckFace. See he had a motor cycle and some people called him the Fonz, personally I always knew just what he was a short, fake Italian NoDickFuckFace. I had to chase him on horseback for a while and nearly caught up to his weak ass motorcycle. That's when the little fake guido jumped into water skiis and was all over the fucking lake. Little did he know that my home planet is completly covered with water. I jumped in and jumped up out of the water right before the fuck face tried to jump a tank filled with starving african children. so up I came out of the water , I reached up and ripped his sack right off. He fell and was devoured by the starving children. A crown was formed around the lake and I banged like tree chicks that night. Yes, that his scotum that I wear around my neck, its the original qurterback sack, fucker. Next question please.

Top 5 Celebrities I'd Like to Nail

2005-10-15T17:18:00.000-07:00

5.Judith Light: Angela from TV's Who's The Boss
4.Carl From Love Actually: Ok, he's a dude, but what a dude.
3.Alexandra Steele and Heather Tesch: Weather Channel's hot little bunnies. I'm dying to get inside their pants suits.*
2.Chelsea Clinton: legal, braces off.
1.Oprah

*Counts as one, cause I'd only want 'em both at the same time.

Payback's a Bitch

2005-10-13T12:28:00.000-07:00

I knew there was a reason I hung out with Krenzel. Wouldn't you know it Krenz's daddy has a hovercraft. It's amazing what some people will let you borrow when you give them season tickets to the greatest football team to ever grace god's earth. I'll tell ya, the only thing better than givin it back to that old Guido and snuffin that smug Bill Clinton-Lookin Muther fucker, was knowing that this is gonna up us two points in the ranks fah shizzle.

I wrote a poem to commemorate our vengence. It's called The Smiting.

Vengence, swooping in.
interupts a delightful swim,
Water once blue, flows red,
My foes, now dead.
Hovercraft, Hovercraft,
I fucking love Hovercrafts.

Pretty good huh. Can you believe that only took me an hour to write. Then I did a couple whip-its.

All I want is a hovercraft...

2005-10-12T18:34:00.000-07:00

Hovercrafts are so fucking sweet. Seriously, what can't you do with a hovercraft? They're the coolest vehicles because you can go on land, or water. The other day I was sitting in traffic, bumper to bumper gridlock, and all I could think was, "If I had a hovercraft the river would be my highway, my only obstacle would be my own inhibitions, and maybe some rocks." I tell ya, if I had a hovercraft, I could have done alot of good for those poor people in New Orleans. That's a fact, Jack. Hovercrafts really are the wave of the future. They're fuel efficient, and fun for the whole family. They're really good in the snow.

I just huffed a huge bag of ether.

If I had a hovercraft, I could take it out on the lake with my buddies. We could use them to waterski, or fish, or whatever. Maybe they too would buy hovercrafts. We could have hovercraft parties, maybe race them, or maybe we'd just dance around the lake in syncronized patterns, sort of like a parade. Is synchronized hovercrafting an olympic sport? It should be. Anyway, I don't know? I make a good living, but my damn wife, she just won't let me get one. Maybe I'll trade her in for a younger model...someone who likes hover crafts?

Ha ha, I'm just kidding, honey. Someday you, me, and our hovercraft will tour this great country via it's natural highway, the Mississippi/Ohio River system. Well, here's to dreaming. I guess until the day comes that I can take my hoover craft and retire on some forgotten lake in some pristine nook of rural America, I'll keep chipping away at that grindstone, reaching for that rainbow.

My Mighty Unicorn

2005-10-12T05:34:00.000-07:00

It's a creature of carnal delight
rub his horn - he'll keep you up all night
he likes to wear a magical hat
keeps him safe when the booty goes clap
he wants to frolic in your mountain dew
he doesn't quit - til' the job is through
you'll love his horn cause it's big and strong
it's mighty, magical and really long

and if he likes your - style of whorin'
he'll keep it goin' till - four in the mornin'
when you wake up - you'll feel real sore an'
when you roll over - he might be snorin'
jus' grab his horn and - an' he'll fit a couple more in

two at once? yah that's no trouble
my unicorn's always up for a double

Fucking Retards

2005-10-11T14:14:00.000-07:00

Hey... I'm just kiding.

I only let them give me head.

injunuity....

2005-10-07T11:16:00.000-07:00

Fuck you, Cleveland Indians.

Jerks. Jerky dumb dummy heads. Thanks a lot fuckers. Not only did I waste a bunch of money on tickets, booze and whores last weekend, but because of those ass hats I ended up in the clink. Now, I've done hard time before and a little trip up river is normally no big deal. It was just really inconvienent. Although, I met a young man who just might make one hell of linebacker if he can beat that murder rap he was brought in on. I got some ink, kept my exit an exit and stabbed a puerto rican pimp in his spleen with a shiv that I made out of a toothbrush. Jim Tressel will NOT be any man's bitch. I kind of miss the constant wamth and security of little stevie's hand always in my back pocket, though. Sweet, sweet little angel faced stevie, i called him sugar beacause he gave it up so sweet (I sold him the day i got out for two cartons of cigs and a candy bar). Have you ever been wasted on prison hootch? Its fucking amazing. I was so fucked up, I think that I hallucinated that I was the jolly green giant right before I choked that cop with his swiny belt. You can learn a lot of new things in the old push push. A young man named Cockroach taught me how to make a grilled cheese sandwich with an iron, a paper bag and a llittle patience. He aslso taught me how to kill a man with a spoon.
How did I end up in such a pickle, you might ask? Legally i'm not supposed to say anything about the circumstances leading up to the four county car chase, the "big" explosion at that stupid "power plant" or the mexican stand off that I held at that jehova's witness temple (what a bunch of uptight, self rightious assholes) but long story-short. When you are really really pissed off like I was this past weekend (fuck you Wedge) it's generally a bad idea to put a professional athlete in a choke hold on national television. Catch ya on the flip-flop bitches!

I am a huge Indians Fan!

2005-09-30T13:18:00.000-07:00

Hey Buckaroos - Word UP, it's the code word.
James T. Tressel's ( and the T. stands for Tribe) back transmittting the good word to my scarlet and grey congregation. Can I get an AMEN? I can't hear you I SAID CAN I GET AN AMEN? That was much better. Now where was I?
Oh yeah so like I was saying I am a huge indians fan. Not those smelly ones with the red dots and the towel hats and the snakes in baskets, dancing to flutes, flying carpet, welcome to mini mart - can I helpyouverymuchthankyousir, dirt mustache kind.
I am talking WOO WOO INDIANS.
Man I can't wait to go to the Jake tonight and watch the tribe squeeze the salty puss out of white sox tonight. I've already drank half a bottle of Goldschlager and I'm funking pumped, kids! They're going to the fucking playoffs and Jimmy T is going to be there to root them on. I even cancelled Ohio state's football game this saturday because I'm going to be there tomorrow also - high as a kite, and if they win tomorrow come find Unkle Jimmy and we'll be knee deep in strippers by 7:00. I'm going to get so f-ing blasted. My wife really wants the tribe to win too. She knows how violent I get when I'm ripped and Wedge and the boys let me down. Plastic surgeons are really amazing.
I get really tired of all the little PC fucktards running around crying about indians being against the indians because of their name. Let me settle this argument once and for all, the cleveland indians are NOT ashamed to be associated with those red skinned, feather wearing, piss poor immune systemed, likey the fire water, buffalo hunting, pointy tented, big chief no fart ( ask me about that joke sometime), trail of tears (more like trail of whiny babies), welcometomycasinomynameisyouspendumwhitewampumhere kind.
GO TRIBE!
WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO!

House Guests

2005-09-22T05:04:00.000-07:00

Let me first start of by saying, I'm drunk.

Seems like we got some visitors to the Cassa de Tressel. My wife agreed to host some hurricane refugees. Now I'm all about giving back to the community, I go and visit sick kids in the hospital, I try to recycle, and when the Sunami happened I added a twenty dollar donation to my daily caramel machiato at Starbucks, but my home is my castle, not a freakin refugee camp. The other day I go to make a peanut butter sandwich, and this guy Louie, who lost his house or his family, I can't remember which, maybe both, he ate my peanut butter. What a selfish prick. Then the other day, I'm on my way home from work, and let me tell ya, I got a dump on deck that could sink a battleship. I'm tellin ya, this thing could'a held the levee, that's how big it is, a real bowl-stainer. All I want to do is take my newspaper, sit on the can, and unleash hell, but this (pardon my french) cunt, is already in my bathroom, dropping her sandbag in Lake Ponchatrain, so to speak. And yeah, I'm a patient man, but she took for fucking ever. And then, I finally get in there, and it stinks...bad. I mean the fucking paint is pealing off the walls. Let's get FEMA in there for chrissakes. Nobody stinks up my bathroom but me. That's Cassa de Tressel Rule Numero Uno. I wound up having to break into my neighbor's house and use his shitter, and man, it was doosey.

I mean, I feel bad for these people, but you gotta understand, I have a routine. Take for instance, my evening routine. At about 7 pm, I get home from work. I take a dump, eat dinner, watch The Price is Right, which my wife is supposed to tape, then I play some internet poker, and then usually I go to bed. Well now all of that is out of whack. I already told you about the bathroom. My wife is too busy, to cook, and the stupid refugees are home watching TV all day, so of course it screws up the VCR. God, quit moping and get a freaking job. I mean when they're not watching my TV, they're on Craig's List, god knows why, hopefully looking for jobs, so I don't even get to play Internet Poker, and forget about downloading porn. One of them's sleeping on the fouton in the computer room. And he snores, so good luck trying to pop one out witht that goin on.

Man, don't even get me started on what this has done to my sex life...

Ride the Cosmic Ghost

2005-09-16T10:29:00.000-07:00

Gost riding through space,
galaxies spun of azure,
like some strange cosmic seamstress.

Dancing across the heavens,
light years and warp factors,
to new worlds not yet seen or felt.

And so I ride with you,
for adventure and discovery,
through channels of light and the fabric of reality.

The Five People You Meet in Mitch Albom's Vagina

2005-09-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

Rough weekend. Yeah, so I was little stressed out yesterday, so I decided to take a nice hot relaxing bath. I'll tell ya what, I got this new soap from Bath and Body Works, and it was so nice and relaxing. Cucumber Melon with Exfolating beads. Heavenly. It's like taking a nap in a field full of dasies after smoking a big fatty and popping one off into an old gym sock. So there I was soaking in the tub, mellowing out, I got my duckies, I got my new soap, I'm flipping through the channels, looking for a good Titty Movie on the flat screen, trying to forget what a shitty Saturday I had, but then what do I land on but the Sunday Sports Reporters.

First thing I want to say is FUCK YOU, Mitch Albom! I'll start however many quarterbacks I feel like starting. Maybe next week I'll line up under center? Maybe I'll go dig up your buddy Morrie and start him. I'd start you, but you probably throw like girl, you blowcomb haired mama's boy. How do you like that? My wife made me read, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, and Frankly, it was the gayest book I ever read. Hey I got a better title for it...how bout The Five People You Meet in the Woods Behind a Restop at 3 am? If I want football Advice I'll ask someone who knows what he's talking about, If I want to read something that induces meunstral bleeding I'll call you.

Global Warming is Horse Shit.

2005-09-01T13:55:00.000-07:00

That's right, global warming is horse shit. Before you get all worked up, Starfire, set down that granola bar and lend me your hippie ear. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE don't even start flapping you southern baptist slack jaws about intelligent design or I swear I'll feed you that big assed trophy on my desk.
Just look at this chart:

you know what this chart means? absofucinglutleynothing. That's right it's a bunch of horse shit to try to scare hippies and canadians.

This chart represents the increase in the amout of whining done by hippies since the term "greenhouse effect" was coined. Greenhouse... you know damn well that some pothead hippie who probably couldn't even bench his own measely hippie weight came up with greenhouse.
This planet has been around way, way, way friggin' longer that we have been vactioning on it. Don't even get me started about how E.T. banged a monkey and started this whole mess. So confident as we are that we could really even "break" the planet, it's a bunch of donkey crap. Long after we've nuked each other into sweet, holy oblivion, mother nature will be doing just fine. A force as mighty as the national championship winning Ohio State Buckeyes couldn't even make a dent.
We have only been collecting data on weather patterns for about 140 years and only for about 40 years with any real accuracy. Ready... get set... BLINK. Now that blink is the time we homosapien flesh bags have been farting around here on earth, the rest of your stupid, little life up to that blink is the age of the earth. not much data to go on. Except for the fact that that maybe that was a wink, not a blink, and if your a dude you're probably a mo.

This is a sample chart it means nothing, just like global warming. Now drop, give me fifty and make a sandwich.

Death Cab For Coachie

2005-08-31T14:29:00.002-07:00

Backaroos... the old coach here just had a really close call. Let me start by saying I'm a new man. I'm gonna eat vegetables, work out, start buying less porn, I'm gonna give to charity, I'm gonna get clean and sober. I'm gonna spend more time with my mom.

Krenz and I were cruisin for pussy in his new PuneTang Cruiser. Those cars look so gay. Needless to say, far from the perfect car for pimpin mad hot bitches. Still, the Tressell likes a challenge. Now, everyone who rolls with me knows that when I'm the car, it's Metalica time. I don't give a fuck whose car it is.

So where was I? Oh yeah, fuckface is trying to mess with the stereo durring that bad assed part of Trapped Under Ice when Hetfield sounds like he's going reach into your grandmother's chest and pull her fuckin' heart out to watch it beat. The best part of the song, right? It get's the ladies wet everytime. So, I started slapping his face, and giving him purple nurples, which I know, is not necessarily a smart thing to do when someones driving, never mind the fact we'd been huffing paint all afternoon. Anyway, he kept bitching about how he wanted to listen to the new Mike Jonze. Which I can understand, because that mushmouth sounds almost as retarded as he does. He really gets all lispy when he get's upset. This one game against Florida, he threw like three interceptions, and he's all like "Suffran Suckataf, Coach. I'm stho sthorry, Whaaaaaaa." What a little bitch. Besides, his shitty stereo has no bass, and we'd just look like a couple of lame-asses trying to be all gangsta. How are we gonna hit on chicks like that? I got a rep to maintain, here. I'm a community leader.

Yeah, so Long story short - all of a sudden there's a fluffy little tabby cat right in the middle of the road. The cutest little guy with big yellow eyes and fuzzy feet. So i slammed on the brakes like and grabbes Krenzie by the back of the head and slammed his mongoloid mellon right into the dash. We could have killed that beatiful, little kitty. I also [accidentally] elbowed him right in his already broken nose. Nobody'g going to make me accidentally hurt a kitten. but the whole time I saw my whole life flash before my eyes: learning to ride a bike, naked fishing trips with Father Malone, my first black eye, playing catch with one of the guys that my mom called my uncle, my first crush, doing the elephant walk at frat parties, killing a man, the cold, cold, chill of necrophilia, crabs, killing the crabs, killing again, the sound of a human skull cracking in a vice, the first time I wore silky panties, speedballs, my wedding night, crabs, national championships...

It was trippier than that time I did peyote with a buch of real live injuns. I really think I need to put things into perspective and do the things I really enjoy. So this week after the big game, Jimmy's gonna have a little time away for himself. I'm going crusin'. So, any of you hot chicks in town with nice cans and a decent crapper, who want to be Entered by the Sandman, come rock out with my cock out. Hop on in and find out who the Master of Puppets is.

It's been a long time since I rock and rolled

2005-08-23T09:05:00.000-07:00

Sorry, long time, no post. Coach Jim's been kind of busy lately. Maybe you retards have heard of this little thing called the NCAA football season. Man, work is such a drag. The other night, Krenzel called and he had tickets to go see Bruce Willis and his band, The Accelerators, they were playing a free concert at Easton, right in front of the Cheesecake Factory. But guess who had to go to bed early? I hate it when work interferes with rocking out.

Yeah, so the other day, I was handing out playbooks before practice, and this little red-shirt fuck complains about me mispelling his name. So asked him "Do you know who the fuck I am?" The little red-shirted mongrel's half-assed apology was cut short by the back of my hand. He sarted crying like a baby, so I "pantsed" him. Looks like somebody will be wearing a practice jersey for the rest of the year that says "WHINY LITTLE BITCH".

I have been so busy lately that I berely have had a spare moment to even snap one off! Just the other day, I was in my office with a copy of Seventeen magazine trying to rub one out - and in comes fatass T. J. Downing bitching about his thumb or some shit! I had to pretend that I spilled coffee on my pants and was wiping it with the mag. I don't even drink coffee. If that fat shit says anything to anyone about old Jimbo "roughing up the suspect", I'll plant some gay porn in his locker.

But, hey. I'm never to busy for poems and junk. Here's one I wrote on the shitter yesterday:

The mighty uincorn rules

over mountains and pools

of diamonds for the princess fair

dwarven spun ribbons for her hair

bitches want to rub his horn

but they have much to learn

don't fuck with the unicorn

don't fuck with the unicorn

Recipe for Coach's Chili Corn Muffins

2005-08-16T12:16:00.000-07:00

Hey there everybody it's me Tressel. Coach Jim Tressel, that is. I got a recipe for chili corn muffins that is gonna knock your socks off. This makes about 12 muffins, and only takes about an hour and a half. Perfect if you want a little snack for you friends when they come over to watch the Buckeyes.

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup cornmeal

1/4 cup sugar

1/4 cup brown sugar, packed

3 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup skim milk or soy milk

1/4 cup vegetable oil

1 large egg, lightly beaten

4 ounces green chilies, canned and chopped

1 teaspoon of TLC

Preheat oven to 400

Spray a standard muffin pan with cooking spray.

In medium bowl, whisk flour, cornmeal, both sugars, baking powder and salt. In medium bowl, mix remaining ingredients.

Make well in dry ingredients.

Add milk mixture and stir until just blended.

Divide batter among prepared muffin cups.

Bake 15 to 20 minutes, or until top springs back when lightly pressed.

Let cool in pan 5 minutes, them loosen edges and turn out on rack and cool completely.

WHAAA WHAAAAA I Have Cancer...

2005-08-12T12:24:00.002-07:00

Look at this bullshit. I'm going to have to smack the stupid out of my retarded press agent.

Seriously, I'm not Jesus. If i show up at your little cancer party you won't be healed. All these ugly, little cancer kids are really starting to creep me out. I know cancer isn't contagious like herpes (been there done that), but I can't even stand the putrid cancer air that comes out of their bald heads, it's like the grim reaper just blew a burp in my face. Don't forget to smile for the camera Jim, Fuck you! Fuck you cancer kids!

On the other hand some personal appearences aren't too shabby. See these two broads...

...that's right campers, Uncle Jimmy bagged em. Candy from babies, kids. So yeah, I guess this job has it's ups and downs. Speaking of ups and downs, that broad on the left... you guessed it, the carpet matched the cufflinks. Grrrrr, bad kitty!

I need another spring break...

It's a Pitty You Can't Stab Real Hookers

2005-08-12T05:06:00.000-07:00

Hey there fellow gamers, it's me, Tressell, Coach Jim Tressel. Welcome back for another installment of Coach's Digital Dungeon. Today I'll be reviewing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.

I used to think Video games were a waste of time and money, machines matching the atrophe of our bodies with the atrophe of our minds. Then I discovered Grand Theft Auto 3, and let's just say I was born again. Needless to say, I was brimming with anticipation for the release of GTA: San Andreas, but low and behold, the X-Box release was delayed until June. But now it's hear, for X-box and by far the best version to date.

This game fucking rocks my socks. I haven't shaved, bathed or taken the time for a bowel movement in two weeks. The other day the wife was bitching and moaning about how we don't "spend any time together" anymore. I says, hey honey, I'd love to ball ya, but this marriage is temporarily on hold for the AWESOMEST VIDEO GAME EVER!!! Why don't you go do my laundry, and sit on the spin cycle if you're lonely for chrissakes.

Yeah, but anyhow, back to the game. So how has this game improved on Vice City, you ask? Well, in addition to an improved array of weapons and vehicles, (bicylces and rocket packs...yeah, you heard me, ROCKET PACKS), the game has several new interactive features, including the ability to change outfits, lose and gain weight, and work out. The game also features an awesome early nineties soundtrack, featuring Guns N' Roses, NWA, P-Funk, and other Alt-Rock/Gangster Rap Mainstays. Not only that but the missions are even more intense and challenging...if you play the missions.

Which I don't. Man the other day I was playing with Craig Krenzel, and I had like five stars, and was blowing up busses and shit with the rocket launcher, all to Ice Cube's It Was a Good Day, and get this...I was in my underwear!!!! Yeah, I know, "big deal, coach, I play video games in my underwear too," but the guy in the game was in his underwear. It fucking blew my mind. Krenzel was pitching a pants tent, he's such a Mo. Then I got run over by a national guard Tank. Krenz always get's the tank cheat, and then drives around in the tank for like two hours, which is fucking boring to watch. I'm like come on Krenz, do something intersting, don't just drive around in the tank. Speaking of Krenzel, and what a fucking lame-ass he is, don't be like him and get the play-station version, the X-box version is way fucking better.

Does anyone happen to know the secret sex cheat for X-Box. Please Advise.

Cats Vs. Dogs

2005-08-09T05:36:00.000-07:00

Do you like this picture? It's me and my cat, Bucky. He's the yellow one. The black one is his girlfriend, Toodles. Isn't it cute when kitties are in love? I love my Bucky. He's so soft and cuddly. When I've had a rough day at work the first thing I do is take off my sweater vest. The second thing I do is scoop big ole bucky up in my arms, and plop down on the couch, and he tells me about his day, and I tell him about mine, and everything's all better. I hope Bucky and Toodles have lots of cute little Kitties.

Bucky's better than mean ole Waffle's. That's my wife's dog. Sometimes when I feed Bucky a treat, Waffles get's jealous and starts barking. Sometimes he'll chase Bucky up a tree. If he's not careful, someone might put something in his dish...he betteer not hurt my Bucky. If anyone hurt my Bucky I don't know what I'd do. Probably something horrible. Let me tell you why I think Cats are better than dogs. First of all, dogs eat their own poop. It's true, waffles does it all the time. Second, cats are cleaner. When a cat licks itself it's taking a bath, when a dog licks itself it's moral depravity. Ohhh that Waffles, he's going to burn in doggy hell.

Sometimes I like to make hats for bucky. I make them out of paper.

I love Bucky he's such a good Kitty. Cat's also know how to keep secrets. Ohhh Bucky's real good at keeping secrets. I tell Bucky everything and he doesn't judge me. Not like that mean ole Waffles. He's always sniffing me, judging me. He's so nosy. He better watch out or he's gonna get himself into trouble.

Bucky's favorite food is tuna. He loves him a tunafish sandwich with the crusts cutoff. Then he takes a little kitty nap and sleeps for hours and hours. Ohhh he looks so cute when he sleeps. I could watch him sleep for hours.

I love my kitty.

Drivin' That Train

2005-08-07T13:00:00.000-07:00

Word up, Dogs!
I'm Coach Jimmy Tressel
With a Little confessel
I smoked a huge blunt
Now I'm a big messel

Insane in the membrane
Coach Jimmy's going insane
He didn't even have to use his A-K
I have to say it was a good day

Captain Jim is here once more and I am baked like a cake, friends. Bluuuuuuuuuuueeeeeee twennnnnnnnnnnnnttttty fooooourrrrrrr r r r r. Good thing Ellen keeps lots of snacks around for when Captain Jimbo gets the Mellow Train A-Rollin'.

WHOO WHOO!

So, like I'm watching the the old boob tube just now and like, and I'm thinking Sponge Bob Squares Pants is totally like an underwater post modern Shakespea... hey did you hear that? ...maybe I'm just-there it is again, no wait... fuck. BRB

It's cool. It was just the dirty mexican that mows my expensive lawn. Anyway like I was saying um, did you ever notice that there are no like, huge differences between the buckeye leaf and a cannabis leaf they're way the same, and I totally know that that was no acciden... that that- that's fucking weird man, one minute I'm thinking, and then I'm typing what I'm thinking and then like the same word is right next to the same word and it makes sense and then like there's three that's. too much dude, gotta take another ride on old smokey expess BRB.

I swear to god, man. my cat Bucky is completely staring straight through my friggin' soul right now. I'm going to get up slowly and go crank up some Cypress Hill and smack Ellen around with this totally bitchin' Stoner Boner I've been pulling at since I came back.

RED 69! hut hut hut!

TGIF: Powder Yer Donuts!

2005-08-05T17:21:00.000-07:00

JAGERBOMBS ON THE TRESSMEISTER!!!!! Whoooo. Commin' at you live from the Bdubs e-cafe doing a little Friday afternoon speed dating. But, hey no fatties! Ha! Yeah right, who am I kidding? I've been known to do a little hogging from time to time.

Whatever you might hear about me and Big Sheila from Applebee's is a complete fucking lie and I will send out some of my Line-Dawgs to fuck their lying ass up like a car crash.

If I don't shit blood tomorrow then the evening was a waste.

I am gonna fucking party tonight. Football season's coming up and I am way stressed. The other day, the boss was givin me shit about my flip-flops. I won an NCAA championship! I can wear flip flops to work if I fucking feal like it. They're red and gray for Chrissakes. I'm really hungry right now, especially after Two-Js. I'll tell ya, bout five minutes ago, Less Wexner and I were eatin wings, and he's like wahhhh these wings are hot. I was like "Wex, you pussy, these wings are weak! They aren't even hot enough to make my sack sweat." Then I purple nurpled him and he cried little a girl.

Speaking of sacks, I went to the Fairfield County Fair last night. Have you ever seen a goat's balls when it's 80 degrees out. I mean hey, I'm over fifty, so my sack has a tendency to lowride, seriously, but those fuckers drag!!!

Man in this heat, you gotta pack some Gold Bond, Coach Jimmy's rule number 1: POWDER YOUR DONUTS! Afterwards, you feel like sweet Jesus himself gave you a kiss smack dab on both your buckeyes! If that's not heaven, give me a one-way ticket to H-E-double hockey sticks any day, but hey, just let me pack my GBP.

I make the whole team powder em' and that's why we're perennial contenders. do you think I'd have made it to so many bowl games if I had to stop every ten seconds to scratch the old spooge wallet?

Look, I'm getting off on a rant, here. I just wasted 20 minutes of happy hour writing this fucker. Besides, there's these two broads givin us the eye from across the bar. One of em's kind of a porker, but I'd stuff the other one. I'll let Lessy Wex have 'er, he's part gay anyhow. Still I'm gonna be balls deep tonight, good thing they're dry.

Butterfly, why can't I?

2005-08-05T05:43:00.000-07:00

Hey kids,

Uncle Jimmy's here today to share some more of my prose. It wasn't always easy for me to open up like this. BLUE 45! I found myself face down in the gutter one day, a needle hanging out of my arm, my groin regions pulsing with advanced symptoms of syphylis and trouser crickets - and wiping the dirt from my red sweater vest I said, "Jimbo you can't live like this anymore! You can't hold it all in like this!." After four hours of crying into the arms of a hooker named One Tit Mary I wrote "Will there ever be a Rainbow?" That poem was about rebirth and shit. This mother fucker is about butterflies and healing:

Butterfly, why can't I?

through the sky
oh, oh so high
with your wings
and antennae things
sometimes I pull off your wing
rub it on my ding-a-ling
then I cry,
then I cry,
then I cry,
then I cry,

Butterfly, why can't I?

White People

2005-08-04T20:31:00.000-07:00

So...How's Your Girl?, was such an awesome album, so needless to say I, number one hip-hop fan, Coach Jim Tressel, had high expectations for Prince Paul and Dan the Automator's return with Handsome Boy Modeling School's sophomore release, White People. I gotta say, guys, the album seems a little forced. Kind of like going for it on 4th and 2 in the first quarter, but calling a full back dive from the Power-I. They're reaching for the stars but doing it, predictably, and with little innovation from where they left off. In other words, a large portion of the album is safe, bland, and self-indulgent, still it's in a way that only Dan the Automator and Co. can be safe, bland and self-indulgent. Another third is adequate, but what's left is some pretty good hip-hop, some phat beats and trick rhymes as the Tresster likes to put it. An appearance by Tim Medows, The Ladies Man, himself, is true to the playful tone of the first album, but it's not enough to make an album that can stand on it's own. Minus Del tha Funkee Homosapien and Casual, the rappers on White People sound too restrained, too self-aware.

The presense of a sometimes unlikely list of guest stars, from Jamie Column and Daryl Hall to Pharell Wiliams, makes the album an intriguing concept and perhaps a refreshing one-time listen, but Alas, White People fails to duplicate the genius and novelty of it's predesscor, and what's left is a collection of a few fun tracks, a lot of filler, and an album nowhere near as engaging as one would expect with such a list of talent with such proven track records.

The Artistocrats

2005-08-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

The other night I went to this play. Now, I'm a meat and potatoes guy; I like my entertainment simple. I don't go in for that performance art crap, but I gotta tell ya, this thing blew my mind.

Let me start by saying it's a family act, which is good, because as a family man I can tell yeah, it's hard to find good quality entertainment that you can enjoy with your loved ones. But fortunately there's the disney channel and this play.
First the father comes out. He's naked, and carrying a pot belly pig. After licking the pigs balls, he starts shitting a viscous spray of diarhea into a bucket, then his wife comes out, and she's also naked, holding the family dog. She holds the dog up in the air, and lets it pee in her mouth, which she then procedes to gargle. Then the son comes out, I'd say he's about 5 years old. He starts playing the piano, while his sister rides a unicycle, periodically stopping to pull raw bacon out of her pants, feeding it to the pig, which is following her around on stage.

When the dad finally fills the bucket, (it's a big bucket) he takes it and dumps it on his sons head, and he starts singing "Mammy." The wife then takes her finger and runs up along the inside of her husbands ass crack, you know, a cardswipe, and procedes to whipe a hitler mustache on her husband, who starts goose stepping across the stage.

Meanwhile the daughter has been fisting the potbelly pig, like a puppet, but when her father finsishes his first lap across the stage, she procedes to stuff an m-80 up the pigs ass and light it. Did I mention the Pig had a pink ribbon tied around it? She then kicks the pig across the stage, where it explodes. The stage is now covered with shit, piss, and bits and pieces of pot bellied pig. The mother reaches between her legs pulls out a used tampon, and eats it.

Then they all wallow in the mess and fuck like filthy fucking animals.

Pretty great, huh? If this show comes to your town you should see it. It's called the Taft Family BarB-Q.

I Heart Buckabees!

2005-08-02T05:56:00.000-07:00

Hey Buckaroos! Coach Jim here coming at cha!
Maybe you have heard of my "I Heart Buckabees" program here at old OSU. Maybe you live in a cave in Iraq and strap bombs to your kids. Just remember Coach Tressel loves you and loves your delicious kids. Here's the deal, we added a new feature to our Platnum Alumni Club!

What you get:
• an OSU T-Shirt,
• your names on a special page of ALL our home game official OSU Football Programs,
• and discounted tickets.

What I get:
• Your first born child to cook and eat however I see fit.

You'll be screaming "I heart Buckabees, too"

Your happy , I'm happy - hell I'm going to be knee deep in real baby back ribs. It's a deal made in heaven (baby meat heaven). I'm going to stock up on BBQ sauce and meat tenderizer, while you stock up on savings!

Will there ever be a rainbow

2005-08-01T07:07:00.000-07:00

Hey there world, It's me Jimmy T. I wrote a poem the other day. It's called: Will There Ever be a Rainbow?

Rainbow, Come back.
Rainbow, Come back.
Your colors remind me of my backpack,
From that first day of school.

Rainbow, so bright.
Rainbow, in the night.
Will I ever find that pot of gold,
before the day i grow so old.

Rainbow, i love you.
Rainbow, i love you.
Will you ever be,
will there ever be,

a Rainbow.

Amusing Musings

2005-07-20T13:46:00.000-07:00

Are you there god it's me Tressell, Coach Jim Tressell,

Why do men have nipples? I mean seriously. I wouldn't sell mine for the other half of that NCAA title. This question, came up while Lou Holtz, Maurice, Roy Lichtenstein, and I were watching Meet The Parents. Robert Deniro made a profound point. It's not like you can milk us, as cool as that would be.

Man Rocket Queen is a fucking kick-ass song.

Speaking of ass-kicking, I just bought a George Foreman Juicer. Man I'm fucking Juicing like Palmero. The other night I was making some smoothies, I emptied the fucking fridge in that mother fucker. Topped that bitch off with some sack sauce (a little trick i like to play on the misses).

I was thinking the other day, wouldn't it be great if there were ice cream mountains, cause then when they melt we'd have ice cream rivers.

RED 24!

What's the deal with all these fat chicks! Drop the wopper Sally and hit the sled for chrisakes!

This country could use a few less minorities. I mean jeeze, have you ridden a bus lately?

The other day I was at Cost-Co with the misses, we had to find a new remote because, her dog, Waffles, chewed the fuck out of it. I hate that dog, Man, what I wouldn't give for a sack of bricks and a bridge. So yeah, I'm looking for a new remote control for the TV, and I buy one, but have you ever tried to tried program one of those muther fuckers. I'll tell you, it's like Chinese Algebra, I was so stressed by the time I was done, I had to go pop a few beebees into my neighbors retarded kid. It's cool with him, cause I hook him up with free tickets.

Anyhoo, speaking of Chinese algebra little Jimmy is hard as a fucking rock. I'm going to go chase the misses around. If she outruns me, I guess i can pop one off to the Sears Catalog Underwear Section.

Your Friend in Christ,

Jimbo

Bush is a Nazi: An argument with Grandma.

2005-07-04T06:55:00.000-07:00

Tressell Here, Coach Jim Tressel,
Happy 4th, Bitches. Man I cannot wait for tonight, I'm going over to Less Wexner's compound for a BarB-Q, and he got these sweet-ass M-80s. We're gonna blow some shit up. I love America...but man, our President is a fucking Idiot. I was talking to my Grandma on the phone the other day. She's a Republican but, still I love my grammy, but man, how can anyone be so stupid. She's all like, "He's our president and we should support him," and I'm like, "He fucking lied, Grandma. The were no weapons of mass destruction." Then she's all like, "We were attacked, Jimmy, we're in a war on terror." And I'm like, "Wrong fucking country bitch!!!" Don't get me started. Still, I love my grammy.
Dudes, speaking of President Pussy, check out this sweet ass picture Maurice sent me,

He's getting really good at photoshop. I'm so proud of him.
Don't get me wrong I love this country. I'm patriotic and Shit, I just hate that asshole. It's like why can't they take half of what they spend on bombs and shit, and spend it on our schools.