Yesterday, a Norwegian dude stomped my head into the concrete of a dirty, abandoned parking lot, I chased down and tackled a barista in a backyard where a family was having a picnic and I ate six ice cream sandwiches. When I took down the barista I heard a cracking sound, followed almost immediately by a crippling pain in my side. For a second, I thought I had broken a rib. Well, I don’t still think that’s the case, but I’m pretty sore in the whole torso area, and the arm and leg area and the stomach area (thank you ice cream sandwiches) and the head area kind of hurts too. So here’s the thing, I NEED to go to the gym today (thank you ice cream sandwiches) but I’m way too sore to actually go. I mean, I can’t even put my leg up on a chair without grunting like a desiccated old pre-deather, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to fuck with weights or resistance machines. Maybe I should just go on a bike ride. Right. Glad that’s settled. Thanks, y’all.
Okay, so Dogs of War, wow…Quite a little sock drawer we’ve been having lately, huh? Lots of cursing, back and forthing, fights, secret alliances, unknowns coming out of the woodwork to lend support/bile to the cause(s). Craziness. It’s like survivor down there, and I’m not talking about the Beyonce song…or was that Destiny’s Child? Who cares, it’s always just been about Miss Knowles (Missus Carter) anyway, right? Right. Kelly Rowland? Please. I’m trying to eat over here. Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh yes. The violence in the Sock Drawer. Well, as your overlord, I’m sure you’ve all been waiting to hear my take, so here it goes:
1. You guys are dorks. That’s right. Fighting on the internet is so dorky it borders on needing a new word for the description of said dorkiness. My friend Toby engages in internet battles with tons and tons of people, and you know what the result is? He looks like jughead and his best friend makes fun of him for being a dorky internet fighter. Also, there are a bunch of other people out there who hate him. This isn’t a big deal, as they’re all dorky internet fighters too, but that’s the thing: When you start fighting on the internet, you’re dealing with losers: Other people who fight on the internet. It’s like porn. You can’t get into porn and expect to fuck naïve and enthusiastic young chicks/guys while remaining a normal dude/chick…You’re in porn. You’ll be fucking porn actresses or actors, some of whom will look at you with revulsion and do a line of cocaine just specifically so they don’t cry while you’re fucking them. And maybe you’re not doing that too. Fine. You’ve got no space to judge. You’re the same as her/him. Period. That’s the reality. You get involved in something like that, look around, that’s you. Same thing with fighting on the internet; the person you’re fighting with sounds stupid and doesn’t think through his/her (let’s be honest: his) arguments very well…huh, he’s thinking the exact same thing about you. And you’re both right. But here’s the thing, nobody cares even a little. And, presto! You have become what you hate, internet warrior. That said:
2. Please keep fighting!!!!! It’s mildly amusing and it fills the Sock Drawer to its exciting brim! I mean, shit man. When we started BSC over a year ago, we didn’t have these fancy offices, these state of the art computers, and all the interns (and the fold out couch upstairs [heyo!]). We just had a stolen internet connection, a computer made of popsicle sticks and a dream of talking about baby shit and the terrible smell that inevitably follows puff daddy around. Now, we’ve got eighty comments happening in the Sock Drawer (which, for those of you who are new to BSC, is the name of the comments section located at the bottom of each blog, so named for the large amount of semen [references] found therein). That’s the kind of shit that makes book deals and Hollywood movie deals happen folks! That’s more comments than they get over at isshefilthy.blogspot.com and that’s got pictures of clams and tits and dicks and junk on it. So, please, for the love of god, keep fighting, nerds! I know I’d like to see “Bad Sandwich Chronicles: The Movie.” Wouldn’t you? Of course. Who would play me, though? Will Smith? Not bad casting, really. Think about it.
3. Um, there is no three. I just hit return and the three popped up. I need to get one of my interns over here to fix this shit. Speaking of! Exciting internship opportunities here at BSC! Send me a picture of your tits/beaver/dong and a short paragraph about why you think you’d be a good fit over here along with your resume to the email address linked from this page. Deadlines are coming quick, so don’t dilly dally. Okay, that’s all for now. Snoochie boochies, turds.