We're back! We're back! It's a distraction! I'm drooled! That's rough! How you doing?

Ross, you got some World Cup fever?

I guess I do. I guess I'm a little worried about whether or not it's going to come home.

I believe it can come back to me.

Yes, I am actually enjoying it.

I'm experiencing the full, you know, like, idiotic brainwife between games.

Like, I don't know these dudes and I don't know what they do.

But when I'm watching them run around, I'm like, oh, look at them go!

So, that's good.

About the most I can hope for.

By someone's younger son, he was home sick yesterday.

While I was watching Iran and in the US, and when Pulitzer scored his great goal,

where he, you know, he sacrificed his dick and balls for the greater good of America,

I was like, I jumped, I was like, whoa!

Like, I do the stirring football games too, and scared the ever-loving shit out of him.

And he was like, I was not ready for that.

And I was like, I was like, bitch, you know what you got into?

I'm watching sports, you know the deal, man.

Sometimes you gotta call your son, bitch.

I did not come to Son of Pitch.

So, wait, was he, this is, I don't want to make you, uh,

violate your son's hippo rights.

...