Take these humans for example. In a weak attempt to hype up March Madness, they have managed to fail at creativity, humor, musical talent and technical proficiency. At least the Olympic Rap from a few weeks ago had original music (sorta) and a video camera made after 1997.

The only thing saving this shit-ass video from raping my earballs is that “No Sleep ‘Til Brooklyn” is ST’s favorite song to pole dance to. It really brings back some great memories … of her junior-high days. What? I’m suppose to check the ID of every girl I run across? Meh.

Anyway, what’s odd is that their Saved By the Bell “I Love Bayside” video, based on last summer’s “I Love College” by Asher Roth, had potential. Shut up, SBTB kicked ass.

I was watching TV late the other night. At commercial, I got up to go tinkle.  I’m in the bathroom taking care of business like BTO, and I hear crazy sex noise coming from my TV.

Now, sex noises coming from my TV is not a rare occurrence, but it was a little startling considering I was watching some shit-ass, sexless movie on Bravo.

With the help of God’s gift to lazy slobs like myself, I rewound that bitch to see what all the racket was. If there’s sexin’ going on, I want to watch it.

This is what I missed.

Best commercial in the history of ever.

I was so shocked that this commercial was allowed to be aired, but yet so impressed. I high-fived my TV. God bless you, Sara’s Secret.

A few days later, DM had sent me this article about a billboard off I-35 in Lancaster, Texas. Lancaster residents, with their undies in a permanent twist, were getting all frazzled.

“Stop vegetable abuse.”

And a cucumber.

See what they’re insinuating? How did you describe it, DM?  When a girl is lonely, she looks for things that are shaped like something else to keep her company and fill her voids?

The billboard was also done by my new besties at Sara’s Secret in cahoots with Condoms to Go. Pure advertising genius.

As far as I know, the board is still there. Which makes me super happy.

But what makes me even happier is seeing that Sara’s Secret has an accompanying cucumber commercial.

I want to kiss you on the mouth, Sara’s Secret. Maybe with tongue.

C U Next Thursday,

SugarTits

Come on, twitter me, baby. ST_RedDirtKings. Ooh, twitter me again.

>> Seek the Wisdom of SugarTits

You know who partied with fuckloads of kick-ass in the ’80s? The Boz, that’s who. Your very own Brian Bosworth actually. But what’s even more amusing is to look at Sports Illustrated’s rare — their term, not mine — photos of Oklahoma’s linebacker in his prime of me-first-ness. What a birthday present … he turned 45 on Tuesday.

RDK, this is how you go all-out … while still in college.

While they’ve got some boring photos of his NFL and post-playing-day years, the real intrigue is in the college years at Oklahoma.

• They’ve got him showing off a new ‘Vette.
• Sparring in a martial arts duel.
• Playing Frisbee on the beach (settle down, ST).
• Looking ghey on the beach.
• Naked in a shower (OK, now REALLY settle down).
• And, of course, roiding out.

Can you imagine Sam Bradford in a shower photoshoot? (Don’t answer that.) Or DeMarco Murray standing in front of his ‘89 Taurus SHO? (Made up.)

What would RDK’s rare photos be like? ST on a pole? (Not that rare). Assman doing lines off strippers. (Pretty cool). I know there are some damning photos of Gravy Train somewhere, but I don’t have them.

Me, I give RDK admins permission to post those pics of me in
a threesome with the 19-year-old Chi-O twins. (I need to lie to make friends.)

According to today’s story in the Tulsa World, Oklahoma sophomore guard Willie Warren hasn’t ruled out returning to Norman for his junior year. In fact, because of his ankle surgery, dissapointing season and poor team performance, the Texas native thinks that it could be very likely he returns for the 2010-11 campaign.

“I talked to Coach Capel right before I decided I was going to do the (surgery). He asked me about the NBA, and I told him, ‘That’s not in my mind. The main thing in my mind is why not come back next year and prove everybody wrong? What would be the worst, being in the lottery again?’

“They had me projected there this year. Coming back next year, I might be projected there again. And I think you relieve a lot of pressure. I probably won’t come in as a national player of the year candidate like I did this year. I think it would relieve a lot of stress.”

This team might need a Willie Warren-type talent next year. But if rumors are even remotely true, would that be bad for the locker room and team chemistry? Is it better for both him and the OU program if he turns pro?

Or maybe this season humbled him a bit. Maybe he realized he wasn’t as good as once thought and he needs to take some responsibility for this season’s disaster. We all know that if WWIII was healthy right now, he’d be gone. But if he’s being forced to stay in Norman because he’s got no other options, what kind of attitude and work ethic will accompany him?

Does the average RDKer want him in the crimson and cream next year? Or are you too focused on spring football?

We had the first signs that spring has actually arrived here in Oklahoma. No, not the mild temperatures. Not the rain or thunder. And not the 40 MPH south winds.

Yesterday, a tornado RIPPED through the otherwise whogivesadamn town of Hammon. Fans of Katie Couric were stuck watching Gary England and Val Castor’s play-by-play of a single, rather exciting finger of God in western Oklahoma instead of 30 minutes of Obama ass-kissing.

None of … “Rebulicans again plan to block [insert 'one in a lifetime reform].”

Rather … “VAL VAL! Where you at? What do you see?”

This is my (other) porn. I could watch tornado coverage for hours. Actually, it’s probably more like going to a strip club. You sit there for hours on end, staring at something beautiful just inches in front of you, yet you leave with no happy ending. Well, yesterday was more like the Bunny Ranch. I got my rocks off. I got to see the tornado form on live TV (video here). I got to see this thing rip up hundreds of structures a barn. It was spring-time satisfaction.

Every year, NBA fans in this blessed state whine and complain about basketball coverage interrupting FREE WEATHER PORN. I say poppycock. No one around here should really give a fuck about the second game of a seven-game series between Chicago and the Heat. And if you do, you are more pathetic than me and my weather porn.

What other season? Well, to die-hard college football fans there are only three seasons: 1) regular season 2) spring practice and 3) recruiting. And today’s the beginning of the thing that gets us from a little closer to fall Saturdays.

The lazy bastards that we are, we’ll leave the spring practice coverage to the experts. You won’t find us breaking down depth charts, position battles or injuries. Instead, check out SoonerSports.com’s Spring Football Central. If history is any indication, they’ll have interviews, practice video and even the occasional bit. Nothing as face-melting funny as you’d find at RDK, but who else can dream up that kind of perversion.

>> SoonerSports.com Spring Practice Central

A porn star got court-side tickets for the Sunflower State Showdown this week. Some whore named Samantha Ryan. Actually, that was presumptuous. She was probably just a girl from a small town in Kansas who’s only dream in life was to make it big in the bright lights of Hollywood.

Instead, she probably met an Italian guy on the street named Guido who asked her whether she was “lost” and if she needed to make some money “the easy way.” She started off on a casting couch, then reluctantly took off her shirt, then shorts at his behest. All while being filmed. Then she got railed by her 45-year-old “landlord.” Happens all the time to young, naive girls from the Midwest. So calling her a whore is not fair. I apologize.

The NFL combine took place last weekend, with the most entertaining aspect being Rich Eisen running the 40 in a suit. I am not big into watching a bunch of 22-year-olds run and jump and sweat while wearing singlets. However, I will watch an old fat guy run in his Prada suit because that’s the way I roll.

Tiger’s college girlfriend told people to back. the. fuck. off. and then forgave him. Then Tiger looked at this fug, and said “Look, it’s fairly obvious I will slam any white chick with decent tits and questionable morals, but I have never ‘dated’ the third Indigo Girl.”

ed - she actually looks like an uglier, whiter Michelle Wie. Neither of which are good improvements.

An 11-year-old bought $44 million worth of Dubai mansion. What a puss. I had a Metatron transformer and a new-found love of self-satisfaction at his age. All this kid has are some hellacious electric bills and six figures worth of property taxes. So it looks like the joke is on him. Sucker.

HOTTIE ATHLETE OF THE WEEK

Notice the subtle change of the title. Yes, this is a player, not a fan, putting the D in Douche. Baylor’s Brittney Griner let testosterone — yes, testoreone — get the better of her during a game against Texas Tech Wednesday night.

As you can see from the video, she got flung about by Tech’s Jordan Barncastle. Her response was a very mannish right cross that turned into more of a wrist slap against her beak. In any event, I’m not sure if the story here is the punch or the lack of gender-testing. But we do have two videos after the jump to help make our case.

The Punch

Now you tell me, is this a chick? Does Lady Gaga arouse me? Wait, don’t answer that.

Red Lovelies,

This past weekend, I experienced something that I had heard tales of. Something that I thought was just a rumor started by man-hating bitches looking for sympathy. Something I thought couldn’t exist … until I witnessed four of them.

Man tantrums.

Mantums.

Mantrum One:

Roxy and I were out at a bar with a boy she’d been seeing casually (no horizontal nasty yet, just a few dates and a shit-ton of needy texts from him).   I had been encouraging Roxy to give this kid a chance. He seemed decent, respectable and like an overall good guy.

Until he turned into a giant ass. They were sitting next to each other at a bar table, and he starts to get super-duper flirty. As I’ve already shared with you, Roxy is not a fan of lezbo PDA. This distaste transfers to heterosexual PDA as well. Roxy kind of scoots her stool away and does not reciprocate arm touches, hugs or shoulder nudges. Jerkface slams down his empty glass and stormed off. Seriously.

Roxy had to run after him to calm him down. We leave 10 minutes later.

Mantrum Two – Four:

I met a kid from Match.com Saturday night. I took Roxy along as my wingwoman. We were meeting Match boy and some of his friends at Mi Cosina in Plano. What I was doing hauling my cookies all the way out to Plano I have no idea, but we got there and by the looks of it, Match boy was already on his second Mambo Taxi (note to non-Dallas RDK Babies: Mambo Taxis are The Mont’s Swirls on crack. Two and I’m taking my bra off and singing happy birthday to a tree). Kid seems normal, seems like a nice guy.  “Seems” is the operative word here.

We have to wait a while for our table, so I order Roxy and I drinks at the bar. I down a beer, Roxy downs her beer, and Match boy downs another Mambo Taxi, bringing the MT count to 3. We finally sit down, Roxy and I go for beer No. 2, Match boy goes for Mambo Taxi No. 4. We talk, order dinner, everything seems to be going fine.

Match boy leaves to go potty. Match boy leaves phone on the table. Match boy gets text. Match boy’s buddy (who’s on MT Nos. 3 or 4 himself) reads text out loud: “I wish I were laying in bed with you again.” Roxy and I laugh. Roxy thinks Match boy’s buddy was joking about text, which makes sense because all night they’ve been trying to convince us that Match boy’s buddy is 25 and Match boy’s boss.

Match boy gets back from bathroom. Roxy asks Match boy if he’d rather be somewhere else. Say in a chick’s bed. We all laugh. Match boy flips shit. Mantrum No. 2. He storms off from the table and isn’t seen for another 10 minutes or so. I’m endlessly entertained by the shit show.

Dinner goes on, Match boy drinks two more Mambo Taxis, bringing grand total to six. God damn! We walk down the street and duck into some bar. Roxy and I go for beer Nos. 3 or 4 of the evening. Match boy goes for shot and gin and tonic.  Match boy is wasted face beyond belief.

Cue Mantrum #3. Match boy’s friend innocently asks some chick a question. Chick’s husband comes out of the blue and tells him to back off. Match boy’s buddy drunkenly, but nicely, explains what he as asking chick and backs off. But not Match boy. He threatens to break chick’s husband’s nose. And the nose of everyone else standing with chick’s husband. Wow. Stools are pushed out of the way, and I’m ready to dodge blows. Luckily Match boy’s friend smooths stuff over.

With this, Roxy and I are ready to leave. We tell them goodbye, and we get to round out the night with Mantrum #4. “That’s fine. Just go. It’s whatever. Just go. Just go.” Match boy turns red and is angry at us for leaving. Which, of course, makes Roxy and I bolt for the door.

When did it be OK for grown-ass men to throw temper tantrums? In public no less. And this is supposed to make us like them? Supposed to prove their dedication to us? That by throwing temper tantrums we’re to fall to our knees and pled undying love for them?

Fucking please.

Dear boys. Grow the fuck up.
C U Next Thursday,

SugarTits

Come on, twitter me, baby. ST_RedDirtKings. Ooh, twitter me again.

>> Seek the Wisdom of SugarTits

INDIANAPOLIS — According to Yahoo! Sports, former Oklahoma State star Dez Bryant just might be the biggest risk in April’s NFL Draft. And they may be right. After a combine workout Tuesday, Bryant deemed himself the best football player ever and would forgo the NFL Draft and opt to devise a unique method to decide which organization he’ll play for in 2010.

“The way I see it, I’m the most hottest, best-looking commodity in the NFL,” Bryant said from the home of former NFL great Deion Sanders. “I’m like pork belly, OJ and gold all in one. I’m the best player to ever play in the NFL.”

And that’s said without Bryant ever suiting up for even a single NFL practice. During the NFL Combine this week, Bryant brazenly claimed he wouldn’t allow himself to be drafted. Instead, his agent is organizing a lottery system for the rights to win his services. The bold strategy comes just months after being suspending for 10 games with Oklahoma State in 2009 for lying to NCAA investigators.

Further, Bryant made that stipulation that whichever team drafted him must also be host to at least two additional pro franchises. The native of Lufkin, Texas, plans to be the world’s first-ever three-sport star. While most assume it would be a combination of basketball, baseball and hockey, the 21-year-old Bryant hasn’t ruled out soccer, hockey, curling or ping pong.

“Even before I attempt it, I’m the best ever,” said Bryant. “I’ve been blessed with one-in-a-lifetime athletic talent that translates to any field, surface or court.”

Bryant declined to comment on if he had a list of five cities he preferred, but one source has said Miami, Buffalo and Ottawa, Ontario are on his list of favorites. Several message to his MySpace page weren’t returned for comment.