Hey, lemme get one of those cigarettes.

Droids, wizards, fat kids, chronic masurbators, CEO’s and fry cooks, welcome to the greatest place on the internet! Finally, a website that isn’t just distended assholes and recaps of Sean Hannity’s show. That’s right! Welcome to Bad Sandwich Chronicles, every compulsive internet porn aficionado’s reload page (you know…filling the balls back up…Heh. Wait, what? Too far? Yeah?…sigh). As you may or may not have noticed, I’ve got no idea what to write about today. I decided not to go to the gym, due to the fact that I’m already in top physical condition and I’ve decided not to take my baby to the doctor for the very same reason. As a result, I’m just kind of letting shit roar.
His birthday party, Rambo themed, was a huge success, even if the idea of him in a bandanna on a tarp just manhandling a cake proved to be more fun for the wide eyed grown ups than for the confused and somewhat sleepy baby. Nevertheless, he got a little high on frosting and opened some great toys and the whole first birthday thing was successful. He was surrounded by hot broads that just wanted to squeeze him the whole time, which, believe it or not, makes almost any party easier to bear. AND we had a bagel bar, so there’s that.
I played a show this weekend. Hosted some in laws, had a birthday party, bartended. Fuuuuck. That’s productivity, man. What did you do? Thought so. See?
Okay, there are lots of people in this world and I’m dedicated to defining them all. Up next, crazy guys.

These people are all men over sixty and they walk around with their buttcrack just blazing over saggy sweatpants that are held up with an extension cord. They drink brandy and eat eggs and they kind of smell like a dead grandpa. Sometimes they’ll ask you for a marker and then lick the felt part. Crazy guys are funny, because you want to like them, and you tell your friends “oh, Wolfgtang, he’s rad” but secretly, he scares the shit out of you. That’s the thing about crazy. It’s magnetic and revolting at the same time. It’s really confidence gone wild. That’s why Richard Ramirez was able to get married in jail, you know? He’s so confident that he feels comfortable killing people, and as I’ve mentioned before, confidence is the ONLY thing on this earth that’s attractive to all women. Confidence is so powerful, that being the kind of guy that KILLS PEOPLE can’t even trump how sexy it makes you. Think about that, dudes. How many times have you heard a chick tell you that some guy (maybe even you) is creepy? What’s creepy mean? He skeeves them out? He seems like he might fly off the handle? She doesn’t know his motivation? Well, Richard Ramirez is a convicted rapist and murderer…kind of creepy, I guess…but he still got married in jail and could probably cheat on his wife with other women IN JAIL. The point is, that’s how powerful confidence is, gents. You think I’m fucking around when I mention confidence as the end all, be all of meeting women, but just look at crazy dudes if you want proof. They kill and rape and beat the shit out of chicks and the chicks keep on lining up. Why? Why do you think? Because these crazy motherfuckers command respect. It’s not their abs or their boats or their hair gel, it’s their crazy fucking confidence. Nothing is hotter than crazy. It’s intriguing. The best songs? Crazy dudes wrote em. The best movies? About and by crazy dudes. And what is crazy? Confidence gone berserk. Even the paranoid are so confident that everyone in the world is paying attention to them that it’s made em nuts.
Crazy guys are at their happiest with a slim jim, a pint of wild irish rose and someone sitting there listening to their oral manifesto. The very best crazy guys can still go into restaurants and bars because they’re not quite crazy enough to just get wasted and start fights with the waitresses, but those ones are rare. Mostly, you’ll find them pissing on traffic cones, talking to cops, kids and parking meters about how whatever the fuck it is is so fucked up and it’s preventing them from getting ahead and simultaneously making a half assed attempt to get their dickies back over their exposed buttcracks. Hey man, there but for the grace of god go I, right? Yeah. Let’s talk tomorrow. I got shit to do.