Thursday, November 15, 2007

...Take a minute to wonder what the problem with bacon is... nothing. it's delicious. what the fuck is your problem?

that is all.


...Fight off his demons

Oh hey! what's shakin? not much here either. i decided that i'm just drunk enough to blog about my once and future son, jared. i dont know if you have had the pleasure of taking in an episode of kid nation, but if not, you are a communist. fear not, however, as i will soon be adopting this kid and we will be running for whatever office is open for a 20 something parent and his completely unrelated and unwilling son. if you missed his spot-on impersonation of a wild west pimp, then you, my friend, are doomed. as one matthew mccabe said, "there needs to be a camera on that kid at all times." he is like johnny carson mixed with groucho marx and star jones. now there's a hot tub party.

on a related note (somehow), kellen left today to recover from his severe bout of knee-AIDS. they say tragedy plus time equals comedy, so this is how the equation would work for how our boy went down:

[i convert a beautiful drunken heel click] [kellen attempts to one-up me] + [however long it takes him to crumple back to earth] = comedy.

ohhhhhhh, i know this makes me seem heartless, but even kellen would agree that there would be no better way to go down. that's something you can tell your grandkids, who no doubt will be suffering from some sort of severe muscular disorder. that being said, we're all cheering for you kellen. here's hoping Magic gives you the cure for HIV...just in case.

if you need me, i'll be in the penthouse for the rest of the month, hiding from the monster that lives inside my walls. only about three people in the world will get that, good thing only two people in the world will read it.

later skaters.


Saturday, November 3, 2007

...Blog Drunkenly!

the answer to the iraq/iran/pluto sitch lies, i think, in the unspeakable rules of the male bar bathroom. if, in their infinite stupidity, mankind can find a balance of rules and understanding in a setting so overblown with masculinity and cock/balls like a bar bathroom, why for not can we not find an answer to this middle east situation. i feel like we need another mc hammer song on the issue. remember malibu stacy? but i digress...

so. guys. bathrooms. urinals. stalls. there's so many ways to go wrong. fuck bin laden, the worst person in the world is the guy who picks the middle urinal when there are three options open to him. guess what guy: you just turned everyone around you gay (not that there's anything wrong with that. some of my best friends are gay. well, we're at least friends. well, i met one once. well, i saw that video that george michael did with courtney cox). adios marriage (thanks texas), i now officially must loves balls because apparently i have to stand next to you and admire the fact that you go over the fence because you're too lazy to go through your fly. it's called a button. they've been around since at least 1987, get used to them. they're the wave of the future. like slap bracelets.

the greatest moment in bathroom use is when the door opens and whatever god awful song that involves one of the following: umbrellas, 151, pineapple juice, babies with their backs that they've got, certain exercise routines; [improper use of semi-colon] spills forth from the dance floor from which my roommate matt is inevitably doing the pointy-arm dance, and suddenly i can feel free to piss in the stall. because there's nothing worse than pissing in a toilet full of water and thinking, "shit, the guy who wearing the double popped collar in the urinal next to me can tell i have a small penis". i don't know from experience, but i saw it on maury.

we can cure polio but we don't know what happened to dinosaurs???

what would happen if all of a sudden in a club they started playing the theme from "boy meets world"? i'll tell you what: mega dance sesh.

you know, as far as popping the cherry of my drunken blog goes, i'm not really that intoxicated. you can tell because my spelling is uncanny, right?

have you ever looked at someone on a dance floor and thought, "i wish i was european and so free-spirited", then had a friend ask the person where they're from and they respond, "chicago"? yeah, me neither.

so, i hope you'll bear with me through this uncomfortable process of becoming a blogger. i promise future wise (wiser, even) insights and uncomfortable topics a la larry king with a dash of connie chung. or carry kung, if you will. won't you?