As a white male, I am no stranger to the world of people who have been given stupid nicknames. The majority of these encounters occurred while in college, where I knew people with nicknames such as Detox, Hot Rachael, Ogre, Boob, Gay Dan, Hot Lindsey, Fathead, Pubehead, and Fahqueef. (Full disclosure: those girls were hot, and Boob was a guy.)

Much like my baseline blood-alcohol content, my interactions with people who had dumb nicknames subsided after I left college. This may be a game of percentages, however, since my interaction with any people took a drastic dive after college, once I realized that people were, in general, vile and terrifying creatures. My wife is involved in roller derby — a sport that requires participants to take on nicknames of sorts — so I do know people who are addressed by odd monikers, but as these names are forced and often self-appointed, it doesn’t really count for me. So as I stand, I really have no acquaintances with nicknames, save for the people at work who I call names behind their backs. As a grown man, I have not noticed this to be abnormal.

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The above tweet is from Jerry Crasnick, and is a quote from superagent Scott Boras.

While one can’t help but appreciate Mr. Boras’ savoir faire, this line is totally something my grandpa, or perhaps your grandpa, would say.

If Mr. Boras is reading this — and since he most certainly has a Google alert set up for himself, I assume he is — I offer him some other Grandpaish sayings to use whenever he feels the need arise:

Regarding the household: A Happy Wife is a Happy Life

Regarding productivity: There’s No Substitution for Elbow Grease

Regarding bathroom etiquette during water shortages: If it’s Yellow, Let it Mellow. If it’s Brown, Flush it Down.

Regarding platonic relationships: You Can Pick Your Friends, and You Can Pick Your Nose, but You Can’t Pick Your Friend’s Nose

Regarding arguing tactics: Don’t Pee on My Leg and Tell Me It’s Raining

Regarding for whom one should root: My Favorite Team is the [local team] and Whoever is Playing the [most direct rival to said local team]

Regarding choosing a sexual partner: You Don’t Stare at the Hearth When You’re Poking at the Fire

Regarding the Chinese: *removed by administrator*

Regarding an appropriate time to consume alcohol: It’s Noon Somewhere

Regarding the usefulness of a thing: That’s Slicker than Snot on a Doorknob

The following tweet is entirely and in-no-way altered from the original (click to embiggen):

The following tweet is entirely and in-no-way altered from the original (click to embiggen):

The following totally unaltered tweet from Jon Heyman is pretty much just him bragging that he knows people who:

1. Are familiar with Marlins front-office thinking.
2. Know how to find a sweet deal on a new whip.

Sometimes a gentleman prefers a leisurely lunch — one rich in aperitif and Algonquin Round Table-grade conversation. At other times, lunch is an act of war, in which food and surroundings are but blood enemies to be vanquished, raped and slaughtered. So it was with Eric Young Jr. and his recent trip to the finest in Oriental-themed Occidental steakhouses …

As you are no doubt aware, Eric Young Jr. is not a man of idle threats and vacant promises. When Eric Young Jr. declares that a restaurant shall be crushed, a restaurant shall indeed be crushed …

Eric Young Jr. will lunch the shit out of this shit.

Minor Leaguers don’t get Dental insurance therefore I just bought a Groupon for a $40 exam w/ x-ray & cleaning. Minor victory!

— Jeremy Barfield (@Baseclogger) December 22, 2012

Jeremy Barfield isn’t so different from you and I. At one point or another, no matter your walk of life, Groupon touches us all.

H/T: The Answer Man: @AnswerDave.

I am not Carson Cistulli, but this is a tweet by John Lott that is in-no-way altered from the original:

Here is what that would look like, maybe, should Dickey have pitched his guts for the Mets:

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The following tweet is entirely and in-no-way altered from the original (click to embiggen):

In his major-league career, Moises Alou tallied precisely 2,134 hits. In retirement, Moises Alou has devised no fewer than one way to live the Good Life. Witness …

Breakfast of a Champion! lockerz.com/s/268909272

— Moises Alou (@MoisesAlou18) December 14, 2012

Please allow me to save you exactly one Internet Hot Click and reveal what lies within …

That, friends, is a Presidente Light, which hideous people like Eno Sarris would describe as “passable” or “brutish” or “disconcertingly post-colonial.” However, Moises Alou, a gentleman both cocksure and sure of cock, knows that a Presidente Light is best enjoyed while morning is still virginal, the possibilities still puffy.

He is on the way to buy cologne for his van.

Not pictured: barbecue chips, ladies.