Author: Sharkey

Michael Vick Caught At Airport With Mary Jane

FLOWERY BRANCH, Ga. — For the second time in three months, Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick is making headlines for all the wrong reasons.

Vick reluctantly surrendered a water bottle to security at Miami International Airport that smelled like marijuana and contained a substance in a hidden compartment. He was not arrested and was allowed to board an AirTran flight that landed in Atlanta before noon Wednesday.

Sweet mother of God, you’ve got the money to have it fucking FedExed to yourself overnight, even ahead of time. God only knows, your agent can handle getting some underling to buy it, strap it to himself, and drive to wherever the fuck you’re going two days ahead of time, just so you can have it in the limo on the way back from the airport. Are you seriously telling me that you can’t just have this accomplished for you, rather than risking your image and potential legal problems just to smuggle a little bit of pot onto a plane?

Someone’s been sacked a few too many times.

Straight from the “Wow, I didn’t fucking see that one coming” department, it appears that Lindsay Lohan has decided to check herself into rehab.

…Shocking.

Lindsay Lohan has checked into rehab. “I have made a proactive decision to take care of my personal health. I appreciate your well wishes and ask that you please respect my privacy at this time,” said the 20-year-old actress in a statement issued Wednesday through her publicist, Leslie Sloane Zelnick.

Ha! Respect her privacy… please. Ten bucks says she takes time out of her busy rehab activities schedule to appear pantyless on the raquetball court.

Good mother of God, that was a pain in the ass. But we’re now up and running on the new system.

 I kind of want to throw up now. But I think I’ll play Fight Night for a few minutes and forget about all of this for a bit.

I haven’t been ignoring you, my e-concubines. Far from it. I’ve actually been doing a lot of behind the scenes bamf stuff to make this place potentially awesome in ways that weren’t possible before. They’re fairly time consuming though, so GET OFF MY BACK!

*ahem*… I did want to leave you guys with a little bit of wisdom though. After I got some work done yesterday, the little woman and I went down to the beach to grab some lunch. There’s this Ruby’s Diner on the Balboa pier, and it was packed as all Hell. Fortunately (debatable) they have an upstairs dining area, open to the elements but quite nice from an aesthetic standpoint. Let me give you a few little tips about dining on the roof of a building, on a pier, which has no overhead protection:

1. Don’t order a Blue-cheese anything. Every time you take a look at the view, then go back for a bite, you’ll notice the seagulls flying overhead… and wonder.
2. Don’t order ranch for your fries. Every time you take a look at the view, then go back for a bite, you’ll notice the seagulls flying overhead… and wonder.
3. Cold as it may be, don’t order a hot chocolate with whipped cream. Every time you take a look at the view, then go back to quench your thirst, you’ll notice the seagulls flying overhead… and wonder.
4. Ask for a lid for your water. Every time you take a look at the view, then go back for a sip, you’ll notice the seagulls flying overhead… and wonder.

This has been “Tips For Better Living” with your host, Sharkey. Tune in next week for do’s and don’ts of a multiracial threesome.

She only gets this honor because she has once again showed off her nipples in public. Get ready for more Lindsay Lohan.

Enjoy.

Excerpts of O.J.’s “If I Did It” have been uncovered by Newsweek. And hey, the guy has some very informative educated guesses on how to murder two people and get away with it. Who would have known?

Simpson writes that his ex-wife came at him like a “banshee.” She loses her balance and falls hard, her head cracking against the ground. Goldman assumes a karate stance, further angering Simpson. He dares the younger man to fight. Then, in the book, Simpson pulls back. He writes, “Then something went horribly wrong, and I know what happened, but I can’t tell you exactly how.”

Simpson writes that when he regains control of himself, he realizes he is drenched in blood and holding a bloody knife. Both Nicole and Goldman are dead. Simpson heads back to the alley but before getting into the Bronco to flee, strips down to his socks. He rolls his bloody clothes and the knife into a small pile. (That’s an important detail. The police never recovered those clothes or the murder weapon, but they did find Simpson’s socks—with Nicole’s blood on them—at the foot of his bed at his Rockingham estate.)

Let me paraphrase a breakdown of his tips for scot-free killin’, just for the sake of time and interest:

1. Kill whitey(s).
2. Get nekkid’.
3. Hide clothes and murder weapon.
4. Have shitloads of money.
5. Hire Johnny Cochrane (you shit outta luck here, nigga… he dead.)
6. Get African-American community to forget your cheatin’, wife-beatin’, white-girl humpin’ ways and support your new church-goin’, repentant, chocolate-ass lovin’ lifestyle.
7. Win trial, then flip-flop on new sorry-ass lifestyle. Satellite TV should be free!

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