Trevor Immelman. So hot right now. Arguably the finest South African export since Charlize Theron.

What is it about Brandt Snedeker that’s screaming for an ass kicking? Is it the all-encompassing country club demeanor? Or maybe it’s just his huge fucking Adidas collar? That thing looks like a baby cape.

Mickelson should probably consider working some bench press into his new “super intense” fitness regiment.

We wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if Jim Nantz orgasmed at any point during broadcast.

Stewart Cink and Steve Flesch look like they should have spent the weekend finalizing our taxes.

Wonder if anyone’s ever gotten laid in Butler Cabin.

Why does it seem like it wouldn’t take much effort on Adam Scott’s part to bang your girlfriend?

We take serious issue with Tiger switching out his Sunday red for his Sunday pink and assuming no one will notice. Metro moves like that never get by us.

All Robert Karlsson has to do to become our favorite golfer is change his first name to Karl.

Is it weird we kind of wish Martha Burke was still around? That silly B was comedy gold.

Did Steve Williams have anything on under his caddy jumpsuit? We put odds at 50/50 that he was straight commando under there. New Zealanders are a different breed.

We’re pretty sure Nick Faldo molded his tie collection after our color blind uncle who lives in Reno.

Snedeker’s collar grew another two inches after his eagle on 2 on Sunday.
Little known fact: Paul Casey made some side cash playing one of the elf extras in the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy.

What made Tiger happier? The birth of his child OR his eagle on eleven? Tough Call.

Who would you rather have a beer with? Verne Lundquist or David Feherty? Who would buy you a lap dance first? Another tough call.

Things get kind of boring when a white dude from Africa runs away with the tournament. At least Immelman realized the tedium he had caused and spent his entire celebration sending out invites to the gun show.

And now on to handing out superlatives for the weekend that was…

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Stephen Curry is a baby-faced assassin. Would you have ever thought you’d rather be Dell Curry’s kid than Patrick Ewing’s? Keep in mind that choosing to be Dell Curry’s kid also means you’d feel kind of weird when thinking about what a cougar your mom is.

The Tampa Bay Massacre should go down as one of the biggest anomalies in sports history and we haven’t heard anyone mention it since Saturday morning. How the hell did four separate higher seeds get incarnated by the 1976 Bucs on the same day?

Indiana doesn’t deserve to get out of the first round until they figure out an alternative to the baggy t-shirt underneath the jersey. Those dudes look like an out of shape middle school squad.

How disappointed would you be if Bruce Pearl wasn’t around for the sweet sixteen?

Was anyone else’s first reaction to Western Kentucky’s game winning shot over Drake a slight sense of devastation at the realization that Kyle Korver’s little brother would no longer be in the tournament?

Who would have thought Washington State would be arguably the most impressive team (along with North Carolina) through the first two rounds of the tourney? That guy on ESPN’s crew who holds up the Cougars flag in the background of College Gameday must have a debilitating rager right now.

So, is Arkansas’ Steven Hill clever enough to be using his haircut to pay tribute to Luke Wilson’s character in “The Royal Tenenbaums”, which would also indirectly mean he’s paying tribute to Bjorn Borg?

Speaking of white guy hairstyles, the dudes from Davidson all look like they’re about to walk into auditions for “Charles in Charge”.

With names like Brook and Robin, it’s good a thing the Stanford twins are seven feet tall and above average at basketball. We have two male cousins named Gale and Ashley, and let’s just say life’s a little bit different for them.

Is the irony of Bob Huggins (non-graduator of players / accumulator of DUIs) knocking Mike Krzyzewski (molder of men) out of the tournament continuing to blow anyone else’s mind right now?

True or False: Having a beer with Ben Hansbrough seems like it would be a million times more awesome than having a beer with his brother Tyler.

And now on to handing out superlatives for the weekend that was…

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The average guy’s sequence of thoughts as he watched the Giants pull away in one of the most entertaining Super Bowls of all time.

Who The Fuck Is Eli Manning? Poise? Moxy? Confidence-inspiring facial expressions? SUPER BOWL CHAMPION? What year is it? Why do I feel so disoriented? Where’s my kidney?

18-1 Couldn’t Happen to a Nicer Guy Than Belichick. That record is going to be like a funny case of herpes for Billy B. He’ll never be able to shake it.

David Tyree’s Helmet Should Win MVP. That thing must be crafted from moon rock. It’s magical.

Stetson Ads + Bastard Children + Brazilian Models = A Little Bad Karma.

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In semi-chronological order:

Patriots v. Chargers

Phil Simms hair looks more 80’s by the broadcast. A hundred dollars says he has a picture of Sting from a Police album cover taped to his bathroom mirror.

Sandbagging by claiming Philip Rivers has been “Doubtful” all week is kind of like telling everyone you have to go to the prom with your sister, and then showing up with your cousin.

Jim Nantz can promo “Survivor: Fans v. Favorites” all he wants. We’re not excited.

This just in, Brady likes to throw the ball to Faulk out of the backfield…

That sparking wrench looking thing painted on the Patriots’ field looks like a medieval sex toy.

Seriously, how in the hell did the University of Minnesota manage to get both Lawrence Maroney and Marion Barber on the same squad? As far as we know, it’s cold in Minnesota and black dudes are sparse.

The Patriots answer a Chargers’ field goal with a touchdown. That move is soooo Patriots.

Did Peyton tell the director to, “Go fuck yourself, I’ll be playing in the Super Bowl” the first time he asked him to do a take of the “Bummed Out About Football Season Closing Down” Mastercard Commercial?

Michael Turner could be the next Priest Holmes, an out-of-nowhere fantasy stud at age 30.

A Tom Brady interception is like a bad Russell Crowe movie; you never see it coming.

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When you stay at the Mandalay Bay and it’s hosting the AVN awards you automatically assume every chick there is somehow associated with the porn industry, regardless of whether their appearance merits it or not.

Realizing your cab driver is watching porn from a portable DVD player in the passenger seat is uncomfortable on several different levels.

Spending half a G on a bottle of Grey Goose in order to get “free” mixers and a spot in the back room of a strip club doesn’t seem like such a bargain the next morning.

Porn stars and NFL running backs share a lot of similarities. Both have a shelf life of roughly five years and both become sad, run-down versions of themselves if they try to stay in the game any longer.

Thirty year-old dudes suffering from male pattern baldness have an uncanny ability to follow up any point roll directly with a seven.

Marcus Pollard and Patrick Crayton clearly hate sports gamblers everywhere and wanted to teach us all a lesson this weekend. There’s no way two people that get paid to catch footballs can possibly be that bad at it.

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