Gumpforheisman.com
This is a funny little Bama oriented blog that I visit from time to time. They have some hilarious fake interviews that they post. Only problem that I have with this blog is that they don't post enough. Here is the latest entry at Gump For Heisman:
SUNDAY: SEC Coaches discuss favorite hangover remedies
Ed Orgeron:
Wild boys party like hard asses. So wild boys have to have hard-ass hangover remedies. It’s everything to the extreme. The next day, I don’t drink Gatorade. I funnel it. I don’t drink Alka-Seltzer Morning Relief. I crush it up and snort it. I don’t swallow BC headache powder, I melt it on a spoon and inject it into my arm. Extreme? That’s just how I roll.
Houston Nutt:
The night before, I like to send drunk text messages. Or as I like to call them, sext messages. They get me all wound up and horny and before I know it, I’m making T9-Prediction-love to two or three different media personalities all at once. So the next day, ol’ Houston’s got a little bounce in his step, no matter what.
Phil Fulmer:
I eat at Krystal’s before I go to bed. Twice. Then I place a pizza order and go to sleep. That way, when the doorbell rings 45 minutes later, I wake up and can be pleasantly surprised with food. One entire pizza later (no sharing), I raid the fridge. Then the neighbor’s fridge. Then the garbage can. Then the neighbor’s garbage can.
After that, I usually wake up feeling refreshed and ready to go. But not before a two-hour trip to Waffle House.
Les Miles:
My hangovers aren’t too bad. You ever seen how high on my head I wear my ballcap? On purpose amigo. I store shit in there. Lots of shit. On a typical drinking night, you might find a 2-liter Aquafina, a six-pack of Vitamin Water, a dozen Chasers, some V8, a fruit basket, and a fat-ass gravity bong. I’m always reaching in my hat – maybe to eat a banana, maybe to sink a fat gravity rip. Who knows? Not me. I just reach in there and let it surprise me.
Tommy Tuberville:
You seen my fucking ears? Just try and talk to me about noise sensitivity in the morning. With these fucking skin frisbees on my head, I can hear the next-door neighbors’ silent farts. I usually go with earplugs, then put on earmuffs, then give my earmuffs earmuffs, then put a towel under my door, then barricade the house, then just pray the fucking ice cream man stays the hell out of my zip code. Cause my Dumbo-lobes will pick that shit up. And there’s nothing worse than waking up with your head pounding and that song from "The Sting" all up in your grill.
Houston Nutt:
The night before, I like to send drunk text messages. Or as I like to call them, sext messages. They get me all wound up and horny and before I know it, I’m making T9-Prediction-love to two or three different media personalities all at once. So the next day, ol’ Houston’s got a little bounce in his step, no matter what.
Phil Fulmer:
I eat at Krystal’s before I go to bed. Twice. Then I place a pizza order and go to sleep. That way, when the doorbell rings 45 minutes later, I wake up and can be pleasantly surprised with food. One entire pizza later (no sharing), I raid the fridge. Then the neighbor’s fridge. Then the garbage can. Then the neighbor’s garbage can.
After that, I usually wake up feeling refreshed and ready to go. But not before a two-hour trip to Waffle House.
Les Miles:
My hangovers aren’t too bad. You ever seen how high on my head I wear my ballcap? On purpose amigo. I store shit in there. Lots of shit. On a typical drinking night, you might find a 2-liter Aquafina, a six-pack of Vitamin Water, a dozen Chasers, some V8, a fruit basket, and a fat-ass gravity bong. I’m always reaching in my hat – maybe to eat a banana, maybe to sink a fat gravity rip. Who knows? Not me. I just reach in there and let it surprise me.
Tommy Tuberville:
You seen my fucking ears? Just try and talk to me about noise sensitivity in the morning. With these fucking skin frisbees on my head, I can hear the next-door neighbors’ silent farts. I usually go with earplugs, then put on earmuffs, then give my earmuffs earmuffs, then put a towel under my door, then barricade the house, then just pray the fucking ice cream man stays the hell out of my zip code. Cause my Dumbo-lobes will pick that shit up. And there’s nothing worse than waking up with your head pounding and that song from "The Sting" all up in your grill.
Spurrier:
I don’t usually get all that drunk. I just keep feeding the shots to Phil. Because I love watching his big sloppy ass strike out all night. Watching Phil try and spit game is like watching Steve Urkel try and play that “cool” version of himself. It’s just awkward for everyone involved. Awkward and hilarious. Because the only "way" Urkel could be cool is "no fucking way." Which is the same response Phil gets from the ladies.
Urban Meyer:
Holy shit. Last year, after the BCS Title game, I got wasted. I mean tore up. We’re all set to meet Tressel and the Buckeyes at this Arizona bar. So we both leave at the same time, but of course all the Gators get there 15 minutes earlier. So we’re all slamming Petron, Tebow’s taking body shots off dudes, and the whole team is just housed. Within 10 minutes, my whole first string is puking under barstools, Leak is so wasted he’s hitting on the dartboard, Tebow can’t get past the first round of Male Erotic Photo Hunt, and I’m sitting there thinking ‘These guys could probably still beat Ohio State.’ I, I don’t know what happened. The next morning, I wake up Mike Price style next to two butt ass naked strippers. And one of ‘em has the BCS Crystal ball wedged between her tit job. Awesome. Once I saw that, I didn’t even have a hangover.Nick
I don’t usually get all that drunk. I just keep feeding the shots to Phil. Because I love watching his big sloppy ass strike out all night. Watching Phil try and spit game is like watching Steve Urkel try and play that “cool” version of himself. It’s just awkward for everyone involved. Awkward and hilarious. Because the only "way" Urkel could be cool is "no fucking way." Which is the same response Phil gets from the ladies.
Urban Meyer:
Holy shit. Last year, after the BCS Title game, I got wasted. I mean tore up. We’re all set to meet Tressel and the Buckeyes at this Arizona bar. So we both leave at the same time, but of course all the Gators get there 15 minutes earlier. So we’re all slamming Petron, Tebow’s taking body shots off dudes, and the whole team is just housed. Within 10 minutes, my whole first string is puking under barstools, Leak is so wasted he’s hitting on the dartboard, Tebow can’t get past the first round of Male Erotic Photo Hunt, and I’m sitting there thinking ‘These guys could probably still beat Ohio State.’ I, I don’t know what happened. The next morning, I wake up Mike Price style next to two butt ass naked strippers. And one of ‘em has the BCS Crystal ball wedged between her tit job. Awesome. Once I saw that, I didn’t even have a hangover.Nick
Saban:
Aight. I'll break it down for you:
Aight. I'll break it down for you:
1) It is impossible for Nick Saban to have a hangover. Because Nick Saban can only be in one state at a time. And there isn’t enough alcohol in any one state to get Nick Saban drunk.
2) If Nick Saban visits Texas, it is possible for him to get a slight buzz.
3) Not.
I mean, are you fucking kidding me? Hangovers? Hangovers are like periods: for pussies only. You think alchohol affects Nick Saban? Fuck you. The only two things that affect Nick Saban are sunrise and sunset.
I mean, are you fucking kidding me? Hangovers? Hangovers are like periods: for pussies only. You think alchohol affects Nick Saban? Fuck you. The only two things that affect Nick Saban are sunrise and sunset.
The one time I went drunk bowling, I rolled a turkey. In the first frame. The one time I went drunk-golfing, I shot a 72. Over 36 holes. The one time I went drunk-coaching, I won. Twice. In the first quarter.
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