We Are Hot Chicks: Hide And Seek

Editor's Note: This one sort of pushes the envelope as far as work safety goes. If you have a boss or wife that might object to you checking out pictures of 99% naked women, you may want to find a different computer (or boss, or wife).

As this is ostensibly a sports blog, I've always tried to theme my installments of the Hot Chicks along athletic lines. I've gone over Hot Chicks that bang pitchers and Hot Chicks that have fake marriages with gay jocks. I looked into features on Hot Chicks of the NBA, women's soccer and triathlons, but most of those broads are hideous.

Since the WWE murder/suicide story has been getting a lot of play this week, I thought I had an easy in: Hot Chick wrestling. But my "research" into images of various grappling mediums (mud, oil, Jello, K-Y, pudding, creamed corn, etc.) revealed two disturbing truths. One is that most of the women that wrestle in filth fall far below the attractiveness standards of this fine website. Two is that the ones that are easy on the eyes tend to get all fucked up because they're obscured by an opaque glaze of goo. I did find this (slightly NSFW), which is certainly appealing.

But all that got me thinking about a game we used to play: Hide & Seek. It's particularly appropriate during the heat of summer, when the ladies play all sorts of dumb games with their apparel, obscuring their desirable parts with tinier and tinier swatches , strings and straps. Yes, constant nudity would be great, but where's the sport in that? Thus here is a scientific breakdown of various ways to disguise the nips and hoo-has.

THE HANDS

Since most of us, unless we're soccer freaks or hacky-sackers, use our hands to accomplish most simple tasks, they're the most natural devices with which to obscure one's udder womanhood. Mandy here gets extra points for the placement of her fingers, allowing her silicone glory to overflow in all the right areas.

THE FINGER PAINT

Occasionally one ends up elbow-deep in paint. It happens. It also leaves hand-shaped residue upon one's chest, which might turn you on if you have a kindergarten art fetish like Caitlynn (or Katelyn or Kaitlin, honestly who gives a shit?) here.

THE CURTAINS

Some call them drapes, some shades. I call them the only thing between us and lovely Brittany here.

THE SCARF

When it's cold outside, you must dress smartly. Janet, who's obviously an A student, has bundled up in a fashionable striped muffler and is ready for Arctic conditions.

THE THREE SLICES OF AMERICAN CHEESE

Somehow bonded together by strands of Silly String. Nice work, Melissa.

THE CHAINS

Jessica is serious about emergency preparedness. Should her vehicle ever get stuck in a ditch she can always attach her various cables and pulleys to extract it. Likewise, if she bags a deer during hunting season she has enough chain with which to secure it to her roof. Very handy.

THE CHAMPION

No one, and I do mean no one, pulls off the minimal coverup like Louise Glover. Here she goes for the fishnet bodysuit, in case she spies a sturgeon in a nearby lake.
These concentric spirals are what Louise wears to basketball games. She sits behind the hoop and distracts opposing free throw shooters.
In class today, I assigned Louise a gold star for every time she made a HoG reader take his laptop into the restroom.
And Louise wishes you good day. Read more

Fuck.

Word is that the University of Kentucky, after being rebuffed by Billy Donovan and Rick Barnes (?), has pried Billy Gilespie away from Texas A&M to serve as the Wildcats' next basketball coach.

This is entirely predictable, as College Station was a basketball wasteland before Gillespie revived the program. At Kentucky he'll be on TV more, coach in front of massive crowds full of incestuous moonshine-fueled coon-asses, and make a lot of money. He may even have a clause in his contract that he can blow his whistle in this gymnasium.

But Kentucky is, like, really poor. A&M has the largest alumni association in the country, a $30 million practice facility under construction, and a carniverous desire to be good at any kind of sports. There are Aggie boosters that could buy Kentucky...not just the school but the whole state.

I'm disappointed in Gillespie. Not because he took a job at a historic hoops institution that may someday make him a legend. Not because he agreed to an extension at A&M (which he shrewdly forgot to sign). But because he took less money to do so. The whole point of college sports is to find a sugar daddy and milk it dry. Coaching is the most whorish profession this side of actual whoring. And Gillespie went for the glory ahead of big sweaty piles of Texas cashish. I've lost all faith in humanity.

Read more

This Is a Test of the Emergency-Index-Finger System

Two of America's favorite (and by favorite I mean elite, all-time winning homos to coach at redneck, raping universities) were "surprisingly" eliminated in the first round of yesterday's NCAA hoops tourney. Texas Tech head coach Bob Knight and his Red Raiders squad fell victim to the high-scoring, #7 seed Boston College (84-75) in the East Regional, while in the West, Mike Krzyzewski's Duke Blue Devils allowed Virginia Commonwealth's Eric Maynor to nail a 15-foot jumper with less than two ticks on the clock, sealing the Dukies' fate 79-77.

Al Skinner, BC head coach and brother of FBI Assistant Director Joel, said he felt confident about his team's composure from the beginning.

"I told our guys to stay relaxed," Skinner said "and reassured them that, if they didn't, I'd rufie someone random and give them a drugged-up version of a Knight/Michael Hutchence choking they wouldn't soon forget." Skinner said that his pre-game pep talk resulted in some soiled jocks in the locker room, an adverse effect he overcame by telling his squad "he was just bullshittin'."

The VCU Rams club, notching its first tournament victory since a 1985 win over "We Are Marshall", celebrated into the wee hours of the Columbus morning. Anthony Grant, in his debut season as Rams HNIC, took his players to the Gentlemen's Spot where members of the players' entourage mimicked Pacman Jones' weatherman, causing the clouds of dinero to open up like a Seattle afternoon. Rams' senior guard Jesse Pellot-Rossa told teammates in the Spot's V.I.P. Room that he "couldn't wait to get to San Anton', where (he) gon' pound some Texas pussy Duke LaCrosse style."

The Rams' next opponent comes in the form of the not-so-lady Volunteers of Tennessee that delivered a Deebo-esque beatdown of the 12th-seed Long Beach State. Skinner's Eagles will face the 47th consecutive version of John Thompson and his Hoyas.

How far can one man's seed coach a collegiate club? Look out, Sean Sutton. Your kids got lots of bangin' to do. Read more