Hey beavers and balls, what’s crackalackin? Oh, me? Just getting ready for another exciting day of breaking glasses and pretending not to hate motherfuckers. It’s not that bad really. I mean, I get to ride my bike there, so, um…wow. That’s a pretty lame silver lining. Okay, I’m late, and since yesterday was a well thought out and highly philosophical discussion regarding modern culture vis a vis our obsession with the anus, I feel like today is a good day for a little old fashioned advice. You hangin in there, Dogs Of War? Good. Oh, and regarding that tshirt design that I got sent, I’d really like a couple of those if someone makes ‘em. I mean, I can think of nothing funnier than wearing a shirt with my own picture promoting (essentially) my own brain. Mmm Hmmm. Take that, Toni Braxton. Who’s a diva now? Rawwr. Oh, and I tried to go to your dumb message board the other day (the sock drawer 2, or the other sock drawer, or the dirty sock pile…I don’t know what you guys are going by over there. It’s kind of like sneaking over and spying on the Others, right? [not that I watch that show, by the way. Nothing starring anyone who was EVER on Party of Five will be blessed by my viewership]) and I noticed that you’ve gotta be signed in? What the fuck is that? Some velvet rope you guys have over there. I guess y’all will never get to see the great picture of my nutsack that I was gonna post. Sigh…
Okay, on to my man Robert, who seems to have a real pickle:
Q:
I’ve been seeing this chick for a few weeks and she's rad as hell. unfortunately her ex-boyfriend is a psychopath drug dealer who threatened to very seriously kick my ass (he beat the crap out of her for 2 years, so she's terrified of him). so, in the interest of my safety, she severed all ties. told me to stop calling her. she even says "i like you but i don't want you to end up blaming and hating me." i've told her thats nonsense, i'm old enough i should be allowed to make the decision based on if the possible consequenses outweigh the benefits. she says no.
now i'm not a violent person, but i have a big urge to take a baseball bat and go find him. not that it would help the situation... and i'm tryin' real hard to be logical...
A:
Okay, well, first off there’s not too many situations where beating the shit out of someone with a baseball bat is the move that I’d recommend, and this, believe it or not is no exception. If you beat this dude up with a baseball bat, it’s not like you pass the level and you go on to a new world. He’s not vanquished forever (unless you seriously fuck him up, in which case you’re gonna be in jail flossing your ass with dongs, and I’d be a TERRIBLE advice columnist if I suggested anything that could possibly come out that way), and chances are that he’s gonna fucking come after you in a pretty serious way. I mean, if he’s the kind of mongaloid that would beat up a girl, then he’s the kind of mongaloid that will seek revenge on you all while upping the ante. That’s IF all this is exactly how it’s presented here.
Here’s the deal- It all sounds a little goofy to me. I mean, she likes you but she severed all ties because of her ex? How does he know what she’s doing all the time? She can’t talk on the phone to you? Why is she so trapped? Do they have a kid together? Live in the same house? This is EXTREME behavior, especially since you don’t seem to be afraid of this dude at all. I understand that she’s the victim of some beatings, and you, as of yet have not received any beatings, so yeah…Still, something seems fucked up about this to me.
There are a few possible situations here. 1. She’s making shit up for the sheer drama of everything. 2. She’s trying to dance around the fact that she doesn’t like you that much, and has chosen a seemingly impenetrable forcefield in the form of psycho drug dealing ex boyfriend. 3. She’s fucking CRAZY. 4. She’s so fucking wrapped up in this former relationship that she still sees him as completely controlling her life, and she CAN’T ignore him, because he is still very much part of her thoughts. Not just negatively either. What I’m saying is, when people date and break up, it can sometimes take a very long time for people to completely separate. This is why people mope around and decide they’ll never love again the way they loved before and all that. It also goes this way. She’s convinced that this controlling asshole is STILL in complete control of her, even if it’s not true.
Look, none of this is even really an issue. It doesn’t matter which of these options is true (although, I’d be shocked if EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM wasn’t at least a little true). This chick, right now, BAD NEWS. Even if you get the boyfriend put in jail, or get him to move to Antananarivo, or set him up with your sister and totally win him over; EVEN IF YOU COMPLETELTY SORT SHIT OUT WITH HIM SOMEHOW (not likely, by the way) the chick is obviously too damaged to be as into you as you want her to be. Stay away. Eventually, she’ll be ready to date people and if you play this right, it could very well be you. If you force yourself into this situation that she has OVERTLY told you to stay out of, well, you’ve got about as much of a chance of fucking Oprah as ever fucking this girl.
Blam! Advice administered.
Talk amongst yourselves.
3==============D-------
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
you ever go to eat a pork sausage and find it's got hairs all over it?
Hey hey! Do you guys realize how fucked up the time we live in right now is? I was thinking about this as I perused the comments of yesterday’s post (Kitchen Sink), and got to the part about anal sex. We, as a culture are so fucked up that we’re now….
All right, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s do this right, shall we?
Ahem…
Nothing is new anymore. That’s a given. There’s really no way to just come up with something unique because there have been so many smart people exercising this very notion for so long before any of us were born (quick aside, what’s the guess of who the OLDEST BSC reader is? Is there someone out there in their fifties? Sixties? Is that possible? I know this older guy (I’m guessing fifties) who told me once that he liked my writing, but the blog was just a little ‘too modern’ for him…I think that’s an oblique reference to too much space docking and not enough Khrushchev. Whatever. Question stands. Are you old? Do you somehow manage to read this crap? Let me know. Thanks Oh, my parents, you guys don’t count. Sorry.) SO, the way people are now attempting to do newish things involves two major avenues:
1. Combining two seemingly incompatible things
Or
2. Getting very, very into things that were, heretofore not really deemed worthy of deep focus.
Some results of this have been pretty awesome (bacon cheeseburgers with peanut butter on them [yes it is]), and some have been revolting (Korn), but, love it or hate it, these are the ONLY ways that our culture is progressing. Specificity and hybridization are the only avenues left, and it’s turning us into fucking weirdos. Especially with the internet, now the hybridization and the specificity are actually able to combine and further whittle expression/societal advancement to such odd, marginalized little pockets of oddness because somewhere out there, there’s a guy who LOVES (for example) the way different salad dressings look if you freeze them in the form of all the torsos of all the different original He Man action figures. That’s art to him, or science. Or sex. Who knows? I’m just saying, it’s getting ugly out there, people.
Okay, do you not know what I mean? Combining incompatible things: Rap and heavy metal combined in the 80’s. Then metal and grunge combined, then rap combined with this nu metal/grunge crap-salad and created shit like limp bizkit, then THAT shit combined with dance music, then that shit combined with Cher, then some crappy, already hybridized form of wuss rock-scream-core garbage combined with that and now there’s Brokencyde.
For the second one, we’ve got the asshole. I’m not talking about like, Morton Downey Jr. or me or Denis Leary, although, the internet and the general malaise that comes from living in a world that’s already been parceled and strip mined of all innovation HAS led to a preponderance of assholes. I’m talking about the part of your body that shit comes out of. Anal sex is actually hip right now. It’s a trend. Sticking dicks in buttholes. That’s trendy. Huh. There was a time when this appealed ONLY to people who wanted to feel dirty when they were super wasted and in the heat of the moment, dumb mormon ‘virgins,’ and people who genuinely liked having things up their ass. Now it’s like a rite of passage or something. You can’t go anywhere without people talking about buttfucking. For fucks sake, man! When our parents were kids Lucy and Ricky slept in different ROOMS! I mean, whatever, I think the more buttsex the better, for sure, don’t get me wrong. I’ve got buttsex fever just like everyone else (and no, I’m not referring to AIDS. That’s just tasteless.) But it’s created this whole world of commerce around the asshole that’s, frankly, a little fucking unsettling, no? There are home enema bags for getting your ass all ready to go, there’s anal bleaching. Asshole waxing (which is, let’s be crystal clear, a good, solid advance for humanity) but let’s return for a second to ANAL BLEACHING.
Look, man, or woman, who ever you are, sitting there, ass up at some twisted beauty salon, reading this on your iphone while some swishy assistant with frosted locks and a qtip dabs at your sphincter, it’s AN ASSHOLE. Don’t worry about it. Seriously. I mean, when’s the last time you were at the dentist? Got your liver enzymes checked? Invested in your retirement? You’ve got to SERIOUSLY have your life together to be at the point where the shade of the skin around your asshole even qualifies as a fucking thought worth having, much less an appointment worth making, much less a procedure worth going through. I mean, am I crazy? I feel like I’m in space or something. Whatever. Of course, if you’re in porn, and you make your living feeding the masses the videos of anal sex that we all crave, well, by all means, that asshole is your money maker, your bread and butter, and hey, if bleaching it gets the job done, fuck yeah. Good on ya. For the rest of us though…woah.
I’m actually tired after writing this. Okay, so no more talk of that for me, I’ll flip it to you guys down in the Sock Drawer. Speaking of, let’s take a quick run through and see what’s happening:
Someone sent me a tshirt design they made for this wonderful board. I think it looks great. I’m appropriately disgusting looking on it, which I like, and the multiple brackets are a really nice touch.
Some guy wants to know about bourbon and home bars in general.
Quickly, bourbon is American whiskey from Kentucky. If it’s not from Kentucky, it’s not Bourbon. The most famous Bourbon is Jim Beam, and in a pinch, it will always produce an acceptable cocktail. Drinking bourbon with cola is common, but in my opinion, a little gross. Bourbon is best in shots and on the rocks (just a few cubes, usually), though people will tell you neat (no ice, room temp) is the ONLY way to drink it. Those people are know-it-all dipshits who are on the look out for “posers” in the same way that I’m on the lookout for know-it-all dipshits, though, so fuck them.
In the morning, or late at night, drinking bourbon right from the bottle is acceptable. Midday, it’s just kind of desperate looking. Get a glass, hillbilly.
Drinking bourbon with soda water or regular water (30-70%bourbon, depending on your taste) is a nice way to have bourbon as a cocktail without looking like a pussy or just accidentally getting hammered. My favorite bourbons are Bulliet and Bookers, but the only bourbon I buy for myself at home is Beam, just because of price.
In terms of a home bar, have one bottle of all the important shit: one whiskey (not jack daniels though. That shit’s for little girls, motorcycling dads and Englishmen. People who drink jack will usually drink other shit too, but lots of people who like whiskey won’t touch jack. It’s a Tennessee whiskey, not a bourbon. A good Tennessee whiskey is Dickel. Dig that shit if you want to party, Tennessee style) one vodka (maybe 2, because vodka, like the asshole, is all the rage right now) one rum, one tequila, one gin, some club soda, some tonic, some sprite, some coke and some juice (whatever you’re into). Also, if you’re having a party, get a bag of ice. Nothing like waiting for the ice tray when you’re just trying to get some guy drunk enough to pull out his dick and stick it in a cactus plant, you know?
Okay, I’ve done it again! Live through this humpday, y’all and let’s rap tomorrow.
xo
All right, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s do this right, shall we?
Ahem…
Nothing is new anymore. That’s a given. There’s really no way to just come up with something unique because there have been so many smart people exercising this very notion for so long before any of us were born (quick aside, what’s the guess of who the OLDEST BSC reader is? Is there someone out there in their fifties? Sixties? Is that possible? I know this older guy (I’m guessing fifties) who told me once that he liked my writing, but the blog was just a little ‘too modern’ for him…I think that’s an oblique reference to too much space docking and not enough Khrushchev. Whatever. Question stands. Are you old? Do you somehow manage to read this crap? Let me know. Thanks Oh, my parents, you guys don’t count. Sorry.) SO, the way people are now attempting to do newish things involves two major avenues:
1. Combining two seemingly incompatible things
Or
2. Getting very, very into things that were, heretofore not really deemed worthy of deep focus.
Some results of this have been pretty awesome (bacon cheeseburgers with peanut butter on them [yes it is]), and some have been revolting (Korn), but, love it or hate it, these are the ONLY ways that our culture is progressing. Specificity and hybridization are the only avenues left, and it’s turning us into fucking weirdos. Especially with the internet, now the hybridization and the specificity are actually able to combine and further whittle expression/societal advancement to such odd, marginalized little pockets of oddness because somewhere out there, there’s a guy who LOVES (for example) the way different salad dressings look if you freeze them in the form of all the torsos of all the different original He Man action figures. That’s art to him, or science. Or sex. Who knows? I’m just saying, it’s getting ugly out there, people.
Okay, do you not know what I mean? Combining incompatible things: Rap and heavy metal combined in the 80’s. Then metal and grunge combined, then rap combined with this nu metal/grunge crap-salad and created shit like limp bizkit, then THAT shit combined with dance music, then that shit combined with Cher, then some crappy, already hybridized form of wuss rock-scream-core garbage combined with that and now there’s Brokencyde.
For the second one, we’ve got the asshole. I’m not talking about like, Morton Downey Jr. or me or Denis Leary, although, the internet and the general malaise that comes from living in a world that’s already been parceled and strip mined of all innovation HAS led to a preponderance of assholes. I’m talking about the part of your body that shit comes out of. Anal sex is actually hip right now. It’s a trend. Sticking dicks in buttholes. That’s trendy. Huh. There was a time when this appealed ONLY to people who wanted to feel dirty when they were super wasted and in the heat of the moment, dumb mormon ‘virgins,’ and people who genuinely liked having things up their ass. Now it’s like a rite of passage or something. You can’t go anywhere without people talking about buttfucking. For fucks sake, man! When our parents were kids Lucy and Ricky slept in different ROOMS! I mean, whatever, I think the more buttsex the better, for sure, don’t get me wrong. I’ve got buttsex fever just like everyone else (and no, I’m not referring to AIDS. That’s just tasteless.) But it’s created this whole world of commerce around the asshole that’s, frankly, a little fucking unsettling, no? There are home enema bags for getting your ass all ready to go, there’s anal bleaching. Asshole waxing (which is, let’s be crystal clear, a good, solid advance for humanity) but let’s return for a second to ANAL BLEACHING.
Look, man, or woman, who ever you are, sitting there, ass up at some twisted beauty salon, reading this on your iphone while some swishy assistant with frosted locks and a qtip dabs at your sphincter, it’s AN ASSHOLE. Don’t worry about it. Seriously. I mean, when’s the last time you were at the dentist? Got your liver enzymes checked? Invested in your retirement? You’ve got to SERIOUSLY have your life together to be at the point where the shade of the skin around your asshole even qualifies as a fucking thought worth having, much less an appointment worth making, much less a procedure worth going through. I mean, am I crazy? I feel like I’m in space or something. Whatever. Of course, if you’re in porn, and you make your living feeding the masses the videos of anal sex that we all crave, well, by all means, that asshole is your money maker, your bread and butter, and hey, if bleaching it gets the job done, fuck yeah. Good on ya. For the rest of us though…woah.
I’m actually tired after writing this. Okay, so no more talk of that for me, I’ll flip it to you guys down in the Sock Drawer. Speaking of, let’s take a quick run through and see what’s happening:
Someone sent me a tshirt design they made for this wonderful board. I think it looks great. I’m appropriately disgusting looking on it, which I like, and the multiple brackets are a really nice touch.
Some guy wants to know about bourbon and home bars in general.
Quickly, bourbon is American whiskey from Kentucky. If it’s not from Kentucky, it’s not Bourbon. The most famous Bourbon is Jim Beam, and in a pinch, it will always produce an acceptable cocktail. Drinking bourbon with cola is common, but in my opinion, a little gross. Bourbon is best in shots and on the rocks (just a few cubes, usually), though people will tell you neat (no ice, room temp) is the ONLY way to drink it. Those people are know-it-all dipshits who are on the look out for “posers” in the same way that I’m on the lookout for know-it-all dipshits, though, so fuck them.
In the morning, or late at night, drinking bourbon right from the bottle is acceptable. Midday, it’s just kind of desperate looking. Get a glass, hillbilly.
Drinking bourbon with soda water or regular water (30-70%bourbon, depending on your taste) is a nice way to have bourbon as a cocktail without looking like a pussy or just accidentally getting hammered. My favorite bourbons are Bulliet and Bookers, but the only bourbon I buy for myself at home is Beam, just because of price.
In terms of a home bar, have one bottle of all the important shit: one whiskey (not jack daniels though. That shit’s for little girls, motorcycling dads and Englishmen. People who drink jack will usually drink other shit too, but lots of people who like whiskey won’t touch jack. It’s a Tennessee whiskey, not a bourbon. A good Tennessee whiskey is Dickel. Dig that shit if you want to party, Tennessee style) one vodka (maybe 2, because vodka, like the asshole, is all the rage right now) one rum, one tequila, one gin, some club soda, some tonic, some sprite, some coke and some juice (whatever you’re into). Also, if you’re having a party, get a bag of ice. Nothing like waiting for the ice tray when you’re just trying to get some guy drunk enough to pull out his dick and stick it in a cactus plant, you know?
Okay, I’ve done it again! Live through this humpday, y’all and let’s rap tomorrow.
xo
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
the kitchen sink
Check this shit out, Sock Drawer! Sorry I didn’t rap at you guys yesterday, but I had a lot of shit on my mind, and I wasn’t in the mood. I know, that leaves a two and a half minute void in your day that can’t be replaced and for that I’m so, so, so terribly sorry.
I’m gonna make it up to you guys today though. I’m gonna go through everything that makes this blog great all in one entry.
First, let’s see what’s in the news:
Oh look. That evil man who helped young people who weren’t ready to die in childbirth or deal with having horrendously deformed children was heroically gunned down by some jesus toting mongaloid hero. Okay, okay, okay. Look. Yesterday I listened to interviews with a bunch of that doctor Tiller’s patients, who all, to the last, described him as a compassionate and kind man and each of them emphasized how important and valuable his services were in terms of them keeping their lives together. I don’t know, man. That shouldn’t even matter, honestly. The guy was doing his job, his legal job and he was doing it ethically, and you can’t just go fucking shooting people, man. I mean, even if you ignore the ‘turn the other cheek’ advice from your big, dumb old book, even if you are a fundamentalist Christian asshole who hates abortions and all that, isn’t this murder the EXACT same behavior that all the conservative keep-jesus-in-america types are absolutely going apeshit about when muslims do it? Just killing infidels just for the pure sport of satisfying god? I mean, COULD YOU FUCKING PEOPLE BE ANY MORE TRANSPARENTLY MORONIC? I guess that’s the thing though, if you abort the fetuses with all the horrible mental defects, well, who’s gonna pick up jesus’s (or Mohammed’s, for that matter) torch and continue the crusade against fags, abortions, brown people, science, evolution, rational thought, critical thinking and dinosaurs. Good. Good for them. I’m glad they killed the guy. Next up! Carl Sagan. Oh, he’s dead? Um, Hawking? How about just anyone who reads then? Good.
On to lighter issues…Let’s rap for a second about a great and criminally underrated punk rock album. Of course I’m referring to Kingwood by Millencolin. Yeah, it’s about 3 or four years old and yeah, they put out another record since then and yeah, they’re kind of a wacky band on paper (“sweedes singing ska songs about food” is something they’re kind of saddled with in the press) but dude, Kingwood is a BAD ASS record. I think there’s two or three bad songs, and the rest of them are just killer. I mean, if you like a band like the Lawrence arms, (which you really don’t have to in order to read this blog…but just saying, for simplicity) check out Kingwood. It’s definitely a stand alone record in their catalog, and it alienated lots of their diehard fans for that reason, but it didn’t make em any new fans, because, well, no one who’s a beardcore hipster wants to give Millencolin a chance. That’s the shit that little brothers listen to, man. But ANYWAY, It’s not a ska record, it’s not silly, it’s fucking blazing and it’s awesome. If the bridge of the first song doesn’t fucking wow you, well, I don’t know what to say. Anyway, you wanted music requests, Sock Drawer, there you go.
Next up: Something about drinking.
Um, when you are at a bar and you order a series of drinks, (and while this is always true, if the bar is empty, then usually it’s not a big deal, but if the bar is busy AT ALL, it’s very important) when the bartender comes back with your drinks, that’s it. Your turn is done. Oh, you want some water? Should have fucking asked for it. Oh, actually you need six O bombs now too? Well, fine. Just wait until everyone else gets their drinks. Your turn, once again, is over. It’s the social equivalent to bogarting a joint. Oh, and men, quit drinking diet soda. It’s so fucking pathetic and sad. On another note, High Life has recently become too sweet for me. I don’t know what exactly to do about it, but for now, I’m drinking Tecate in cans. I think it’s a pretty good alternative. Just sayin.
Next-Celebs! God that Spencer Pratt is dreamy, isn’t he? I just want to eat him right up. Oh man. Yeah, wow. Um….What’s he famous for, again? Being fake married to that ugly trailer park skank who got all the surgery and now she looks like Donald duck? Huh. Good for him. Good on ya, Spence!
Next up! Um…what else is there? Oh, I should mention felching or butt fisting or something like that right? Jizz, a request for some more jizz themed talk in the sock drawer (I mean, live up to your name people!) and some fucking dong/rack/clam shots, and I guess I could mention something about child rearing. My baby is almost walking. It’s wigging out our dog pretty badly. This is one of those tense situations, for sure. For now, they’re being kept separated, which is hard, because the kid just LOVES the dog. The dog just can’t seem to understand that the kid is on his side, and you know, if he fails to understand that HE will become a side…dish, in korea. OOOOOH! SNAP! NO I DI’INT! Just kidding. He’s not going to korea to become food. Worst case scenario, we’re gonna just set him free in the woods, like a pet rabbit or turtle. Chihuahua’s can thrive in the wild, right? Okay, good.
And finally!
Check out this advice query:
Q
About two and a half years ago I met a girl who drastically changed my life for the worse. I was an innocent 17 year old when I met her(I had never smoked, drank, had sex, or anything else). In my relationship with her we dated on and off literally about ten times in those two and a half years. We have ended our relationships because of cheating, drug abuse, etc. All of these breakups came because of things she did wrong. She did truly love me and I completely loved her. I sacrificed thousands of dollars, my guitar, my ipod, my gas, my car, my life for her. I even bailed her out of jail and was planning on dropping out of school to help support her because she had nowhere to live. I found that I lost who I was before I met her. I now find that I have had a drug addiction, I had sex with her, I now smoke and drink very frequently. She has hurt me so badly and this pain just never seems to go away. Since I have known her four of her exboyfriends have attempted to commit suicide because of her dumping them for me. Nowadays I havent talked to her since new years and I doubt I will again, but these memories and this pain still hurts as bad as it ever did. I hate that I have given her everything and got nothing but a new version of myself that I dont like. So my question is...How do I rid of this pain and these scars that seem to haunt me everyday and can I ever be as proud of myself as I used to be?
A
Firstly, jesus Christ, man…are you living in a soap opera? I mean, you could probably be more dramatic, but I’d be very hard pressed to figure out exactly how. Fuck, man, I get it, you’re nineteen, you’re heartbroken and you’re angry, but you’re disguising it (pathetically) as sorrow and you’re blaming your entire life on some girl. And you’re making everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) seem like it’s her fault. Wow. You’d be fun to date. I wonder why she dumped you?
Hey boss, newsflash. EVERYONE gets heartbroken when they’re nineteen. Not that this makes anything any easier to deal with, and I don’t like to just play the ‘suck it up, it happens to everyone’ card for no reason. I’m making another point. She dumped you. You’re bummed. BUT, she didn’t make you do drugs or have sex or any of that shit. I mean, look, if not her, it would have been someone else who came along with a bong/set of tits whatever. It’s not her fault you wanted to do those things, because you did. You wanted to, or you wouldn’t have. For example, if she came along and instead of asking you to do drugs she’d asked you to suck her brother off, or kick some puppies or stuff a snake up your ass, you wouldn’t have done it, because that’s not fun, or exciting or interesting (well, it’s interesting, I’ll give you that). Point being, you did drugs and got laid, and you feel guilty because you’re used to being a child, but now you’ve got some grown up things going on and you’ve been conditioned to think they’re bad. But SHE didn’t do any of this to you. YOU DID. YOU ARE THE REASON YOUR LIFE IS HOW IT IS. NOT HER. ANY SUGGESTION OTHERWISE IS
P
A
T
H
E
T
I
C
Get it? You’re mad and you’re young and you’ve never dealt with being so emotionally and physically bound to someone, and that’s a bummer when it goes south, but get off the fucking cross, man. You sound like such a pussy. “How do I rid of this pain and these scars that seem to haunt me everyday and can I ever be as proud of myself as I used to be?” What? Back when you were a little kid? What the fuck does that even mean? You’re a man now, buddy. Act like one. You’ve tried some drugs. You’ve had some beer and some pussy. Good for you. Don’t act like you’re some sort of crackhead who’s sucking dicks out behind Tile Outlet, because dude, you aren’t. Everything’s fine. You’re heartbroken. It’s one of the worst feelings you’ll ever go through, and it sucks. I sympathize, believe me. What’s my advice? Dude, this shit just takes time. Don’t blame your life on her, for one thing, don’t worry about the fact that you’ve had sex and tried pot for another, and finally, get out there and live. Go to the gym, hang out with some friends and for fucks sake, keep yourself away from this chick. Eventually, shit will become easier to deal with. I promise.
Sorry to sound harsh, I know this shit is rough, but you can’t blame her for your problems, man. You can’t. It makes you sound like a pussy, and it’s deeply deeply impacting your ability to begin to move on and get rid of the pain and scars, or whatever the fuck you said. Good luck. The rest of you, start posting those nudes. I’ll be back to check on your progress in a bit.
BK
I’m gonna make it up to you guys today though. I’m gonna go through everything that makes this blog great all in one entry.
First, let’s see what’s in the news:
Oh look. That evil man who helped young people who weren’t ready to die in childbirth or deal with having horrendously deformed children was heroically gunned down by some jesus toting mongaloid hero. Okay, okay, okay. Look. Yesterday I listened to interviews with a bunch of that doctor Tiller’s patients, who all, to the last, described him as a compassionate and kind man and each of them emphasized how important and valuable his services were in terms of them keeping their lives together. I don’t know, man. That shouldn’t even matter, honestly. The guy was doing his job, his legal job and he was doing it ethically, and you can’t just go fucking shooting people, man. I mean, even if you ignore the ‘turn the other cheek’ advice from your big, dumb old book, even if you are a fundamentalist Christian asshole who hates abortions and all that, isn’t this murder the EXACT same behavior that all the conservative keep-jesus-in-america types are absolutely going apeshit about when muslims do it? Just killing infidels just for the pure sport of satisfying god? I mean, COULD YOU FUCKING PEOPLE BE ANY MORE TRANSPARENTLY MORONIC? I guess that’s the thing though, if you abort the fetuses with all the horrible mental defects, well, who’s gonna pick up jesus’s (or Mohammed’s, for that matter) torch and continue the crusade against fags, abortions, brown people, science, evolution, rational thought, critical thinking and dinosaurs. Good. Good for them. I’m glad they killed the guy. Next up! Carl Sagan. Oh, he’s dead? Um, Hawking? How about just anyone who reads then? Good.
On to lighter issues…Let’s rap for a second about a great and criminally underrated punk rock album. Of course I’m referring to Kingwood by Millencolin. Yeah, it’s about 3 or four years old and yeah, they put out another record since then and yeah, they’re kind of a wacky band on paper (“sweedes singing ska songs about food” is something they’re kind of saddled with in the press) but dude, Kingwood is a BAD ASS record. I think there’s two or three bad songs, and the rest of them are just killer. I mean, if you like a band like the Lawrence arms, (which you really don’t have to in order to read this blog…but just saying, for simplicity) check out Kingwood. It’s definitely a stand alone record in their catalog, and it alienated lots of their diehard fans for that reason, but it didn’t make em any new fans, because, well, no one who’s a beardcore hipster wants to give Millencolin a chance. That’s the shit that little brothers listen to, man. But ANYWAY, It’s not a ska record, it’s not silly, it’s fucking blazing and it’s awesome. If the bridge of the first song doesn’t fucking wow you, well, I don’t know what to say. Anyway, you wanted music requests, Sock Drawer, there you go.
Next up: Something about drinking.
Um, when you are at a bar and you order a series of drinks, (and while this is always true, if the bar is empty, then usually it’s not a big deal, but if the bar is busy AT ALL, it’s very important) when the bartender comes back with your drinks, that’s it. Your turn is done. Oh, you want some water? Should have fucking asked for it. Oh, actually you need six O bombs now too? Well, fine. Just wait until everyone else gets their drinks. Your turn, once again, is over. It’s the social equivalent to bogarting a joint. Oh, and men, quit drinking diet soda. It’s so fucking pathetic and sad. On another note, High Life has recently become too sweet for me. I don’t know what exactly to do about it, but for now, I’m drinking Tecate in cans. I think it’s a pretty good alternative. Just sayin.
Next-Celebs! God that Spencer Pratt is dreamy, isn’t he? I just want to eat him right up. Oh man. Yeah, wow. Um….What’s he famous for, again? Being fake married to that ugly trailer park skank who got all the surgery and now she looks like Donald duck? Huh. Good for him. Good on ya, Spence!
Next up! Um…what else is there? Oh, I should mention felching or butt fisting or something like that right? Jizz, a request for some more jizz themed talk in the sock drawer (I mean, live up to your name people!) and some fucking dong/rack/clam shots, and I guess I could mention something about child rearing. My baby is almost walking. It’s wigging out our dog pretty badly. This is one of those tense situations, for sure. For now, they’re being kept separated, which is hard, because the kid just LOVES the dog. The dog just can’t seem to understand that the kid is on his side, and you know, if he fails to understand that HE will become a side…dish, in korea. OOOOOH! SNAP! NO I DI’INT! Just kidding. He’s not going to korea to become food. Worst case scenario, we’re gonna just set him free in the woods, like a pet rabbit or turtle. Chihuahua’s can thrive in the wild, right? Okay, good.
And finally!
Check out this advice query:
Q
About two and a half years ago I met a girl who drastically changed my life for the worse. I was an innocent 17 year old when I met her(I had never smoked, drank, had sex, or anything else). In my relationship with her we dated on and off literally about ten times in those two and a half years. We have ended our relationships because of cheating, drug abuse, etc. All of these breakups came because of things she did wrong. She did truly love me and I completely loved her. I sacrificed thousands of dollars, my guitar, my ipod, my gas, my car, my life for her. I even bailed her out of jail and was planning on dropping out of school to help support her because she had nowhere to live. I found that I lost who I was before I met her. I now find that I have had a drug addiction, I had sex with her, I now smoke and drink very frequently. She has hurt me so badly and this pain just never seems to go away. Since I have known her four of her exboyfriends have attempted to commit suicide because of her dumping them for me. Nowadays I havent talked to her since new years and I doubt I will again, but these memories and this pain still hurts as bad as it ever did. I hate that I have given her everything and got nothing but a new version of myself that I dont like. So my question is...How do I rid of this pain and these scars that seem to haunt me everyday and can I ever be as proud of myself as I used to be?
A
Firstly, jesus Christ, man…are you living in a soap opera? I mean, you could probably be more dramatic, but I’d be very hard pressed to figure out exactly how. Fuck, man, I get it, you’re nineteen, you’re heartbroken and you’re angry, but you’re disguising it (pathetically) as sorrow and you’re blaming your entire life on some girl. And you’re making everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) seem like it’s her fault. Wow. You’d be fun to date. I wonder why she dumped you?
Hey boss, newsflash. EVERYONE gets heartbroken when they’re nineteen. Not that this makes anything any easier to deal with, and I don’t like to just play the ‘suck it up, it happens to everyone’ card for no reason. I’m making another point. She dumped you. You’re bummed. BUT, she didn’t make you do drugs or have sex or any of that shit. I mean, look, if not her, it would have been someone else who came along with a bong/set of tits whatever. It’s not her fault you wanted to do those things, because you did. You wanted to, or you wouldn’t have. For example, if she came along and instead of asking you to do drugs she’d asked you to suck her brother off, or kick some puppies or stuff a snake up your ass, you wouldn’t have done it, because that’s not fun, or exciting or interesting (well, it’s interesting, I’ll give you that). Point being, you did drugs and got laid, and you feel guilty because you’re used to being a child, but now you’ve got some grown up things going on and you’ve been conditioned to think they’re bad. But SHE didn’t do any of this to you. YOU DID. YOU ARE THE REASON YOUR LIFE IS HOW IT IS. NOT HER. ANY SUGGESTION OTHERWISE IS
P
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C
Get it? You’re mad and you’re young and you’ve never dealt with being so emotionally and physically bound to someone, and that’s a bummer when it goes south, but get off the fucking cross, man. You sound like such a pussy. “How do I rid of this pain and these scars that seem to haunt me everyday and can I ever be as proud of myself as I used to be?” What? Back when you were a little kid? What the fuck does that even mean? You’re a man now, buddy. Act like one. You’ve tried some drugs. You’ve had some beer and some pussy. Good for you. Don’t act like you’re some sort of crackhead who’s sucking dicks out behind Tile Outlet, because dude, you aren’t. Everything’s fine. You’re heartbroken. It’s one of the worst feelings you’ll ever go through, and it sucks. I sympathize, believe me. What’s my advice? Dude, this shit just takes time. Don’t blame your life on her, for one thing, don’t worry about the fact that you’ve had sex and tried pot for another, and finally, get out there and live. Go to the gym, hang out with some friends and for fucks sake, keep yourself away from this chick. Eventually, shit will become easier to deal with. I promise.
Sorry to sound harsh, I know this shit is rough, but you can’t blame her for your problems, man. You can’t. It makes you sound like a pussy, and it’s deeply deeply impacting your ability to begin to move on and get rid of the pain and scars, or whatever the fuck you said. Good luck. The rest of you, start posting those nudes. I’ll be back to check on your progress in a bit.
BK
Friday, May 29, 2009
Leisurely friday extended advice exravaganza
Good morning, happy Friday and happy Maifest, my dogs of war. It’s gonna be a hell of a weekend, right? Good. Um, let’s see here. I was rustling through the sock drawer and found a loooooooong query for advice from a guy who sounds like he’s truly bummed.
He’s one of us, though, right? So let’s listen.
Q
I have semi recently moved to a town away from home and long term friendships and all that. I moved here for a change of pace and for a better working opportunity and have been really succesful in work and it has definitely been a change of pace. I never got a free second when I was back home. There was always someone calling or someone stopping by or a million things to do and so on. After a while I began to feel really overwhelmed, thus the desire for the change of pace. Well (in reference to your many writings about confidence and Wednesdays post about coolness) back home I was brimming with confidence and cool. I would walk into a place and literally start fighting off ladies. It was weird, but whatever. Now that I'm in this new town and after I ended a relationship with a woman that was continually railroading my selfconfidence that I started dating about the time that I moved in to town (I won't ever date a girl in her early twenties again) I'm having a really hard time making friends and meeting new women. I get out in a place and start freaking out. I get around people that I've known for a while (not really friends but aquantices) and I don't have anything to say. I'm completely out of conversation material and I'm finding that I am having a hard time getting along with the people that I am meeting. I've been following your blog and the advice you've given for a while and I've tried switching up where I'm hanging out because the bars definitely weren't working. I've been going to shows, out to all different sorts of cool places to eat different cool food, going to art exhibits and spending alot of time in general in the greater downtown area of the town I'm living in. You know, all the normal things that you get involved with to find other people that are into subculture. I have been extremely let down by the people that I have met (the people that I have met I usually have some kind of dramatic confrontation with after knowing them only a short time and I hate confrontation now a days), and being even more let down by the fact that I'm not meeting any cool people, and that is what I feel is creating this whole social anxiety thing that is really starting to become an issue for me. I went from going out to places and having women offer me beej's in the bathroom (I never was down with accepting beej's from women I didn't know. I've always been a punk rocker and thought that your comment about punk rockers being prudes a couple of months back was right on with me regardless of if I wanted it to be that way or not.) and getting wrecked with the bands traveling through town to my phone not ringing ever. As a result, like I've said I went from being way confident and way cool to having zero confidence and a mounting social anxiety problem that I've never had before (I've been going out and hanging out for years and always felt ill at ease), and as a result of that I have zero friends in my new town and zero love interests.
A
Okay, you’re out of your element. That part is simple. Why do you lack the confidence you once had? Because you no longer have a girlfriend, and as your last one was long term, you haven’t been single for a while. AND you’re in a new town where you don’t know people and you’re having trouble meeting guys/chicks worth hanging out with. And to top it all off, those mysterious offers of bathroom head have dried up. And THAT, to put it mildly, is a definite bummer, which, combined with all that you’ve got going on, will drain your confidence quicker than a thai tranny will drain your wallet/balls. I feel like you already know this part though. AND I feel like you are taking some good steps to overcome this already (doing different shit besides just being a drunk mope) but you’re kind of missing the BIG picture, and that’s where, hopefully, I can help:
Most people are not cool, nor are they fun to be around, nor are they the types that engender feelings of inspired conversation or desire to kind of let shit roar. I notice that you didn’t say that you were having a hard time making conversation with friends or people you really like, you’re not interested in talking to uninteresting hothead dipshits who insist on bumming you out. Hey man, guess what? I don’t like talking to people like that either.
In your old town, you had worthwhile buddies because you’d been there long enough to sift through the assholes and have formative experiences with the ones that were just borderline assholes. Friends create confidence, familiarity breeds confidence. Now, you’re out there with no friends in an unfamiliar zone trying to distinguish the dildos from the good people (which is like a 30:1 ratio) and you’re getting frustrated. Sure. Who wouldn’t? It’s tough out there, man.
You need to own your situation a little bit. You’re not in your town where you know everyone and feel overwhelmed (sounds like you weren’t terribly happy there either), you’re a dude in a new town who’s wary about meeting people, and you don’t HAVE to have shit to say. Think about it this way: you’re putting pressure on yourself to act exactly like you did in a very different set of circumstances. I’d liken this to trying to get a boner. Easy in a room with someone you want to bang, not so much at the doctors office with your parents in the room. You don’t NEED to be conversational and get offers for blowjobs. That’s the combover, not the confidence. You need to own the person you are, quit being a pussy and quit putting undo pressure on yourself to meet people/get blowjobs/find an old lady. That shit takes time, and it tends to happen when it’s least expected, but for fucks sake, it sounds like you’re beating yourself up over having a very natural reaction to realizing that the world is full of assholes. That’s an unnerving discovery to make. I mean, as people travel and move they tend to realize that they and their friends back home are the exact same as the people you’re meeting now. Just some random group of uninteresting dipshits to someone passing through, you know? I don’t want any of this to sound harsh, because it’s not meant to be, and you’re in a rough spot for sure. I’d like to offer a few more pieces of advice though:
1. Don’t mourn the loss of the bathroom blowjob offers. If you were turning them down anyway, that’s really just some sort of shallow ego boost thing that’s not empirically important. Yeah, getting overtly hit on feels good, but if you’re not the kind of guy to act on it, then remember, it’s also terribly uncomfortable. Plus, overt acts like that usually come from desperation that only occurs when the chick KNOWS that you’re unlikely to fuck her and she wants to really go all-in. You’re not that dude in this new town. You WANT blowjobs. SO, you don’t exude that anymore, AND THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. See what I’m saying? You need to be confident in who you CURRENTLY ARE, not in competition with your past. I liken this to bands who listen to their own old records for inspiration. That’s like eating your poo to get nutrients. Don’t eat your poo, Danny. Don’t.
2. Since you’re out of your comfort zone to a ridiculous extreme already, why don’t you try some shit that really makes you nervous? What did you want to do back home but you had too much to lose? Go to a hooker? Skydive? Leave the church? Take ballet? Buy a trip to Headonism? I don’t know what it is, but you may (and you may not…this one’s difficult to think about practically) and this is the time to do that shit. When you next think “that would be cool, but nah…I can’t” Yup. You can. Nothing like just fucking doing it to help you feel vital. Don’t worry about THEM, worry about yourself. You just severed ties with all your friends/favorite spots and old lady for better or worse, your choice or not. Don’t be hard on yourself. You may be the only friend you’ve got in your new town, so hang out with yourself like the buddy you’d want to have there. Push yourself to try shit, don’t put pressure on yourself, enjoy your memories but realize that this is a new chapter, and encourage yourself to TAKE those bathroom BJ’s man. I can’t, in good conscience as a fully licensed and bonded advice columnist let that go unsaid.
Good luck. The rest of you Dogs Of War enjoy the wonderful weekend. Prost! See you in the sock drawer.
He’s one of us, though, right? So let’s listen.
Q
I have semi recently moved to a town away from home and long term friendships and all that. I moved here for a change of pace and for a better working opportunity and have been really succesful in work and it has definitely been a change of pace. I never got a free second when I was back home. There was always someone calling or someone stopping by or a million things to do and so on. After a while I began to feel really overwhelmed, thus the desire for the change of pace. Well (in reference to your many writings about confidence and Wednesdays post about coolness) back home I was brimming with confidence and cool. I would walk into a place and literally start fighting off ladies. It was weird, but whatever. Now that I'm in this new town and after I ended a relationship with a woman that was continually railroading my selfconfidence that I started dating about the time that I moved in to town (I won't ever date a girl in her early twenties again) I'm having a really hard time making friends and meeting new women. I get out in a place and start freaking out. I get around people that I've known for a while (not really friends but aquantices) and I don't have anything to say. I'm completely out of conversation material and I'm finding that I am having a hard time getting along with the people that I am meeting. I've been following your blog and the advice you've given for a while and I've tried switching up where I'm hanging out because the bars definitely weren't working. I've been going to shows, out to all different sorts of cool places to eat different cool food, going to art exhibits and spending alot of time in general in the greater downtown area of the town I'm living in. You know, all the normal things that you get involved with to find other people that are into subculture. I have been extremely let down by the people that I have met (the people that I have met I usually have some kind of dramatic confrontation with after knowing them only a short time and I hate confrontation now a days), and being even more let down by the fact that I'm not meeting any cool people, and that is what I feel is creating this whole social anxiety thing that is really starting to become an issue for me. I went from going out to places and having women offer me beej's in the bathroom (I never was down with accepting beej's from women I didn't know. I've always been a punk rocker and thought that your comment about punk rockers being prudes a couple of months back was right on with me regardless of if I wanted it to be that way or not.) and getting wrecked with the bands traveling through town to my phone not ringing ever. As a result, like I've said I went from being way confident and way cool to having zero confidence and a mounting social anxiety problem that I've never had before (I've been going out and hanging out for years and always felt ill at ease), and as a result of that I have zero friends in my new town and zero love interests.
A
Okay, you’re out of your element. That part is simple. Why do you lack the confidence you once had? Because you no longer have a girlfriend, and as your last one was long term, you haven’t been single for a while. AND you’re in a new town where you don’t know people and you’re having trouble meeting guys/chicks worth hanging out with. And to top it all off, those mysterious offers of bathroom head have dried up. And THAT, to put it mildly, is a definite bummer, which, combined with all that you’ve got going on, will drain your confidence quicker than a thai tranny will drain your wallet/balls. I feel like you already know this part though. AND I feel like you are taking some good steps to overcome this already (doing different shit besides just being a drunk mope) but you’re kind of missing the BIG picture, and that’s where, hopefully, I can help:
Most people are not cool, nor are they fun to be around, nor are they the types that engender feelings of inspired conversation or desire to kind of let shit roar. I notice that you didn’t say that you were having a hard time making conversation with friends or people you really like, you’re not interested in talking to uninteresting hothead dipshits who insist on bumming you out. Hey man, guess what? I don’t like talking to people like that either.
In your old town, you had worthwhile buddies because you’d been there long enough to sift through the assholes and have formative experiences with the ones that were just borderline assholes. Friends create confidence, familiarity breeds confidence. Now, you’re out there with no friends in an unfamiliar zone trying to distinguish the dildos from the good people (which is like a 30:1 ratio) and you’re getting frustrated. Sure. Who wouldn’t? It’s tough out there, man.
You need to own your situation a little bit. You’re not in your town where you know everyone and feel overwhelmed (sounds like you weren’t terribly happy there either), you’re a dude in a new town who’s wary about meeting people, and you don’t HAVE to have shit to say. Think about it this way: you’re putting pressure on yourself to act exactly like you did in a very different set of circumstances. I’d liken this to trying to get a boner. Easy in a room with someone you want to bang, not so much at the doctors office with your parents in the room. You don’t NEED to be conversational and get offers for blowjobs. That’s the combover, not the confidence. You need to own the person you are, quit being a pussy and quit putting undo pressure on yourself to meet people/get blowjobs/find an old lady. That shit takes time, and it tends to happen when it’s least expected, but for fucks sake, it sounds like you’re beating yourself up over having a very natural reaction to realizing that the world is full of assholes. That’s an unnerving discovery to make. I mean, as people travel and move they tend to realize that they and their friends back home are the exact same as the people you’re meeting now. Just some random group of uninteresting dipshits to someone passing through, you know? I don’t want any of this to sound harsh, because it’s not meant to be, and you’re in a rough spot for sure. I’d like to offer a few more pieces of advice though:
1. Don’t mourn the loss of the bathroom blowjob offers. If you were turning them down anyway, that’s really just some sort of shallow ego boost thing that’s not empirically important. Yeah, getting overtly hit on feels good, but if you’re not the kind of guy to act on it, then remember, it’s also terribly uncomfortable. Plus, overt acts like that usually come from desperation that only occurs when the chick KNOWS that you’re unlikely to fuck her and she wants to really go all-in. You’re not that dude in this new town. You WANT blowjobs. SO, you don’t exude that anymore, AND THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. See what I’m saying? You need to be confident in who you CURRENTLY ARE, not in competition with your past. I liken this to bands who listen to their own old records for inspiration. That’s like eating your poo to get nutrients. Don’t eat your poo, Danny. Don’t.
2. Since you’re out of your comfort zone to a ridiculous extreme already, why don’t you try some shit that really makes you nervous? What did you want to do back home but you had too much to lose? Go to a hooker? Skydive? Leave the church? Take ballet? Buy a trip to Headonism? I don’t know what it is, but you may (and you may not…this one’s difficult to think about practically) and this is the time to do that shit. When you next think “that would be cool, but nah…I can’t” Yup. You can. Nothing like just fucking doing it to help you feel vital. Don’t worry about THEM, worry about yourself. You just severed ties with all your friends/favorite spots and old lady for better or worse, your choice or not. Don’t be hard on yourself. You may be the only friend you’ve got in your new town, so hang out with yourself like the buddy you’d want to have there. Push yourself to try shit, don’t put pressure on yourself, enjoy your memories but realize that this is a new chapter, and encourage yourself to TAKE those bathroom BJ’s man. I can’t, in good conscience as a fully licensed and bonded advice columnist let that go unsaid.
Good luck. The rest of you Dogs Of War enjoy the wonderful weekend. Prost! See you in the sock drawer.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
time capsule
Do you guys believe that Nicole Ritchie and that one tubby twin are finally getting married? That’s dreamy. It’s, like, a dream, right? I mean, they’ve already got a beautiful baby and another one on the way, and he’s into jesus and Mormonism and as a result, he’s been rewarded with a former junkie retard turned inspirational earth bimbo who’s famous for some reason, that he gets to bone while Lionel Ritchie hangs around on the kitchen ceiling. So sweet. Just throwing this out there- I bet when they bang it smells like asscracks, begonias, leather and dreams. Kind of like what a hot topic smells like after a rainstorm.
Who else is in the news? Uh…Selma Hayek? Nah. Not really. I DO like her cans though. Um…Oh, you know who’s really big right now? That gay Australian guy who’s actually not gay. Um, Huge Jackoff? No. Um…Yahoo Serious. That’s his name. Jesus Christ! None of you guys probably even remember Yahoo Serious, do you? That’s just sad, man. He was one of the greatest thespians the stage has ever known.
See, I’m making some attempts at timeliness here at Bad Sandwich. Why? The world is disposable, man. Have you looked around? That’s what the internet is for- going crazy about what’s going on RIGHT NOW( and of course archiving every piece of footage ever shot of people buttfucking). This is how we make these disposable, phony celebrities. It’s beautiful, because we don’t pay for anything, that way we can all be in love with Afro Ninja today, and leave him to deal with his brain damage tomorrow. He’s broken and never got paid, but he’s famous, we’re still the same, and everyone moves on.
I mean, have you seen “Cold in the D”? That shit is off the hook (ebonics from the nineties, meaning ‘reccomended’), and from what I can tell, T baby was pretty fucking big for a minute there. That’s what the internet says, but see, I don’t know when that was, or even if it’s actually true. We live in a world of frozen moments where at any given time you can read that the new Star Trek is about to come out, or Heath Ledger at a Manhattan Starbucks with daughter Matilda and on again ex [whatever the fuck her name is…Oh, michelle Williams] and considering renting a SoHo loft, or whatever. The only way to know if what you’re reading is up to date or not is to search for telltale signs of timeliness right there, embedded in the meat of the page.
Like, for example, you see two people on the internet, they’re uh…let’s just use buttfucking again, to keep it simple. They’re buttfucking and she (the woman, or buttfuckee) says “oh yeah, let me taste this nineteen year old asshole right off your big veiny wiener” or something like that. The issue of her age becomes an interesting one, because firstly, is she really nineteen? No one knows. I’ve definitely seen plenty of movies (both featuring buttfucking and not featuring any buttfucking at all) where the people that they say are nineteen are clearly thirty six. BUT, there’s also the question of WHEN this shit went up on the internet. She could actually be nineteen in the movie, but currently be thirty six with a bunch of seventeen year old ass babies from this VERY slice of the frozen past. To use an example closer to my heart, the girl on Guesshermuff with the Lawrence Arms poster…Is she a fan of that poster now, or was she playing the guessing game five and a half years ago when that record came out? It’s impossible to tell.
That’s why, in the spirit of dating shit (never mind that all these posts are dated…that could just be when I post already written material, right?) I’m talking about what’s in the news today.
So, let’s get started…we got, maybe, a new supreme court justice. That’s okay. Um, there’s something going on with north korea. The gays are having some issues in California and finally, um…Chris Brown is speaking out that he’s not a monster. Yipes. Good luck with all that. I’d LOVE to be his PR guy. Next up, Octomom…No. She's done. Miley in a bathing suit? Um, new evidence suggests that servings of whole grains will...Sheesh. No wonder I don’t talk about what’s going on in the world. I gotta go to work. I’m not cut out for this shit.
Who else is in the news? Uh…Selma Hayek? Nah. Not really. I DO like her cans though. Um…Oh, you know who’s really big right now? That gay Australian guy who’s actually not gay. Um, Huge Jackoff? No. Um…Yahoo Serious. That’s his name. Jesus Christ! None of you guys probably even remember Yahoo Serious, do you? That’s just sad, man. He was one of the greatest thespians the stage has ever known.
See, I’m making some attempts at timeliness here at Bad Sandwich. Why? The world is disposable, man. Have you looked around? That’s what the internet is for- going crazy about what’s going on RIGHT NOW( and of course archiving every piece of footage ever shot of people buttfucking). This is how we make these disposable, phony celebrities. It’s beautiful, because we don’t pay for anything, that way we can all be in love with Afro Ninja today, and leave him to deal with his brain damage tomorrow. He’s broken and never got paid, but he’s famous, we’re still the same, and everyone moves on.
I mean, have you seen “Cold in the D”? That shit is off the hook (ebonics from the nineties, meaning ‘reccomended’), and from what I can tell, T baby was pretty fucking big for a minute there. That’s what the internet says, but see, I don’t know when that was, or even if it’s actually true. We live in a world of frozen moments where at any given time you can read that the new Star Trek is about to come out, or Heath Ledger at a Manhattan Starbucks with daughter Matilda and on again ex [whatever the fuck her name is…Oh, michelle Williams] and considering renting a SoHo loft, or whatever. The only way to know if what you’re reading is up to date or not is to search for telltale signs of timeliness right there, embedded in the meat of the page.
Like, for example, you see two people on the internet, they’re uh…let’s just use buttfucking again, to keep it simple. They’re buttfucking and she (the woman, or buttfuckee) says “oh yeah, let me taste this nineteen year old asshole right off your big veiny wiener” or something like that. The issue of her age becomes an interesting one, because firstly, is she really nineteen? No one knows. I’ve definitely seen plenty of movies (both featuring buttfucking and not featuring any buttfucking at all) where the people that they say are nineteen are clearly thirty six. BUT, there’s also the question of WHEN this shit went up on the internet. She could actually be nineteen in the movie, but currently be thirty six with a bunch of seventeen year old ass babies from this VERY slice of the frozen past. To use an example closer to my heart, the girl on Guesshermuff with the Lawrence Arms poster…Is she a fan of that poster now, or was she playing the guessing game five and a half years ago when that record came out? It’s impossible to tell.
That’s why, in the spirit of dating shit (never mind that all these posts are dated…that could just be when I post already written material, right?) I’m talking about what’s in the news today.
So, let’s get started…we got, maybe, a new supreme court justice. That’s okay. Um, there’s something going on with north korea. The gays are having some issues in California and finally, um…Chris Brown is speaking out that he’s not a monster. Yipes. Good luck with all that. I’d LOVE to be his PR guy. Next up, Octomom…No. She's done. Miley in a bathing suit? Um, new evidence suggests that servings of whole grains will...Sheesh. No wonder I don’t talk about what’s going on in the world. I gotta go to work. I’m not cut out for this shit.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
with my nuts on your tonsils while you're onstage rapping at your wack ass concert...
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Tuesday, May 26, 2009
R O C K in the USA!
This weekend was great. The falcon show was off the proverbial heezy (are kids still saying off the heezy? I don’t even know what a heezy is…a hook? I think it’s a hook, meaning that I’m essentially saying [in weegro] ‘off the hook’ which was, if I’m not mistaken, a colloquial turn of phrase from my college years. SO, regardless, probably a little dated now, right? Anyway…) and afterwards I went to the International Men of Leather gathering at the Metro where I hung out shirtless with 1300 other shirtless men. It was pretty great. My friend Katie was there too, notable for having the only vagina in the whole place (unless someone had one in their handbag or something, psycho murderer style).
All in all, great times were had by me, even though I really fucked up my fingertip and some girl called me a ‘total douchebag’. Whatever, right? I’m not here to NOT be a total douchebag. Uh, anyhoo…
Okay, so I was rummaging through the Sock Drawer looking for some good content for today, when I came across this little query for advice:
Q:
Hey Brandon_
Im working on my senior thesis project for my degree in music industry at drexel university and im writing/presenting about booking agents and bands experiences. I'd love to ask you like 4 or 5 questions and use your quotes in my presentation, if you can please drop me an email at rmh44@drexel.edu it would be suchhh a big help. keep on rockin.
Cliff
A:
Oooookay. Where do I begin here? There’s just so much going on, I’m not entirely sure what tack to take. Well, fuck it, let’s start at the top. You’re doing a little presentation, right? Involving a little bit of research, yes? Okay. Good. Here’s a little bit of research you’ve already jumped right past…My name isn’t Brandon. I actually am a little bit amazed that you could get all the way to the comments section of my blog and leave a comment and not somehow stagger across my actual name. It is, in fact, just by the way, spelled brEndAn, which is, not to belabor the point, a whole different name. I’m actually looking through the sock drawer and noticing that my name appears just four comments above yours, RIGHT THERE on the same page. Oh well. Honest mistake. For the record though, nothing too pro about asking someone a favor and getting their name wrong right in the same breath. I mean, I’m a swishy Hollywood type, man. I need to be coddled and told how great I am, and constantly referred to by my properly spelled, properly pronounced name, you know? Look, here’s another hint, booking agents, band people, they NEED validation in the form of being properly addressed. If you’re gonna do a presentation about bands and agents, you should DEFINITELY put that in there. You can even use that quote, if you want.
Next, if you want me to help you, YOU should really be the one doing the work as far as facilitating contact. Don’t ask me to email you on a public forum. It’s laziness. It doesn’t look good, Cleff. It just doesn’t. Besides, what would I say in the initial email to you? “Hey Cllif, Brendan here. Just email me over those questions now. Thanks.” You see how odd that shit is, man? It’s just awkward, and frankly, it’s not my job to ask for the work I’d be doing for you. I’m not doing that. I can’t. Too awkward. Next time, what you should do is click the link right here on this page that leads to my email, and email me something like this:
Hey dude, I’m doing a presentation on rock bands and agents and shit for school. Would it be cool if I sent you a couple of questions to this email address?” That’s how you get people to do you favors, man. Keep it simple and easy. I mean, as it stands, I’m seeing a guy who is going to have a terrible research presentation because even his preliminary research has been, I think we can agree, up to now, pretty sub par, AND this is the same guy who wants me to email him and provide him with the majority of the content for said presentation. Clifff, buddy, I don’t think I can move forward in this partnership. Sorry. It’s just not a project I feel confident in, bro.
Oh, and finally, if you’re gonna elongate the word “such” to emphasize what a great help it would be if I wasn’t instead just being kind of a dick, you should really go with “Suuuuuuch” instead of “Suchhh.” I don’t have any idea how you even pronounce a series of repeating H’s, but yeah, kinda odd.
Anyway,
I hope these answers help. Good luck out there, man.
I was gonna write a whole thing about how coolness is underrated, but I’ll save that for tomorrow.
Oh, and Cliff, I’m fucking with you. Just send me the questions and I’ll help you out. Sheesh. Don’t cry. Good game. See you in the showers.
All in all, great times were had by me, even though I really fucked up my fingertip and some girl called me a ‘total douchebag’. Whatever, right? I’m not here to NOT be a total douchebag. Uh, anyhoo…
Okay, so I was rummaging through the Sock Drawer looking for some good content for today, when I came across this little query for advice:
Q:
Hey Brandon_
Im working on my senior thesis project for my degree in music industry at drexel university and im writing/presenting about booking agents and bands experiences. I'd love to ask you like 4 or 5 questions and use your quotes in my presentation, if you can please drop me an email at rmh44@drexel.edu it would be suchhh a big help. keep on rockin.
Cliff
A:
Oooookay. Where do I begin here? There’s just so much going on, I’m not entirely sure what tack to take. Well, fuck it, let’s start at the top. You’re doing a little presentation, right? Involving a little bit of research, yes? Okay. Good. Here’s a little bit of research you’ve already jumped right past…My name isn’t Brandon. I actually am a little bit amazed that you could get all the way to the comments section of my blog and leave a comment and not somehow stagger across my actual name. It is, in fact, just by the way, spelled brEndAn, which is, not to belabor the point, a whole different name. I’m actually looking through the sock drawer and noticing that my name appears just four comments above yours, RIGHT THERE on the same page. Oh well. Honest mistake. For the record though, nothing too pro about asking someone a favor and getting their name wrong right in the same breath. I mean, I’m a swishy Hollywood type, man. I need to be coddled and told how great I am, and constantly referred to by my properly spelled, properly pronounced name, you know? Look, here’s another hint, booking agents, band people, they NEED validation in the form of being properly addressed. If you’re gonna do a presentation about bands and agents, you should DEFINITELY put that in there. You can even use that quote, if you want.
Next, if you want me to help you, YOU should really be the one doing the work as far as facilitating contact. Don’t ask me to email you on a public forum. It’s laziness. It doesn’t look good, Cleff. It just doesn’t. Besides, what would I say in the initial email to you? “Hey Cllif, Brendan here. Just email me over those questions now. Thanks.” You see how odd that shit is, man? It’s just awkward, and frankly, it’s not my job to ask for the work I’d be doing for you. I’m not doing that. I can’t. Too awkward. Next time, what you should do is click the link right here on this page that leads to my email, and email me something like this:
Hey dude, I’m doing a presentation on rock bands and agents and shit for school. Would it be cool if I sent you a couple of questions to this email address?” That’s how you get people to do you favors, man. Keep it simple and easy. I mean, as it stands, I’m seeing a guy who is going to have a terrible research presentation because even his preliminary research has been, I think we can agree, up to now, pretty sub par, AND this is the same guy who wants me to email him and provide him with the majority of the content for said presentation. Clifff, buddy, I don’t think I can move forward in this partnership. Sorry. It’s just not a project I feel confident in, bro.
Oh, and finally, if you’re gonna elongate the word “such” to emphasize what a great help it would be if I wasn’t instead just being kind of a dick, you should really go with “Suuuuuuch” instead of “Suchhh.” I don’t have any idea how you even pronounce a series of repeating H’s, but yeah, kinda odd.
Anyway,
I hope these answers help. Good luck out there, man.
I was gonna write a whole thing about how coolness is underrated, but I’ll save that for tomorrow.
Oh, and Cliff, I’m fucking with you. Just send me the questions and I’ll help you out. Sheesh. Don’t cry. Good game. See you in the showers.
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