Gatorade Showers Bring January Flowers

Could! Not! Be! More! Elated! Nothing warms the ole cockles like a good ole fashioned blowout victory versus Notre Durst in the shadow of Touchdown Jeebus. It's difficult to put into words how proud your Uncle Grambo is of the performance that the Wolverines turned in this afternoon -- I haven't this kind of fire in their eyes since, deep breath, Pasadena in January of 1998. Don't get me wrong, I'm not comparing this team to the near-mythical national championship run that occured exactly ten years ago, but I'll cop to being overwhelmed by the sheer joy and gosh darn heartwarming feeling that rolls over me when the cameras capture Coach Carr actually SMILING. Big ups to the entire program for rolling into South Bend this afternoon and, in front of a national audience, reestablishing the street cred of the Michigan Football Program ... here's hoping they can take this incredible burst of momentum and make the most of it through the next nine games of the season. GO BLUE!

Fergie Ferg Gonna Love Ya Long Time

I'm going out on a limb here, but your Uncle Grambo came to an important realization watching the VMAs a few weeks back. A realization SO soul-shattering that it's taken me a good three weeks to come to grips with it. Hang with me here as a present my thesis in the manner that my ninth grade English comp teacher Mrs. DuBois taught me¹ ... Fergie² is the single hottest Buttaface since a mid `80s era Ellen Barkin (NSFW) roamed the fertile plains of Sexydom!

Don't get me wrong, she's a double bagger at best, but jeezy creezy, she definitely puts the bod in bodacious! During the VMA Pre-Show, she strode down the red carpet lip syncing her terrible yet irresistable single "London Bridge" in knee high black leather boots, asstastic Burberry shorty shorts and a white Oxford cut up to HERE to showcase her world renowned abs. It pains me to say this, but she was somehow able to project confidence in herself in a way that straight-up DUSTED all the other hotties in attendance that night. Especially Jessica Simpson, who looked more than a little mannish in a way too tight black mini-dress thingie (don't label me sexist, even Miss Modernage agreed).

But getting back to Fergie, she possesses one last secret weapon that puts all of her competition (Beyonce, Aguilera, Pink, Pussycat Skanks) to shame — the way she radiates primal sexual energy. There might be better dancers (I'm winking at you, Shakira) and there are certainly better looking lasses, but you just know from the way that Fergie moves her body that she's got hellcat moves in the sack that only Angelina Jolie can trump. Beyonce tried to up the ante when she writhed around on all fours during "Ring The Alarm", but her ultimately forgettable performance suffered from being stiff and unnatural (this same problem plagues her acting). On the other hand, the natural and altogetherly familiar way that Fergie freaked those British guards with those furry hats has me convinced (at least for a few seconds) that she was actually going to go down on those limey bastards.

Believe you me, your Uncle Grambo is aware that this sort of proclamation could (and likely will) shatter my already tenuous cred. But since I've always been committed to tell it straight from the heart (Bryan Adams stizz), I think what I'm declaring here is this ... Fergie's got buzz. Granta, that's conditional Double Bagger Buttaface Buzz not seen since Ellen Barkin skydived (skydove?) naked from an aeroplane in "Siesta", but it's buzz nonetheless. Who woulda thunk it?

¹ That being, a writer's thesis statement should ALWAYS be the last sentence of the first paragraph.
² RELATED: In case you missed it earlier this summer, Loftus wrote a fascinating dissertation on super hero appeal of the Black Eyed Peas. Best.

Kissing Lord Stanley

Last Wednesday evening, your Uncle Grambo was fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of a hot tip -- Lord Stanley's Cup would be making a surprise appearance that evening at a local, "not so ordinary" (their words, not mine) Nu Asian joint, Mon Jin Lau. While I can't really cop to having any sort of rational explanation as to why THIS particular location was chosen (or, for that matter, which member of the Carolina Hurricanes was in charge of chaperoning The Cup that night), I can say this — being in the presence of this legendary artifact caused the same sort of awestruck chills to run through my bones as some of the most impressive works of art that I've been fortune enough to see up close and in person (Diego Rivera's Detroit Industry murals, Seurat's "A Sunday On La Grande Jatte", Leutze's "Washington Crossing The Delaware", Wyeth's "Christina's World"). Major thanks go out to Maria And The Twins, Coach Glinka (pictured above), and Steph Dallywood for not only tipping me off, but for helping me wade through the teeming masses of burly rent-a-cops, sleazy Eastern European mobster types and skanky Macomb molls (there for some atrocious club night dubbed "Shanghai Wednesdays") so I could snag a few snaps with Lord Stanley's beloved cup. So, so best!

More updates to follow, yo...