TGIM everyone. Welcome back to another installment in the endless series of soul crushing, mind numbing spirit snapping exercises designed to waste your precious few moments on this earth. I had a crappy night at work. I don’t even want to talk about it. I got a question from a guy who’s about to become a bartender and he wants to know some tips for being a great bartender. I have a few. These are real tips, not snarky jokes, so please treat them as gospel. Okay
Always acknowledge someone as soon as you see them. This sounds stupid, but nothing is more annoying than sitting at a bar, dying of thirst while some dildo bartender just goes on with their conversation or lime cutting or just standing there, staring blankly forward. You can get a lot of mileage out of “hey man, I’ll be with you in a minute.” For real.
Charge your friends for drinks. You don’t have to give them the nine dollar jack and coke that your bar wants you to charge, but make ‘em reach into their wallets a couple of times. That way, they’ll remember that they have to tip you something. And come on, you’re the one pouring them shots and getting them drunk. It’s reasonable to expect a little return. Conversely, if you’re a friend of a bartender and you’re drinking all night or whatever and they aren’t really charging you, what’s a good tip? If you’ve had a full night of drinking, and it’s been almost free, you should be putting down at least a twenty. If that’s too expensive, buy a sixer and stay home.
Let people drink as much as they want as long as they’re nice, and not bugging everyone else. Oh, so what. He’s wasted, big deal. That’s what whiskey does. Don’t cut people off when they’re drunk. Who cares if they’re talking loud, or slurring? If they pass out, well, they can’t drink anymore anyway. Pull ‘em out onto the sidewalk. Conversely, if someone’s bugging your other customers, or telling you to fuck yourself or anything like that, kick their asses out right away, drunk or not. Being drunk shouldn’t be the crime in a bar, being an asshole should.
Uh, don’t get so drunk that you fuck up the money- Obvious one right? You get a lot of leeway as a bartender, don’t fuck it up by messing with the bottom line. You know who suffers for that? You, and your fellow bartenders and your friends and everyone. So keep your shit together when you work. Fuck, it’s a job, after all. Save getting wasted for after work, or when your friend is bartending and you’re on the other side of the bar.
That’s everything. You’re all now master bartenders. Congratulations. That’s actually the entirety of a bartender college curriculum. Little secret, there’s no such thing as a fuzzy navel or a midori sour, it’s just shit that the bartending college cabal made up to get your tuition money. Now, get out there and get me drunk!
I want to make a list about drugs. I don’t know if I’m blowing my wad by doing this on a Monday, but I think it will be fun. Here’s a guide to drugs by Brendan Kelly
Alcohol-
This shit is dangerous, kids. One minute you’re laughing about something funny that happened at the baroque choral performance over a glass of chardonnay, and the next you’re waking up in a random lawn with bloody knuckles, a sticky dick and no jacket. If you’ve ever had one too many cocktails, you’ve got some sort of embarrassing memory that will forever make you cringe and make a little noise every time you think of it. Be careful. Oh, and it makes you horny, or at least dumb enough to think fucking him/her/it is a good idea, so watch your dicks and pussies when you’re boozing. That’s where babies come from, son.
Weed-
You smoke it, and it either makes you zone out completely or makes your mind race like crazy. I’m in the second camp. I can’t smoke weed because it makes me panic. Whatever, this isn’t about me. Weed is like the nerf ball of drugs. Yeah, it’s illegal, and yeah, it gets you fucked up, but if your grandma found it, she’d be like “stewart, is this your weed? I wish you wouldn’t do that stuff” and then give it back to you. If it’s not wigging out your grandma, it’s not much of a drug, Side effects of weed include being a shirtless dickweed like matthew Mcconahay and saying dumb shit about the celestial vortex and shit like that.
Mushrooms/ acid
You know when you have those moments of clarity; when you look in the mirror and go “holy shit! I’ve gotten fat” or you’re replaying some old conversation and you realize “man, I’m a selfish dickhead”? Now imagine being stuck in that moment for seven hours. That’s these. You better like yourself, starchild, cuz you’ll be spending lots of time in your brain.
Ecstasy- So, the night you’re on E, your entire body feels like an orgasm, and everything is a ten. Everyone is good looking. The room is beautifully designed. The dog is SO good. The beach boys are CRIMINALLY UNDERRATED! Oh, man! It’s just swell, guys! The next day, your entire body feels like a violated asshole, and you’re more depressed than you’ve ever, ever been. This lasts for three days. Wheee!
Cocaine
You know your one friend who’s kind of yellow and he’s always covered with a thin sheen of sweat? He shits a lot and he’s always cracking inappropriate jokes and he’s super happy one second and then something just sets him off? He’s on coke. What a cool drug. Jeez.
Meth
Like coke guy, but either gay or toothless. This is the drug that you do when you think just letting rats nibble your dick off is too boring and casual of a way to destroy yourself. Well, actually, that’s exactly the kind of thing that happens to people who are fucked up on meth. This shit is scary. Who wants to be high for four straight days? Ugh…no thank you. Word to the wise, for whatever reason, if you’re in a gay bar, and someone offers you coke, it’s at least got a forty percent chance of being meth. This also holds true in a roadhouse. I don’t know what it is about this drug that attracts the two ends of the personal appearance spectrum, but if you’re doing meth, you’re either a beautiful gay dude, or some creep covered in sores that lurks around the dumpsters at the Wendy’s.
Herion-
It’s one of those things, right? You’re either gonna do heroin or not. I don’t think people get into heroin with a “hey, I’ll just casually party with some heroin here and there” kind of attitude. People kind of have an idea of what the lifestyle of a junkie is. Shitting explosively every six days, not eating, sleeping, drool, totally out there music. The cool thing about heroin is that one in every three users wakes up at the end of a big bender with model-quality good looks. It’s true.
Poop
There are kids in aftrica who get high off of poop. They shit and piss in a jar and then put a balloon over the top of the jar and leave it in the sun. The gas from the shit/pee mix fills up the balloon after a while and then you inhale it. Apparently it makes you hallucinate and really, really, really trip out. Huh. Kind of makes you feel like an entitled prick for complaining about your friend’s crappy weed the other day, huh?
I’m going to the post office. Drugs are bad everyone. Xo.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
They're building landing strips for gay martians, I swear to god!
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Thursday, August 7, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
I thought I was looking at my mother's old douchebag, but that's back in Ohio
My baby is being such an asshole right now. He’s so needy. Whining, crying, insisting on not napping. It’s impossible to get anything done. Now, see. Here we are, seeped so deeply in irony and meta-story telling that I feel like I’m at the carnival, you know, in the house of mirrors. What am I not able to do? Well, my only real things to do today are take care of this baby and write about it here, so he’s actually fulfilling my needs by keeping me on my toes re: his needs, and giving me fodder to bitch about here. Also, he’s helping to make sure that I stay self aware and glib, you know, as per the style of the times. So, wow. Looks like we’re all the way back to square one. Of course, there are other things I could do. I could see how much of the Jim Beam bottle in the kitchen I could put away between crying bursts (mine, not the baby’s). I could get dressed, eat breakfast, take a shower or whack off, but none of these seem interesting to me right now. Besides, isn’t the notion of me in my underpants, unshaven and gross, sitting beneath a lone, bare lightbulb hanging from a wire, typing at my computer while my old timey fridge door hangs askew from its empty body a really romantic one? I think so. Man. I SHOULD drink some whiskey. That would really push this into pulp territory, huh?
The neighbors loved him, but he was a “Drunk Dad!”
(Tagline)- “Officer, I thought the baby was a bowl of pretzels!”
Nah, I’m not drunk. I don’t really plan on drinking whiskey today either. I like whiskey though. Whiskey and vodka are like two sides of a seesaw. So, I drink whiskey mostly in the winter and very late at night. With whiskey, I get mellow, slow and eventually kind of dumb, and maybe, if the mood is just wrong enough, a little depressed. Nevertheless, it’s the taste I like and the best way to unwind, drinking wise. I prefer bourbon on the rocks. Something nice if you’re buying, but generally, I’ll just do Jim Beam (but never Jack Daniels. That shit tastes like maple syrup. If I wanted the taste of Jack Daniels, I’d go to IHOP. Anyway…)
On the other side we have vodka. Vodka paired with club soda is refreshing when it’s warm out, immensely drinkable and somehow has the opposite effects on me as whiskey. It makes me more talkative, makes my brain work a little faster and puts me generally in a manic good mood. Vodka also tends to bring out my jokey, funny side. The thing is, vodka is also the drink that makes me think I’m really funny when I’m just being really offensive, and it makes me do dumb things, so it’s not all happy days with vodka. I usually drink vodka until the day that I wake up and I’ve pissed someone off, or just embarrassed myself, then I decide, ‘okay, hoss, enough vodka for a while. Let’s mellow you out.’ After this little talk, the next time I drink, it’s whiskey. That will last until I’m sick of the morning cobwebs and being such a lazy sack of shit. Then, guess what? That’s right! Vodka.
I know what you’re saying: Where’s beer fit into this equation? Well, beer’s not drinking. It’s beer. You have a beer with lunch, you know? You can have a beer in almost any situation…I mean, there’s a law in parts of Texas that say that if you can prove you’re on the shortest route to your house from work and you just got off, that you can drive and drink a beer at the same time. That’s not gonna fly with a gin and tonic, you know? Okay, mom! Yeah, people still get drunk from beer, and they crash cars and kill pregnant ladies and cut down young eagle scouts in the primes of their lives and all that. True. True. I can’t argue with that. All I know is, if you want to get wasted, why are you drinking beer? That’s like eating popcorn for dinner, or sitting through church for the wine…
You know what’s good? Sparks. It’s an energy drink/malt liquor. So, yeah, it’s basically Red Bull and Old English in the same can. It looks like battery acid and I always dismissed it as robot dog piss until my good friend Toby insisted I try one when I was hung over. “make sure to drink the whole thing” he told me with the bedside manner of a Costa Rican doctor. Well, sure enough, Toby was right. Sparks is a miracle hangover cure. I don’t care if you’ve been chugging beers or doing hits of E, a sparks or two will mop up those puddles of depression and make you feel like rubbing elbows at some lame party faster than you can say “stomach ulcer? What do you mean, doctor?”
I think maybe I’ll do a pairing list sometime soon, like different drinks and the best music to listen to, or the best activities to plan around your cocktails, something like that. I might even do it today if I get the time. You know what’s perfect for blogging in daytime? Sparks. There’s one in the old timey fridge now. Gotta run. Godspeed, dildos.
The neighbors loved him, but he was a “Drunk Dad!”
(Tagline)- “Officer, I thought the baby was a bowl of pretzels!”
Nah, I’m not drunk. I don’t really plan on drinking whiskey today either. I like whiskey though. Whiskey and vodka are like two sides of a seesaw. So, I drink whiskey mostly in the winter and very late at night. With whiskey, I get mellow, slow and eventually kind of dumb, and maybe, if the mood is just wrong enough, a little depressed. Nevertheless, it’s the taste I like and the best way to unwind, drinking wise. I prefer bourbon on the rocks. Something nice if you’re buying, but generally, I’ll just do Jim Beam (but never Jack Daniels. That shit tastes like maple syrup. If I wanted the taste of Jack Daniels, I’d go to IHOP. Anyway…)
On the other side we have vodka. Vodka paired with club soda is refreshing when it’s warm out, immensely drinkable and somehow has the opposite effects on me as whiskey. It makes me more talkative, makes my brain work a little faster and puts me generally in a manic good mood. Vodka also tends to bring out my jokey, funny side. The thing is, vodka is also the drink that makes me think I’m really funny when I’m just being really offensive, and it makes me do dumb things, so it’s not all happy days with vodka. I usually drink vodka until the day that I wake up and I’ve pissed someone off, or just embarrassed myself, then I decide, ‘okay, hoss, enough vodka for a while. Let’s mellow you out.’ After this little talk, the next time I drink, it’s whiskey. That will last until I’m sick of the morning cobwebs and being such a lazy sack of shit. Then, guess what? That’s right! Vodka.
I know what you’re saying: Where’s beer fit into this equation? Well, beer’s not drinking. It’s beer. You have a beer with lunch, you know? You can have a beer in almost any situation…I mean, there’s a law in parts of Texas that say that if you can prove you’re on the shortest route to your house from work and you just got off, that you can drive and drink a beer at the same time. That’s not gonna fly with a gin and tonic, you know? Okay, mom! Yeah, people still get drunk from beer, and they crash cars and kill pregnant ladies and cut down young eagle scouts in the primes of their lives and all that. True. True. I can’t argue with that. All I know is, if you want to get wasted, why are you drinking beer? That’s like eating popcorn for dinner, or sitting through church for the wine…
You know what’s good? Sparks. It’s an energy drink/malt liquor. So, yeah, it’s basically Red Bull and Old English in the same can. It looks like battery acid and I always dismissed it as robot dog piss until my good friend Toby insisted I try one when I was hung over. “make sure to drink the whole thing” he told me with the bedside manner of a Costa Rican doctor. Well, sure enough, Toby was right. Sparks is a miracle hangover cure. I don’t care if you’ve been chugging beers or doing hits of E, a sparks or two will mop up those puddles of depression and make you feel like rubbing elbows at some lame party faster than you can say “stomach ulcer? What do you mean, doctor?”
I think maybe I’ll do a pairing list sometime soon, like different drinks and the best music to listen to, or the best activities to plan around your cocktails, something like that. I might even do it today if I get the time. You know what’s perfect for blogging in daytime? Sparks. There’s one in the old timey fridge now. Gotta run. Godspeed, dildos.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
steve langford has a huge penis
Well, yeah, so I had the first of my new term of Improv classes yesterday, and let’s just say my teacher was like the Bob Balaban character from Mighty Wind and the ‘eccentric’ republican woman in the class (wearing an outfit so outlandish that Andre 3000 would laugh out loud) picked a fight with him when he suggested that people might want to take off their shoes before we play tag. Yes, we played tag. I can’t take it any more. I’m gonna give that class one more chance, then fuck it. I’m done. Too soul crushing.
My baby is currently farting up a storm. He farts like a full sized guy, which is hilarious, especially when he’s being held by an unsuspecting person who carries themselves with dignity. Imagine my aunt (just for example) trying to explain that the echoing blast of a fart that just stalled every conversation in the room came out of the little tiny baby she’s holding and not her. Funny.
Last night there were tornadoes in Chicago. That’s not something you hear about every day. I mean, California gets earthquakes as punishment for all the leeway they give the gays, the rural Midwest gets floods and tornadoes for taking some sort of mongo pride their xenophobic blissful ignorance, the south gets hurricanes for all the underage fucking and the east coast get those hilarious accents for harboring all the jews, right?…I mean, that’s the way I thought god had it all worked out. Chicago gets the shitty winter and the horrible realization that 80% of the people out there think we’re on the eastern seaboard, despite being the third largest city in the US. Oh, and Texas gets to be fat…did I mention how fat Texas is? Why, you might even say a Texan gut is it’s own sovereign republic, just expanding and expanding over the straining rio grande of a belt, complete with a pokey longhorn buckle. Ah, but i digress...
Right, so I guess we did wrong in the eyes of god or something, because last night, two or three tornadoes touched down in Chicago. Thankfully I was in the ‘safe zone’ that only improv can offer, but my wife and baby were at home, huddled in the closet. I felt like a real dick. I was tossing an imaginary ball around a room with a bunch of dorks (including a guy who just impersonates adam sandler, like all the time, not just when acting. Even on break, standing by the soda machine, he’s just chilling, being Robbie from the Wedding Singer…it’s hilariously sad. I guess he’s a stand up wanna be, and he just doesn’t have any ideas…he’s like the comedic equivalent of one of those bands that just shamelessly apes the rolling stones…but way sadder, because he’s not getting laid. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do) while my family huddled, terrified in a small room filled with my underwear. Pretty lame, Millhouse, even for you.
So, yesterday’s post (Anal is the new Vaginal) dealt briefly with some things I like. I got all kinds of letters about this, and I feel compelled to respond. Now, most of you probably don’t need this kind of explanation given, as you can, you know, read, and therefore bring a certain level of cognition and comprehension to the table, so to you lot, sorry, bear with me while I get the dummies in the class up to speed.
That list was in no way supposed to be all encompassing, people. “You’re from Chicago. How can you not like hot dogs? Where’s bacon on that list? PBR? What gives?” Who said I didn’t like hot dogs? Do you honestly think that if I was going to list THE top twelve things that I like most in this world that dinosaurs and toupees would really be on that list? Okay, so for the record, yes I like other things that are not on the list. These were just SOME of the things I like.
Now, not to belabor the point, but if I did a list of the things I truly like most in the world, it would be so sappy and dull that I wouldn’t even have the patience to read it.
What’s on there: wife, baby, friends, dogs, bicycle, family, assortment of rainbow colored collectors dildos from the ‘On Golden Pond’ premiere. You see my point? It’s boring. Everyone likes bacon, and everyone should like hot dogs. So, yeah, in the interest of covering everything, here’s a list of things I don’t give a shit about, one way or the other. It’s comprehensive. There’s absolutely nothing on this earth or in this universe that I don’t have an opinion on if it’s not on this list:
Things I don’t give a shit about:
The environment
Barbie collectors
Race Relations
Torture
Politics
The AIDS epidemic in Africa and Black America
My family’s well being
Health Care
Pet grooming
Privatized prisons
Shit fetishists
Victory Records
The Iraq war
Dumb hillbillies ruining America’s status in the world
Foreign relations
Slavery
Prostitution
Porn
Fish
Teepees
Guys with big dicks
Guys with boomerang shaped dicks
The roadie for paul simon
Paul Mitchell Salons
Crest vs. Colgate
Roe vs. Wade
My appearance
Locking my doors
What I eat
Fellatio vs head- which one’s the better name for dicksucking?
Prince Charles
Prince Albert
Fat Albert
Macaroni and Cheese
Marconi and Chasez
America’s best Dance Crew
Motley Crue
Crew Pomade
The number seven
Pituitary glands
The remake of Alvin and the Chipmunks
Monkeys dressed as millionaires smoking cigars
Gentrification
Exploitation
The United Nations
Felching
Belching
Squelching
Mulching
The Klan
Flan
The isle of man
Japan
And finally…
Two of the Jonas brothers.
That is all.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Until later,
BK
My baby is currently farting up a storm. He farts like a full sized guy, which is hilarious, especially when he’s being held by an unsuspecting person who carries themselves with dignity. Imagine my aunt (just for example) trying to explain that the echoing blast of a fart that just stalled every conversation in the room came out of the little tiny baby she’s holding and not her. Funny.
Last night there were tornadoes in Chicago. That’s not something you hear about every day. I mean, California gets earthquakes as punishment for all the leeway they give the gays, the rural Midwest gets floods and tornadoes for taking some sort of mongo pride their xenophobic blissful ignorance, the south gets hurricanes for all the underage fucking and the east coast get those hilarious accents for harboring all the jews, right?…I mean, that’s the way I thought god had it all worked out. Chicago gets the shitty winter and the horrible realization that 80% of the people out there think we’re on the eastern seaboard, despite being the third largest city in the US. Oh, and Texas gets to be fat…did I mention how fat Texas is? Why, you might even say a Texan gut is it’s own sovereign republic, just expanding and expanding over the straining rio grande of a belt, complete with a pokey longhorn buckle. Ah, but i digress...
Right, so I guess we did wrong in the eyes of god or something, because last night, two or three tornadoes touched down in Chicago. Thankfully I was in the ‘safe zone’ that only improv can offer, but my wife and baby were at home, huddled in the closet. I felt like a real dick. I was tossing an imaginary ball around a room with a bunch of dorks (including a guy who just impersonates adam sandler, like all the time, not just when acting. Even on break, standing by the soda machine, he’s just chilling, being Robbie from the Wedding Singer…it’s hilariously sad. I guess he’s a stand up wanna be, and he just doesn’t have any ideas…he’s like the comedic equivalent of one of those bands that just shamelessly apes the rolling stones…but way sadder, because he’s not getting laid. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do) while my family huddled, terrified in a small room filled with my underwear. Pretty lame, Millhouse, even for you.
So, yesterday’s post (Anal is the new Vaginal) dealt briefly with some things I like. I got all kinds of letters about this, and I feel compelled to respond. Now, most of you probably don’t need this kind of explanation given, as you can, you know, read, and therefore bring a certain level of cognition and comprehension to the table, so to you lot, sorry, bear with me while I get the dummies in the class up to speed.
That list was in no way supposed to be all encompassing, people. “You’re from Chicago. How can you not like hot dogs? Where’s bacon on that list? PBR? What gives?” Who said I didn’t like hot dogs? Do you honestly think that if I was going to list THE top twelve things that I like most in this world that dinosaurs and toupees would really be on that list? Okay, so for the record, yes I like other things that are not on the list. These were just SOME of the things I like.
Now, not to belabor the point, but if I did a list of the things I truly like most in the world, it would be so sappy and dull that I wouldn’t even have the patience to read it.
What’s on there: wife, baby, friends, dogs, bicycle, family, assortment of rainbow colored collectors dildos from the ‘On Golden Pond’ premiere. You see my point? It’s boring. Everyone likes bacon, and everyone should like hot dogs. So, yeah, in the interest of covering everything, here’s a list of things I don’t give a shit about, one way or the other. It’s comprehensive. There’s absolutely nothing on this earth or in this universe that I don’t have an opinion on if it’s not on this list:
Things I don’t give a shit about:
The environment
Barbie collectors
Race Relations
Torture
Politics
The AIDS epidemic in Africa and Black America
My family’s well being
Health Care
Pet grooming
Privatized prisons
Shit fetishists
Victory Records
The Iraq war
Dumb hillbillies ruining America’s status in the world
Foreign relations
Slavery
Prostitution
Porn
Fish
Teepees
Guys with big dicks
Guys with boomerang shaped dicks
The roadie for paul simon
Paul Mitchell Salons
Crest vs. Colgate
Roe vs. Wade
My appearance
Locking my doors
What I eat
Fellatio vs head- which one’s the better name for dicksucking?
Prince Charles
Prince Albert
Fat Albert
Macaroni and Cheese
Marconi and Chasez
America’s best Dance Crew
Motley Crue
Crew Pomade
The number seven
Pituitary glands
The remake of Alvin and the Chipmunks
Monkeys dressed as millionaires smoking cigars
Gentrification
Exploitation
The United Nations
Felching
Belching
Squelching
Mulching
The Klan
Flan
The isle of man
Japan
And finally…
Two of the Jonas brothers.
That is all.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Until later,
BK
Monday, August 4, 2008
anal is the new vaginal
Good morning and happy Monday! It’s currently eleven thirty, and I’m just now caffeinated enough to attempt to expound in any sort of intelligent manner. Last night, my bar got slammed. Blame it on the Lollapalosers, or the people still on a chili dog high from Warped Tour if you must, but there were also two birthday parties in the bar, and everyone was chugging everything. It was a little nuts. I didn’t get out of there until three, which kind of sucks, but then I was so hungry that I had no choice but to put away a double cheeseburger and a McChicken on the way home. So, yeah, I’m farting zyklon b right now (google it). Also, I’m hungry, but I’m having that post junk food binge problem. Junk food is like smoking, doing drugs, compulsively looking at internet shit fetish videos, or any other vice. If you manage to avoid doing it for a while, its strangle hold on you begins to loosen, until you kind of wonder why you were ever so into it in the first place. HOWEVER, if you happen to, in a moment of weakness, you know, google ‘poo eating co-eds’ or drive thru the all night McDonalds, all of a sudden, BLAMMO! You’re right back where you started, craving that shit that you thought you’d never crave again. It’s brutal. All I want right now is a double cheeseburger from BK, or a pair of soft taco supremes. Fuck…I need a salad or something. Thank god that I’ve got the Perfect Pushup system (if you don’t know what this means, please see entry one, “hello blogosphere’ for a detailed explanation.) One day at a time, that’s how I’m gonna beat this thing. Just like Gary Busey did, man.
Quick aside, did anyone see Gary Busey on celebrity lard asses or whatever it’s called? He had the greatest inspirational acronym of all time, regarding sobriety. It was as follows:
S.O.B.E.R = Son Of a Bitch, Everything’s Real!
Say what you will about his lack of comprehension of what an endocrine system really is, or his totally great teeth caps, but man, that shit is amazing. Son of a bitch, indeed, gary! Everything IS real. Wow.
Kay, so in a follow up, sounds like the blueballed Eric of a few posts ago went ahead and took my advice and talked to his old lady, and without splashing his personal life all over the internets like some sort of creep, let’s just say that he wrote back to express gratitude, as the advice yielded some unexpectedly great results. He ended up borrowing my donkey costume and buying six yards of rubber tubing and a huge tureen of rice pudding. Just sayin. So yeah, thankfully, so far, the advice thing is working for people. Thanks for all the letters. If I don’t address your question or problem here, chances are, your letter or issue is boring. Get a more interesting life, please.
Our first letter of August comes to us from our neighbors to the north, Canada. It reads as follows:
Hey,
I'm an 18 year old Canadian male. As of recently I started hanging out with this really rad girl, we share common interests in writing, literature and other things I generally don't share in common with a lot of people. I've been an atheist for some time now, I've just never had an interest in a god or any form of organized religion period. The girl in question is a DEVOUT christian. I'm talking church 3 nights a week, blogs about god, reads books only about god, you know, the works basically. It's never been an issue, yeah we have some differences but if it doesn't get in the way then whatever. Catch is due to her strict christian upbringing she's not allowed to date guys/definitely would never be allowed to see an atheist. I've never even been to this girls house because her parents would never ever approve. Now we've kind of been dating anyway but I can tell it really stresses her out. Am I simply denying the inevitable here? Should I just move on? I don't really know what to do, I like her a lot but I have a feeling that it may never work out.
Thanks for your time,
Cock Blocked by god
Okay, thanks for writing. So, your girlfriend likes jesus, you don’t, and other than the fact that she won’t let you meet her super religious parents, everything’s great, huh? You know, minus her obsessive god blogging and constant church attendence and her completely stressed out demeanor due to living a lie that her god can clearly see through. Well, seems clear enough to me, but I’m not an eighteen year old Canadian, god fearing or not, so I’m going to lay this one on the table as clearly as possible.
Your relationship is doomed. Not because of Jesus. Because you’re 18. It doesn’t matter if you guys both LOVE jesus, or get along great with each other’s parents or sneak around and rob gas stations together. It’s not going to last. It’s just an unfortunate truth. Young love is intense and fleeting. (Quick aside: save me the letters about your parents, who started dating when they were six and still fuck twelve times a day fifty years later or whatever. Yeah, there are exceptions to every rule. There are pack-a-day smokers who live to be ninety. It’s still pretty irresponsible advice to suggest that’ll happen to you, right? Okay, anyway…)
So, your relationship is doomed, Jesus or no, but who cares? If you like hanging out with this girl, hang out with her. Let her stress about her parents and blog about the dangers of secular temptation and perhaps she’ll come to realize that she’s putting constraints on herself that don’t jive with how she wants to live, or perhaps you’ll realize that Jesus is totally sweet. My point is, if you guys get along and have amazing talks about Raskolnikov’s personal dialogs and motivations or whatever, well, that’s a cool thing that doesn’t need to be turned on or off because of outside factors. Just relax and enjoy each other’s company while you can. Soon you’ll both be away at college, or home from college, or whatever is going to happen to you guys that will force you to drift apart (life changes fast at 18). So yeah. I’d say, hang in there. After all, you’re already going to hell, so enjoy your mortal life while you can.
One other thing, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t point this out. You’re dating an 18 year old girl, devout Christian (which is usually code for really repressed) who won’t let you meet her parents and sneaks around with you? That’s like winning the horny 15-45 year old male fantasy lottery. So, yeah, just consider that when and if she decides to rebel against her minister dad (who wouldn’t recognize you if you were shining his shoes, by the way) someone out there is going to be swimming in a sea of blowjobs. Might as well be you.
Well, that feels great. There you go Canada. We’re even now. My wife told me that she thought my list of celebs that I hate made me sound bitter. I respectfully disagree, but I thought I’d put a quick list of things I love up here, just, you know, to start the week off with some posi vibes. Here goes:
Cheese- Love it. Great on burgers, great on crackers, great by itself. Man, I love cheese.
Internet pornography- Have we talked about this before? Well, it’s nice to know that there’s an arbitrary depravity scale out there that I can easily reference when I’m feeling like a twisted freak. I check out what people are beating off to, and suddenly, I feel like an Amish guy banging my wife of twenty five years through a perforated sheet.
The Chicago Art Institute- Great collection, free on Tuesdays. It’s extremely humbling to walk through halls filled with honest-to-god masterpieces. It’s a great way to kill time and feel like your brain isn’t melting.
Pabst Blue Ribbon- Nothing beats a PBR. It’s great with cheese and crackers, while perusing internet porn, or right after a long day at the museum. Yup.
Pineapples- The toughest fruit. In a battle royal of all the fruits, Pineapple whups the shit out of everyone. Also, they’re delicious. Dubious websites say they make your jizz taste great (take note, gents) and they’re about to replace antlers and unicorns as the image du-jour of hipsters. You just wait and see. I’m calling it right now.
Baseball- I don’t even care. I don’t at all. It’s just so great that there’s an institution that everyone can get behind that celebrates sitting around eating hotdogs and nachos and chugging beer while people stand there and ‘strategize’. It’s brilliant. Also, the Cubs are great. So, the world’s about to end, huh?
Coffee- Wakes you up. Makes you poop. Thanks coffee.
White Castle- Man, these little guys are the best. What’s that? You don’t live in a place with a White Castle? Ha-ha. Your life stinks. Kidding. Go to the grocery store and get the frozen microwaveable ones. They somehow taste exactly the same as the ones you get from the actual castle. Oh, and my friend Paul cuts sliders up and makes White Castle omelets, so yeah, they’re versatile.
Gay friends- They’ll tell you if you look like shit. Every time.
The Tin Drum by Gunter Grass- This book is amazing. He wrote it when he was thirty, and wowzers. It makes me feel like a moron to hold myself up to that standard, but whatever. It’s great to know there are people like Grass out there, pushing what people are capable of forward.
Dick jokes- did you hear about the guy with five dicks? Yeah, his pants fit him like a glove.
Drugs- From keeping your AIDS in check to making sure you can ‘see the guitar solo’ at the Dave Matthews show, drugs are there for you. They’re like Jesus, in that they’re everywhere, and they can make you really hate yourself sometimes. Thanks drugs.
Dinosaurs- Try talking to a six year old. Now imagine doing it if dinosaurs didn’t exist. It’s a lot harder, right?
Toupees- Feeling blue? Check out that dude in the toupee. Yeah, it’s funny. Feel better? I thought so.
Okay, I’ve wasted a lot of time. Yay, me! Enjoy your day. See you tomorrow.
Confidential to Wasted in Tacoma: It’s cool bro. He didn’t mean anything by it. Just put down the pool cue and chill out.
Quick aside, did anyone see Gary Busey on celebrity lard asses or whatever it’s called? He had the greatest inspirational acronym of all time, regarding sobriety. It was as follows:
S.O.B.E.R = Son Of a Bitch, Everything’s Real!
Say what you will about his lack of comprehension of what an endocrine system really is, or his totally great teeth caps, but man, that shit is amazing. Son of a bitch, indeed, gary! Everything IS real. Wow.
Kay, so in a follow up, sounds like the blueballed Eric of a few posts ago went ahead and took my advice and talked to his old lady, and without splashing his personal life all over the internets like some sort of creep, let’s just say that he wrote back to express gratitude, as the advice yielded some unexpectedly great results. He ended up borrowing my donkey costume and buying six yards of rubber tubing and a huge tureen of rice pudding. Just sayin. So yeah, thankfully, so far, the advice thing is working for people. Thanks for all the letters. If I don’t address your question or problem here, chances are, your letter or issue is boring. Get a more interesting life, please.
Our first letter of August comes to us from our neighbors to the north, Canada. It reads as follows:
Hey,
I'm an 18 year old Canadian male. As of recently I started hanging out with this really rad girl, we share common interests in writing, literature and other things I generally don't share in common with a lot of people. I've been an atheist for some time now, I've just never had an interest in a god or any form of organized religion period. The girl in question is a DEVOUT christian. I'm talking church 3 nights a week, blogs about god, reads books only about god, you know, the works basically. It's never been an issue, yeah we have some differences but if it doesn't get in the way then whatever. Catch is due to her strict christian upbringing she's not allowed to date guys/definitely would never be allowed to see an atheist. I've never even been to this girls house because her parents would never ever approve. Now we've kind of been dating anyway but I can tell it really stresses her out. Am I simply denying the inevitable here? Should I just move on? I don't really know what to do, I like her a lot but I have a feeling that it may never work out.
Thanks for your time,
Cock Blocked by god
Okay, thanks for writing. So, your girlfriend likes jesus, you don’t, and other than the fact that she won’t let you meet her super religious parents, everything’s great, huh? You know, minus her obsessive god blogging and constant church attendence and her completely stressed out demeanor due to living a lie that her god can clearly see through. Well, seems clear enough to me, but I’m not an eighteen year old Canadian, god fearing or not, so I’m going to lay this one on the table as clearly as possible.
Your relationship is doomed. Not because of Jesus. Because you’re 18. It doesn’t matter if you guys both LOVE jesus, or get along great with each other’s parents or sneak around and rob gas stations together. It’s not going to last. It’s just an unfortunate truth. Young love is intense and fleeting. (Quick aside: save me the letters about your parents, who started dating when they were six and still fuck twelve times a day fifty years later or whatever. Yeah, there are exceptions to every rule. There are pack-a-day smokers who live to be ninety. It’s still pretty irresponsible advice to suggest that’ll happen to you, right? Okay, anyway…)
So, your relationship is doomed, Jesus or no, but who cares? If you like hanging out with this girl, hang out with her. Let her stress about her parents and blog about the dangers of secular temptation and perhaps she’ll come to realize that she’s putting constraints on herself that don’t jive with how she wants to live, or perhaps you’ll realize that Jesus is totally sweet. My point is, if you guys get along and have amazing talks about Raskolnikov’s personal dialogs and motivations or whatever, well, that’s a cool thing that doesn’t need to be turned on or off because of outside factors. Just relax and enjoy each other’s company while you can. Soon you’ll both be away at college, or home from college, or whatever is going to happen to you guys that will force you to drift apart (life changes fast at 18). So yeah. I’d say, hang in there. After all, you’re already going to hell, so enjoy your mortal life while you can.
One other thing, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t point this out. You’re dating an 18 year old girl, devout Christian (which is usually code for really repressed) who won’t let you meet her parents and sneaks around with you? That’s like winning the horny 15-45 year old male fantasy lottery. So, yeah, just consider that when and if she decides to rebel against her minister dad (who wouldn’t recognize you if you were shining his shoes, by the way) someone out there is going to be swimming in a sea of blowjobs. Might as well be you.
Well, that feels great. There you go Canada. We’re even now. My wife told me that she thought my list of celebs that I hate made me sound bitter. I respectfully disagree, but I thought I’d put a quick list of things I love up here, just, you know, to start the week off with some posi vibes. Here goes:
Cheese- Love it. Great on burgers, great on crackers, great by itself. Man, I love cheese.
Internet pornography- Have we talked about this before? Well, it’s nice to know that there’s an arbitrary depravity scale out there that I can easily reference when I’m feeling like a twisted freak. I check out what people are beating off to, and suddenly, I feel like an Amish guy banging my wife of twenty five years through a perforated sheet.
The Chicago Art Institute- Great collection, free on Tuesdays. It’s extremely humbling to walk through halls filled with honest-to-god masterpieces. It’s a great way to kill time and feel like your brain isn’t melting.
Pabst Blue Ribbon- Nothing beats a PBR. It’s great with cheese and crackers, while perusing internet porn, or right after a long day at the museum. Yup.
Pineapples- The toughest fruit. In a battle royal of all the fruits, Pineapple whups the shit out of everyone. Also, they’re delicious. Dubious websites say they make your jizz taste great (take note, gents) and they’re about to replace antlers and unicorns as the image du-jour of hipsters. You just wait and see. I’m calling it right now.
Baseball- I don’t even care. I don’t at all. It’s just so great that there’s an institution that everyone can get behind that celebrates sitting around eating hotdogs and nachos and chugging beer while people stand there and ‘strategize’. It’s brilliant. Also, the Cubs are great. So, the world’s about to end, huh?
Coffee- Wakes you up. Makes you poop. Thanks coffee.
White Castle- Man, these little guys are the best. What’s that? You don’t live in a place with a White Castle? Ha-ha. Your life stinks. Kidding. Go to the grocery store and get the frozen microwaveable ones. They somehow taste exactly the same as the ones you get from the actual castle. Oh, and my friend Paul cuts sliders up and makes White Castle omelets, so yeah, they’re versatile.
Gay friends- They’ll tell you if you look like shit. Every time.
The Tin Drum by Gunter Grass- This book is amazing. He wrote it when he was thirty, and wowzers. It makes me feel like a moron to hold myself up to that standard, but whatever. It’s great to know there are people like Grass out there, pushing what people are capable of forward.
Dick jokes- did you hear about the guy with five dicks? Yeah, his pants fit him like a glove.
Drugs- From keeping your AIDS in check to making sure you can ‘see the guitar solo’ at the Dave Matthews show, drugs are there for you. They’re like Jesus, in that they’re everywhere, and they can make you really hate yourself sometimes. Thanks drugs.
Dinosaurs- Try talking to a six year old. Now imagine doing it if dinosaurs didn’t exist. It’s a lot harder, right?
Toupees- Feeling blue? Check out that dude in the toupee. Yeah, it’s funny. Feel better? I thought so.
Okay, I’ve wasted a lot of time. Yay, me! Enjoy your day. See you tomorrow.
Confidential to Wasted in Tacoma: It’s cool bro. He didn’t mean anything by it. Just put down the pool cue and chill out.
Friday, August 1, 2008
TGImotherfuckingF...oh wait, I work tomorrow. Shit.
Once again, it’s the morning. What a dreadful time of day. Who came up with the idea of having boogers in your EYES? Christ. I’ve got to take this baby to day care, which is right up the road, so that’s not bad. He’s currently on an activity gym making very put-upon noises. I drank a little last night, but miraculously, the result was that I slept soundly and so I’m actually less assily calibrated than if I hadn’t. Take that Jesus!
Well, this is going to have to be quick. That baby is pissed. Lists are a great way to create something immensely readable without having to think about it at all. So, I’m going to do a list. Looking over my mission statement (the first entry, “Hello Blogosphere”) I’ve realized that my sassy, no nonsense advice has been doled out, my sex and child rearing blogging has become a reality and my only real avenue of purported media to explore is the celebrity thing. So without any further ado, I present (in no particular order) ten celebrities I absolutely can’t stand.
Tommy Lee- Jesus Christ, could this guy be worse, please? If I wanted a fifty year old dressing like my eighth grade nephew and talking like Jamie Kennedy from Malibu’s Most Wanted I’d go…well, to a Motley Crue concert, I guess. Huh, maybe he’s perfect. I mean, every woman, if pressed admits that they find Tommy Lee to be pretty attractive, and we all know that his dick has a license to drive a boat. Maybe I’m just jealous. Oh, wait, no. He’s a fucking mongaloid. He named his kids Brandon and Dylan, people. That’s the two male leads of 90210!!!! Is that demented? Yes. Is he retarded? Yes. Does he most certainly have herpes? Ladies, I’m looking at you here. The answer, of course: Come on. Also, if you read the motley crue book, he makes Vince Neil sound intelligent and witty. That’s a real feat.
Haley Joel Osment- I know, this is like hating TAB or Pepsi Free or anything that hasn’t been around in forever, but, am I the only one who finds this little dude to be creepy? He got arrested with weed recently, as if that’s going to make me believe he’s not a robot. Nice try handlers! Also, this Hollywood trend of having your middle name first and your first name second makes me want to fling poo.
Rosie Odonnel- I’m a man. All men hate Rosie.
Maury Povich- This guy is the worst man on the planet. His freakshow masquerading as sympathetic journalism preys on retarded people, deformed kids, the uneducated and impoverished. He’s the human equivalent of a shit log that has mutated to the point that it can suck your blood.
Nancy Grace- All humans should hate her. God.
Perez Hilton- I go to his website every day, but man, does it get any worse than this guy? He thinks that celebs have to pander to the media and goes on tirades if they try to avoid getting their photos taken. He’s creepy. He’s vindictive. He’s a successful blogger who makes a living at it. Wait, oh, I’m just jealous again. Bring me a hot pocket and some astroglide, perezicous!
Heath Ledger- Yeah, that’s right. Fuck him. Why not? I’m sick of hearing about it. Sure, he seems cool, and yeah, he’s good looking and talented, but man, enough’s enough. He’s dead. Deal with it. Guess who else is going to die. You.
Angelina Jolie and that guy she fucks- Fuck these two so completely. I don’t care what their thing is, how humanitarian they seem, how ravishing they look together when they fly their spaceships to earth for the weekend to attend movie premiers, whatever they’re doing for kids (by the way, such a dumb cheap joke…”They adopt tons of kids…HA HA HA.” Yeah, they do. It doesn’t make it funny just to say it. [take note stand up comedians]) These two are bad actors who have, between the two of them barely ever been in a successful movie. Oh, and he’s from Springfield Mo. My dad and brother are from there, and they’re both total pervs. Just sayin.
Jim Carrey- So terrible. So just completely terrible.
That’s enough for now. I look forward to revisiting this topic in the near future. All of you enjoy your Fridays.
Well, this is going to have to be quick. That baby is pissed. Lists are a great way to create something immensely readable without having to think about it at all. So, I’m going to do a list. Looking over my mission statement (the first entry, “Hello Blogosphere”) I’ve realized that my sassy, no nonsense advice has been doled out, my sex and child rearing blogging has become a reality and my only real avenue of purported media to explore is the celebrity thing. So without any further ado, I present (in no particular order) ten celebrities I absolutely can’t stand.
Tommy Lee- Jesus Christ, could this guy be worse, please? If I wanted a fifty year old dressing like my eighth grade nephew and talking like Jamie Kennedy from Malibu’s Most Wanted I’d go…well, to a Motley Crue concert, I guess. Huh, maybe he’s perfect. I mean, every woman, if pressed admits that they find Tommy Lee to be pretty attractive, and we all know that his dick has a license to drive a boat. Maybe I’m just jealous. Oh, wait, no. He’s a fucking mongaloid. He named his kids Brandon and Dylan, people. That’s the two male leads of 90210!!!! Is that demented? Yes. Is he retarded? Yes. Does he most certainly have herpes? Ladies, I’m looking at you here. The answer, of course: Come on. Also, if you read the motley crue book, he makes Vince Neil sound intelligent and witty. That’s a real feat.
Haley Joel Osment- I know, this is like hating TAB or Pepsi Free or anything that hasn’t been around in forever, but, am I the only one who finds this little dude to be creepy? He got arrested with weed recently, as if that’s going to make me believe he’s not a robot. Nice try handlers! Also, this Hollywood trend of having your middle name first and your first name second makes me want to fling poo.
Rosie Odonnel- I’m a man. All men hate Rosie.
Maury Povich- This guy is the worst man on the planet. His freakshow masquerading as sympathetic journalism preys on retarded people, deformed kids, the uneducated and impoverished. He’s the human equivalent of a shit log that has mutated to the point that it can suck your blood.
Nancy Grace- All humans should hate her. God.
Perez Hilton- I go to his website every day, but man, does it get any worse than this guy? He thinks that celebs have to pander to the media and goes on tirades if they try to avoid getting their photos taken. He’s creepy. He’s vindictive. He’s a successful blogger who makes a living at it. Wait, oh, I’m just jealous again. Bring me a hot pocket and some astroglide, perezicous!
Heath Ledger- Yeah, that’s right. Fuck him. Why not? I’m sick of hearing about it. Sure, he seems cool, and yeah, he’s good looking and talented, but man, enough’s enough. He’s dead. Deal with it. Guess who else is going to die. You.
Angelina Jolie and that guy she fucks- Fuck these two so completely. I don’t care what their thing is, how humanitarian they seem, how ravishing they look together when they fly their spaceships to earth for the weekend to attend movie premiers, whatever they’re doing for kids (by the way, such a dumb cheap joke…”They adopt tons of kids…HA HA HA.” Yeah, they do. It doesn’t make it funny just to say it. [take note stand up comedians]) These two are bad actors who have, between the two of them barely ever been in a successful movie. Oh, and he’s from Springfield Mo. My dad and brother are from there, and they’re both total pervs. Just sayin.
Jim Carrey- So terrible. So just completely terrible.
That’s enough for now. I look forward to revisiting this topic in the near future. All of you enjoy your Fridays.
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