You know how it's 99% disgusting to throw-up? It stinks, burns, splashes everywhere, makes your eyes water, and cramps up your stomach muscles. BUT, there is the 1%. That far corner of your mind that you don't want to admit is there in the middle of your five alarm fire of hot mess. It is the part that is enjoying the vomiting process. Hopefully, my blog is that 1% .

Friday, April 30, 2010

Man oh Man

Hungry man dinners
Man Vs Wild
Man in the Mirror
Manic Depression

Man Vs Food
Man on fire
Manny Rodriguez
Mandy Moore
Burning Man

Man caves
Human League
Manchester United

Monday, April 19, 2010


it asked me if these pants make my ass look fat (I said, “no, your fat ass makes your ass look fat”).

I can legally drive in the carpool lane.

I put a helmet on it to play hockey.

it can be fellated successfully.

it stole the covers while we were sleeping.

it beat me at wii bowling.

it made me see Avatar again.

it makes me walk to the left.

it ate a Snickers Bar and was satisfied.

it watches me masturbate (and offers advice).

it ate a Snickers Bar and now it has a zit.

it writes a more popular blog.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Glenn Beck

Can’t a guy tell a racist joke without Joe Liberal getting so offended anymore? It’s racism and hate that gives people a reason for waking up in the morning! While you weave your Scooby-doo hybrid through Silverlake thinking your hipster thoughts in your hipster head, don’t you understand thems crosses ain’t gonna burn themselves? I cannot for the life of me understand why you sensitive souls take umbrage every time a progressive wheel like me squeaks. You get all high and mighty thinking you are Whole Foods when we all know you are Walmart. Own it baby. How can you get any more American than “Made in China”?

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Z to A on 1 Foot

Why can’t I ever catch a break? I was poisoned for christsakes! And look, I threw up all over my new $750 Evisu Ninja jeans! Lesson learned if I do say so myself. Sure you can argue that I brought it on myself but is that really true? Is it? I think not. How am I supposed to stop drinking when everybody knows that drinking impairs your judgement, so if I did stop drinking wouldn’t my judgement have been good thereby rendering it unimpaired? It’s not like I’m a superhero even though I am wearing a cape. Oh yeah, the tights too...but they looked awesome in the store. They have high definition lighting or something. I swear to god I woulda bought a shirt made of raw macaroni in that place. My point is you can’t win officer. And what was I doing behind the wheel? Well look, I can’t justify that but I can tell you I was earnestly trying to get home without running into you. I feel like you are really judging me right now and I’ve had a couple of setbacks recently. Yes, I think I really know now what it means to be personally responsible but obviously this is NOT one of those times. What I am trying to say is that since we’ve met, I don’t know if you call it male bonding or what but I feel this energy between us and I wonder what you would do if I leaned in and gave you a small sweet kiss just south of your perfect manicured lawn of a mustache. While it may not be the most original accessory for someone in your line of work, you really have found a way to make it work for you and make it your own. It is glorious sir. Oh, you are right, there does appear to be a deer halfway through my windshield. Well, I can totally explain that.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Odd to John

I just pulled a stomach muscle while stretching and even though it hurt like a monkey, at least it proved that I do own and operate abs. I’ve been thinking a lot about my outer appearance lately. In the past, I generally took for granted my ridiculous good looks, and pitied most of the shapeless sad sacks who found themselves lucky enough to be in my company. Recently, however, I am finding myself to be a tad more self-conscious. Obviously, my grooming and hygienic habits are not the problem, (I freelance as tooth and gum poster model). My issue can be directly attributed to the fact that I am friends with John Banks. In order to make himself feel better, John carries out daily audible inventory counts of my facial beauty marks (he calls “moles”). He badgers me incessantly about the love handles I have methodically nourished and nurtured. John delves deep into the crevasses of my psyche and reels up to the surface the source of all ills that has damaged me: “fagitosis”. Outwardly, Mr. Banks gives the impression that he is a compassionate, thoughtful listener; he nods appropriately, smiles encouragingly and responds convincingly. The thing that blows his cover is his constant and unmanageable erection. I guess it’s all my fault. He has fooled me more than once but I keep coming back to the well. I never thought of myself as being so dependent on the vague whims and needs of such a selfish fuckface but I guess it is my lot in life. To be completely transparent, if I had a chance to do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing.