Apples and Moustaches. What???…exactly

So its not very often that I plug another website. But every now and then one comes a long that really catches my eye. The website is called “Apples and Moustaches.” The name alone should direct you to that site for a gander. When I pressed them on the choice of names, they replied “Well, ’cause nothing says What the F*%k like “Apples and Moustaches.”
But just what is it about Apples and Moustaches that I like?Well first off, it’s written by two guys who are best “friends” from San Francisco. Against all odds, no they are not gay (although I have been informed that they live in eerily close proximity to the Castro…so it may still be up for debate). They call themselves Magglio and Jericho. The intended effect is to conjure up images of Columbian drug-dealers talking about sports and women and such. For me Jericho makes me go no further than Monday Night Raw. Both Jericho and Magglio went to the University of Washington. The “other” Huskies. It’s an interesting perspective on West Coast sports. They say a lot of the stuff I can’ t (that’s right the FWG is still…for now…family friendly) They really do have it all. Betting Odds? Check. Profane Language? Check. Scantily clad women on a regular basis? (See below…and…CHECK!).

Give their site a look here. If for no other reason, they seem like the kind of guys you’d like to go out and grab a beer with.I even liked them enough to let them do today’s post….here it is…
By Magglio and Jericho
Apple: You know how parents are supposed to be proud of their kids no matter how they turn out? Do you think Pau Gasol’s parents should get a free pass on that one? I mean is there a softer or an uglier player in the NBA? And have you seen his younger brother Marc? Jesus. How many people receive the Gasol family Christmas card at the holidays and have to politely request to be removed from the list? I mean that could be harmful to your health. I have a hard time looking at Pau from the safety of my own living room.
Moustachea: Evite has a drink calculator that helps you estimate how much alcohol to buy for a party. You can specify how many of your friends are light, moderate or heavy drinkers and select the type of booze you want to serve between beer, wine and liquor. You set the total time for the party and BOOM, it spits out what you should buy. Sounds great right? Well, I’m calling bullshit. I ran some numbers on a 40 person gathering and it suggested 56 beers, 3 bottles of liquor and 12 bottles of wine. Um, are they serious? I mean, I’m not in my drinking prime anymore, but how can Evite be so soft? Have they met my friends? It’s become a challenge at this point. Instead of ‘will this much booze work for our party?’ it’s turned into ‘at what point in the party will we surpass Evite’s bullshit booze estimate?” My money is on an hour and half. Bring it Evite.
Apple: Here’s an element of the Michael Phelps pot smoking story that no one is talking about: can you imagine the size of the rip he could take? If you’re the kid who brought the weed to the party, handing a bong to a guy who can hold his breath for five minutes is kind of terrifying isn’t it? There’s an unspoken rule at frat parties that says that if a celebrity of any sort walks in you smoke that person out until they say stop (and Michael Phelps is an enormous celebrity, but if the drummer from Hanson walks in, the same rules apply). So when Phelps walks in you are emptying your bag, that’s fine. But handing a bong to Phelps is kind of like letting Leo kiss your girlfriend or letting Jack Black take a bite of your sandwich.
Moustache: My brother and I both have Madden 09, a Wii and a wireless connection. Can life get any better? Sure, technology has put a man on the moon, it has created the internet but more importantly it has provided the opportunity for a heated rivalry to continue despite living 2 states away. In last night’s game MJD carried 24 times for 81 yards and Jacksonville defeated Philadelphia 10-9. Yes, I realize I am a grown man reporting on a fictional video game. I also read Dear Abby everyday, religiously. And believe Q-tips are heaven sent.

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