Tuesday, January 31

Yeah, that's right. I left my house!

So I'm at my friends house on Saturday, mooching a some free pizza. As it is heating itself in the microwave, I got to fetch myself a refreshing beverage. I choose Sprite.

I start opening her cabinets looking for a glass. There are no glasses. I yell, "Where the hell are your glasses," and she tells me they are right in front of my face. I have no idea what she is talking about. I see salt shakers, empty jars, a couple cereal bowls...

Wait a second...

As she walks into the kitchen , I reach intot he cabinet and snatch out one of the empty jars.

ME: You're kidding me right?

HER: What?

ME: This is not a glass!

HER: Sure it is. My boyfriend saved all of them. I drink out of them all the time.


At this point I am in awe of how incredibly ghetto this whole situation is. I can't imagine finishing a jar of jelly or pickles and deciding it would be a good idea to rinse that bastard out and put my chocolate milk in it.

I attempted to drink my Sprite out of it.

ME: Ugh

HER: What?

ME: There is no way Im drinking the rest of this.

HER: What's wrong?

ME: You didn't clean it well enough!

HER: What are you talking about retard?

ME: The Jar! My Sprite tastes weird!

HER: You're being a pussy

ME: Oh god I can taste the Marmalade!

I spill half a drink on myself when I'm enjoying it in a normal cup. With the awkward ridges of a jaw, I might was well just pour it all over my chin, chest and moderately tempting pant bulge.
I would rather sip a soda out of a bowl than drink it from a jar again, or maybe just pour it into my hands a little at a time and fling it down my gullet before it spills all over the floor.

This totally changed the way I look at my friend. I am convinced she is making moonshine in the bath tub and running it down to the deep south where her contact Uncle Jesse picks it up and spreads it across Hazzard County.

The whole experience was very jarring

I really hate myself

Monday, January 30

What is the most disturbing thing ever?

I found this picture god knows where on the internet. It's creeps me out beyond belief. If I made a list of people according to who I would most expect to find a topless photo of on the internet, Alex Trebek would be somewhere between my grandmother and Tito Puente.

Being an inch away from seeing Trebek-nip isn't the only unsettling thing about this picture. It's that look that seems to say, " I have a Daily Double in my pants" that makes me avert my eyes also.

I am perplexed to no end by this photo. Why would he need a shirtless picture? Who would want to post it? (besides me) Why do his eyes follow me where ever I move? How much can he bench? Why are my nipples hard?

Maybe there was a steamy Game Show Host calendar out there with pictures of Pat Sajack bent over his Wheel looking all coquettish and Bob Eubanks eating a banana. Someone quickly do a google search for "Wink Martindale's cock."

Saturday, January 28

Grab Your Rod and Head South

I got this from somewhere. Someone wrote it.

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.

"Not very long," answered the Mexican.

"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.

The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs... I have a full life."

The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."

"And after that?" asked the Mexican.

With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers.Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant.You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge newenterprise."

"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.

"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American."

"And after that?"

"Afterwards? Well my Friend, That's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!"

"Millions? Really? And after that?" said the Mexican.

"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, ca tch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends."

Chew on that for the weekend

Friday, January 27


Last night I could't sleep. I was exhausted from only having 3 hours the night before. Despite this I tossed, and I turned. Several hours went by and I couldn't catch one wink. I contemplated dragging my big ass out of bed to the bathroom to search the medicine cabinet for some kind of sleep aid, but I was drained of all energy besides the kind keeping my mind awake and alert. It was maddening. Why the friggin hell couldn't I fall asleep? I was seriously considering gathering all my strength and rolling off the bed as hard as I could in hopes of bashing my skull against the radiator sending me off into dreamland when. But before I could start gearing myself up for that, out of nowhere a thought screamed and rushed through my head...

Mustard Zero

Thursday, January 26

Hidden Jewels

As I have mentioned before, I have been known to frequent a chat room or two out of boredom or whenever I feel the need for some level of social contact because real people scare me.

There is an extremely wide selection of chat rooms to go into these days such as "Back Chat" and "Toronto Women Pee On Me." Some days I will wander in and out of these rooms to see what they are like and also pretend to be a lesbian co-ed who just broke up with her Ukrainian model girlfriend and is in need of consoling as a result.

One time I was perusing the list of room names and I saw one I didn't understand.

"TV, CD, TS, TG"

Now, some of you may know what goes on in this room, but at the time I had no clue so I double clicked the name and headed on in.

I immediately started asking what went on in that room. No one would tell me. All they would say was, "Look at someone's profile , darlin." Being the totally self centered, oblivious jackass that I am, I was too caught up in asking everyone if they talked about Television and Albums in the room instead of looking at someone's picture.

After a ridiculous twenty minutes of demanding someone tell me what those letters meant, I had an epiphany about them.

Transvestites, Cross Dressers, Transexuals, Transgenders


At this point everything became clear. The "guy" calling me darling, telling me to look at the profiles and the screen names like shoulder_hair_diva and askaboutmygroinscars all started to make sense. I immediately got terrified and left so fast there was an outline of my voluptuous form in the virtual wall of the chat room like I was Bugs Bunny. Although if I had stuck around maybe I would have met that one messed up Wachowski brother.

The thing that creeped me out most, besides the 220 pound men in mascara with their dicks taped to their taints, was that it was eerily similar to an experience I had in real life.

No! It's not what you're thinking! Shut up! Stop laughing! It was dark I couldn't see how big her hands were!

Can you tell I was desperate for something to write about today?

Now I have to change my name and move again.

Thank me for not putting pictures up with this one.

Wednesday, January 25

Survivor: Emerald City

I'm going to assume at least two of you people reading this watch the TV show Lost, which is on tonight. For those of you who don't, the show is pretty much a less realistic Gilligan's Island.

This season we found out that there was another group of survivors from the crash of Oceanic Air flight 815. Among these survivors were that abrasive Hispanic bitch from the Fast and the Furious, the principal of the High School on Growing Pains, and a character called Mr. Eko who is played by actor Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje. If you think his name is a mouthful, you should check out my middle name. It's "Nineinchcock."

Mr Eko is a fantastic new character on the show. He is a former drug runner from Nigeria turned a bad ass priest that delivers hellacious beatdowns to bad guys with a scripture covered whoopin stick. He seems to be a very soulful and good person, so far. I say so far because you never know what will happen on this friggin show, and also there is something that will always make me nervous about Mr. Eko.

It's fuckin Adebisi!

Now I'm not sure how many of you ever watched the HBO show OZ, but if you have you probably share my thoughts. On OZ, Adewale played Simon Adebisi who was probably the most evil bastard on the show which is saying a lot considering it was set in a prison.

Besides his trademark gravity-defying hat, Adebisi was known for being a drug addicted murderer who beat, stabbed, abused and said very hurtful things to his fellow inmates. Some of his more heinous acts included:

- butchering a police officer with a machete
- grinding up glass and putting it in a mob boss' food, killing him slowly.
- anally raping the son of said mob boss.... twice.
- forcing another inmate to claim he was molested by someone who worked at the prison
- infecting another inmate with AIDS by pricking them with a needle.
- forcing several inmates to smooch his pickle.

Because of shit like this I can't stop thinking his character on Lost is going to flip out one day and shank Jack, which would be a shame considering how well he has been doing since he recovered from his cancer on Party of Five.

It is definitely a tribute to Adewale's acting skills that I am still terrified by his old role and think that at any moment he is going to drag that little hobbit bastard into the woods and buttfuck him silly.

So yeah, enjoy the show!

Tuesday, January 24

Any Ladies For Chat?

Sometimes when I'm bored, which is all the time, I go on the internet and cruise chat rooms for hot babes to talk to. Meeting the chicks online isn't as easy as you would think. These days there is such a variety of men they can talk to like Indian men, Pakistani men, Indian men with their dicks on out on webcam, and me. You can see I don't stand a chance.

One day I was one of my regular chat rooms, NYC BBWs for Depressed Douchebags, feebly attempting to garner the attention of the girthy angels, when I received an IM from someone under the name chocolatethunderpants69.

They said to me, "Hey pal. It's me. Pat Sajak. I notice you are having some trouble attracting the bitches in there. Here's how you solve the puzzle. You gotta spice up your game playa. Give them a reason to talk to you. Show them what a stone cold gas you are. Now I gotta go. Someone in the German room is about to ask me to buy a Bowel."

Thanks to this sage-like advice I developed a technique which has scored me countless moments of masturbatory textual bliss. It's called the Any ladies for chat method. It allows me the freedom and creativity to show these cyber vixens what I gots. And it goes a little something like this...

Any ladies for chat? My third nipple can receive free satellite radio broadcasts.
Any ladies for chat? I once kicked out of Hulk Hogan's leg drop.
Any ladies for chat? For one glorious summer I worked as Oprah's official Beef Shoveler.
Any ladies for chat? I can count to 10 in Kling-On
Any ladies for chat? I was the first person in my neighborhood to beat Super Mario Brothers 3
Any ladies for chat? In Austria I am known as Baron Von Pantsshitter
Any ladies for chat? I look like a pump, but I feel like a sneaker.
Any ladies for chat? I am the current New York State Puddle Jumping champion.
Any ladies for chat? I once got busy in a Burger King Bathroom.
Any ladies for chat? I once got trapped in MC Hammer's pants foran undetermined amount of time, but when I emerged all of my pets were dead and my little brother was now older than me.
Any ladies for chat? I have every episode of Small Wonder on tape.
Any ladies for chat? I have had a long running mail correspondance with Dolph Lundgren.
Any ladies for chat? My mom says I'm ok lookin.
Any ladies for chat? I have my own blog where I talk about my penis way too much.
Any ladies for chat? I have no idea why I made this post.

Monday, January 23

Unevolved Love

I met the most attractive, gorgeous, pulchritudinous, hot ass woman.

Right as I saw her my heart was filled with love, and my loins were filled with a bubbling lust as her hips swayed two and fro while she approached me. Once she was right in front of me I had to steady myself on a nearby wall or china cabinet. I can't remember what it was because I was staring at her face with my mouth agape like I just saw the Pope shit on my lawn.

Everything about her was perfect. Her hair was dark and flowing. Her eyes were smoldering with hidden passion, and her elbows were so smooth and lovely that if she drew nipples on them and held them together in front of her chest, they would be as fine as most women's breasts.

When I am in front of most women I get nervous as hell. Faced with this exquisite creature, I was surprised I hadn't run away and hid in my blanket fort. Surprisingly she started talking to me. The unthinkable happened! Not only was I able to have command over my power of speech, but I did it well enough that she offered to give me her phone number!

After handing me the slip of paper with the number that just surpassed my SSN as the most important number in my life on it, she said she had to get going and flashed this smile at me that was so insanely gorgeous that I was momentarily knocked backwards in time where I managed to high five Squanto before I made my way back to the present (what the?). As she turned to leave, I saw it.

She had the tail of a monkey sticking out of her body.

So obviously none of this long and drawn out story ever happened, but I was sitting up the other night wondering what I would do if the hottest woman I ever saw asked me out only to discover she had a monkey's tail.

I probably would at least go out with her and try to ignore the tail at first. I probably wouldn't be able to do that for very long if she did something like pull her chair out with it or hand me a banana. Yeah, the tail would definitely be functional and not just for show. The thought of making out with her and feeling the tail wrap around my arm or rub against my leg skeeves me the hell out.

Maybe I could get used to it though! I could get her to tuck it in her pants when we went out or wrap it around her waist so people think it's a furry belt of some sort. It wouldn't smell like a monkey, and she would keep it free of fleas and ticks. And she would have been born with it. It wasn't obtained through strange experiments in a lab or biochemical accident. You know, as long as she didn't have any other monkey traits or behaviors like a big swollen red baboon ass, I think I could do it!

Although there is no way I would be able to handle doggystyle no matter how interesting a tail could make it.

Friday, January 20

Pic Me a Winner! (Ugh)

Over the last few years I have accumulated an odd selection of photos from various places. I recently was browsing through them and figured they would make for a blog post that required minimal effort. So here we go!

This picture was taken in my yard a few years ago. As many of you may know, because of the high population of people in New York City, there is a lot of garbage produced. This excessive amount of trash allows the local wildlife to eat way more than they normally do. This is why these two raccoons have gotten so large.

Or it could have been from the Bronx Zoo. My memory is hazy.

I downloaded this picture because I thought it was the real life Zangief. Turns out I was wrong. This friendly looking gent is beloved children's author Shel Silverstein who wrote some of my favorites such a A Light In The Attic and The Giving Tree. Check out this poem of his called Whatif. It explains my paranoia perfectly.

Uhh also I just read he wrote Johnny Cash's hit "A Boy named Sue? Wow this guy was bad ass!

After some research I found out this picture was taken in his later years after he was bitten by a rabid Slovakian..

This picture will probably make me a very rich man and I'm only sharing it with you dudes for free because of it's importance

It is undeniable proof that Superman is real. How the hell else could there be a hole in a mountain like that? He was probably battling an alien supervillain or in a rush to get some waffles and burned a hole through the rock with his Kryptonian heat vision!

Last, but not least, is a photo of me! This was taken during a particularly sweltering summer. I had spent the entire day topless and as a result was feeling kinda sexy when this picture was snapped by my girlfriend at the time, Aunt Rachel from Family Matters.

Ok I think I'm done with that.

Thursday, January 19

I am not as funny as I think I am

And sometimes this causes me problems because I have absolutely no self control. I have tried to be funny at very inappropriate times.

For example, a while back I was applying for a job at Barnes and Nobles. I had nearly finished filling out the application when I got to the "Special Skills" section. It said to list any special skills or information that would be relevant to the position I was applying for.

Being the unthinking mongoloid that I am, I thought I would be funny and wrote in "A 4th grade reading level"... cause its a bookstore...GET IT? ...ugh.

I didn't get the job.

Another time where my uncontrollable urge to say something extremely stupid got me into trouble was when I was transferring colleges. I was switching to a City run university which required some kind of aptitude test for transferring students because my previous school was too expensive for me to play basketball in the gym with African dudes instead of going to class.

Half of the test was writing an essay where I would state whether I was for or against boys and girls going to separare schools. No problem! I wrote out a thoughtful and incisive essay in the proper format on the con side of the gender segregation.

As I wrote the conclusion to end the essay, the Jackass hemisphere of my brain began to fight for power in my skull.

I thought up a line to end the paper with that I thought, at the time, would be hysterical to anyone who read it. After several minutes of inner debate and erasing and rewriting, I got up and handed in the written portion of my test which ended like this.

"For the reasons I believe both genders should attend the same schools and classes. Also, I ain't no fag!"

I spent the next semester in Remedial English.

Wednesday, January 18

Por Quois?

Why do women dance on bars? There isn't nearly enough room to do a decent running man.

Why is it that the older I get, the younger I wish I was?

Why am I 99 percent sure I could beat up Spiderman?

Why do I have to be me, instead of being Tom Selleck?

Why does the smell of fresh bread give me a large and painful erection?

Why doesn't anyone want to touch the aforementioned erection?

Why don't I use the word aforementioned more?

Why am I writing this blog?

Why does Morgan freeman have freckles?

Why am I not dead?

Why are cookies and milk oh so much better than a Taco and Clamato?

Why am I starvin now?

Why don't they make Taclamoto?

Why did I do this instead of posting something funny?

Tuesday, January 17

Work is For Suckers

I'm completely lazy and unmotivated. As a result I spend my time and brain power thinking up ridiculous ways for me to avoid any kind of real work. One of my genius yet implausible ideas involves my extensive musical talents.

I was given a guitar as a present several birthdays ago and was told upon receiving it, "The guy at the store said this is the same one Garth Brooks uses." AWESOME OR WHAT?!?! Strangely, this was the third year in a row that sentence was said to me after I was given a gift.

For a long and arduous month in 2004, I learned to play the guitar. My fingers became marginally rough and slightly calloused from my half-assed attempt to become a musician. Intensive seven to eight minute practice sessions honed my skills.

And what did I have to show from all of this hard work? One song, the theme to Inspector Gadget. Actually it's really only the first 10 seconds. Although it becomes 20 with the speed at which I can fly through the fingering.

Now here is the idea. I take my musical gift and turn it into a stage show. I think this would work best if I was opening for a band, but I could also morph it into a stand alone kinda performance.

My name would be announced and I would walk out on stage with my guitar in front of thousands of screaming fans. I would take great care in adjusting the microphone and my stool so that I would have perfect position to rock the house. After a lengthy set up, I would break out with the Inspector Gadget song.

"Do da do da do do do do do do, Do da do da do DOO DOO."

Then I would stand up and walk off leaving the audience slackjawed and moist.

If you are in a band and can pay me copious amounts of money for this performance, please contact me before I have to wear a button down shirt at a real job.

Monday, January 16

Fuck America!!

Hear me out on this.

So I'm having an excellent dream the other night. Some of the details are hazy now, but I was attending what seemed to be High School. I'm pretty sure I was a real student and this wasn't another one of my 21 Jumpstreet fantasies where I am a police officer who gets sent undercover in schools because of my boyish good looks.

I remember walking out of the building with this cute skinny girl with dark blonde hair in a bob. This is another reason I know it was me back in High School. It was friggin bob city back then. I can not express fully how much I dig bob cuts.

She very nervously began talking to me. She stuttered and stammered in the most adorable way as she tried to ask me out. Being the smooth ass cat that I am in my dreams, I put my hands on the side of her face and kissed her with extreme prejudice. Her body immediately surged towards me and we started making out to the max!

I fell back on my ass on a patch of grass right next to the wall of the school. All of a sudden this girl who was nervous as hell, was now trying to suck out my spleen through my mouth. I, of course, got a full boner as soon as she was within 2 feet of me. Instead of freaking out or laughing at it like in real life, she started pushing her loins against it under her wonderful sundress! Oh yes. I was about to have dream sex!

I was going full bore towards penetrating this young lady when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone walking past us. Normally I wouldn't have even noticed this if not for who it was.

Fucking Captain America

There was absolutely no reason for him to be there. Last time I checked he doesn't live near me or teach High School math, yet there he was. A symbol of our country standing there in his costume, holding his big star spangled shield and staring at me dry humping a girl.

I don't know if you've ever tried to have sex while Captain America is staring at you in a very disappointed manner, but it's fucking difficult. He wouldn't leave! He just stood there like a big red white and blue asshole shaming me into waking up.

So fuck you Captain Cockblock and everything you stand for!!!

I'm moving to Nigeria.

Friday, January 13

No seriously, I've got Jungle Fever

I want to bang Queen Latifah.

With all my heart and loins.

Most women of her considerable girth are not especially attractive to me, but for some reason I want to be enveloped in the folds of her large and curvacious form.

Maybe it's because she seems to have a fun personality and her face is cute, but probably it's because in my mind I picture her as one big nubian sexual dynamo who would probably shatter my pelvis with her lusty gyrations, which I would love every minute of.

It could also be her massive dark continent teats that I have, on more that one occasion, thought about muffling my wimpers of joy as she grinds me into dust. The prospect of being suffocated to near death by her huge chocolate milk tanks sends electricity down my spine and makes my hips thrust incontrollably. I would set up camp in her cleavage, leaving only to hunt and gather firewood.

I imagine foreplay with her to be very similar to wrestling a grizzly bear. So shave my hair into a mohawk and call me Zangief cause I would take on the challenge of putting her in a nude spinning makeout piledriver.

I like the look she has now, but I would still want to get her stank on my hang low even if she wore those weird leopard hats and cross colors shirts like she used to.

The only thing that would make me hesitate if I ever got the opportunity to pork the Queen would be my acursed bulemic cashew of a penis. I fear that upon seeing me naked she would return to the rap world with a song about it with a song calld " T-E-E-N-Y ." This fear can be ignored though.

So send out the word! I'm comin for you Queenie and Im going to put my peanut butter in your chocolate!

I can't wait to see if I hit the Publish button on this one

Thursday, January 12

I've got Jungle Fever

The last couple of thursdays I have written about some of the more interesting people that make up the big pigeon shit covered mosaic that is this fine city. So today this trend will continue with a tale of a celebrity run in!

One particularly sweltering day this past summer, I ventured into Manhattan to have lunch my friend Amanda. We had eaten at the same diner we have 17 times before because I am a picky bitch when it comes to what I will eat. It was a miracle that there was a place around her office that serves fried milk and Honey Nut Cheerios.

After I stuffed myself we walked around and hit a very rockin' pen store and a scintilating shop that sold buttons and steam powered dildos or someshit like that. We spent about 10 minutes in there and then wiped down the things we were checking out and left.

As we made our way back up 7th avenue towards her office, a man pushing a shopping cart headed towards us from the opposite direction. It is pretty normal here to see someone doing this around here so I didn't take much notice of him until he bust out into song. It sounded like this.

this is an audio post - click to play

For those that can't hear this (Becky), he sang, "I just called, to say... It's too Mother fuckin hot out!"

I didn't stop walking because the next verse probably involved stabbing white people, but I laughed for about 5 blocks. I have been singing his song for months. It works in any weather

I just called, to say... it's too mother fuckin cold out!
I just called, to say... it's too mother fuckin unseasonably warm out!
I just called, to say... it's too mother fuckin partly cloudly with a thirty five percent chance of precipitation out!

What Stevie Wonder was doing collecting cans is beyond me though.

Wednesday, January 11

Randumb (AKA I couldn't think of anything)

I'm just your typical half Filipino/half Swedish professional Bocce baller with a zest for life and all things yarn.

There aren't enough celebrities named Rex these days.

I miss the excitement of buying pencil cases at Back to School sales, and I feel deprived for never owning a Trapper Keeper

I wish I was a dog so someone would get me to stop shitting on the carpet.

My least favorite smell is 7-11.

One of my favorite words in the English language is "crotch." Although it does sound like something you would store old photos or commemorative plates in.

My two favorite words at 2 AM are "Erotic Thriller."

There isn't nearly enough Albino themed porn

I tried to invent a new insult to yell at people, but the best I could do was "crap flamingo." As in, "Did you pee on my spaghetti you god damn crap flamingo?!"

Midgets are just people in bite-size form.

Tuesday, January 10

Hard Target

In a comment left for my latest voice lament, my blog pal Shavonne brought up something I have spent way too much time thinking about. She said,
"I heard men can't pee when they have an erection. That's pretty damn cool too because sometimes I have to go and being horny doesn't stop the urge. Though it does help to put a nice squeeze on a penis. "

I'm only going to talk about the urination and erection part of what she said, but the penis squeezing was too nice to not repeat. I have heard several times that men can't pee while they are aroused, but I must have some kind of factory defect in my loins because all my juices keep flowing even when in a severe state of turgidity!.

The dilemma of Boner Peeing has presented itself to me numerous times. Almost always it happens first thing in the morning after a particularly lusty dream involving getting some stank on my hang low with my 8th grade history teacher and can of corn. Once the remaining thoughts of porking are pushed out of my brain by the urge to drain the main vein, I hop out of bed and come face to face with the problem.

My enraged cyclops points upwards to Jesus, as you all know, and so does the opening of the toilet. Herein lies the problem. A rational human being would wait until their erection dies down. However, I am an idiot and wind up trying one of three techniques.

My first option is to stand about 8ft away from the toilet and try to urinate in a mighty arc. The problems here are that I have no depth perception so my aim is often terrible and as the stream weakens in power, I have to walk forward to compensate which is extremely tricky.

The second technique is the one I resort to most often. First I gently push down my emaciated banana, start to lean my torso forward as I pull my hips back and let the urine fly! There is a danger here if too much force is used when pushing down the boner. If done too hard there could be a ripped tendon resulting in an erection as floppy as an elephants ear.

The final method is the most advanced. It involves performing a handstand on the toilet seat so the pee hole points right at the toilet. The risks here include pissing in my own face due to lack of hand guidance and losing grip of the seat to wind up drowning in my toilet.

So there you have it. I apologize for wasting several minutes of your life.

Be grateful I didn't tell the story of how I used my ability to pee with a hard on to fake an orgasm.

Monday, January 9

Poetry and Regret

I just listened to the voice post I left over the weekend and I am considering sewing my mouth shut.

Anyway! Now for the poetry buffs out there, some more knowledge from the main man of morning drive, David Lee Roth. I present to ye...


Sometimes kids need to be restrained.
I think I sexually molested an entire generation.
They're gonna grow up like Mariah Carey's Sister
I got a kayak I put a sail on
Not the kind of freedom you get from a box of Maxi-Pads.
I call it Tilty Pleasure
American Indians are buying America back one slot machine at a time
I am the keeper of the tribal knowledge
Shuffalo to Buffalo
In case you missed the first installment of Rothku, you can check it out HERE
I'm lazy

Friday, January 6


If I had a band it would be called either Lance Boyle and the Breakouts or Uppercut Soldiers Unleashed.

If I could choose the way I will die, I would just keep procrastinating.

If that didn't work, I would choose to die while stabbing foreigners in the face with an American Flag. I would also settle for the band Foreigner.

If animals could talk, my favorite animal actress would be Puma Thurman. (ugh)

If I found a magic lamp and a genie came out and told me he would grant me three wishes, there would be a lot of nervous Canadians.

If I were to get self-motivated and really put my mind to it, I would probably be exhausted all the time.

If I were a woman, I would want to be fingerbanged by Eddie Van Halen

If I could think of something interesting to write, you wouldn't have had to read this worthless crap today.

If you don't check out my friend's blog Poohat and the 10 billion years before the sun blew up!, you will miss out on weirdness and funnyness and weirdness and really bitchin art. Also your feet will melt off.

Thursday, January 5

*Sniff* Smells like Baked Wackjob!

Last week I posted a story about a local Wackjob. I have many of these stories so you will be seeing more of them. Wahey! How about right now!?!?!?!?!??!?!!!!!! EMPHASIS!!!!!

I do not remember the day, nor the time, nor the reason I was there, but I was on the subway with my buddy Jeff. We were in the last car of this particular train so there weren't too many people in it. Only 6 or seven riders from what I remember.

It was a very normal ride. Everyone was staring at the ads and trying not to let the others notice when they were staring at eachother. Then it happened. It came from seemingly nowhere and without any warning.

The pungent stink of urine!

I have never smelled such a powerful piss odor before in my life which is saying a lot considering I live in New York City where the summer heat bakes the soiled sidewalks filling the air with the stench of hot pee. (That was almost poetic.)

It came on so hard and fast. The entire car was overtaken by the pee smell in a matter of seconds. How the hell does that even happen with pee? I didn't notice any recently formed puddles streaming across the floor or seats. Immediately Jeff and I reached for our noses and let out a simultaneous sound of, "UAAGHH!"

As we looked around in eye-watering confusion, we saw another man on the opposite side of the train reacting in similar fashion. Like us, his hand covered his nose and he groaned. However, unlike us, this man came prepared.

He reached into his jacketand pulled out a god damn can of Febreeze.

I gazed upon him in awe and wonder as he started spraying it all over the subway car. Quickly the yellow death stank was replaced by a sort of tangello sweetness or some weird girly shit like that. The 6 other people on the train began clapping and he took a bow. At the next stop Jeff and I got off and tried to tell the story to any drunk college girl who would listen.

It was a short night.

To this day the man remains a mystery to me.
Who was this super prepared dude? This Grown Up boy scout. This Man Scout!
Was he a total genius? or totally insane?
Why am I aroused after writing this?

I may never know...

Wednesday, January 4

Crisis in Africa

I was sitting around pondering the plight of our brothers across the globe recently. My eyes, as happens more often than not, turned to Africa. Life is difficult for so many there. Many of the problems there are widely known, but there is one that I don't think any of us ever consider.

Horror movies in Kenya must really suck.

These guys win every friggin marathon on the planet. They can't be caught to be murdered!

Picture a young Kenyan couple holding hands during a romantic walk through the woods. They gaze into eachothers eyes longingly and with lusty intentions! Suddenly before them appears a massive chainsaw wielding, machete toting, creepy masked psychopath!

The young man screams, "Bumburuka jana!!!" Which is Swahili for, " Run Bitch!!!" The two turn around and start running. The methodical killer follows them with murderous intent.

Forty-five minutes later our two young victims are halfway up Mt. Kilimanjaro as the psycho killer is bent over in the woods sucking wind with one hand on a tree to steady himself. Once again he has failed. He finds a log to sit down and rest on as he wonders how much a gym membership costs around there.

Who would ever go see a movie like this?

So next time you are sitting there watching some young topless girl get her tits sliced up at sleepaway camp, take a moment to think of those less fortunate than you across the ocean who will never be able to enjoy what we can.

Tuesday, January 3

Bozy Bozy Bop.... Do Bop

Today is a monumental day. It is the first day of David Lee Roth's morning radio show. He is the replacement for Howard Stern in several markets now that Howard is on Sirius radio.

This show may be the worst thing ever broadcast in the history of media. There is a depressing factor of 10 as I am hearing a guy who was the biggest rock star on the planet doing commercials for Dial A Mattress.

David Lee Roth is obviously brain damaged and not afraid to show it off. It's so bad I can't help but be entertained. Diamond Dave, who comes across as Gary Busey on Nitrous Oxide, seems to love to impart deep and meaningful wisdom to his listeners. I have decided to put it into poetry form.

Behold the new sensation soon to be sweeping the nation....


Everytime you put on New York 1 there's a dalmation goin take me baby, take me
My strength is lifting people.
I live on the lower east side where there's nothin but scared horses
A lot of school kids have lesbians for moms and dads
I been places with my face you wouldnt go with a pistol
Two girls and a toaster oven, seriously.
Bang a track homey... like it owes you money
Make it happen, Captain.
I alone am the master of the flying curtain rod.
When you buy a horse or a boat it's only yours for the first 20 minutes.
You learn what the stump means if you want chicken for dinner.
No metaphysics before happy hour.
Last time I looked the Bible is written in the same language as my pornography
I wouldn't give you my coffee for that
My god is a fierce and vengeful comedian.

There will be more of this when I can bring myself to listen again.

Monday, January 2

You say you want a resolution...

Well I am feeling generous so take 10.

1. I resolve to include more fruit in my diet. (Skittles are fruit right?)
2. I resolve to grow at least 3 inches on any part of my body.
3. I resolve to win the lottery.
4 .I resolve to talk to a woman in person without spitting cookie crumbs in her face or calling her "Hiney Lady"
5. I resolve to write and choreograph a musical based on the songs of Cyndi Lauper. The "She Bop" routine will be oh so saucy.
6. I resolve to tell more people the story of Heitsi-eibib and Ga-gorib.
7. I resolve to absolve those who devolve and not evolve as we revolve until we dissolve. What the shit?
8. I resolve to include Rick Moranis in my blogging more often.
9. I resolve to punch a zebra in the face.
10. I resolve to keep a closed mind, narrow my horizons and dwell on the past.