Friday, September 3, 2010

America's favorite game show

Hey, everyone! I'm your host, Chip Bickerson, and welcome to America's favorite game of male insecurity and cliché, "Locker Room Lingo Lab." Today, we've got a locker room stocked with pudgy white guys between the ages of forty and fifty, whose athletic days are a fuzzy speck in the rear view mirror of their lives. 


They're currently lounging in the men's locker room of their suburban gym, recovering from an intense, albeit sluggish, game of basketball. Okay, without further ado, let's meet our players:

Contestant Number One is a cost accountant from White Center, Washington. He loves Peter Frampton, any clothing with elastic and Bud Light with Lime, please welcome Herb Green (applause).


Contestant Number Two is a used Pontiac salesman from Fife, Washington. He's been married a handful of times, and has finally decided that his ideal woman has four wheels and is named "Red Trans Am," give it up for Chuck Jowler (applause).

And last but not least, Contestant Number Three hails from Gorst, Washington. He enjoys "Three's Company" reruns and the leg and thigh bucket at KFC, give a hardy hello to Quinn Carpo (applause).


Okay, men, you all have been briefed on the rules: The three of you must engage in a conversation. No awkward silences trying not to stare at each other's "nether regions." The first player to utter five statements not concerning injuries, work, sports, glory days of old or heterosexual prowess will be the winner of today's contest and will return next week to face two new challengers. Remember, correct responses will be followed by a bell (dinging noise), and incorrect statements will result in this noise (buzzer sounds). Let's begin. Go ahead, guys.

Herb: Oh, my back! (buzzer sounds)

Chuck: Wow, that was quite a game. (buzzer sounds)

Quinn: Yeah. (bell dings)

Herb: I'll tell you guys, I'm not that all-conference point guard I was back in '78, but I can still hold my own out there. (buzzer sounds)

Chuck: Hey, Quinnster, help me peel off this back brace. Ahh, thanks, much better. (An awkward silences ensues as the Herb and Quinn try not to stare at Chuck's breasts). Looks like I've lost a few pounds, guys. Should make things even easier for me to sell some Grand Ams and Fieros to the classy single ladies. (buzzer sounds)

Quinn: Yeah. (bell dings)

Chuck: I hope I stop sweating before I get to the car. I just bought some new sheepskin seat covers for the Firebird. Those bastards at work are so jealous of my sweet ride that they laugh at me. (buzzer sounds)

Herb: Chuck, they're making fun of you because you look like a human midlife crisis driving that thing. You look like Jordan in a baseball uniform. (buzzer sounds)
 

Quinn: Yeah. (bell dings)

Herb: I'm sure you guys must've noticed my stats today: ten points, eight rebounds and six assists. I haven't pulled that off since February 18, 1977 against Kent Meridian High. If either of you are interested, I've got the newspaper clipping in my briefcase. (buzzer sounds)

Quinn: I am. (bell dings)

Chuck: Hey, do you guys think I should have this looked at? (awkward silence as the two men examine a mole on Herb's upper buttock.

Herb and Quinn, together: Yeah. (bell dings)

Quinn, it looks like that last statement put you over the top. Congratulations! Thanks for watching, everyone, and we'll see you next week as Quinn takes on two new challengers on..."Locker Room Lingo Lab."

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