This Week in Blogstralia: Hyperbole and a Half

I came across Hyperbole and a Half several months ago, and found that, with a small nebulus of structureless time surrounding you, it's possible to spend a straight hour perusing this blog on your first visit to it. I realize that stating the probability of an hour being a long time is absurd, but modern-day attention span disagrees, I reckon. The point is that I really got a kick out of it, and sort of jotted it down on my list of sites to feature when I got this series underway, which was, uh, six months ago.

Hooray for organization. Anyhoo. Post frequency is currently declining with HaaH, and that goes against the grain according to what bloggers are supposed to be doing, but for Allie Brosh, it doesn't matter. She gets the traffic, regardless.

For example, she published 91 posts in her inaugural blogging season of 2009, dropped that number by 10 a year ago, and most of five months into 2011, she's thrown up a four-spot. The site's most recent offering, however, boasts 1,190 comments. One thousand, one hundred ninety. Here in the House of Georges, by comparison, we've published 1,681 posts over a four-year span, and I'd honestly be suprised if we've gotten more than 100 comments total.

But that's okay. I've posted a lot of material here that could be deemed saturated. And that's been saturated material in a niche, too. Allie Brosh just doesn't care. She's going to put together awesome, illustrated posts like "7 Games You Can Play With a Brick", or one of my personal favorites, "The Awkward Conversation Survival Guide".


The blog is quality because it is original, it's funny, and it's full of illustrations. I have no idea how she possibly has the time to come up with that many images, but perhaps she simply works on them for a long time, thus the small number of posts per year. But check out the site if you haven't been there before. She's got a good list of links to other funnyish blogs as well, and and hey -- 79 million page views can't all be wrong.
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This Week in Blogstralia: Rickshaw Season

It's been a while since we gave a new feature a go here on the House of Georges, and I'll go ahead and tell you something you already know: It's never a good idea when we give a new feature a go. So, there. Now that that healthy dose of confidence has been splashed into your late-morning coffee, let's examine just what our angle is:

You've met the Internets. You've flirted with them, perhaps even developed a relationship. I'd gander that some of you have even let the Internets see you naked a time or two. Okay, fine. All of you have done that. We don't aim to get personal with this new feature. We simply want to peer into a few living room windows and see who's out there blogging, and just what, assuming the content is decipherable, goes on within the confines of their URLs.

For the inaugural installment of this feature, we bring you...
...Rickshaw Season.

If you look up "rickshaw" in the dictionary, it will refer you to "jinrikisha," which will then inform you that the word signifies a two-wheeled passenger vehicle pulled by one person, formerly used in China and Japan. And if you're like most, you probably tuned out about 25 syllables ago, wondering what this ancient form of transportation could possibly have to do with the YouTubed 4G (Four Gs! It's got four Gs!) Networks of the modern era. Well, I'll tell you.

There was a time, some 16 years ago, when I was a glassy-eyed freshman matriculating at Pittsburg State University. No, there's not supposed to be an 'h' on the end of that. We're talking about a four-year school in the rural, southern stretches of The Sunflower State, and it was in that year, and in that institution, that I met the proprietor of Rickshaw Season. He was an interesting fellow, one who turned me on to, among other things, rooting for the Vancouver Canucks to continue the New York Rangers' drought of Stanley Cup championships, jokes about bestiality, and drinking beer cheaper than the really cheap beer I drank at the time. He is also the only human being I have ever known to actually wear one of these.

But all of that's beside the point. The point, need I remind you, is rickshaws, or rickshawalas, if you will. You may wonder why one would shawal a rick, and this blogger will confidently answer that question for you here, and if you're really interested, you can read his "about" page here.

Anyway, Rickshaw Season. It's archived, albeit backdated, through the past five years, and you, are of course, at liberty to peruse the site, the archives, the photos, and even the StubTube clips that have been posted.

Why, you might ask, would Rickshaw Season be the first selection for this new feature? The answer is simple: You and I aren't gonna get out there and pedal other people around by bicycle. This guy, however, will. And he'll, from time to time, blog about it.
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Tradition Tuesday: Twos and Ohs

In a committee meeting to which I was not invited, it was decided that...

...writing about the Denver Broncos Football Club is no longer important. We will therefore adjust the rough focus of this blog to the Brodie Croyle Fan Club/Generally Overplayed Broncos slander.

Through two weeks the Kansas City Chiefs have lost two tough games against one tough opponent. In game one, they were completely dominated statistically, and chalked up a fourth-quarter epic fail, suggesting that the new regime might plan to live up to the misfortunes of most of the previous ones. In game two, they completely dominated statistically, then fell asleep with less than a minute to go, allowing the worst quarterback in professional football to complete the one and only pass he needed to for the afternoon, which set up the game-winning touchdown.

Denver lucked into a last-minute victory over the Bengals in week one, then flanked their Shannon Sharpe halftime weepfest with two halves of defensive domination over the pathetic Cleveland Browns. Though winless, the Chiefs are showing signs of heading down the path to success. Denver has nominated itself to be one of the worst 2-0 clubs in National Football League history.

I imagine neither club will go quietly into that gentle stretch of NFC East football, but I wouldn't be surprised if the Broncos get spanked worse by each club than the Chiefs do. Braggin' rights, count it, jackpot, stuffed-crust-Goatboy pizza, etc.

(image courtesy of Kissing Suzy Kolber by way of Yahoo Sports)
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Tradition Tuesday: Blah, Bluh, Blah-Blah, Blah

Four score and somethin' or other, the rough focus of this blog was the rivalry between the Kansas City Chiefs and the Denver Broncos. It's either been replaced by a theme of drunken laziness, or it's simply the off-season. I'd offer more of an in-depth analysis than that, but I need a nap. A wee, mildly entertaining handful of links for you, coveted reader, after the jump.

B-Marsh is apparently not going anywhere, which could only fuel his alleged hatred, I suppose, for the city of Denver.

Hey look: You can subscribe to Predominantly Orange ! Before doing so, set aside a solid two and-a-half reading hours per day.

Trent Green filling in for Peter King makes for some decent reading.

Michael Jackson and an Andre Rison jersey . Who knew?

There is of course this gem on Elvis Grbac, which is pretty sad.

Kinda like this post!

Tune in next week. We sort of half-assedly guarantee to put forth less effort.
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Wednesday Whatnot: The Professor Likes it Griese

I suppose now would be a good time to start throwing around excuses for why we at the House of Georges are such lazy slobs -- 10 posts in the last 17 days -- and the best one I can come up with is the combination of 90-degree weather and cirrhosis. The duo's a tasty breakfast treat, lemme tell ya'.

But, yeah. We're lazy, the NBA and NHL post-seasons have wrapped up, and now is the time of year where most professional sports bloggers begin dropping lines with words like "doldrums" and phrases like "pretty slow day" or "not much going on." Personally, we'd like to put the kibosh on all that jazz and let you know that we are not afraid of our laziness. Not one bit. We must, however, thwart our tendencies when the HoG's poster child makes the headlines. Get the bite on this line, just past the jump.

Kyle Farnsworth, in case you didn't know, is a relief pitcher for the Kansas City Royals. It has been well-documented that he likes to scrap. Allow me to be the first to say, that I would be motherfucking ringside if Farnsworth got into the MMA ring with Jared Allen, who has been quoted in the papers and today on Jim Rome saying the following:

"I want to fight Jose Canseco," Allen said. "I would drop Jose Canseco where he stands today."

But I digress. The topic was, of course, Professor Farnsworth, who found himself injured the other day by man's best friend, his own dog. This of course, is reminiscent of the first of some 10-now Horse-Faced Colts Draft successors, be they tabbed with Messiah-age or not, Brian Griese. The story on Farnsworth is here, and here are three highlights from it:

Farnsy's canines are named Rambo and Strike. Need I go on?

"Farnsworth injured his left, non-pitching hand when one of his pet American bulldogs bit him as he tried to break up a fight between the two canines. He suffered cuts to his index finger and the bites went deep enough to reach, but not cut, a tendon."

Farnsworth once broke his foot in the Cubs bullpen. The club says it was part of a pitching warm-up. Other rumors suggest that he was either punting footballs or kicking around baseballs like a hackey sac. And my personal favorite is the allegation that The Professor was once caught catching some Zs in the Cubs clubhouse, a result perhaps of his extravagant Wrigleyville nightlife.

Anyway, doesn't look like ol' Kyle will miss any action, which is fantastic because I can't wait to see what happens on his next outing, the one that will follow the extra-innings walk-off seagull-ball appearance.
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Baseball in the Daytime: 4-13-09

Yes. This is my very-gay way of saying that it's still raining in Kansas City. I mean what is this, Seattle? Good gravy. There are, nonetheless, five contests on the slate today. You know where to find 'em.

Chicago @ Detroit, 12:05 Central: Dueling righties in the A.L. Central gets our day baseball underway this afternoon as Gavin Floyd takes the hill for the White Sox and Zach Miner does the same for the Tigers. This series looks to be an important one for both clubs grappling for a couple of the better division records. Catch the bout on DirecTV 721 if you like white stockings, 722 if you hail from Motown. XM brings it radio-style on 176.

Houston @ Pittsburgh, 12:35: The Astros and the non-Somalian Pirates will attack one another half an hour later. Brian Moehler and his impressive 37.08 E.R.A. represent the visiting squad. Zach II (Duke) takes the mound for the home team. DirecTV has this one on 723 if you have a problem, or you can view it on the same channel (?) if you like molesting small children. XM says the action's on 183.

Colorado @ Chicago, 1:05: Another half-hour later, Ubaldo Jimenez and Ted Lilly will go at it in this mid-day tilt. The Rockies sit at .500 while the Cubbies have improved to 4-2. Your viewing pleasure can be satisified on multiple levels: 214, 307, 725, or 726. XM didn't feel like going the extra mile, as they'll only broadcast on one channel, 184.

Philadelphia @ Washington, 2:05: Jamie Moyer and Daniel Cabrera lock horns an hour later and slightly southeast of Wrigley Field. The defending champs are also 3-3, while the Nats are, uh, winless through six. Two thirteen or 727 are your DirecTV digits. XM promises that 185 will be a clear signal.

San Francisco @ Los Angeles, 3:10: Our final afternoon game consists of a couple of N.L. West California rivals. The Giants will put their Big Unit in the middle of the infield, while the Dodgers send out Chad Billingsley. This one can be found on DirecTV 728 or 729, XM 186.

That's Baseball in the Daytime, the short and sweet version for you Monday. Now get your gear ready, and root, root, root for your team.
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Tradition Tuesday: Cuttin' (Down to) That Meat, Trimming the Fat, Etc.

With the final days of February approaching and the daylight lingering longer, it's time for your weekly reminder that the rough focus of this blog is the rivalry between the Kansas City Chiefs and the Denver Broncos. It's three dudes, two teams, a lotta love, and even more hate. Having said very little, I'll let you know that this will likely be the shortest TT in HoG history, as the wife is home, and put dinner on the table I must.

The Chiefs have parted ways with some aged veterans this week, and courtesy of the nose-to-the-grindstone bloggers at Arrowhead Pride, we deliver that information, just after the jump.

Once viewed as a great free-agency signing via the Dolphins of Miami, Patrick Surtain will no longer cash paychecks from the Hunt family trust.

The same can also be said of Donnie Edwards, Damon Huard, and Mike Merritt, whoever the hell that is.

As for the Broncos, they, uh, still play in Denver. Not that anyone really cares.
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Wednesday WhatYouWill: Who Done Made Oakland 'Dey Bitch Mo' Often?

If there's one thing the old Iron Triangle of the House of Georges can agree on, it's that we're lazy. Now, our individual lazinesses will amaze you with the different angles and degrees they embody, but in the end, our collective sloth really needs you to type these words for us -- we're that lazy. Now, a certain leg of said triangle has this tendency vanish for periods of time, then re-appear, all Sleepy Hollow-like, and drop comment bombs all over the lazy work we've barely been managing to accomplish.

Now I'm not going to point fingers or drum up some Power Point, but if you look, oh, I dunno, roughly in this area, you might get an idea of that which I speak.

So naturally, I looked into it, and hey, why not give Oakland some shoutage since they've finally figured out who Lane Kiffin's replacement is.

Over the course of the last 30 NFL seasons (Editor's Note: I think that's post-stegosaurs, but I am also a dim-witted imbecile.), the Kansas City Chiefs and the Denver Broncos have played the Raiders -- be they the Oakland or the Los Angeline variety -- on a few occasions. Now, before I share my findings, understand that said comment bomber will likely point to some specific two-to-three-span, and claim it was that era to which he referred. Nevertheless, finding suggest that from the years 1979-2008:

1) The Denver Broncos went 31-28 against the Raiders.
2) The Kansas City Chiefs went 37-22 against the Raiders.
3) The Broncos swept the Raiders 12 times in that span; the Chiefs did it 13.
4) Denver was swept by the Raiders 10 times since '79; Kansas City lost both contests in the same season only half as many times.
5) Post-season results: In 1991, the Chiefs knocked off the Raiders 10-6 in the wildcard round. Two years later, Oakland stomped Denver 42-24, also in the wildcard contest. In that game, the Horse-Faced Colts Draft put 302 passing yards in the air, and 156 of them were caught by Horse Lips, a.k.a. the non-Astroglide-offering vessel of earth.

Now. The other factor is that said bomber will also likely offer a speech about the coveted 1997-98 seasons werein Brett Favre and poor Dan Reeves were wronged by the gods, so make sure you've had your juice and cookie by then, and get your cot and blankie out. It promises to be a snoozer.

But, examining those five numbered facts kinda makes one wonder: who had the heavier hand in the destruction of the Raider mystique?
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We Are Hot Chicks Wednesday: Yippy Kai Yay, Owe Nein

It's been a few weeks since we went to the WAHCW rodeo, but now, on the first Wednesday of the new year, we're back with another installment, and this one doesn't promise any award nominations. That's right, we're mailin' another one in. If there is, perhaps, any silver lining in the form of verbage, the House of Georges urges you to get creative, to add your own New Year's resolution lines to any or all -- come on, we know you've got 25 -- of the images of talent below the jump. As is always the case, we expect a gazillion comments, teeming with originality, for lines far superior to anything we could've concocted. That's your first homework assignment of 2009, beloved reader. So get that whip crackin'...



















































(images courtesy of Coed Magazine)
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We Are Hot Chicks Wednesday: Horse Feathers

My late grandfather used to say, "Ah, horse feathers" when he wanted to call bulls**t on something. In the "Wizard of Oz," the gallant wizard said, "Now that's a horse of a different color." Horses are everywhere in Greek mythology, and in the old days, the mail was delivered by young horses, also known as ponies. You see where I'm going with this? No? Well, allow me to clue you in. This entire post is bulls**t. The words that will appear below the images beyond the jump are about as believable as houses landing on witches, heartless tin men, and brainless scarecrows. Greek mythology tells us many a story, which is completely in line with the previous sentence. And lastly, I'm mailing this one in from the speedy HoG headquarters.

Countless laborious minutes were spent in compiling this edition of WAHCW.



The images you see come courtesy of phun.org, a NSFW link I would not click on



if I sat in some unfriendly confines.



Those would include work, or the same room your wife or girlfriend is sitting in.



Phun.org pilfered them from gwool.com, which stands for Greek Women Online.



Pretty catchy, huh?



I have no idea what, if anything, phun stands for.



I do know that they labeled these ladies Greek Goddesses,



and though I did zero research, I have yet to come across any name



like Circe, or Artemis, or Hera, or Persephone.



And that's fine. They can be goddesses in some other, heretofor unmentioned way,



like being scarcely clothed, or even better,



covered with only hands and walls and whatnot.



I suppose they can also be goddesses by virtue of the fact that they resemble power.



I'm not even really interested in what the power is, so long as the gazes and stares



leave me feeling equally (or even slightly less) powerful.



Either way, I've come to the conclusion that I like me some Greek Goddess,



which is not to be confused with Green Goddess because that goes really well with



salads. I mean you can have a Greek Goddess toss your salad for you I suppose,



but that would certainly make you a bigger man than I.



Like having Greek Goddesses toss your salad with Green Goddess?



You are one sick puppy, my friend.



I just hope for your sake that extra-crunchy croutons are not involved.



That only translates to higher calories,



and by "higher calories," I mean something entirely different.



Hey look: Lyndsay Marie. How'd she get in here? Must be her dressing. What a goddess.
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