Philsanity (like Linsanity, but not good)

#1 Phil Pressey

#1 Phil Pressey

I know that for Mizzou fans Phil Pressey’s name is a little bittersweet right now. One of the top point guards in the nation, yet he constantly makes poor game deciding decisions. It’s easy to watch games and point out everything Phil did wrong, but when it comes down to Pressey’s poor choices is it %100 his fault?

You can call Pressey many things, but inconsistent is not one of them. Mizzou has lost 5 games by 3 points or less. 6 if you include our 8-point loss to Kentucky in overtime. In EVERY one of those games Phil has made a poor decision within 1:30 minutes left on the game clock. Today, we lost against Tennessee where Pressey launched a ridiculous three with adequate time left on the shot clock to get a high percentage shot. Twitter and other social media sites exploded with criticism of Pressey and his lack of thoughtful decision-making, but I began to wonder if it’s even his fault anymore?

The definition of INSANITY is

“doing the EXACT same thing over and over again and expecting different results”

Pressey has made the same mistake many times, but is Pressey the only one who is insane?

This problem starts all the way at the top. Coach Haith, why do you continually put Pressey in a situation where he has failed multiple times? This is something that should have been addressed back on December 28th when we lost to UCLA by 3. Corrections should have been made through practice simulating game time situations, and if the progress was not seen by now (3 months later) BENCH HIM during game time decisions.

Next to address are the other players on the court. I will give some of them a break, mainly because I do not want them handling the ball at all, but there were 2 seniors on the court who let him take that shot. Bowers is shooting close to %40 from the three-point-line, which is more than what Pressey is shooting (%30.8.) When does he take initiative and go get the ball! Even getting the ball into Bell’s hands and letting him get a quick jumper in, would have been better than relying on Phil to make that decision. Obviously we can pass the ball to other people when the game is on the line, because they passed it to Ross in the end and he made desperation three.

Coach. Bowers. Bell. All three of you could have helped the outcome of this game. Honestly they are all insane because this is SIX times now that they have let this exact same outcome happen. Yes, Phil keeps shooting the shots, but Haith puts him in to do so, the in-bounder puts the rock in his hands, and neither Bowers nor Bell go get it!

So, Mizzou if you do not want to be certifiably insane, change it up next time. Maybe we’ll get the ball to Ke-Ke and let him drive, or go to that magical world that is the paint, and let L-Bow or Oriakhi put in work, possibly even hit Ross or Brown coming off of a screen on the far side. SO MANY OPTIONS.

Also, I did not write this to criticize any players or coaches. I love Mizzou basketball! I wrote it because one day Coach Haith is going to Google search his name and read my blog. Then when we win a national title, he’s going to give his ring to me because I saved the season. It’ll happen ya’ll.  It will.



Wonder Woman’s Tips to Save the World

Tonight was the VAGINA monologues. Yes, I said VAGINA.

 Tonight my family came (mom, dad, aunt, g-mom) all the way to Columbia, MO to watch me scream “VAGINA mother fuckers” on stage and talk about my Angry Vag. My dad listened to me talk about how “women would be cominnnnnng alllll day long,” and how my vagina “wants chocolate.” Do you know why he listened to these things? Because, he’s awesome and they’re important. My family joined me, and hundreds of other people tonight, as we took a step toward ending violence against women. 

I’ve decided to help the rest of the universe out, and I’ve compiled 5 ways to save the world according to me (Wonder Woman). 

1. Women are awesome as women. We’re not bitches or hoes. We’re not “the weaker sex.” We’re not catty little girls. We are women, and there should be respect associate with being a woman.

2. VAGINA is awesome. I have honestly never seen anyone else’s VAGINA, but mine’s pretty damn awesome, so I figure that’s universal. Also, VAGINA should be respected always. Not just if she’s a virgin, not just if she’s pretty, not just if she’s skinny, ALWAYS. 

3. Change is a short word, but difficult to do. Tonight over a thousand people gathered, which is a great start towards change, but the real change in society comes when we take what we learned tonight and take it to the “real world” and start correcting people’s language, and negative thought processes towards women. 

4. Rape is not a joke. It’s not funny. It’s not something to be used in common, everyday conversation, unless you are referencing it as the violent, life altering act that it is. For example, that test did not “rape you.” Expand your vocabulary, there are plenty of other ways to say that you failed. 

5. If every given the chance to be a Super Hero DO IT! If you ever get a chance to make a difference in your community/someone’s life DO IT. It’s not difficult. You see a need and you meet it! Put that cape, and those spandex on, and rock it out. STOP expecting everyone else to take action, because if everyone waits then SHIT doesn’t get done. 

Well, those are some of my tips on how to save the world. So remember! Say no to rape, VAGINA hate, disrespect, and laziness. If you need some spandex or a cape to borrow let me know, because we have work to do. 

Until next VAGINA season (when I’ll have to renew my VAGINA license).

VAGINA mother fuckers


Healing Through Football

This morning Jovan Belcher killed his girlfriend and then committed suicide in Arrowhead stadium. He left behind a family, a career, and nation of fans. Not only is Chiefs nation grieving right now, but the NFL also has to make the decision if the Chiefs should still play the Carolina Panthers tomorrow. I understand why this is a tough decision, but coming from someone who’s been in this situation before PLAY THE GAME.

My junior year of high school we had a classmate die the night before the homecoming game. What should have been a week full of spirit days and festivities ended up being a memory that is surrounded by sadness. Classmates flooded the emergency room that night where they were told their teammate had died. That night I could barely sleep because I was wondering how those boys and fans could participate in a game with such sadness in their hearts. The next day Bruin fans filled the stands, and watched as their football team mourned their classmate the best way they knew how, with a win.

There are a multitude of reasons that they should play tomorrow. First, games this late in the season are difficult to reschedule. Second, they are currently 1-10, so it is not as if they are battling for a playoff spot and a loss could put them at a disadvantage. Third, the fans will come. The suicide did happen in Arrowhead, but that will scare off few true fans. Dedicated Chiefs fans will still arrive and they might possibly sell more tickets than a normal game because of the circumstances. Last, and more importantly they should play the game because there is healing in the game of football.

Football is a game where you can release frustration and anger. Plus, there is comfort in monotony. Let the Chiefs wake up in the morning. Go through their pre-game routine. Put that red jersey on. Lace up their shoes, the same as they did last week. They have 4 quarters to do their job. 4 quarters to forget the media, forget the press, and just play. 4 quarters to memorialize their teammate, their friend, the best way they can. By playing the game they all loved.

I am not a Chiefs fan. I will be a Bronco girl until I die, but I’ve seen the look in a team’s eye the day after they lose someone near to them. Tomorrow I’ll cheer for my Broncos, but I’ll also show some love to Chiefs Nation as they commemorate Jovan Belcher.


Hot Hot Yoga

Last night, one of my friends (friend A) asked me if I wanted to try a 7AM hot yoga class. I should have told her no, and to lose my number. But I do like her and I’m insane, so I agreed.

When 6:35 arrived, I had a critical choice to make. Do you really wear yoga pants to yoga class? At this point I wasn’t sure if yoga pants were just created to make your ass look good or if they were actually worn to exercise. After deciding in my head that the pants deserved yoga, I could not find them–so I settled for shorts.

When I arrived at the hot yoga place I found friend A and friend B. I was really tempted to ask them if they wanted to go down the street and get donuts instead of taking this class, but my self-control kicked in and I decided to go through with it.

My first warning sign was when they asked me to sign a waver. I should have known then to run as fast as my thick legs could carry me, but then again my self-control kicked in and I was mentally berating myself for the moment of weakness. Besides, the ladies at the front desk looked so happy to be there, so surely they couldn’t be sending me to my death. Of course they were all 100 pound, morning people, who have never eaten anything with more calories than celery, but I did not take that into consideration when I decided to stay.

After I signed the waver the woman asked me if I had a towel because “You will sweat more than you think you will.” That was the understatement of the century, but friend B ever so kindly paid the $2 for me to borrow the towel that later on would look like I drowned it in a bucket of my tears.

The second warning sign was when the door said, “No talking in the yoga room.” After all, if you let the people communicate then they can revolt right? Right next to the “No talking sign” is the “Sweat is Fat Crying” sign. I later discovered that it is impossible to cry during the class because all of the water is being sucked out of your body through every surface.

When I entered the room, there were already people laying down, breathing deeply. It appeared to be so peaceful, I was convincing myself that it could not be that bad. I failed to notice that all the peaceful looking people were the size of trinket poodles, and have probably done yoga before.

When the instructor closed the door. I realized that I was officially in a dim lit, soft music, quiet, HELL. Quickly the temperature climbed up to 100-101-102-103-104-105 DEGREES!! It was so hot that the mirrors were fogging and my brain stopped functioning. I’m pretty sure I lost some brain cells in that room this morning.

After 20 minutes of stretching, I had realized just how big of a mistake I had made. Sweat was DRIPPING from everywhere. At one point in time I contemplated taking off my shirt and ringing it out. After all, our instructor was already sliding around the room from all the sweat on the floor, so what could it hurt?

About 30 minutes in, our instructor decided to punish us for the sins of the world, and demanded we fold our bodies into positions only seen in origami magazines. I was trying to check the time to see how long the torture would last, and then remembered that there were no clocks and we could not bring our cell phones in. Now, I’m feeling like a prisoner, surrounded by deeply breathing, skinny, slick with perspiration, origami people.

At this point, 45 minutes in, I decide to just lay my head on the mat. I think at this point I blacked out for a few minutes. All the positions she was making us do were not humanly possible, and I was glaring at the overachievers in the room who had no bones at all, and could fold themselves into such positions.

After an hour of the torture, I said a quick prayer. God please don’t let me pass out now. If I did pass out they might just think I was in child’s pose, and leave me there until the next class.

After an hour and fifteen minutes, I created a new pose called the “wounded warrior” which involves holding my hands above my head silently saying “Mufasa” while praying for forgiveness. The torture did not last long after this.

One hour and twenty minutes in, the origami lady thanked us for coming and sprayed us all with this mint oil. Was the mint oil supposed to replenish the 50 gallons of water I lost? Was it supposed to make my body feel as if I had NOT been ran over by a truck? Or was it just an I’m-sorry-you-took-this-class-here’s-something-good-to-smell-since-now-you-all-stink-spray? I still don’t know.

When she opened the door, it was as if she ushered angels in. I crawled to the door with as much energy I could master, to seek refuge. I am now barely hanging on, I feel as if I ran a marathon (yeah, like I know what that feels like). The teacher was just smiling and looked as if she could do 5 more classes like this.

I have concluded that in order to be into hot yoga you have to be 1 of he following.

1. Skinny

2. Boneless

3. Glutton for Punishment

4. Crazy

I am the fourth which is my I am going back tomorrow.