My name is Brendan. This is my blog, apparently. Bad Sandwich Chronicles, named for one of the all time great rock bands of our time, Bad Sandwich. I'm somewhat tired right now. I've got a three month old in a crib, sleeping, I've had two greyhounds and a Miller Lite, I'm trying to write a skit for a dumb comedy writing class, and I'm making a half-assed attempt to get in shape. I bought the perfect push-up the other day. I was in Wal Mart with my lovely wife, when I happened upon the device(s). They're handles that rotate as you do a push up, somehow maximizing your core or something. Anyway, 'dumb idea', I think, and then, just to prove that I'm not one of those dickheads that just besmirches something without ever really trying it, I put the perfect push-up handles on the floor of the Wal Mart and did a couple of push ups. It really was kind of amazing...they really seemed to almost instantly strengthen my core. So, I went to the register and payed twenty dollars for two handles that will sit in my drawer for the rest of my life. There you go. Life: changed. Next.
Why do I have a blog again? Is this self reflexive, meta-post irony style still all the rage? Yeah? Cool. So, then is it my place to be hyper aware of the bullshit that i'm typing, and to constantly, shrewdly rant against the very rants that i post in hopes that it cancels out whatever it is that I say that's not clever? That's what the kids are doing now, right? OR, I could just rant about celebrities...Oh, that Amy Winehouse is such a trainwreck, right? Uh, have you seen Lilly Allen's gut? Okay, that's enough of that. Perhaps I could exploit my successful friends, by telling their personal stories here, on the internet, and using my whip-crack style of prose, make them somewhat my own...OR, I could exploit my wife and child, discussing my sex life and child rearing techniques. That's probably the best idea yet, because, well, there's nothing that gets people more excited than disagreeing with how you raise kids or fuck. Also, maybe my mom will stop by and check it out some time! That would be great. I'd love to have a conversation with my mother about how many blowjobs I'm getting/missing out on.
All right! This is shaping up splendidly. I think I'm going to have this meta-self-aware-celebrity-watching-friend's-story-stealing-parenting-sex-advice sort of thing here. Did I mention advice before? Oh, there's gonna be advice. I'm great at it. Just write in, I'll give you the what for. I'm like a sassy black woman who tells it like it is, mixed with a sassy gay dude who tells it like it is, crossed with a no-nonsense old lady who tells it like it is. Questions about felching will be answered first.
Who reads this shit anyway? How would anyone find this? Were you looking for a particularly bad sandwich? Perhaps you were looking for that dreamy irishman that you met on the plane back from dublin? No, not me. I'm just a guy in Chicago with the best self reflexive, celeb watching advice blog about sex and child rearing on the whole fucking internet...or at least the dot coms. Those dot orgs are doing some pretty out there stuff.